#I think we could make some juicy angst from that

[races-stupid-cigar]

Albert whos overshadowed by his brothers

Ones stronger than a horse and works down at the docks he saved a kids life once and is incredibly good at what he does and knows it

The other works in construction helping build up the growing city it's a dangerous job but he's talented beyond his years and always can think up something to get the job done

His father works at a factory and has for some time he's not at the top but is well respecting in his efficiency even in his old age

Then there's Albert he's not his father or his brothers he's just the youngest DaSilva who tries to hide behind his insecurity with being defensive and downright an asshole sometimes because he doesn't feel like enough he's the weakest DaSilva and he knows he's not very smart and he can't even sell papers as good as his friends he's just some shitty kid who can't let go of his mom who's been gone for years now

[ckret2]

So a while ago some friends were talking about fans who claim the Same Coin theory is canon. And I made the mistake of saying:

Do you know who also has tons in common with Bill? Mabel. Yet nobody claims Bill reincarnated as Mabel. …wait now I want a "same coin but it's Mabel" AU. Funniest Bill reincarnation option. The all-seeing arsonist is making macaroni glitter art. The omnipotent tyrant is crying because a unicorn called her a bad person.

And then I overthought it for two months.

So—AU where after death, Bill's soul shoots 13 years into the past and reincarnates as Mabel. I'll call it ✨ Sparkly Coin AU ✨

Don't leave yet. Lemme show you why it works. Behold the eerie amount of parallels in their personalities, dialogue, behavior, mannerisms, tastes...

I could have kept going but my attention span ran out. All right, we all on board now? Convinced we could segue from one personality into the other? Great. Now here's why you should be interested: the juicy post-Weirdmageddon angst potential.

As long as a small fringe of the fandom still thinks Weirdmageddon is Mabel's fault, why not amp that up x100 and have some fun with it?

Is everyone sold now? Great. Let's get into the details. I've got 8 more pieces of art under the read more.

So the AU starts the instant Bill dies. Thanks to invoking his deal with the Axolotl—one way to absolve his crime, a different form, a different time—the Axolotl gives him a new shape and shoots him thirteen years into the past. Apparently, the Axolotl thought it would be very funny to stick Bill in the family that defeated him.

Which probably made for a jarring transition.

(It's fine, she's like 10 minutes old, she probably can't even tell who she's looking at. Not being able to tell who she was looking at is what got her into this situation ayyyy)

When Dipper & Mabel come back from Gravity Falls complaining about this triangular jerk Bill, their parents mention that Dipper's name was nearly Bill. See, after they knew they were going to have a boy, one night their mom dreamed about a visitor—some kind of magic pink salamander??—calling her child "BILL." Then at the next sonogram they found out they were having twins, the girl must've been hidden at a weird angle the first time, and they wanted matching names, so they thought, Bill and Bell. But they didn't really like Bell; but eventually they stumbled on Mabel, so to keep the names matching they switched from Bill to Mason. Isn't that the darnedest thing?

(Of course, Mabel and Dipper assume Bill harassed their parents to try to trick them into naming a kid after him. To be a jerk.)

When Bill meets Mabel, he's unaware that she's his future self—Bill's notably bad at doing things like, say, double-checking to see whether he's going to die anytime soon—but like... he can tell something's up.

Naturally, before visiting Gravity Falls, there were echoes of who Mabel used to be—but nothing anyone would be able to identify without context. All her Bill-ish quirks either smoothed out with time (see: how between second grade and fourth grade Mabel went from being the "freak" to the popular girl in class), or else they were accepted by her family as Mabel-ish quirks.

After they meet (and kill) Bill, they have the context to understand some of Mabel's behaviors... and unfortunately, some of Mabel's latent Bill-ness starts surfacing after she's been directly exposed to her prior incarnation.

The part of the Pines family familiar with Bill thinks the worst case scenario is that maybe Bill's survived and is slowly possessing Mabel; but far more likely, they think this is just some weird way of trying to subconsciously process last summer. Mabel doesn't think she's being weird, you guys are being weird, stop giving her weird looks. They get attacked by one triangle and now she can't wear yellow or pick up macrame as a hobby??

(It's not all red flags and uncomfortable triangle imagery, though. When Stan asks her what she'd like as a gift for some important event, she shyly admits that she thinks she's starting to outgrow her plastic gem jewelry and maybe she's old enough to get her first piece of real gold jewelry, if that's not too expensive? And Stan's never been so proud of her. Thirteen years old and already thinking about buying gold!)

But of course, the real fun starts when Mabel finds out.

That's the face of a girl who's just discovered that she tortured her great uncle. Now imagine running into the brother she possessed.

But I've already spent a million words and thirteen images on this post. If enough folks are interested in the AU maybe I'll expand on it later. Let me know what y'all think.

[writemekpop]

Make Up Sex | Lee Jeno

Summary: You've been hiding a big secret from your husband Jeno. What happens when he finds out?

Genre: Established relationship AU, angsty, suggestive, baby daddy Jeno

Word Count: 1k

A/n: We're baaaaaack! We're sorry it's been a while, so here have some juicy Jeno baby daddy angst xx requests are open!

It was past midnight when you got home from work. You felt terrible for missing Mac's bedtime for the fifth time this week.

Right now, all you wanted was to curl up in bed next to your husband Jeno and sleep for a year.

You tiptoed into the living room and set your bag down on the sofa. You flicked on the light, and saw Jeno sat at the dining table.

You yelped. "Jeno, what were you doing sitting in the dark?"

Jeno didn't reply. That's when you realised something was off with him. He was sat bolt upright, jaw clenched, hands balled up into fists.

Even though he was sat there in his blue polkadot pyjamas, he looked threatening. His dark hair framed his frown.

You edged closer. "What's the matter?"

Then you saw the bunch of folded letters in his hand. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

"Jeno, I can explain..."

Jeno met your eyes for the first time. His brown eyes were ice cold.

"When were you going to tell me about this?" He spat.

You pulled out the chair next to Jeno and sat down. You put your arm on his shoulder, but he flinched away from your touch.

Jeno shoved a piece of paper into your hands. "This is an offer letter for a job in Argentina."

You gulped.

Jeno flipped through the other letters. "It says here you applied six times." He said. "You applied for a job on the other side of the world six times and you didn't think to tell me about it once?"

You couldn't tell if Jeno looked more angry or just hurt.

"I was going to tell you..."

Jeno scoffed. "When? From the plane? Or were you just going to call me from... Rio or whatever the fuck the capital of Argentina is."

"I didn't think I'd actually get in..."

Jeno rolled his eyes.

You frowned. "You know, this is actually a really big deal. This is one of the most prestigious jobs in the world for a conservation biologist. Why can't you just be proud of me?"

Jeno stood up, the chair screaming against the wooden floor. He bowed dramatically.

"Congratulations, Y/n."

Tears pricked your eyes. "You don't have to be sarcastic."

Jeno stormed out of the living room, slamming the door.

You winced, tiptoeing behind him. "Shh, you'll wake Mac!" You eyed the door to the nursery, which was ajar.

"So now you remember we have a son! Are you just going to deprive your toddler of his mother for a whole year?"

"It's actually a two year programme..." you said, eyeing the carpet.

Jeno tugged his hand through his hair. "Well that's just perfect."

You followed Jeno into the bedroom.

"You know, Y/n. Normal people have affairs. They don't sneak off behind their partner's back and get a job a thousand miles away."

You slumped onto the bed, sighing. "Jeno, I just feel like I'm wasting away at my current job. I know I was made for some thing bigger. The project I'll be working on is to create an entirely new source of green energy. We could change the world."

Jeno sat down beside you on the bed. "I didn't know you hated your job."

You edged closer to Jeno, closing the gap between you and him on the bed. You tentatively touched his arm. He didn't push you away this time.

You traced your fingers up his biceps, across his neck and settled on his cheek. Jeno shut his eyes and leaned his face into your hand.

You looked as his dark eyelashes, and his plump lips. You just wanted to kiss his pain away.

Jeno kept his eyes squeezed shut as he spoke. "To me, you and Mac are my whole world. Are we not enough for you?" His voice cracked. "Am I not enough for you?"

You gulped. You knew what the answer was, but somehow, the words wouldn't come out.

You held Jeno's face in your hands. Then you leaned forwards and kissed him, hard.

Jeno grunted in surprise, but he quickly started to kiss you back. His large hands found your waist, and he pulled you onto his lap, so that you were straddling him.

You drank up Jeno's taste, the faint peach scent of his shampoo, the feel of his hard body underneath you.

You broke the kiss for a second, and pullled your shirt off. You unclasped your bra. The look in your husband's eyes was close to feral.

You were used to slow and gentle love making, with lots of soft smiles and giggles. This was completely different. Your entire body felt alight.

Jeno yanked off his own top. You eyed his muscled body, mouth watering. He picked you up in one arm and dropped you on the centre of the bed. He lay himself on top of you.

You kissed his neck whilst he took off the rest of your clothes.

Jeno dived between your legs, making you gasp.

--

After, you lay with your head on Jeno's chest. You were both still naked. The rhythmic thumping of Jeno's heart calmed your haywire nerves.

After a while of comfortable silence, Jeno cleared his throat.

"We're going to have to get Mac some sunglasses, for when we come down to visit. I hear it's pretty sunny in Argentina."

You shot up and turned to look at Jeno. His dark fringe was coveirng his eyes, and his cheeks were flushed.

"You're okay with me going?" You exclaimed.

Jeno sat up too. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

"You should have told me sooner," Jeno said. "But... of course I'm happy for you. I always knew you were going to change the world. I'm sorry about how I reacted."

You couldn't stop the tears from falling down your cheeks. You buried your head in his shoulder and cried.

"I love you," you said, between sobs. "I'm sorry for keeping this from you."

Jeno wiped your tears away with his thumbs. He smiled. "Has anyone told you you're an ugly crier?"

You snorted. Jeno started to laugh, which made you laugh too. The tension in the room melted away, leaving only love.

You ran a finger down the centre of Jeno's chest, making him shudder with pleasure.

Jeno pulled the blanket over you both. "Two years isn't that long, when you think about it. Not when we've got forever."

"You helpless romantic, you..."

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

[pellucid-constellations]

Favoritism

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel always seems to be working. Well, not always. Sometimes he's on the phone outside the restaurant with a massive smile on his face.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: None

a/n: Another little piece for this AU!! I'm loving building it up and including all the characters. I'm also loving characterizing Azriel!!! I can't wait for it to get more juicy and to add some angst in the near future ;) Thanks for reading!!!

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Here again, Azriel?”

“I picked up Lucien’s shift,” Azriel explained, moving the pan side to side atop the flame. 

Elain hummed, her hip against the counter. “You all have such weird names.” 

Azriel rose a brow. “Your sister’s name is Nesta. And Feyre isn’t very common either.” 

“Yes, well my sisters are included in my definition of ‘all’.” 

Azriel hummed, pinching salt into the pan and flipping its contents. The heat from the stovetop warmed his fingers as he went, calling his attention to the tan lines along his knuckles—rings he constantly needed to remove for work, an action that had been even more prevalent in recent weeks. 

Elain spoke up again. “I feel like I see you here every time I work.” 

“You call out every other shift. Of course you’re going to see me on the off-chance you come in,” Azirel droned, but there was a hint of a smile on his face that had Elain scoffing out a laugh. 

“Oh, ha ha,” Elain mocked. “But seriously, Az, you’re always in this kitchen. I know for a fact that Rhysand wouldn’t make his best friend work so much. What’s the deal?” 

Azriel knocked his head to the side as he considered Elain’s question. He plated the meal he had been working on—the one that would send Elain and her barrage of questions away—and set it on the counter she occupied. He gave his hands a quick wash, flipping a hand towel over his shoulder and crossing his arms. The waitress had not moved from her spot. 

“Money.” 

Elain did not budge. “Money? You? I know you can afford that house of yours without all of these hours. Rhys pays you far too much.” 

Azriel gave her a look as if to say that’s my explanation. Take it or leave it. 

Elain was not taking that explanation, clearly. Azriel watched her roll her eyes and let out another scoff before swiping the plate from the counter. 

“Always so stupidly secretive,” she huffed. “You are ridiculous.” 

Elain missed the small laugh Azriel breathed out as she left in a flurry.

Azriel then noticed the small break in orders that was typical for this time of day and used the opening as an excuse for his break. He called out to the others in the kitchen and then made his way to the dining room with his phone loosely gripped in his hand. 

A few taps on the screen and your voice came through. 

“Hi, Az,” you greeted, a smile clear in your words.

“Hi, baby,” he smiled right back. The earring on his right ear clicked against the phone as he licked his lips and continued. “You not in class?” 

“I tried to plan my schedule around your lunch rush. No class between the hours of two and four.” 

Azriel felt his face heat a fraction. “Right. Forgot about that.” 

You giggled. “So, how’s work? I didn’t expect you to go in this morning.” 

“It’s fine. Work. I was just picking up a shift as a favor. But I’ll be off in time to get you for dinner.” 

Azriel listened as something shuffled in the back of your call—bikers whizzing past you, he assumed. That damn campus always gave him a heart attack. You called out a small apology he was sure no one was listening to before speaking to him once more. 

“You seem to owe a lot of favors, Az. Are you causing that much trouble over there?” you joked.  A small pause. “Also, do you think we could eat in? I don’t really have the money for a restaurant right now. My financial aid is not aiding me in the ways it should.” 

Azriel felt his heart clench at the humorless laugh you released. You lived on campus and relied on the school’s dining plan which did very little for you nutritionally and emotionally. He had offered—countless times—for you to live with him or let him buy you groceries or just straight-up give you money, but none of that made you comfortable. 

So, Azriel found other ways to solve this problem. 

Azriel hummed in feigned contemplation. “We could. But the boss gave me a gift card to that new place downtown. I figured we could use it to celebrate.” 

“Oh yeah? And what are we celebrating?” 

“You.” 

“Me?” you asked with an incredulous laugh. “Why on earth would we be celebrating me? All I’ve done recently is complain and cry a few times.” 

Azriel couldn’t remove the smile from his face. He slotted his wrist in the crook of his elbow as he leaned against the wall outside the restaurant. Damn you and all the ways you made him melt in public. 

“You only cried twice this month. We should celebrate that record. Not to mention you were crying over chemistry which we established was an acceptable response to that class.” 

You gasped and began rambling about your chemistry professor. Azriel briefly checked his watch and relished in the fact that he had twenty more minutes to listen to you speak. He happened to miss, however, the waitress who was listening in just around the corner. 

Elain was furious. 

First, Azriel had a girlfriend that she had no idea about. Which was ridiculous because Elain considered Azriel to be one of her closest friends. And second—and perhaps most appalling—Rhysand was handing out gift cards to the staff and she had not been a recipient of this graciousness. 

Elain narrowed her eyes and glared and the stucco lining the building before she slammed her way through the restaurant and straight into Rhysand’s office. The man calmly glanced up from his computer upon her arrival, an amused brow raised at her apparent fury. 

“Hello, Elain,” he greeted. Rhysand leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers at his stomach. “You seem in high spirits.” 

“Where’s my gift card?” she demanded, closing the door behind her with a harsh click. “You’re giving out gift cards and I have yet to receive one.” 

Rhysand blinked. “I haven’t given out any gift cards.” 

“And now you’re lying—great.” Elain plopped down in the cushioned chair on the other side of Rhysand’s desk. “I just heard Azriel talking about a gift card to that insanely expensive place that just opened. Rita’s or something. And he was talking to his girlfriend—did you know he had a girlfriend?” 

“I did—” 

Elain hadn’t been looking for a response. “He said you gave it to him. If you’re playing favoritism I will call the Better Business Bureau. And I’ll tell Nesta. You know how she gets around you. Also, why does Azriel, like, live here? Aren’t there laws around overtime? None of his seems fair and—” 

“Elain,” Rhysand calmly interrupted. “May I answer any one of your questions? Or, perhaps, speak?” 

Elain bit the inside of her cheek and nodded in annoyance. 

“Perfect.” Rhysand crossed his ankle over his knee. “I haven’t given out any gift cards. If I do, I promise you’ll be the first to know. It’s possible that Azriel used me as a way to take his girlfriend out to dinner—as he has done countless times. If you were to meet her, you’d see why that was a necessity. She’s very much like Feyre in that way. In that explanation is also the reason why Azriel is always here, working.” 

Elain felt her vexation deflate, but some of it lingered. “And why are you so knowledgeable about this mysterious girlfriend?” 

Rhysand only shrugged. “Azriel’s private. Protective. He knows all of you are a bunch of gossips.” 

Elain scoffed for the countless time that afternoon, still pissed that there was no gift card to be had.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

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

Summary: Your weekend getaway to Indianapolis comes with a boyfriend who's trying to quit smoking, a five-year-old who has difficulty acclimating to new routines, and your own insecurities about your mothering abilities. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: angst, insecurities about motherhood, lost child, Eddie gets mad at us, discussion of menstrual period/PMS

WC: 7.7k A/N: There is a moment where someone refers to us as Harris's mom; however, she doesn't see us. There is no indication that we resemble Harris in any way.

Chapter 16/20

Divider credit to @saradika Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsonsmum

--

The morning dew still kisses the grass when you arrive at the Munson apartment, hauling your duffel bag up to their half-packed car. Eddie’s leaning into the backseat, only his jean-clad legs visible from your vantage point. Harris stands behind him, watching his dad’s every move earnestly and intently. If you had a camera on you, you’d take a photo of this Kodak moment.

“Hi, boys!” you chirp as enthusiastically, tucking your lips into your mouth to stop yourself from laughing when Eddie bangs his head on the roof of the car. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, ‘m good,” he mutters, rubbing at his scalp with one hand, expression somewhere between a grimace and a smile.”Morning, Sweetheart. You sleep well?”

You nod, opening your arms as Harris races towards you for a hug. “What about you guys? Or were you too excited about our super-fun weekend?”

“Daddy snored!” Harris reports with a grin, overjoyed to share what he perceives to be a juicy morsel of gossip.

Eddie gasps in mock-offense, reaching out to take your bag and arranging it amongst his and Harris’s in the trunk. “I did not!”

“Did too!” Harris retorts, turning back to you and adding, “like, so loud!”

You crouch down, and hold a pinky out in front of him. “We’re gonna have to stick together this weekend if we’re going to survive,” returning his smile when he wraps his little finger around yours in a promise.

“Can’t believe my girlfriend is conspiring against me with my own flesh and blood,” Eddie grumbles, eyes widening when he realizes what he’s said; rather, in front of whom he’s said it. His panicked gaze meets yours, and you both anticipate some reaction from Harris, but he’s fortunately unfazed and too fixated on the utter silliness of his dad’s snoring. Eddie clears his throat, determined to change the subject before his son catches on. “I think we’re ready to ship out,” he offers, slamming the trunk shut and pressing down to double-check that it’s closed.

“Snacks?” you ask, running through a mental checklist of necessities.

Eddie holds up a family-size bag of pretzels. “Got ‘em.”

“Water?”

“Backseat,” he points to the floor to the left of Harris’s booster seat–a recent upgrade from his carseat. “Harris will be in charge of that, right, Har?”

“Right!” Harris confirms with a thumbs-up.

“Sounds good. Put him to work,” you tease. Eddie’s heart skips a beat at the playful relationship that you and his son have, swapping smiles and making each other laugh. “Music?”

Eddie juts his chin towards the center console, filled to the brim with cassettes. “Always.”

You cock your eyebrow knowingly before posing your next question, preparing yourself for some visceral response. “Nicotine gum?”

Eddie groans, patting the pack of Nicorette in his pocket. “Unfortunately, yes.” About a week and a half ago, Harris had come home from school crying after the school had put on an assembly about the dangers of smoking. Eddie had been meaning to quit for a long time, but his son worrying over real problems, using words like cancer and heart attack, was what finally pushed him to chuck every pack of cigarettes he owned into the trash. 

“Okay,” you smile and clap your hands together, “I think we’re good to go!” You help Harris buckle his seatbelt before climbing into the passenger seat.

The sedan rumbles to life, catching on the second key turn and disrupting the otherwise still morning. “Gentlemen, start your engines!” Eddie roars in an exaggeratedly deep voice, and Harris giggles from the backseat. With Eddie’s hand on the gearshift, you seize the opportunity to squeeze it, light pink tickling his cheeks at your touch.

It’s only thirty minutes into the drive before it starts.

“Daddy, I gotta pee!”

You can practically feel the patience leaving Eddie’s body, fingers tightly gripping the wheel until his knuckles flush white.

“Har Bear, we just hit the road,” he tries, knowing his efforts are fruitless. “Can you hold it?”

“No, it’s a ‘mergency!”

“Fuck,” Eddie swears under his breath. The likelihood of it actually being an emergency is slim to none, but he’s in no mood to risk it. “All right, I’ll pull over at the next rest stop, ‘kay?”

Eddie takes the next exit, parking at a truck stop and nearly falling out of the car in his scramble to get Harris to the bathroom. “C’mon, c’mon,” he mutters, walking so quickly that Harris nearly trips over his own feet. You quicken your own pace just to keep up with them. 

The scent of coffee grabs your attention as soon as you walk in the door, and you make a beeline for the tiny Dunkin Donuts tucked in the corner. The cashier looks as though they could use a shot or two of espresso, eyelids closing under their visor as you give your order. When the boys get back from the bathroom, you present Eddie with a large coffee with far more milk and sugar than your own, and hand a chocolate donut to Harris. 

Eddie's eyes shift back and forth from the donut to you before he speaks. “It’s, like, 9 am,” he points out. “He’s gonna be bouncing off the walls if he eats that now.”

Oh. Obviously. What were you thinking, giving an already-hyperactive child pure sugar in the morning? All of the times you’d cringed when parents had sent their kids into school with Cocoa Puffs or some equally sugary cereal, and you’d given his son a chocolate donut for breakfast. “I’m sorry,” you sputter, shaking your head in frustration. “I should’ve asked you first, or saved it for later.” 

“‘S fine,” he mutters, heaving an exasperated sigh as Harris takes a giant bite of donut. “At least there’s two of us to chase after him,” he adds with a weak smile. 

Harris has devoured nearly the entire donut by the time Eddie’s buckling him back in, chocolate crumbs tucked into the crevices of his mouth. He’s oblivious to your faux pas, and you’d like to keep it that way. 

“I really am sorry,” you say again, guilt gnawing in your stomach. “I should’ve known better; I guess I just got excited about our little vacation together.”

Eddie’s grin is more genuine this time. “Me, too, baby.” He sneaks a quick kiss to your cheek when Harris is focused on what remains of his snack. “The whole no-smoking thing has me extra bitter, y’know?”

You know. You definitely know, but you’re not about to point out all of the ways he’s been short-tempered lately. Instead, you relax into your seat and try to brush off your mistake as Eddie turns on the radio and guitar riffs replace the silence. 

Eddie rolls down the window as the springtime sun warms the air, and you stretch as the rush of wind cools your body. His curls whip around the base of his neck, dancing in the breeze, and you can’t help but push them out of his face haphazardly. 

Your stomach growls, and you’re grateful for the blaring music masking the embarrassingly loud noise. You’d forgotten to grab something for breakfast in your rush to leave your apartment, and coffee is a poor substitute for the most important meal of the day. 

You reach down to the bag of pretzels nestled against your feet. “Y’want?” you ask Eddie, who nods and opens his mouth for you to feed it to him while he concentrates on the road. Laughter bubbles up from within you as he takes one from your hand by pinching it between his teeth. 

Harris giggles, too. “Daddy, you look like a goat from the zoo!”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie slides the snack into his mouth and bites down with a crunch, “and what sounds do goats make?”

“Hmm,” Harris ponders this for a moment before bleating a resounding, “maaaah!”

You swivel in your seat to give him a high-five. There’s donut residue on your hand when you pull back. “Smarty pants! I bet you know every animal sound there is.”

You and Eddie rattle off different species as you feed him more pretzels. Harris manages perfect impressions of each, until you call out, “sloth!” and effectively stump him. 

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he cackles maniacally, partially because of his sugar rush, you’re sure, “that is so silly!”

“Y’just gotta do everything suuuuper slooooow.” You drag out the last two words to emphasize your point. “Like this: Haaaaarrisssss…caaaaan…youuuuu…haaaaand…meeeeee…aaaaa…waaaaterrrr?” This brings on a fresh round of giggles from the backseat; even extra-bitter Eddie manages a hint of a smile.

Harris grabs a bottle at a snail’s–no, a sloth’s–pace. “Heeere…youuuuu…goooooo!” His pace is far from hurried, and you feel the gentle tap of the plastic cap against your shoulder blade a full thirty seconds later. 

“Thaaaaank…youuuuu!” You crack open the bottle of water and take a swig, quenching a thirst only made worse by the salty snack. “Wanna play again? See how many other animal sounds you can do?” you ask, grateful to have found a way to keep him occupied. Before you can close the bottle, Eddie reaches over and snags it, lifting it to his lips. 

“Daddy, no!” Harris screeches from the backseat, little hand shooting out in protest, causing Eddie to slam on the brake. Water sloshes over the top of the bottle and onto his pants. 

“Shit—what, Har?” he snaps, shoving the now half-empty bottle into the cupholder. He swipes haphazardly at the wet patch on his thigh, darkening the denim as it spreads along the fabric. He gives up with a mumbled, “whatever,” when he realizes he’s only rubbing it in more. 

“You’re gonna get her germs,” Harris points out matter-of-factly. 

Eddie huffs out a terse chuckle, slightly amused but still irritated. “Yeah, yeah, right,” he mutters, and you take that as a sign to reach back and get him his own bottle. 

The remainder of the drive is uneventful, though Eddie has to dip into his Nicorette stash when a maroon Toyota Corolla weaves in and out of lanes at lightning speed and cuts him off. He instinctively reaches for the pack of cigarettes he’d always kept in the console, groaning when he remembers that it’s long gone. 

“Good job, baby,” you murmur softly, giving his knee a quick squeeze in approval as he pops a piece of gum into his mouth. “‘M proud of you.” 

You pull up to the hotel just after 10 AM, the morning chill has dissipated as the sun’s rays warm the air. The fair weather made the trip smoother, a small miracle if you’d ever seen one. Truthfully, you don’t think Eddie’s frayed nerves can handle a rainy day.

Eddie takes Harris’s hand as you all walk through the parking lot and up to the front desk. A middle-aged concierge greets you, the customer service smile plastered across his face faltering when he clocks Eddie’s ripped jeans and disheveled wind-blown hair. 

“Reservation’s under ‘Munson,’” Eddie says to him, not making eye contact; your heart is a sinking stone when you realize that he also noticed the man’s shifting expression. “I called ahead and they said we could check in early.”

The concierge nods. You catch a glimpse of his shiny silver name tag, proudly proclaiming “STU, ASSISTANT MANAGER” gleaming in the overhead fluorescent lighting. “Room 325,” he grunts, handing you and Eddie keys dangling from matching logo-branded chains. Elation is a sunflower blooming in your chest; your first vacation has officially begun. Maybe it’s a little getaway only ninety minutes from home, but it’s a new adventure that you’re taking together.

Eddie flings his and Harris’s shared bag, then yours, onto one of the queen beds with a groan. “We made it!” he announces, flinging an arm over your shoulder. The pads of his fingers brush your upper arm, a tissue-paper light touch that has you soaring.

“Daddy? I gotta pee again,” Harris’s urgency breaks the moment. He’s hopping from one foot to the other, a potty dance if you’ve ever seen one.

 “Go for it,” Eddie says, pointing towards the bathroom. He shakes his head when his son sprints the short distance.

Once the door closes, Eddie’s hands are on your hips, tugging you so close that your stomachs touch, your breasts pressed to his chest. His mouth immediately swoops down to your neck, nipping gently at the flesh along your collarbone. 

“Hello there,” you manage to speak through a laugh. You’re unable to say more, as he’s pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss so fervently that your teeth nearly click together. 

“Hi,” he breathes once he’s pulled back, brushing the tip of his nose against your own. “Sorry, y’just look really pretty.”

You wrinkle your nose in confusion. “I’m wearing sweatpants. I don’t even have makeup on.” Truthfully, you’d meant to at least swipe on some mascara, but you were preoccupied making sure that you’d packed everything you needed for the weekend. 

“Don’t care,” Eddie mumbles, leaning in for another kiss, “still s’fuckin’ pretty. Don’t know how I’m gonna keep my hands off of you.”

The solution to that problem comes in the form of a flushing toilet and Harris calling out, “I’m done! Gonna wash my hands!”

Eddie throws his head back in frustration before burying his pink-tinged face in his hands. “This, uh, was not exactly how I imagined our first time in a hotel together,” he admits. 

“At least he’s washing his hands,” you joke, trying to ward off the throbbing need building in your core. It fails miserably. You want him, need him, to relieve the ache in the way that only he can. You yearn for the way his fingertips dance across your skin, eagerly reaching under your shirt or dipping below your waistband, desperate to make his girl feel good.

The two of you break apart as the bathroom door swings open. You fly across the room and pretend like you’re rifling through your duffel bag while Eddie flops onto the bed. His shirt rides up slightly as he lays down, and you have to fight the urge to bite the exposed sliver of tummy. 

“When are we going to the market?” Harris asks, catapulting himself onto the bed and landing next to his dad. 

Eddie rolls over and checks the digital alarm clock between the two queen beds. “Doesn’t start for another few hours,” he says. “I was gonna try and take a quick nap before we—”

“I’m not tired!” Harris whines, and you can see in Eddie’s deflated, tense physicality that his already thin patience is wearing down further. “I wanna go now!”

“Hey, Har Bear,” you try, hoping you’re not inserting yourself into the dynamic too forcefully, “why don’t we go on an adventure while Daddy sleeps? We can wake him up when we get back.”

Harris hops down onto the floor and readily slips his hand into yours. “Bye, Daddy!” he calls out, dragging you towards the door. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are having a ‘venture!”

Eddie gives you a weary but grateful smile as he scoots upwards to rest his head on the overstuffed pillow. “Godspeed,” he mumbles into the sheets, already beginning to doze off as he speaks.

The elevator dings and you shuffle into the small space, reaching for the “L” button to bring you down to the lobby.

“I wanna push the button!” Harris laments, and his sudden shriek has you instinctively pulling your hand back before regaining your composure.

Do you correct him? Let him press the button despite raising his voice? Deciding a consequence comes naturally to you in the classroom, but the anxiety of making the wrong choice serves as a massive roadblock. “You have to ask nicely if you want to push the button,” you offer, sending up a silent prayer that this staves off an impending tantrum.

He pouts for a moment before relenting. “Can I push the button?” It’s more grumble than request, but you accept it anyway.

His hand remains tucked safely into yours when you leave the hotel, basking in warm weather. You breathe in for three, breathe out for three. Okay. You can do this. Your job revolves around children; you can survive an afternoon taking care of just one.

Except that one happens to be your boyfriend’s son, and if you mess this up, it could ruin both Munsons’ perceptions of you.

“Where’re we going?” Harris asks, and you realize that you have no earthly idea; to be honest, you’re surprised that he so readily agreed.

”We can go for a walk?” you suggest, pasting on a smile in feigned confidence. “Maybe we can find a playground or something?”

“Okay!” he chirps. He’s fast for someone with little legs, and you have to remind him multiple times to use his walking feet. Yeah, this kid needs to burn off some energy, stat.

To your relief, there’s a playground just a few blocks away, fully equipped with a swing set and a jungle gym. Harris races across the grassy field onto the wood chip-covered area, assessing the space to figure out what he wants to conquer first.  

You sit on the bench next to a woman who simultaneously reads a James Patterson novel and keeps an eye on the jungle gym, where a little girl is dangling from the monkey bars, putting one hand in front of the other. 

She looks over with a sympathetic smile when you breathe out a long sigh, sinking into the wooden back like a weight has been removed from your shoulders.

“I hear that,” she says with a kind chuckle. “Mine will be tired for about…hmm, five minutes? Just long enough to get her home, and then she’ll be hopping around like the Energizer Bunny.” She shakes her head. “Is yours the same way?”

Yours. The term is peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth, and it takes a beat too long for you to respond. “Y-Yeah, I’m pretty sure he would sleep run if he could.” The stranger laughs at your joke, and you relax a bit. “Sorry, he’s really my boyfriend’s son, and it’s kind of…new to think of him as being mine, too.”

You expect her to pick up and move to a different bench, away from the weird woman who’s baring her soul on the playground, but she just closes her book and turns to you. “Carly is technically my stepdaughter,” she explains in a hushed tone, “but her mom’s not in the picture so, for all intents and purposes, she’s my daughter. No ‘step’ necessary.” 

“Is…is it hard?” you ask, the question spilling from your lips in a desperate plea for answers. “Being a stepmom?”

She nods. “Oh, absolutely.” She brushes a strand of hair from her eyes, and you can see a sparkle behind them. “But, trust me, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Her words, spoken freely of judgment and purely with empathy, alleviate the nervousness burning through you. “Thank you,” you murmur, gratitude forming a lump in your throat that you struggle to swallow.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris shouts from the top of the jungle gym. “Look what I can do!” He hesitates for a moment before reaching out his arms and grabbing onto the metal pole. You stand up to call out a preemptive warning, to get to him before he can fall, but before you can, his chubby hands grip the pole. He hooks his legs around it and slides down expertly, not letting go until his sneakers are firmly planted on the wood chips scattered across the ground. 

Pride warms your heart when his eyes lock with yours, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he awaits your approval. Anticipation reverberates within his little body, and before you can get in a word edgewise, he’s jumping up and down with an excited, “didja see me?”

“You’re amazing!” Your praise floats through the air and envelops him like a long-awaited embrace. “Super brave, too. I don’t think I could do that.”

He furrows his brows before a knowing smile forms on his lips. “Yes, you can! I’ll show you.”

Kind of walked right into that one, you lightly chastise yourself, but you dutifully shuffle towards where he’s already darting up the steps on all fours, hands splayed out for balance. 

“C’mon, Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris cheers, waving his fists in the air in earnest, and you simply cannot let the boy down. He easily glides down once more, big brown eyes looking up at you from the ground. “Just like that, see?”

“Right, got it.” You give him a thumbs-up and emulate his movements, holding on tightly to the metal pole and sliding down. You grimace as it squeaks under your grasp, nails on a chalkboard, but your feet reach the ground soon enough. 

Harris flings his arms around you, chin digging into your thigh as he gazes up in adoration. “I told you you could do it! Y’just had to try!” His admiration is fleeting; he soon spots another child leap from the swingset to play elsewhere. “Can you push me on the swings?” he pleads, already leading you to the equipment. “I just need a little help getting started, but then ‘m good.”

You hold the chain links dangling from the top of the structure, allowing Harris to maneuver himself onto the rubber seat. He scoots back so his bottom is fully supported and announces, “‘m ready!”

“Hold on tight,” you remind him, more out of routine than necessity, as you pull back the rust-covered chains. You move as far back as you can, double-checking that he hasn’t let go, and release the swing. His squealing giggles are music to your ears, and you push him a few more times before he’s able to take over independently. 

His mop of curls defies gravity as he sails back and forth, pumping his legs to gain height. “Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Do you love my daddy?”

You ponder the thought for a moment. You know exactly how you feel about Eddie; he simultaneously kicks up the butterflies in your stomach and calms every buzzing nerve in your body with just a smile, but you’re unsure how much he wants to tell Harris. You settle on the truth, direct and simple: “yeah, I do love him.”

Harris wastes no time asking a follow-up question. “A lot or a little?”

“A lot,” you answer quickly, realizing the magnitude of your enamoration as you say it aloud. The way Eddie’s kisses wrap you in an armor of safety; you hope your kisses have the same effect on him. “Definitely a lot.”

He hums his acknowledgement. “Grampa Wayne says Daddy loves you a lot, too, but I can’t ask you to be my mommy yet.”

You freeze in place so suddenly that the swing’s momentum nearly knocks you down; you step out of the way just before his sneaker-clad feet can make contact with your torso. “You want me to be your mommy?” you repeat dumbly, still half-convinced that you heard him incorrectly. 

“Mhm,” Harris confirms, “but Grampa says that being a mommy is a big ‘sponsibility, and I gotta be patient. That means I gotta wait until Daddy says it’s okay to ask you,” he elaborates matter-of-factly. 

This is clearly something they’ve talked about, extensively enough that Harris knows that he shouldn’t say anything about it. You’re temporarily rendered speechless, words failing you as you search for an appropriate response. Do you thank him? Act like you hadn’t heard him? Hope that a sinkhole opens up in the middle of the playground and swallows you whole?

“Th-That’s great, Har,” you manage, shoulders suddenly heavy with the weight of his statement. He goes back to focusing on pumping his legs, leaving you to tend to the anxiety gnawing at your insides.

Motherhood–the term stepmother seems arbitrary, given that Harris’s biological mother has all but dropped off of the face of the Earth–is a terrifying prospect. Any time you try to explain your fears, people just shrug them off, claiming that you’d be a ‘natural,’ that your years of teaching would ultimately ‘pay off’ when you had children of your own. As if teaching and parenting were remotely the same.

To you, the differences are as clear as day. When you’re a parent, there’s no ‘clocking out.’ Your obligations don’t begin at 9 AM and end at 2 PM; they’re twenty-four hours, seven days a week. It’s not the same thing. Not even close.

Before you became a teacher, you had to go to school and take education courses. Read your textbooks cover to cover. Had to do an internship for a semester. You’d had ample opportunities to determine whether or not it was the right job for you. Motherhood doesn’t offer that luxury: you don’t know if you’ll be a good mom until you’ve already chosen to become one.

“Ms. Sweetheart?” You jump out of your skin when you realize that Harris is slowing himself down, scuffed Reeboks scraping against the ground as he comes to a stop. “Can I get ice cream?”

You bite back a laugh. “You just had a donut, silly boy,” you remind him with a gentle ruffle to his curls, trying to keep your tone breezy, “but we can grab some sandwiches. Maybe even get one for Daddy, too?”

His lower lip quivers, making your heart lurch. “B-But–”

“And,” you interject, “we can go out for ice cream after the market. With Daddy.” You hope it’s a promise you can keep.

It was too good to be true. Deep down, you knew it, despite the fleeting victory of getting Harris to eat an actual lunch. His hands were sticky with peanut butter and jelly–you were making a mental note to reassure Eddie that, yes, some had gotten in his mouth–when you’d done the unthinkable. The unimaginable. 

You hadn’t let him press the elevator button.

He howls and sinks down to the floor, knees slamming into the linoleum tile and making him scream even louder. 

“Buddy, you’ve got peanut–” 

“I wanted to press…the…BUTTON!” he shrieks, every minor inconvenience he’s encountered today culminating in what you can only dub the Tantrum of the Decade. The crash from the sugar rush, not going to the market when he wanted to, the lack of ice cream are represented in every fat tear rolling down his reddening cheeks, in every flail of his legs as you try to scoop him up and bring him into the elevator, in every heaving breath. He’s overtired, overwhelmed, and out of his normal routine.

Your own eyes get misty as the metal door slides shut, enclosing you in a small space that seems to shrink with each wail. The kid has the lung capacity of an Olympic swimmer, while you’re drowning in your own pity.

He’s still sobbing when you reach the third floor, and Eddie’s flying out of the room as soon as he hears the sound of his son crying. Curls disheveled from his nap, crust still at the corners of his eyes. I woke him up, you realize. Another nail in the coffin.

“Wh-What happened?” His voice is raised, not in accusation, but just to be heard over Harris yelling. “Did he get hurt?” He takes Harris from your arms, clutching him to his chest in sheer panic. Reflexively, he inspects his boy’s head, arms, and legs for bruising and blood.

You shake your head, afraid that any attempt to speak will have your voice fracturing into pieces, no better than the little boy’s meltdown.

Fortunately, Harris has no problem filling his dad in. “I–wanted–to push–the button–and–she–said–NO!!!” Each word is punctuated with a hitched breath and is angrier than the last.

Eddie looks at you, more puzzled than worried now that he knows his son is unharmed, and a visit to the emergency room is unnecessary.

“His hands were sticky from his sandwich,” you mutter, unable to make eye contact with either Munson. “Oh, um, this is yours,” you add robotically, handing him the bag containing his hoagie, now a darker shade of brown from the grease it’s soaked up. You wince at how stilted you sound, simply going through the motions, not at all like the enthusiastic presentation you’d planned on the walk back to the hotel. 

“Thanks.” Not unappreciative, but far from enthusiastic, and you can’t blame him. “Let’s just, uh, let’s just get him in the room.”

The sleepiness consumes Harris after a few more arduous minutes in his dad’s embrace. Eddie rubs circles on his back to calm him down, tiny shh sounds passing through his teeth. Harris begins to catch his breath; hiccups like aftershocks ricochet in his chest, gradually subsiding into soft snores. 

“Jesus,” Eddie whispers as he gingerly places him onto the unmade bed, still warm from where he was lying just moments earlier, “that was one hell of a wake-up call.”

You speak at the same volume as him, though you don’t even have to try. Shame buries your voice deep in your diaphragm. “I’m so sorry.” Your right incisor digs into your lower lip as emotion ravishes you. The absence of Harris’s tantruming creates a loud silence that neither of you have the energy to fill. 

“I could say the same to you,” Eddie says with a soft chuckle, taking your hand and squeezing it tight as he sits down on your bed. “His meltdowns are no joke.”

“I should’ve just let him press the damn button.” You’re only half-serious, but your stomach sinks when Eddie says nothing; instead, he carefully unwraps the sandwich and takes a bite. A glob of mustard lands on the parchment paper with a soft plop. 

He doesn’t disagree. You made a mistake—two mistakes, if you’re counting the donut fiasco—and Eddie saw it. Saw that you’d failed. 

“Did you get enough rest?” It’s a feeble attempt to change the subject, and you both know it, but you go for it anyway. 

He lets his knee knock into yours. “Never enough, Sweetheart,” he says with a smile, wiping his lips with the flimsy deli napkin. “But, yeah, I got some sleep.” He leans in and murmurs in your ear, “Would’ve been better with you next to me, though.”

You turn so that your nose brushes his. “If I was laying next to you, you wouldn’t be able to sleep,” you quip, stifling your laughter when he takes your cheeks in his hands and smacks a kiss to your lips. 

“I would be a perfect gentleman.” He stretches and exposes the happy trail below his navel. “My eyes are up here,” he teases, catching you checking him out. “And you were worried about me.”

The dynamic shifts back to playful and lighthearted, his joke chipping away at the tension that’s been weighing you down.

“Shut up and eat your sandwich, Munson.”

“Yes, dear.”

You’ve showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes, jeans replacing the ratty sweatpants you’d donned earlier. You’d tried to wash the day’s stress down the drain along with the eucalyptus-scented soap suds, and though you don’t feel completely recharged, you’re ready enough to tackle the market.

Still, you can’t stop yourself from murmuring to Eddie, “d’you want me to stay here with Harris? Just in case it’s too much for him?”

He considers it for a moment before shaking his head, shrugging on his denim jacket. “Nah, he got his nap. Should be fine.”

The little boy in question slips one hand into yours and looks up at you with a grin. Eddie had talked to him earlier, reminded him about expressing himself in ways that didn’t hurt people–or their ears–and Harris apologized tearily. All is forgiven; at least between you and him. You still feel an uneasiness with Eddie, though it may be one-sided, as he’d quietly lamented that you two couldn’t shower together.

“We’re goin’ to the market! We’re goin’ to the market!” Harris chants, shuffling on the balls of his feet in a little dance. “Ms. Sweetheart, guess what?”

“What?”

“WE’RE GOIN’ TO THE MARKET!”

“Shocking,” Eddie mutters under his breath, a wry smile on his lips, and you use your free hand to swat at his stomach. “Okay,” he pats the wallet in the side pocket of his jeans, “got the company card, keys, handsome son, beautiful girlfriend…” He glances around the room; this time, he’s either unaware of his slip-up or is unbothered by Harris knowing your relationship status. “Looks like we’re good to go!”

The car ride isn’t too long; it’s only about a ten minute drive before you reach the market. And since you’d remembered to let Harris press the elevator button, it didn’t feel endless.

“Now, Harris,” Eddie says as his son climbs out of the car, hopping onto the parking lot pavement, “the market’s gonna be busy–”

“I know!”

“--so you have to hold my hand, or Ms. Sweetheart’s hand–”

“I know!”

“--the whole time. Got it?”

“Yes!” He’s far too exasperated for a five-year-old, and you have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing. “Can we go in now?”

Eddie obliges and takes Harris’s right hand; you take his left, the three of you walking towards the gigantic building together. 

You’d figured it would be crowded, but you’re unprepared for just how overstimulated your senses become upon entering. Vendors shout advertisements for their booths, beckoning potential customers to check out their wares. Snippets of different conversations infiltrate your  ears, and you swallow hard to clear your head, though the grainy muzak pumping through the overhead speakers doesn't help. 

Immediately, you spot a booth selling secondhand books, and you look at Eddie with a hopeful gaze.

“Go,” he motions with a smile, laughing when you all but skip off to the stack of novels. You don’t want to take too long, as neither Munson has the patience to wait while you peruse your options. A weathered paperback copy of The Grapes of Wrath catches your eye, some pages dog-eared and smelling faintly of stale smoke, and you fish out two quarters from the bottom of your bag and place them in the vendor’s hand.

“Okay,” you breathe when you get back to Eddie and Harris, overwhelmed just by the short walk. You grip Harris’s hand even tighter, all-too protective of him in such a crowded space. “Let’s go get some records!”

Eddie finds a variety of vinyls that he knows will sell at Rock Records—from older classics like Louis Armstrong, Etta James, and Buddy Holly, to more recent gems from Van Halen, Queen, and Michael Jackson. 

“Babe, check this out!” he announces gleefully, showing off a copy of Metallica’s Ride the Lightning. “I must’ve listened to this a hundred times when it was released in ‘84.” His enthusiasm is palpable, and you have to wonder if this purchase is for the store or for himself.

To his credit, Harris lasts a full twenty-five minutes before he starts asking for ice cream again. “You promised, renember?”

Eddie grins at him, then at you. “A promise, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “Can’t break that.”

“I think I saw a booth down there that’s sellIng some.” It’s a local shop, and you know one cone will probably cost more than a half-gallon at the grocery store, but you’ll risk the upcharge if it means avoiding a second meltdown today. 

“I’ll be right there,” Eddie tells you, eyes flitting back towards a row of booths you’d passed by earlier. “Just get me something with chocolate?”

“What’s the magic word?” Harris interjects. 

“Please.” He lays it on thick, throwing you a wink before turning around. 

You grab a $5 bill from your back pocket, change from when you’d bought the sandwiches earlier, and approach the ice cream stand.

“Can I please get one cherry chip cone, one chocolate fudge cone, and…what do you want, Har?”

“That!” He points to a giant display of model cars displayed in front of a toy vendor’s booth. “I want the orange one!”

“We can look after,” you reassure him. “First, you have to pick the ice cream flavor you want.”

“Hmm,” he presses on tiptoes to peruse his options before pressing his forefinger to the glass, pointing to cookies ‘n cream, declaring, “that one!”

The vendor hands him his cone, then turns to you and confirms, “just the three cones?”

“Mhm.”

She punches some numbers into the register, expression far too serious for the gig. “That'll be $6.”

Exhaling, you hand her the bill in your palm. There’s no way the stodgy woman is going to cut you a break for the extra dollar. “Give me a sec; I should have a single in my wallet.” You let go of Harris’s hand, fumbling around in your bag until you pull out what you’ve been searching for. 

The vendor takes your money and hands you the remaining two cones, already starting to melt with all of the body heat surrounding you. 

“Thank you,” you say with a polite smile. “Okay, Har, let’s—” Your blood runs cold when you realize he’s nowhere to be found.  “Harris!” you call out, voice shaking on the last syllable, unable to hide how frantic you feel. “Harris!”

Eddie, already on his way from his earlier errand, runs over to you. “Where’s—”

“He was just here!” You push your way through the crowd, accidentally brushing your scoop of cherry chip along someone’s jacket, but there’s no time to apologize. 

You and Eddie take turns yelling out his name, bile rising in your throats with each unanswered shout, until you hear somebody ask, “is that your mommy and daddy calling for you?”

Both your and Eddie’s heads swivel towards the conversation, breathing identical sighs of relief when you see the familiar mop of curls in front of the toy car display.

“Oh, thank God.” It comes out in one breath, your chest deflating as you and Eddie rush towards him. 

“Harris, what are you doing?” Eddie admonishes him, heart still racing as the surge of adrenaline tapers off. He picks him up, fingers digging into the shirt fabric as he holds him as close as possible, and presses a kiss to his scalp. There will be some sort of consequence later–revoking TV time and a lecture on stranger danger–but for now, there’s only the comfort of knowing he’s safe.

“I just wanted to see the cars,” Harris protests, trying and failing to wriggle from Eddie’s grip. “Can I get the orange one?”

Eddie huffs out an incredulous laugh, astounded that Harris doesn’t understand the seriousness of his actions. “No, you can’t!” he yells, attracting unwanted attention from other shoppers, “and you can’t wander off like that! I told you that you have to stay with one of us the whole time!” He flexes his palm before clenching it into a frustrated fist. “What were you thinking?”

Harris’s eyes fill with tears. “I j-just wanted to s-see them,” he tries again, taken aback by the anger in his dad’s voice. “An’ Ms. Sweetheart was right there!”

The mention of your nickname reminds Eddie of the other adult involved. “You were supposed to be watching him,” he spits, gritting his teeth to keep from raising his voice at you. 

You wince at his tone, filled with venom for the first time since his comment about Grandma forgetting you all those months ago. The difference is that, now, you deserve it. Letting go of his hand was careless; at the very least, you should have reminded him to stay put. The early morning donut, the elevator button were menial indiscretions compared to this mistake. There’s no denying that you’d royally messed up.

“I’m so sorry.” Sorry for not keeping a closer eye on Harris. Sorry for waking him up from his nap via a screaming child. Sorry for waltzing into their lives and thinking you had a snowball’s chance in Hell of being a decent parent. The ice cream drips down the cones and onto your hands, pooling in the crevices between your fingers. You dump them in the nearest trash can, neither of you hungry anymore.

You can’t return to the hotel soon enough, and as soon as Eddie puts an episode of Rugrats on TV for Harris, you begin inconspicuously packing your collecting your toiletries from the bathroom to back in your luggage.

“What’re you doing?” Eddie asks from the doorway. He’s got his arms folded across his chest, perplexion wrinkling his brows. 

“Going home.”

He presses his forefinger and thumb to his eyelids and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like–”

“No,” you interrupt him, choking down your frustration, “you were right. You trusted me to watch him, and I didn’t.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie steps forward and puts out a hand to stop you from grabbing your toothbrush, “it was an accident. Things happen in a split second, yeah?” He thinks back to the way Harris had tumbled off of the bed months ago. “We found him, and that’s what matters.”

He’s trying to comfort you, which somehow makes you feel worse. You lost his kid, but he’s focusing on making you feel better.

The next words out of your mouth shatter his heart into pieces: “I think it would be better for everyone if I leave.”

A small puff of air escapes his nostrils, unsurprised but hurt nonetheless. “‘S too much for you, isn’t it?” he mumbles, not even daring to glance in your direction as he says it. 

He knows. He knows that you aren’t cut out for this, that you’ll never be the mom Harris needs or deserves. In his own words, he knows it’s too much for you.

You say nothing in return, and your silence is louder than the cartoon squabble just a few feet away.

“Fine, just…just go, then.” He slams one palm on the bathroom sink, the other raking through his hair so forcefully that a few strands come loose. “God, I need a fucking cigarette!” he mutters, jaw clenched.

“I’m so sorry.” It’s all you can think to say. You’ll repeat it over and over again if it rectifies the situation. 

“Yeah, whatever.” He starts to leave the room, not even turning back around to say, “I’ll tell Harris you’re not feeling well.” He wants to ask you to call the hotel room when you get home but bites back the request. That’s something one partner asks of another, and you aren’t partners anymore, he realizes bitterly, and it’s his fault. He’d put the responsibility of parenthood on you far too quickly. 

He could have insisted that Harris stay and nap with him rather than letting him go to the park. He could have kept Harris by his side while you got the ice cream, or the three of you could have gone together. Instead, he’d just assumed that this was a role you had no qualms about taking on. In his eagerness to build this little family, he’d squandered the foundation before it had even set.

Eddie watches as you walk away, the words wait and don’t go and we can figure this out lurking behind his molars, but he remains silent. 

When the door slams behind you, he bites on his thumb. Go after her, some part of him—his conscience, maybe—nags, but he pushes the thought away. He can’t ask you to stick around and be a mom to his son if it isn't truly what you want to do. 

He removes his finger from between his teeth and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, temporarily confused when he’s met with some resistance. The tiny brown paper bag crinkles as his fingers make contact with it, and he pulls it out dejectedly. 

He’d spotted the necklace while scavenging for record vendors and made a mental note to return to it when you weren’t there to see. A tiny metal heart on a chain that he’d planned to give to you at the end of the trip. It was the reason he’d left you alone with Harris; he’d wanted it to be a surprise. 

“Well, that was a fuckin’ waste,” Eddie says to no one in particular, shoving it back in the confines of his pocket. He sits next to Harris, hoping Tommy Pickles’ shenanigans will melt his brain for just a few moments. 

The next bus to Hawkins pulled up thirty minutes after your cab arrived at the station. It was the only way to get home, and an embarrassingly large part of you hoped that Eddie and Harris would swing by, enveloping you in a tight hug and promising you that you’re doing a great job. That you’re enough. 

That moment remains a daydream, one that replays over and over as you lean your head against the window. It’s all highway from here to your small town, close to three hours on the road because of the intermediate stops, but you’re in no hurry to return. If it hurts now, you can’t imagine the pain when the loneliness sets in. 

Of course Eddie wasn’t coming to rescue you; you’d let him down right when he’d needed you. It was all so superficial on your end, thinking that you could be a mother just because you’d taught Harris how to read and have dinner with him and his dad once a week. 

Wallowing in pity is too indulgent, too pathetic, but you can’t keep from berating yourself. You’re a preschool teacher; how hard is it to remember to hold a kid’s hand?

Tears slip down your cheeks involuntarily and you swipe at them before your seat partner can notice. The last thing you need is to strike up an emotional conversation with a complete stranger. 

And what is it with you and crying today? Getting choked up when Eddie had pointed out the donut mistake, feeling like you were going to have a meltdown alongside Harris, and now this? It’s like you have an endless supply of tears. 

The most likely culprit is your run-of-the-mill PMS; you can always count on being overly sensitive on those select few days. You open your bag and take out the pocket calendar where you keep track of important appointments and dates, including your periods. 

Today’s April 26. You flip back to March, rifling through the pages until you see that the first day of your last period was the twentieth. 

You’re almost a full week late. 

--

taglist (now closed):

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

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[avourel]

thinking about Shen Jiu - not something I usually do, he's not my blorbo, but i saw an animatic that got me thinking - no wonder there are so many people obsessed with him.

three reasons, i think, make him prime blorbo-estate.

the first is the obvious one: he's so present in the entire story, and yet he's absent for all of it. and we know so little about him. this is catnip for fan obsession, of course tons of people would love to write/read/discuss him.

the second one is the sheer tragedy of his death in SV: he's dead and no one knows. he died unnoticed, unmourned, unremarked, and got no closure for anything - not even his death. the world went on turning, like nothing happened here. you know how they say the opposite of love isn't hatred, it's indifference? yeah.

so of course this would eat up people from the inside. this is why i think YQY being "sad" that SY hasn't "recovered his memories" or "preferred his old self" is so common in fics. people can't stand the way Shen Jiu vanishes from one moment to the next and no one even knows to miss him, so they try to solve it by having someone, at least, notice and want him back. because no one deserves to go like this.

and the third one, of course, is that he could so easily have been the protagonist instead. i mean, prodigy with a tragic backstory that clawed his way to power trying to come to terms with the betrayal from a loved one, unable to forgive and yet equally unable to leave him behind, having to see him constantly? trying to appear civil while seething in bitterness and betrayal and whatever other feelings he harbours towards YQY? if SJ were in any way inclined to - he absolutely was not - he could have tried to unwind the whole thorny issue with YQY and it could have been an entire new novel.

there's juicy, juicy angst, competence, a high position, enemy sects, secrets, people from his past that might show up... AND a prospect for revenge: if the story were from HIS perspective, we'd probably want to see YQY "defeated" in some way - forced to explain breaking his promise at last, for example. we'd want to see Shen Jiu vindicated, somehow proving his innocence towards everyone who ever slandered him... anyway, yeah, protagonist material.

no wonder tons of people just want to put him in the sandbox and play, and the strong emotions towards him and the potential for stories there kind of makes people forget the details of his personality and the abuse towards LBH a little, or bend them for storytelling purposes. he's a character with lots to play with.

[gotham-daydreams]

Oh my god due to the recent Alfred ask it makes me wonder and scream at the thought if there has ever been a moment when Reader asked Alfred if there's something else they can call him. Like DAD perhaps...(and this can go for different routes and so many juicy things, but ill get into that later).

But since the backstory is up to us, I like to think the Reader has a bio family which was questionable(maybe I'm projecting), so they never had a good track record with their dad and then Bruce adopted them and we know that didn't end well.

So when they ask Alfred if there's something else they can call him ( a lil show that they do see him closer than anyone and that he's important to us.) We could have gone back and forth with him talking about what to call him and stuff when we jokingly say something along the lines of "maybe not Dad since my track record with such isn't the best." Maybe they open up to Alfred about how their family/ life was before they were adopted by the batfam. Maybe even admit they can't see anyone as a dad figure after them (😭), so the thought is uncomfy for them( this hits in so many ways.) Or how they're scared if they call him dad something will change about Alfred and become like their 'dads'.

Which will undoubtedly hit some strings with Alfred. Seeing as how every 'dad' has failed them to the point they can't fathom or be comfortable with seeing or thinking of someone as a dad. But the fact that BRUCE had played a part in it 💀... Which is what's making the Reader confused and feel unsecured in his own personal relationship with the Reader (on what to call him, but probably in other stuff as well).

Back to the top part of the reader asking what they can call him, and they end up at something along the lines or at calling Alfred Dad.

It will undoubtedly make his heart squeeze and scrumble( One way could be he's being called 'Dad' after so long). Probably make Alfred a lot closer to the reader than before. Probably stepping up to the title and being closer taking care of Reader even more, now that he knows they have that emotional bond( stronger than before and the permission).

For little cute ideas/cenerios I imagine he makes an even greater effort to come to our plays and tournaments and sit front row probably recording.( in a reserved seat next to all the other empty ones 😒). And get a lil prissy when he can't make it (ESPECIALLY IF ITS BC OF THE BATFAM). He asks some of the organizers to record it specifically for him if they aren't doing it already, so he can watch it live (or once handed to him)while doing whatever keeps him from going. All so he can talk about it with us when we come back home and show how proud of us he is.

Definitely gets us gifts for each performance/ tournaments. If he was present he would walk with us a while after it ended and get us ice cream or out for a celebratory dinner. 😭

Okay but now for the lil angst part in that moment when we settle on what to call Alfred whenever it would be similar or is Dad or a different title all together that would be the moment we lose any real attachments to the Batfam. Not seeing them as siblings or parental figures anymore. At most just wanted to impress them but that quickly died off and just just focused on what we do have.

Alfred would also know that that was the moment or the end of the falling bridge with the Batfam and Reader. Which would probably hurt him cause the Batfam is still his family, but now he also has us and sees our neglect and what the batfam's consequences are. Probably breaking his own hope of us being accepted/ integrated into it and the Batfam to being back a normal dysfunctional but loving family with us in it.

Okay but the real ANGST. It's not just the reader and Alfred having heart to heart or other situations between the two of them. BUT INSTEAD BRUCE HEARING READER CALL ALFRED THE TITLE WE SETTLED ON. And it doesn't have to be only Bruce that would work for angst because the others are smart so if they hear Reader call Alfred by the title... They know it doesn't correlate to them and their relationship of being Reader's sibling because Alfred isn't that title to them. Connecting and discovering at the same time that the Reader doesn't see them as siblings and hasn't for a time they weren't even aware of.

Imagining just Bruce sneaking away and thinking by himself or even confronting Alfred 😩😩. The Batkids doing their research seeing Reader live their life completely disconnected from theirs only hammering that Reader doesn't see them as family. The only thing connecting to them being Alfred and even Alfred is a different role in Reader's life than in theirs.

Maybe Batfam finds out about what the Reader tried to get their attention only to give up, maybe they don't and just see the Reader slipping away until the Reader becomes a foggy memory again until the Reader moves away like in the [Not] series everything follows.

Hope you enjoy 🥰🥰💕 drink water 💦

Yeah!!! And since there is another ask that's about the reader considering Alfred their dad, and how Bruce would react to that, I won't be going too much into how Bruce himself would react since I'd like to explain it there when I get to it- but I will say that in very, very simple terms. Bruce is not happy about it. At all.

As for how the whole name thing would start? Alfred would definitely say that you can call him whatever you'd like, but will definitely silently try to nudge you in the direction of calling him dad or something akin to that. He may not expect it to work right away, especially in this scenario where the reader already has a messy relationship with people who were supposed to be their father's in the past. However, when you do call him dad or something similar, he is literally about to cry.

He won't cry in front of you! But he might later-

Regardless, words cannot express the amount of joy he feels when that happens, and as you've mentioned, Alfred does try to not let you down. Unwilling to become another reason why you have a hard time seeing people as your father, or father-figure. He feels more inclined to look after you above everyone else, and tries even harder to be present. There isn't a single event of performance that he'll miss willingly, and even if he does- he has his ways of making it up to you, even if you know that it was out of his hands.

I think a neat detail would also be that the amount of unoccupied seats next to him slowly shorten with time. It starts off with there being a seat for everyone in the Batfam, but as time goes on the amount begins to dwindle, until there's just one for him. Maybe with the occasional one other seat beside him if it's for an event, and you get to sit next to him before going or doing whatever you have to. Further showing how you, as the reader, begin to care less and less about the Batfam, and really only see/recognize Alfred as your family. As there is only one reserved seat for him at each and every performance and tournament.

I think the idea of the Batfam noticing this and trying to fix it, yet the reader still being able to slip away, and them forgetting all over again is both just out right heartbreaking and infuriating.

Like, can you imagine as a neglected!reader, finally having your family notice you (despite you growing used to their lack of attention at this point), only to have them forget you exist all over again? Or just forget about you enough to where you still leave without saying much of anything, and only leave behind a note to the one person you considered family?

And imagine the Batfam- not only feeling, but knowing that they've failed you more than they could ever imagine? Not only making you feel alone and isolated in your own home, since they never noticed you, not only once, but twice? That's borderline unforgivable. They noticed you, and somehow still managed to neglect you all over again. It's astonishing, really. Maybe they do have powers after all.

But really- how I could see that happening is if they get too busy with the idea of you rather you yourself, if that makes sense?

Through their research and everything, they form a version of you in their heads that they're all clinging onto, that they unintentionally don't give the real you a chance. Hell, they don't even give themselves a chance to even see it as they drown in their own delusions. Stuck with plans and ideas they ultimately never saw through, either because they were far too worried to further mess things up (like a certain brooding bat), or were far too certain of the outcome and therefore came up with more ideas and plans that they ended up not doing. Like a certain robin who, after two generations, finally wore pants. So by the time they realize their mistake, (which probably happenss when one of them finally decides to actually act on a plan they made) you're gone. Lost to the wind. Like a distant whisper they nevr quite heard, but dreamed about encountering ever since. Forgetting that chasing and searching were things they could do right from the start instead.

Though Alfred and the reader having a heart to heart? Please, we could all really use that. Forget about how horrible Alfred is behind the scenes- we need the closest thing we can get to a positive influence in this family. Or really just a good source of comfort, honestly.

Though his dying hope does break his heart, he just takes it as another opportunity to fill in the shoes of being your father. Even if at this point it means being your only family out of everyone in the Batfam, then so be it. He'll just have to fill in where they refuse to, but he doesn't mind since it gets him more time with you- and I can imagine that, despite the hurt of realizing that you'll never be 'fully' apart of the Wayne family, at least you have a part with Alfred and the Pennyworth's. And there is some comfort and reassurance that comes with that. Since, while you may not be able to have this big, huge family- at least you have this small, comfortable one right here with Alfred.

Hell, this time around Alfred might even fully support the reader moving away, as he's more certain than ever that he'll still have that connection with them. That he and the reader will actually communicate, and as long as he can still see them and so on- he doesn't mind.

He'll let the Batfam run around, and play dumb at all the right moments with that sassy, sarcastic attitude of his. Letting them know that they've wasted their opportunity- wasted the one real chance they had with you, and probably won't be getting another one.

After all, it isn't his fault that they fucked up. If anything, he's probably the only reason why the reader is connected to the Batfam at all, or even associates with them the smallest amount. It isn't because of Bruce or any of the others. It's because of Alfred. Even if he won't say it out loud, he'll make sure that they all know it one way or another, and though Alfred doesn't necessarily view himself as cruel- he wouldn't mind throwing a little shade if it meant emphazing that point a little further.

You are his kid. His family. Why would they think otherwise?

On a lighter, more wholesome note, I definitely agree with the more light/cuter ideas!!

Alfred is definitely spoiling you if he can help it, and will poorly disguise his favoritism- though probably would stop even trying to hide it all together at some point.

There is never a moment where Alfred doesn't/won't remind you of how proud of you he is, and how much you've improved. He isn't afraid to admit that you're doing a good job or doing the right thing, even if you can be reckless at times, to your face. And if you end up doubting your ability, or just yourself as a whole, Alfred will definitely be there to comfort you, and remind you of how well you've been doing and reiterate how proud you make him.

He wants you to know that he'll always be there for you, and by the time you leave, you still feel that.

Alfred also makes sure to check up on you and tend to your needs, along with spend time with you in other ways- which does include, but isn't limited to; watching films at home, baking/cooking together, sewing, reading, tending to the garden, and just generally being in each other's space. Maybe even a small hang out outside of the manor if you both can help it.

Nevertheless, that was a fun read, and I fully agree!! Make sure to drink some water and rest up too!

[octoberautumnbox]

Happy Anni-box-sary!! :DDDD

Whew! It's been a year since I've started writing on this platform (and in general fsgsdjkfghjadskfh), and what a wild ride it has been. Ups and downs scattered throughout the year, but I really wouldn't have it any other way :uwuge:

All that said, let's move onto the box 2024 recap!

Yuri fics I've written: 8

Fly in the Night Trip

Love in the Night Train

Juicy Juicy

Friday

Adrenaline

Enjoy

I Got All I Need

Like It Like I Love It

buncha drabbles I didnt count, some of them fluff, some of them angst, all of them box 📦‼

Yuri fics other people have written: 6

@fillinforlater's Friends that can Keep a Secret

@birchleavesdawn's Bitter Taste

@xshadowdelta's Former Manager pt. 1: Back in Town

@usedpidemo's Cruel Flower

@prael's Reality

@leafostuff's Operant Conditioning

Non-Yuri fics I've written: 11

in my best attempt not to double count when there was more than one idol in the fic (lmao),

1 for soloist Chaeyeon

1 for Kiss of Life

2 for woo!ah!

2 for tripleS

2 for Kep1er

3 for fromis_9

Funnest fics to write:

Hell Week: despite not doing sins's prompt justice, I really did enjoy how I built Yubin and OC's character, even as the writer i fell in love with how sweet Yubin came to be, and while I do think the sex could have been fluffier, i do like how i wrote the ending :DDD

Cute and Caring Noona from Apartment 424: i think deep down inside i knew the apartment thing was gonna come back, even at the time, though i had to promise myself it wouldn't be a series. Yujin and Xiaoting are still a killer duo i'd love to write but it wouldn't fit that well with what i've decided on what the apartment fics will be, instead i'm going with the direction that The Sultry and Pervy Soda in Apartment 307 went and go from there

Like It Like I Love It: EASILY my top 1 from this year. it was everything reader box would have wanted in a yuri fic: a casual relationship, a possibility that there's something more in it, hot sex (literally), and just the right amount (maybe a bit too little) of showing off babygirl yul. i really hope this isn't peak box but going back to why i started writing in the first place, which is that i wanted to see more quality yuri fics, this was something that if i were still a reader would have sated me for at least another year. good job box!

Idols/Groups I've come to know:

Kiss of Life: I think they debuted before me? I noticed Natty first bc ofc I did 😭 but quickly fell in love with how Bobsky just vibes so well with them aaaaaaa

tripleS: I started paying attention around Girl's Capitalism but I knew of them since Generation. I still know only like ten of them and still need to look up whether they're of age or what number S they are but I've written the group thrice now so worth :DDDD

Kep1er: zozi was tough for wizones and I'm not exception, so there was a lot of animosity to this group starting out. I only really started loving this group because of choiyuj, and it was me falling in love with that tiktok that cookies n seggs noona was ever made and it's been upwards ever since

Collabs:

One Heck of a Joyride with @leafostuff: simultaneously this took way too long and not long enough LMAO we started in Feb and released in May, if u can remember Best Job Ever and Like It Like I Love It came out in May too so that was hectic for me. but it's my first and to date only long fic and I hope someday to surpass it in terms of word count and idol nuguness :sitt:

Prompts:

@i-am-lifeform24's Curated Companions: this first major prompt I took part in, where I wrote Dito Muna Tayo :nolookk: it got me attention I didnt know how to feel abt (I still don't tbh) but it was a major step in the right direction to temper my expectations of myself: it reminded me to write for me

@msafterhours's Seasons: this was a major L for me jfkgjslahhf I wrote A Little Goes a Long Way, misunderstanding the prompt "Seasons" for "Seasoning" and making a cooking fic instead. it was a great laugh with him tho, and a memory I come back to fondly

@mintwithchoco's Favorite Song: I wrote Orange-Tinted Sunset with Sticky in mind but promising mint I'd break Belle's heart lmao, at the time my current favorite song switched from that to Nothing and it all just fell in place. I had the idea a long time ago for Haneul but this was the perfect chance to broaden my horizons yet again, and to my dismay it proved @0cta9on right that I kinda was okay at all three genres of fics that touched on after all :bearlazy:

Growth:

can't remember if I said it out loud on the tl but im not a serious writer! that just means that I dont consciously aim to improve how I write and I'm totally fine with the skills and style I have now, and any exp gained or skills learned is has been passively achieved

that said, I'm really so so happy with Fly in the Night Trip and Love in the Night Train. In my first ever fic i said i wanted my next work to be a smut, and that i would be able to write more of what i wanted on my blog soon. Enjoy was both of those, and i even got to write so much more of my ult bias throughout the year and then some. you could call it self-serving, or as @capslocked so eloquently put it, unconsidered readers, all of you. :sitt:

thats why im really happy to be able to come full circle with another fluff in Love in the Night Train, because i feel like it concludes such an awesome year in such an awesome way. id tell 2023 box that just keeping at it wouldve worked out so well, but the extra effort to write just a tiny bit better, to listen to @midnightdancingsol's advice, to stick with it even though work fucked us up (and still does) is going to be well worth it

Hiatuses: 2

ok obviously im not as proud of this one. but each time i did, it was me reevaluating how I run the blog and what sort of stuff I'm getting myself into. it was well worth taking a step back from writing and just figuring out what exactly I wanted to do, and the breaks did wonders for how I paced myself.

these were me asking myself questions that struck the very core of how I conduct this cacophony of a kpop smut blog. it made me aware of arbitrary rules I was holding myself to, and gave me a chance to do away with them. everyone has to clear out their inventory every once in a while, and these were mine :DDDD

Everything else:

ive stopped tracking notes bc I learned since I occasionally write nugu and non-smut to never expect 100+ and I'm always pleasantly surprised when I get there slfjglah but yeah, there's better things to keep track of like what I did above

these are what really matter to me: yuri, writing, and the community i've become part of. while I do think the 1022 club is a fun milestone to celebrate, anything else is a bit more work than i care to make a separate post about (except maybe on bluesky lmao)

at my core, im a glassy, a true fan of the little ball of sunshine that is jo yuri. i keep saying that as long as im able to make one of you lovely readers a fan of her too, i'll know i'm doing good! so to all you box followers, all you honorary glassys, please tune in to yuri! she just released her tenth(!!!) OST entitled Spring Days Pass, will appear in Squid Game season 2 which premieres on Dec. 26 on Netflix, and is bound to have a comeback lined up soon :cuteplead: please join me in supporting her! :DDDD

Aaaaand that's it I think? A wild ride for sure, and I'm happy to have spent it here doing what I love. Hopefully all you readers also show greater support to my fellow writers and friends on here, and as always, stay tuned for more box fics in the future!

Thanks for reading, and see you all in October Autumn Box season 2!!

[citruswriter]

Hello, first of all I want to say that I LOVE your blog and your writing 💓💟

I was hoping if you could do some headcanons about being angel dust's younger sibling (by 1 year) and basically freeing him from his contract by swapping his freedom for ours (in short words we have to work for val in order for angel to be free)

You can tell I love angst.🎉

If you don't want to do it then it's completely fine

New Sensation

Listen with me! ♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

Warnings: Abuse, toxic relationship, s3x work, soul contract, she/her pronouns, Reader is also a spider demon, insinuated sex between Valentino and Reader, daddy kink, groping, lots of crying.

A/N: Omg this is such a good idea. Nonnie ur amazing. Grab ur tissues, time to cry bitches.

You drew in a shuddering breath as you stood before the giant building. Once you did this, there was no turning back. You curled your fingers and rapped your knuckles against the door loudly. It took a few minutes but eventually the door opened, one of Valentino's handmaidens opening the door. "Please state your business". She said in her soft yet husky tone and you straightened. "I'm here to see Valentino, if he has a moment to spare." You said, trying not to give away how nervous you were. The woman tilted her head for a moment, as if she was thinking before opening the door widening. "He does. Please come inside". She stated before walking off. You followed her down the winding and twisting halls before the two of you came in front of another door. The woman knocked and a grumpy "come in" sounded from the other side. The woman opened the door and poked her head in. "Sir, you have a visitor." She said. Valentino raised a brow, lifting his head from his paperwork. "Well? Are you going to tell me who the fuck it is?" He spat and you pushed the door open more.

"Greetings sir. My name is (Y/N). I'm Anthony's little sister." You greeted before giving a bow. Valentino perked up and grinned slyly. "Oh I didn't know he had a sibling". He purred and it took everything in you to not clutch yourself with your spider limbs. "He's kept my presence a secret from you. He didn't wish for you to approach me with some... offer to work for you". You said, sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Valentino frowned and laced his fingers. "Then why are you here?" He demanded and you looked up. "I wish to trade places with my brother." You admitted, looking him straight in the eye. Valentino laughed loudly before realizing you weren't laughing. "Oh you're serious". He said in shock. "Yes sir, I am. My brother is a good man. He's trying to better himself. And he deserves that. But he can't while under your contract. So I offer a trade. Let my brother go and I'll take his place".

Valentino's antenna twitched and he smirked down at you. "What makes you think I'll let my prized star go?" He questioned and you bit your lip. "When Anthony leaves, his movies will become a rarity. A collector's item. You can auction his things for a high dollar, people can and will pay thousands of dollars for them. And when everybody's in their frenzy of getting the last bit of Angel Dust. You can bring in me. A new face, a new star. His little sister. They'll go crazy. It'll be like having Angel Dust back. But younger. More innocent. Filled with so much potential". You had practiced this. You knew your deal was a juicy one. Valentino mauled your words over before grinning at you again. "Deal."

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

"I can't believe it!" Angel Dust said, he was laughing and crying. "Valentino. He... He said he's letting me go! Said a new soul came along, made him a deal he couldn't refuse. And all they asked for, was my freedom." He was thanking his lucky stars for whoever did this for him. "That's so amazing, Angel! You can finally work on redemption now! Like... full time without worrying about Val." Charlie said, her eyes practically sparkling from how excited she was for him. "If anybody deserves it, it's you baby". Husk said affectionately before kissing his cheek. "Good for you. As much as I enjoy suffering, Valentino is a despicable bug. It's good to see you free." Alastor said with a twirl of his cane.

The next few months were filled with happiness. Angel had agreed to show his face for the auctions but other than that, he kept his distance from Val. He began to live, to thrive. It was the best moment of his life. Until it wasn't.

"Hey has anybody seen (Y/N)?" Charlie asked, a frown tugging at her lips. Angel Dust sat up, thinking about the last time he had actually seen you. "Yeah now that I think about it. I haven't seen her in ages..." Vaggie said in thought, looking up from her task of sharpening her spear. "Here, let me call her." Charlie muttered, calling your number and putting the phone on speaker. "Charlie, hey! Look, I'd love to talk but I'm at work right now." You said, your voice hushed. "Oh come on! We haven't seen you in ages! Can you maybe ask for the night off?" She begged, pouting at the phone as if you could see it. Shouting was heard in the background. "Fuck. Shit. Look Charlie, if I can come over after work, I will. But I can't really talk right now." You said. You tried to hang up as quickly as possible but not before Italian curses could be heard. Nobody else seemed to pick up on it. But Angel Dust did. Oho did he notice.

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

Back at the studio, Valentino had caught you on your phone and tossed you onto the floor. "I'm sorry! Look it was just Charlie. I didn't want her to worry. You know how she can be!" You said, crawling away slowly. Val growled, "Yes I do. Unfortunately." He spat. "Y-Yeah! So I just picked up and told her I couldn't hang out. That I had work and couldn't talk. That's all. I promise." You said, tone whiney but you tried to keep a smile on your face. Val scoffed and rolled eyes eyes. "Whatever. Now get back on that fucking bed and take this from the top. Movies don't make themselves, darling". He said before going to go sit in his directors chair. You swallowed thickly as three men stalked your way, each holding a different sex toy. Oh boy was this going to be a long night...

After shooting the porno to Valentino's satisfaction, you had been given permission to retreat to your room. You closed the doors and looked around the room. Anthony's old room... You wrapped the robe around you tightly, as if it could hide away all the new marks if you tied it tight enough to your body. Sitting in front of the vanity, you began to wipe your makeup off. Humming softly as you took care of yourself. You chugged some water before heading to the bathroom for a hot shower. You took your time washing your hair and spider fluff, washing away the days work. When you got out, you dried yourself off and wrapped yourself in a towel, ready to dress and maybe head over to the hotel. But as you stepped out and saw Val sitting on your bed, you knew that wouldn't be the case.

Val's long spindly arms reached out towards you and you automatically walked his way. Fingers pried away the towel to reveal your freshly cleaned, bare body. "Come to daddy". He cooed as he tugged you gently. You followed and sat on his lap, fingers brushing into his moth fluff. He hummed to himself, pleased with your obedience. "You did so well today, darling. I'm so proud of you. Please forgive me for getting angry with you earlier. Work can just stress me out sometimes". He spoke softly and you looked up at him, plastering a smile on your face. "I can't stay upset with you for long, daddy. You always make it up to me. All I can be is grateful." You cooed back and Valentino smirked down at you, fingers trailing closer and closer to your core. You shuddered and fought the urge to push him off of you. "Such a good pet. You're so good for me, aren't you?" He purred out, a hand going up to grope a breast, causing you to flutter your eyes and sigh against him. "Anything for you."

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

The next day you managed to convince Val to let you go to the hotel. With a pout and a bat of your eyelashes, he crumbled and gave you the day off. You opened the door with excitement and called out, "Hey guys!" It wasn't long before mostly everybody had accumulated towards the front. You gave everybody hugs and smiles, catching up with Charlie and the others. But as Angel Dust watched you, he saw the details that the others didn't. The bags under your eyes, bruises on your arms, the way you only smiled with your mouth closed. "Hey (Y/N)?" He called out and you turned to look at him. "Can we talk? Alone?" Charlie and some of the others looked at each other and you sighed, picking yourself up and approaching him. "Of course, Ant. What's up?" But your older brother just grabbed your arm and drug you up to his room. After closing and locking the door he approached you and practically shoved his thumb in your mouth. You yelped in surprise as he pushed your lip up, wincing when he saw your new gold tooth.

"It was you? Wasn't it? Valentino's new soul... the one that got me my freedom..." He said, tears welling up in his eyes. You took a step back. "I'm so sorry, Anthony." You said, voice shaking. "But why? Why?! I worked so hard to keep you safe from that asshole and then you go and fuck it all up!" He yelled and you just pressed your lips together in a weak smile. "Because it's my turn to protect you Anthony." You replied, tears welling up in your own eyes. Anthony pulled you close, hugging you and crying into your shoulder. "You deserve happiness, Ant. You always took care of me and Molly when we were growing up. Now it's my turn to take care of you". You muttered, tears streaming down your face. Anthony picked his head back up, hands cradling your face as you gave him a sad grin. "Has he hurt you yet?" Anthony asked softly, already knowing the answer. You tried to choke back your sob but it didn't work. "Oh shit... He's already slept with you, hasn't he?" Anthony said in shock. "It's so bad, Ant. He's already laid hands on me. My body. I feel so dirty. I hate it. But I had to. I did it all for you, Ant. All for you." You sobbed as your whole body trembled.

"You're so fucking stupid". He sobbed back, running a hand through your hair. "I love you so much, Ant." You cried, hugging him tightly. The two of you sank to the ground, cradling each other and sobbing. "I love you too, sis".

This was sooooooo good. Omfg I loved writing this. I hope you enjoy this fix, Nonnie. I hope ya'll cry, this is angst for a reason.

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Yandere Shang Tsung x Reader: Wrapped Around You (Angst Lemon)

Warning⚠️: This oneshot contains a NON CON scene with a yandere. Angst.

First one in 4 years. Don't like that; don't read, don't comment, keep scrolling.

Or if you want to read for the plot without reading the lemon look for the ⚠️ start and end.

Bonus at the end btw ~~~~~~~~~~~~ The dining hall was so chilly to you. Especially because of the dress you were put in. Or it could be the anxiety.

Is that why the room seemed smaller to you? You could've sworn this place was large enough to hold events. Every room you were in just seems smaller.

You're scared.

"Y/n, darling. Why aren't you eating your meal? This is the finest steak you could find in Outworld." You can tell he's staring at you from across the table.

Your eyes were blanklessly focused on the fancy dinner plate before your eyes, but you weren't thinking about the food, no.

Really, the thought of any food right now made you the opposite of the corresponding feeling. Nauseous.

Though ever since you were seized by him and taken, and though you were barely fed at first, you never had the urge to eat.

The food would look appetizing if it was your last meal.

You picked your fork up just to somewhat appease him and poke your food. You could make out the perfectly cooked mashed potatoes, some fine bread rolls, and greens. The steak looked medium well and juicy, but you assume the cows, if Outworld even have those, were different from Earthrealm.

Picking the knife up, you sighed and went to give the steak a try. You felt his eyes boring into you, and you tried not to give it any thought.

Chewing, chewing, chewing, and chewing you go. Not because the steak, it was like you lost your ability to consume. The meat is delicious, otherwise. But you began poking at your food again.

"Not hungry?" He coos at you.

"Never am." You coldly applied, subconsciously ruining the perfectly scooped mash potatoes with your silverware.

Servants entered the hall with the alcohol bottle. The atmosphere felt less tight now that someone else was here. But who are you kidding? They're no heroes.

But the wine they pour into your glass would make them one in your book.

The second they stop pouring the rich liquid in your cup, you'd grab it. Eyes on you as you slowly tilted your head back to down the alcohol and get it in your system as soon as possible.

That glass was empty within ten seconds. Shang Tsung sets his glass down after a small sip and observes you with no certain expression.

"Another one, please." You set your glass down and looked at the masked servant. They were hesitant, but they listened.

Filling the glass full took too long for you. When it was close to being full, you snatched the cup away and repeated. You drank your second glass faster this time.

After it was stained pink and empty, you pushed it to the servant. Just as the servant was about to listen to the silent command-

"That's enough!" Shang Tsung hisses out at the servant and motions for them to begone out of sight.

After the giant doors closed, the hurtful silence was back. At least you felt bold enough to look into his eyes. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, nor would you have cared.

He was the one to break off the eye contact to take another small sip of his drink and set it aside. "I don't need you intoxicated tonight."

You weren't sure if that was him looking out for you.

Standing from his chair and neatly pushing it back in, he eyes you again. "Come." He motions his head for you to stand and follow him.

"Where?" You shivered.

"My chambers. So we can talk." He answered simply.

This man is so good at bullshitting.

"We're talking right now, are we not?" You spoke back.

"I reassure you. We're just talking. You have my word." He places a hand on his chest and dips his head. It makes him appear sincere.

Either way, you couldn't fight him. "Okay." You sniffled and got up.

The man offers his arm to you, and you take it as he leads you upstairs to his dorm. He was muttering things to you with his charming smile, but you couldn't pay attention.

And when you two enter, you look back at him and see he quietly closes the double doors and locks it with a key that he would then vanish in his hand.

Yet, nothing has crossed your mind.

"Sit." His hand gestures to the bed. Walking slowly, you sit at the very edge and only kept your head down. His feet taps on the floor as he would sit beside you and way too close.

A hand rested on your shoulder, and you froze, not wanting to shake anymore and show how scared you are.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers before leaning in.

"When do I return to my cell?" Your voice whispered shakily. You stopped him at least. For the moment.

"Oh, a cell doesn't suit you, Y/n." Shang brushes your hair out your face full of anxiety and fatigue. Again he leans to you and you flinched back.

"What do you want to talk about?!" Your panic was visible. And all he does it laugh.

"You already know I was dishonest."

You knew.

Uncomfortable, you got up and slowly walked to the door. You really didn't want to do it. You felt shitty the moment you were brought to the island.

He doesn't stop you. Only watches as you reach for the doorknob.

Attempting to open it, you realized it was locked. And it wasn't like the door in your home where you could turn the lock and leave your room. This one has a keyhole...

But he teleported that key to gods know where.

Hands rubbing your sides sensually, you feel him behind you. "Why don't you just come back to bed?" He murmurs in your ear.

...(⚠️ START)

You started to dissociate as you were laid carefully on your back. Shang props your legs up before looming over you to attack your neck with love kisses and nibbles.

A hand lifts your given dress and cups your swimsuit area, which makes you wince. The small sound seemed to encourage him.

Giving your neck another kiss, he lifts his head to look at you. You got to look back at him and feel the despair kicking in.

"Please." Your eyes were clouded.

Wiping the tear, he sighs softly. "Don't cry. I won't be rough with you. You can trust me on that."

And you didn't. You could pray he was, but it wouldn't change anything. You just wished you were home with your friends. You missed Liu.

Slipping down your panties from under your dress, he looks at your face before slowly easing a finger inside you to test the waters.

Your eyes shut, and you winced. Perfect.

He adds another digit in before repeatedly pulling and pushing them in the wet entrance, fingering you to get you ready.

Shang really is keeping to his word this time.

"You're such a good girl." He praises as you weren't fighting at all. You just kept a really tensed position, clenching around his fingers. Your breathing was unsteady from panic.

"Please!" You wheezed. This would be your last plea for him to release you. A snake wouldn't listen to a poor bunny crying to be freed as the reptile wraps tightly around it, squeezing the life out the helpless critter.

"Relax." The sorcerer coos, still trying to prep you. "You'll make it hurt if you're tensed like this."

Soon enough, he got you out of the dress he made you wear for him. He quietly observed how beautiful you are without covering. All while ignoring how frantic you were.

He would get undressed as well. He's a handsome man with hideous deeds.

You whined out more as he climbs over you. At first, he presses his forehead against yours and tries to shush you. He'd force you to cuddle up to him before he starts.

Was this what Sonya had to go through? No. Sonya is a stronger woman. And she got rescued sooner. Good for her that she doesn't have to face the same fate as you will.

The villain was back to kissing your neck again and nuzzling it, hands caressing you everywhere. You were involuntarily damp between your legs and when he feels it he chuckles.

He takes it as you're ready.

Feeling his tip right against you, he rests his forehead against yours. Gripping your chin, he forces his tongue in your mouth the same time you feel his cock slowly being pushed through your poor walls.

The kiss muffled your brief cries, and your nails were scratching his shoulders, eventually his back as you would hug around him for some sort of support.

He'd still hold up to his word.

His dick all the way inside you, he held still. He didn't start ramming you. He wasn't going to break you just like that and make you sob throughout the assault.

Why is he being nice this time? He's in a position to cause more pain to you but he doesn't.

Breaking the kiss, he examines your face. You had dried tears but your breathing was still labored, and you do your best to accommodate to the cock in your organs.

One experimental thrust was given. Seeing your face blushed in the reaction without much pain was all he needed to see.

"Mm.... fuck..." You moaned under your breath, and Shang Tsung hears it well.

"Is this to your liking?" He continues to gently hump you. You damn well weren't going to answer that question. You didn't need to either way. He can tell it felt good for you.

Again, he presses you back into the mattress and kisses you as he sets a good pace fucking you. His cock moving in and out your cunt as his tongue pets yours, dominating it like what he's doing right now.

It felt like this was going on for hours. Being the sensitive girl you are, you came multiple times. But it didn't stop until finally he puts his weight onto you and clamps down onto your neck.

At first you were startled until you felt spurts flowing inside you and to your precious womb.

...(⚠️ END)

The black haired man pulls out and lays beside you, catching his breath.

The shame washed over you as the heat died down. And you curled up on your side, facing away from him.

Dark eyes looking at your back he places a soft hand on you. "How was that, dear?"

He wasn't expecting a full breakdown from you like that. You just started to cry. "I just want to go back to my cell. Please!"

Caught off guard he sits up. "Was I too rough with you? Believe I was trying to make it enjoyable for you, I-"

Resting a hand on your lower half for reassurance was a mistake as you reacted terribly. 

 "Very well... Let's get you cleaned up. I will take you to the dungeon if that's really what you wish for." He listens.

*Bonus!*

"Is she alive, Lord Raiden?"

"She's in a deep slumber, Liu Kang. I see no wounds on her, but we should probably let her rest. Elder Gods know what she had to endure."

The familiar voices brought you out of the unconscious state. Grumbling, everything was so bright. You felt like you finally touched the grass and experience sunlight for the first time in forever.

"She is awake!"

𝘖𝘩𝘩, 𝘓𝘪𝘶! 𝘔𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥!

"Liu Kang? Lord Raiden?" You blinked.

"We're here, Y/n L/n." The Thunder God answers.

Liu helps you stand up and brushes the dirt off you. "We apologize for how long it took to come to your aid! Did he hurt you?"

"Who- Oh. No..." You didn't sound that reassuring. Liu known you for awhile.

"Are you sure? You can-"

"Just malnutrition." You cut him off. You didn't want to talk about it. Not now at least. But it was still pretty recent. The emotional wound was fresh and stung like hell.

Tears appeared in your eyes just thinking about it.

"Y/n?" Liu rubs your shoulder out of comfort. You hugged him. You needed it from your friend.

"What he'd do, Y/n?" Caring arms wrapped back around you, this time from a good man.

"Nothing. I really missed you." You partially lied.

[thebunnednun]

New profile pic!! Oh and updates 4/14/2024 (Master list too)

Finally, something that looks like me!

Oh, btw the names Angellica or Angie for short. I don't mind being called BUNNEDNUN either babes.

My wifey: @elarakive

My sister friend: @thealtofvalleyxdoodles My girl: @orange-milky

WE ASLO HAVE A COMMUNITY LINK NOW!!:

Now let's get down to business,

An updated schedule will be as follows:

Mundane Monday: The beginning of the week is always dreadful so let's make it fun with some crack fics. Memes, Memes, MEMES galore!

Tearful Tuesdays: Angst posts will be the main thing on here. I'm thinking of some hurt and comfort fics. I'm already working on a Buggy fic for this. I'm not opposed to happy endings but in general, think of an onion cutting itself for these. They don't all have to be romantic and I'm creating something for Trafalgar Law here.

Wonderful Wednesdays: I will update two of the current fan series on this day maybe three if I have the time. So far the list includes:

*Enchanted meeting (Buggy The Clown x Straw-hat reader)

*Shadows of the Blade (Dracule Mihawk x Assassin reader)

*Capturing hearts (Iñaki Godoy x Photographer reader)

*Please Don't Hate Me! (Juan Ruiz x Imperfect reader

*Whispers of the heart (Dracule Mihawk x Maid (Pirate Queen) reader)

*Love Sick (Buggy the Clown x Straw-hat reader)

*Bound by Justice (Sabo x Marine! Reader)

*Carnival Confessions (Portgas D. Ace x Straw-Hat! Reader)

*If you only knew how much I love you (Sabo x Straw-hat! Reader x Ace)

*Make you mine!~ (Trafalgar D. Law x Cheeky~ Crewmate! Reader)

*Throw Me Overboard! (Buggy the Clown x Fm! Reader)

*Gone Fishing! (Sabo x Sea creature Straw-Hat! Reader)

*Good neighbors (Farmer! Bakugou Katsuki x Gardener! Reader)

*Dancing Under the Stars (Red-Haired Shanks X Bar/ DanceClub Owner! Reader)

*In the Arms of a Stranger (Charlotte Katakuri x Bride! Reader)

*Unexpected Dinner Guests! (Koby x Straw-Hat! Reader)

*Tempted to touch! One piece Men x Fm! Reader (Multi fic)

*Shadows in the Night! (Trafalgar D. Water Law x Ethereal spirit! Reader)

*Sweet dreams!~ (Trafalgar D. Law x Hot Doctor Wife! Reader (Modern Au))

*Golden afternoon (Monkey D. Luffy x Crew mate! Reader) *LOYALTY (Katsuki Bakugou x Sugar Baby! Reader)

*You're my Coffee (Shouta Aizawa x Pro Hero/Teacher! Reader)

*Overworked (Katsuki Bakugou x Stressed! gf! Reader)

*Build a Boyfriend (Mirio Togata x Pastel Goth! Reader)

*The One That Got Away (Katsuki Bakugou x Girlfriend! Reader)

Sanji, Usopp, Nami, Ace, Law, Robin, Boa, Chopper, and Zoro will be loading soon. I have many, many, MANY, ideas but no time right now.

Thoughtful Thursdays: Just some random conversations and ideas thrown out there. I'll try to host polls so you guys can vote on what you want next. Basically a rest day for me though because there's just no way I could write everything in one shot. (/@ ~@)/~* I've tried and it ends with me updating around 3AM or sum.

Follower Fridays: Requests from followers are posted. If you have a story request or anything you want to ask go ahead and do so on this day. Just make sure you send them in early so I can get to it in time. If you send something the day of I might be able to make it happen.

Sexy Saturdays: Send me your best Saturday night requests: ie dancing, funny adventures, or crazy antis with the one-piece crew or another fandom. I'm very familiar with Naruto and MHA (and any other anime honestly I doubt there's anything you could request that I don't know.)

It's all about having fun and having those Saturday night vibes babe!~

Sweet Sundays: Romantic One-shot posts! Any character of age and as long as it's not a child. I would be open to doing a reader insert where they are a parent or parental figure though. I find them to be very endearing.

As always your requests are welcomed and comments are very much appreciated. Sorry again for being gone for so long. I want to pick up my serious especially and make the chapters juicy again.

I also have a spring tee shop for merch related to all the stories!!

Every little bit helps me to pay for my tuition! <33

Thank you guys again for your patience and understanding.<<333

Don't forget to check out my a03 account of the same name!!

My new goals are to keep up with the schedule and get 50 followers by the end of the month! I wanna keep growing our family. :3

Most of all, remember that you are safe here and loved.

Until next time my loves!~

[lady-maracas]

Hello! I have juicy angsty request for you! It's angel dust x !male reader and it goes like this:

Reader and angel lived in the same period and used to work in the mafia where they met eachother and eventually fell in love with eachother (in a secret relationship), after some time both reader and angel die in shootouts with other gangs and the cops.

They both assume that their partner went to heaven and go many years in hell alone. Until by pure luck Reader finds angel wasted behind a bar and decides to help this random twink he found (they don't recognize eachother because angel is a spider demon dude now and thus pretty different visuallg compared to his living self, same goes for reader), after angel becomes sober and understands that reader isn't someone who will take advantage of him the 2 start having some small talk which eventually leads to them both thinking "HOLY SHIT ARE YOU ANGEL/READER?!!?", after which they cry tears of joy after finally finding their soulmate after decades spent alone

Angst prompts are 17, 22, 30 and 40

Also it's the first time that i write a request with a prompt system so sorry if i messed it up and of course feel free to modify my request however you like if you need to.

Thanks for reading!

Memories

Pairing: AngelDust X M!Reader

Word count: 2k words

Warnings: Swearing, Angst with a happy ending.

Masterlist

I’ll be using angst prompts:

#17, “I lost myself the day I lost you.”

#22, “I’d take our relationship back in a heartbeat.”

#30, “You don’t have to hide your tears from me.”

#40, “You know I still love you, right?”

It had been a cold night. A bad feeling was in the air, as if everyone knew we’d never make it out alive. It was one of those days, working for the mafia, fulfilling your destiny, as they say. If I had the choice, I wouldn’t have done any of this—the killing, the fighting, the running away. I would have had a beautiful life and a better family. I would’ve been happy. Unfortunately, I had to work with my family, kill for them, fight for them, and be unhappy for them.

It was a cold night indeed. We could hear the bugs singing and fireflies lighting up the dark night. There was fog, if I remember correctly. Yes, there was. I was surrounded by my family and the rest of our mafia members. The ten of us stood around our enemies shelter, their house, hidden in the middle of the woods. We had found them a couple of days prior, deciding we needed to attack them first.

I remember walking slowly towards the house, crouching behind tall herbs. It was quiet; the only sound we could hear was our steps in the wet grass. I looked to my right, and I remember seeing him.

Oh, my dear Anthony, the light of my life. His blonde hair stood out in the dark, and his blue eyes looked right back at me. We had met a couple of years ago, when he joined my family’s team. Just like me, he was following his relatives orders, not liking the line of work we were bound to. I remember the first time I saw him and how mesmerized I was. His fluffy blonde hair, his deep blue eyes, his rosy cheeks—everything about him made me immediately fall in love. He was a bit taller than I was, making me look up at him like he was a god. He was beautiful.

Over the next few years, we got to know each other better. He spent our days together, followed our families together, comforted each other through hard times, and we were attached at the hip. I would lie if I said I didn’t fall madly in love with him. Unfortunately, the 40s weren’t swell enough to accept us, two men, being in love with each other. So we never said so. It was obvious, though; he cared for me as much as I cared for him.

So that night, that damned night, when our oh-so genius plan failed, when the enemies attacked us before we even had the time to draw our weapons, I knew I had to say something to him. I remember trying to make my way up to him through the bullet rain. That is when it hit me. Right through the spine and the stomach. Fuck.

I saw Anthony’s eyes widening as I fell into the tall grass. It all happened in slow motion. He threw himself down and made his way up to me, cradling me in his arms, tears threatening to fall on his cheeks. He was afraid.

“It’s okay.” I tried to lift my hand to his cheek. I think I did. “You don’t have to hide your tears from me, it’s alright.” I gave him a weak smile, and so did he, his tears staining his cheeks.

And everything went black, as black as the night sky.

That’s what happened; well, that’s how I remember it happening. My death. It was a lifetime ago, but sometimes it still felt like yesterday. I remember his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my arm, trying to make my death as painless as possible. I am forever glad the last thing I saw was his beautiful face.

I hope he lived a beautiful life after my passing. Or, well, at least I hope he lived. I have no idea when, how, or where he died. I don’t know if he’s in hell or in heaven. I hope he is in heaven, living his afterlife in peace, but a part of me wished he’d be down here in hell.

I got used to living alone in this shithole; I had to anyway. I spent most of my days working, trying my best to earn money to survive. I often spent that money on drinks, trying to solve all my problems by forgetting them for a short while. Tonight was no different; I was sitting at the bar of a shitty club. The music was awful, I cursed whoever chose to play some of these tasteless tracks. I stared at the bottom of my drink, silently hoping the creepy bartender, who has been giving me weird looks since I arrived, didn’t spike my drink.

I had very few friends down here in hell. Most of them have families and important duties to take care of. None of them knew just how much I was struggling to live here, to be happy, and to have a good afterlife. I was desperate, I needed a good friend, or at least someone who would understand me.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a loud, crashing noise right beside me. I turned my head just in time to see a pink figure jump across the bar to tackle the bartender.

“Did you fucking spike my drink?” I heard the pink figure shout about two inches from the bartender’s face, holding his collar with his right hand, or more like one of his four hands. “You fucking…drugged me!” His speech was slurred. He definitely was not sober, and if he told the truth, he was drugged too.

The bartender pushed him away, making him stumble back. “I did not!” The bartender gestured, almost knocking on my drink in the process. I grabbed the glass, finishing its contents in one swift sip.

“There’s no need to fight, gentlemen.” I spoke up, trying to break the tension between the two. I put my hand on the pink man’s shoulder; he was much taller than me. “Come on, I’ll get you some help.” I tried to reason with him, obviously, he was scared. He glared at me, his eyes staring at mine, one white, one black. I took one of his arms and led him through the front door. “Where do you live? I’ll help you home.” I asked.

“You’re the one who…asked him to spike my drink, huh? If you wanted to take advantage of me, you could’ve just asked.” He brushed his fluffy bangs out of his face. I looked back at him with a soothing smile on my face. “I’m not trying to take advantage of you…uh” I hesitated; I didn’t know his name. “My name is Angel.” His speech was slurred. “Alright then, Angel, if you want me to, I’ll help you home.” I offered him my hand, to which he clung, to steady his sloppy steps. We walked for a bit to where I assumed was his home, all the while exchanging small talk.

I noticed Angel had been leading me to the famous Hazin Hotel. Oh Lord, please don’t tell me he lives there. “You’re staying at the hotel?” I asked, a bit hesitant. “Yeah, yeah, I was forced to; my friend, Charlie, thinks I can rehabilitate my soul. Ha!” He laughed at the thought. “You don’t think you can redeem your soul?” I laughed with him. “Absolutely not!” He crossed all four arms. “This body was made for sex, Toots! There is no way I’ll ever be a sweet angel!” He stumbled a bit due to the alcohol in his system. “Steady, we’re almost there!” I encouraged him by giving him my hand for him to grab again. He was definitely a funny guy.

We made our way up to the hotel, the path seeming endless. He waddled in, keeping the door open for me, but when I didn’t enter, he turned around, giving me a puzzled look. “You’re sure you want me to come in? I don’t want to bother you.” I fidget with my hands. I definitely wanted to help him, but I did not want to deal with everyone else who might stay at this hotel. “Oh, come on, you’re no bother! Everyone else is probably asleep by now.” He let go of the door when I stepped in. I noticed his Italian accent, and I loved that…

He walked up the stairs, holding the railing with both his right hands to steady himself. I stayed behind him in case he stumbled down. When we arrived in front of his room, he opened the door, and I hesitated again, not wanting to overstep. His room was decent, even nice. I barely had the time to process my surroundings when I heard the tap water in the bathroom sink. Angel leaned over the sink to try and drink. “Don’t you have a glass somewhere you can use?” I giggled a bit at the funny situation. “Nope!” He replied, sending water down his face. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Mh! That was good!” He mumbled a bit under his breath.

“I like your accent! Is it Italian?” My mouth asked before my brain even had the time to approve. He gave me a funny look before answering. “Yeah, my family was Italian. My real family, I mean.” He sat down on his bed, resting his arms on his thighs. “I miss my life, y’know. Wait, no, actually, I don’t. I used to work for my family, which sucked.” ‘Same…’ I wanted to answer, but I didn’t. “I wish I had lived longer, but when I really think about it, I had no reason to live…” He continued. ‘Oh, this was going to be a deep conversation’, I thought. “You know, my life was pretty much like yours; I’m afraid I used to work for my family too.” I tried to reassure him. He laughed softly. “Yeah, well, I guess you weren’t working for the fucking Mafia…” He sighed.

What? I had been looking away, but when I heard him, I turned slowly back to him. This couldn’t be right…I had to be dreaming, or maybe I misunderstood him. “When did you die?” I asked under my breath, fearing the answer. “1947, why?” He looked at me as if I were crazy.

My breath got caught in my throat. I wanted to cry, to laugh, and to jump into his arms. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. “Anthony?!” I barely let out, wishing my eyes weren’t deceiving me. I saw his face become numb, all emotion leaving his face in the span of a second. “Y/N?” He returned.

I let out a breathy sob, tuning into his arms. He had gotten up, ready to cradle me in his arms, just like he did the day I died. I had finally found him—my love, my light, my everything. We cried for what felt like hours. I finally pulled back to look at his face. He did look different, but after all, he was still my Anthony.

“Oh, Y/N, you don’t know how I missed you; I lost myself when I lost you.” He smiled through his tears. Oh, how I love him. “I still love you, you know? All these years in hell, I tried to find myself, but I was never able to, not without you by my side. It turns out I died only a couple of weeks after you.” I didn’t hesitate this time; not afraid to cross any boundaries, I pressed my lips to his, stepping on my tiptoes. He returned my kiss eagerly, which sent butterflies through my stomach. I loved him. I pulled back a bit, leaning my forehead against his. “I’d take our relationship back in a heartbeat, if you’d let me.” I wiped the tears that fell down on my cheeks, to which he laughed. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” He said.

At last, I had found my home.

///

Heya readers! Again, thank you for the request, @4ndr3ax10 , I hope you like it!

Just a reminder, I can write for multiple characters from multiple fandoms, you can find that info on my prompt list! Thank you!

[kentuckyfriedmegumi]

tess’s guide to writing kiss scenes (featuring itafushi)

this is for @sunnyyflowerrs and @kat-likes-writing btw

bye so i am not that good at writing these idk why i’ve been asked to make this.  i read other people’s stuff and their kiss scenes and i’m like hnnnghghfhsnksj GIVE IT TO MEEEE!!!!! but alas… i shall deliver what the people want.

before we get into the step-by-steps of writing a kiss scene, i want to go over the general things i try to highlight in a scene that helps me when i write them. there’s the general way that kiss scenes go–build/tension, the kiss, post-kiss. wow, what a shocker, right? but overall, when i am writing a kiss scene, i like to highlight the feelings, the movements, and the energy. feelings being what the characters are feeling of course, movements being what they are doing, and energy being the overall charge in the scene. what is the context? is this a happy kiss? is it desperate? is it fast? is it soft? is it intimate? is it sexual? once you establish the tone of the scene, you are able to start building it.

let’s go.

1. the build up

as you get into building a kiss scene, there’s a lot of high tensions and emotions happening. a kiss is a very intimate form of contact and when you have two characters who are going to kiss, you need to set it up in a way that feels natural.

let’s take a desperate kiss for example. let’s say in this situation, megumi and yuuji both nearly died, and megumi was especially hurt (there will be light angst prob, sorry):

Yuuji stumbled towards the boy on the ground. Fushiguro was lying on his side, back towards him, breaths short and ragged. Guilt rippled through Yuuji the way a stone ripples through still water, jagged as it washed over him. “Fushiguro?” he asked. He could hear how pathetic his voice sounded, small and hesitant as he waited for an inevitable answer. Please answer. Yuuji dropped to his knees, feeling the pain of the fight finally settle in. The adrenaline was wearing off now, everything ached and he had cuts all over. He was sure he looked like hell and he could feel the blood caked on his face slowly dry and crust over. But nothing mattered because Fushiguro was right there. He could be bleeding—he probably still was—he could be missing an arm, he could he dying. It didn’t matter. Everything was shut out, locked away from his mind. Everything other than the body in front of him, chest rapidly rising and fall. He saw a small a shift and instinctively Yuuji reached out towards Fushiguro, only stopping not even an inch away from his shoulder. His hand was left hovering over him, scared to touch him, scared to cross that line. He wasn’t sure he could stop himself if he did.

in what i’m writing, i’m trying to show yuuji’s specific focus on megumi. this is a desperate kiss scene, so what i am trying to go for is this sense of i nearly lost you, so nothing matters other than the fact that you are right here with me.

notice that for this, i have feelings, movements, and energy.

feelings. yuuji is WORRIED, poor guy, all he can think about is whether or not meg is okay. i’m highlighting yuuji’s own pain and injuries, and immediately tossing them aside. yuuji does not care if he is hurting, all that matters right now is if megumi is okay.

movements. yuuji is placing himself near megumi, he reaches out for him, but he stops himself. this creates ~tension~ which makes for a juicy kiss scene. having some sort of tension also helps the build as emotions are rising. even in less /dire/ kiss scene builds, there may be some sort of tension going on. maybe they are both shy, maybe one of them isn’t sure the other likes them back, maybe they’re just plain nervous.

energy. this is the charge of the scene and mainly relies on surrounding context. this may be a bit easier to write based on how the scene is going. for this kiss, what is the overall tone of this that you’re going for? is this romantic? is it comforting? it’s important to have that extra layer so the reader has a better understanding of both characters’ emotions and motives as they reach the kiss.

2. the kiss

the kiss itself is the climax of the scene, everything is leading and converging to this very moment (no pressure right?). when writing a kiss, the feelings, movements, and energy are all VERY IMPORTANT because this is what the readers are reaching for when the scene starts.

let’s have a slow/soft kiss now. for this one, megumi and yuuji have been ~in love~ but they haven’t kissed and this is their first one. the build for this type of scene would focus a lot on the jitteriness in the characters. write in things such as trembling hands, increased heart rates, LOTS of blushing. aight, time to make these boys kiss, you get build and a kiss now:

Itadori was looking at Megumi. His cheeks were tinted a soft rosy color, and Megumi adored the way his eyes shone, despite his overall fidgety demeanor. He was usually so confident and easygoing, why was he so nervous now? Megumi wasn’t really in the position to ask questions, he could feel the heat rising to his face as Itadori looked at him. he smiled and Megumi could have melted right there. His eyes were so warm, his smile was so warm, Itadori was so warm. Megumi could feel his pulse quicken and he felt like his head was spinning in circles. But it was impossible to miss the way Itadori’s eyes flickered down, away from his eyes, a bit lower on his face. Megumi swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “Megumi,” Itadori said, stepping closer. Megumi’s face was surely as pink as the hair of the boy in front of him. he nervously fidgeted with his hands, unsure of what to do as the ever-increasing warmth that was Itadori stepped even closer. Megumi searched his eyes as he took one more final step forward. Itadori stopped for a moment, gauging a reaction, as if he was making sure this was okay. Megumi could feel his breath, their faces just inches apart.   It was like time slowed. Itadori shifted, his hand coming up to Megumi’s face, as if Megumi wouldn’t want anything more than what was about to happen. He felt warm calloused hands lightly brush his cheek and Megumi jumped slightly at the contact. Itadori was already starting to lean in when he stopped at the sudden movement, worried that Megumi was going to rebuff him. Megumi reached up with his own hand, grasping Itadori’s arm and holding him in place. their eyes met. They stood like that for what felt hours and seconds all the same before Megumi started to lean in too, eyes half-lidded as they fluttered from Itadori’s gaze to his lips. Their breaths mixed and Megumi just knew that Itadori could feel his racing pulse beneath his fingers. It didn’t matter. With one final resolve, they both moved in. It was like everything in the world stopped. A burst of warmth spread from Megumi’s chest throughout his body, enveloping him as he sighed into the kiss. Itadori’s lips were soft. Megumi could feel a light tremble that was probably, definitely from the nerves, and he was certain that he was probably, definitely trembling too. Itadori’s hand on his cheek moved a bit lower, fingers ghosting the nape of Megumi’s neck. They tangled in his hair while the pad of his thumb rubbed softly behind his ear. Instinctively, Megumi’s grip on Itadori’s arm tightened. As a result, Itadori pressed himself into Megumi further, other hand snaking around to his back and pulling him against his chest. And god, Megumi wanted to melt. They broke apart, only for a moment, before Itadori moved back in and resumed the kiss. Megumi could feel his mouth part slowly and Itadori responded in kind. Both of them moved with gentle, subtle motions, taking in small breaths in between. Megumi shifted his head, tilting slightly to the right, allowing Itadori to deepen the kiss further. They kept the pace slow, their kisses light. Megumi’s heart was racing a million miles a minute and his mind was overflowed with only thoughts of Itadori—the tenderness in his touch, as if Megumi was the most precious thing in the world to him.

ayyyyyy look at that kiss!! once again, we got the big three.

feelings. for this scene, it was important to show that megumi is nervous (capital n), but he WANTS this. he wants yuuji to kiss him and he wants to kiss yuuji. when they finally do kiss, there’s this overwhelming feeling where all of his anxieties finally calm. notice how i focus a lot on megumi’s feelings to convey the importance of this kiss for them. i also highlight yuuji’s nervousness in meg’s perception through his actions. the constant glancing at his lips and the way he moves in slowly to kiss him help show that yuuji is just as nervous as meg is.

movements. a lot of people thing that writing kiss scenes are awkward and i can see how they would be. you don’t want to focus TOO MUCH on what they’re doing, unless you’re writing more explicit content. in this snippet, i have brief descriptions of their actions, but a lot of movements are also focused outside of what their mouths are doing. yuuji brings his hand from megumi’s cheek to his neck, his other hand comes his back and pulls him closer. but you don’t want to focus too much away the kiss. i bring it back to that by writing how megumi is the one who deepens the kiss, parting his mouth and allowing yuuji to take over.

energy. this kiss scene is meant to be soft and tender. notice how i sort of drag it out bc the boys are supposed to be a lil nervy. i convey the energy by using descriptors of their subconscious actions, bc the body is also reacting to the kiss. heart rates are increased, they’re looking at each other’s lips, they’re lips are trembling. but i also have the feelings and movements be really soft and slow. they don’t crash together, they slowly gravitate towards each other.

3. post-kiss

this part is probably the easiest to write. both characters are coming down from their high and there’s a swirl of emotions that starts to die down. usually nerves dwindle as both characters soften. depending on the situation, you can have them soften into each other, or perhaps they pull apart in regret.

bc i’m cruel, let’s do both! sorry in advance…

Fushiguro was kissing him. It should have been the best thing in the world. It was the best thing in the world, but all Yuuji could focus on wasn’t the heat from his body, the grip on his shoulders, or the soft press of Fushiguro’s lips against his own. All Yuuji could think about was the endless list of lives that he had taken. The people that he should have saved, that he could have saved if he had just died. Fushiguro was kissing him, and he didn’t deserve it. But couldn’t he be selfish? Just this once, could he take what he had always wanted? Fushiguro had asked to be saved, he had asked for Yuuji’s support. Yuuji wanted nothing more than to give that to him. He wanted to give it all to him. And so he did. Yuuji stepped closer, grabbing Fushiguro’s collar and pulling him further in. He could feel a small gasp before he swallowed it with a kiss. Fushiguro was kissing him, how could he not kiss him back? The feeling of Fushiguro’s hand carding through his hair stopped everything. His touch was gentle as he tangled his fingers through Yuuji’s hair. There was a certain tenderness in the way that he moved. No. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be touched, kissed, loved as if he were a good person. Not after everything he did. Not after everyone he killed. And he especially didn’t deserve it from someone like Fushiguro. No, Fushiguro deserved so much more. Yuuji deserved nothing. So he pulled back, his grip on the collar loosening. Yuuji had to force his hands down at his sides as he took a step back. He was still quick to notice the way Fushiguro followed him, only briefly, before he pulled back with a certain look on his face. The kind of look that Yuuji hoped to never see again. “I’m… sorry,” Yuuji said. Fushiguro stiffened and his gaze fell. “No,” he said, face dark as he turned away from Yuuji. Suddenly, everything was so much colder. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have k– I shouldn’t have done that.” It wasn’t you. It’s not you. It’ll never be you. I��m a monster, I’m a murder, I don’t deserve you. You could have so much more, so much better than me. A million thoughts raced through Yuuji’s mind—so many things that he wanted to say to assure Fushiguro that he didn’t pull away because he wanted to. “We should probably get some rest,” was what he said instead, “before we go to the third years.” “Right,” Fushiguro replied. “It’ll be a long day, I’m sure.”

eeek sorry, chooms. i’m just trying to provide ~variety~ here in my kiss scenes. whipping these up on the spot means i just sorta write whatever comes to my brain. this kiss meant to be angstier. it’s bleaker. yuuji’s thoughts are dark and self-depreciating. he kisses meg back, but he immediately feels bad about it because he feels like he doesn’t deserve it. this translates to his movements, with him gripping the collar in desperation, but immediately pulling back and restraining his himself at the end of it. as for the energy, notice how in this kiss and post-kiss how there’s an overall darkness in the tone. there is less focus on the kiss itself and what they are doing and more so in the dark thoughts plaguing yuuji’s mind. this adds to the post-kiss, as it sets up his regret in kissing meg in the first place.

Let’s do another one:

Megumi rushed in, crashing his lips against Itadori’s as the grip on his arm tightened. Fuck Sukuna, fuck the higher ups, fuck everything else in the world. They were crazy for thinking the world could ever just be free of Itadori Yuuji. Megumi wouldn’t allow it. Not when he was right there in front of him, real, and alive. Megumi could feel Itadori stiffen in hesitation for a moment before he was met back with the same fervor, the same desperation Megumi had kissed him with. All of the noise of the outside world, all of the noise in his head silenced immediately at the feeling of Itadori’s lips moving against his. His hand was quick to make its way to Megumi’s face, caressing his cheek with a gentleness that he was definitely not kissing him with. Megumi didn’t care about that, though, so he tilted his head and let his arms fall around Itadori’s waist and pulled him flush against himself. A small gasp escaped from Itadori before it was immediately swallowed by the kiss. Megumi drank him in like he was dehydrated and Itadori’s lips were a cold glass of water. They could have stayed that way for forever. Allowing their pace to slow, Megumi’s grip on Itadori loosened. They morphed into a kiss that more loving and intimate. It was as if the rush of emotions slowly recessed back into the ocean of Megumi’s mind—not repressed but rather settled into something a bit softer. When they parted, Megumi held Itadori close and rested his forehead against the other boy’s. He was smiling. That same goofy, stupid smile that he smiled when he was about to watch a movie with Megumi, or when Megumi summoned his Divine Dog, or when he was cooking with Megumi. The smile that Itadori reserved only for him. “Hi there,” he said. Megumi gave a small smile in return. “Hi.” He could tell his heart was racing, he was probably blushing too, but all he could think about was that he kissed Itadori. Even crazier, Itadori kissed him back. Megumi couldn’t help the small chuckle the escaped his lips before it was too late and Itadori was giving him a small nudge. “Are you thinking about me?” Itadori teased. “Shut up,” he said with no real annoyance. “Fine.” And suddenly, Itadori was kissing him again.

For this post-kiss, we have them softening to each other. The kiss was a big boiling point of emotions as megumi kissed yuuji, then after the kiss, they part and it’s a sweet, loving moment between the two of them. we have megumi’s feelings being read about yuuji, we have his movements in resting their foreheads together, and we have the energy shift from a passionate kiss to an intimate moment.

overall

i mean that’s basically it! i didn’t plan on it, but i wrote four kiss scenes (well, three kisses and one build to a kiss) and broke down my little formula for each one. i hope that this provides some enlightenment in how to write a kiss scene and i hope my ramblings make sense here. i was always of the belief that kiss scenes were super hard to write, but after writing one for IYTFPTGFMTFILWH, it just sorta all clicked for me. i hope that this guide helps it click for you too, fellow author.

if anything, i hope you enjoyed the itafushi kisses. happy itafushi friday.

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter six: I think he knows

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER FIVE: FUCKING SITUATIONS, CIRCUMSTANCES, MISCOMMUNICATIONS

warnings: language, alcohol consumption, self-deprecation, angst

word count: 1.8k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter  @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella

A/N: YAY! first chapter of phase two -- and guys, let me tell you she's juicy. much drama and angst to come! the next part may be super duper short, so the chapter after will come sooner than you think :)

It’s not as painful as you first imagined. The first week was hard, obviously. But when you never heard any of Bucky’s escapades through the wall — you assume he just waits until you fall asleep. Or maybe you’ve just been more tired recently, taking on as much work as you possibly can all to outrun your intense feelings, sprinting like it’s a fucking marathon.

At least he hasn’t caught on. He visits you, after workouts and spar sessions, holding treats and drinks, and even keeps you company when the system is down and you have to file everything by hand. Everything is good, and you’ve managed to dissuade everyone who knows the two of you that you like him. But you do, desperately. Pathetically.

Right now, you’re not focused on all of that. Wanda and Nat have roped you into a girls’ night. And surprisingly, Sharon is there. When Nat disappears to get her favourite bottle of white wine, an awkward silence descends upon the three of you, as even Wanda politely excuses herself to get some snacks. You look everywhere but at Sharon, afraid she’ll say something horrid about you. You pull at your dress and fiddle with your hair, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“I’m so sorry.” Are the words you didn’t expect to hear, at all. Your head shoots up, only to find her staring at you with a truly apologetic look all over her face, red lips pursed in more words still unspoken.

“W—What?” You hate the small stutter in your voice.

“I’ve been a downright bitch to you the entire time you’ve been here. I’ve been unfair. I’m sorry. When you got here, all I saw was that Steve wanted you, and I thought you wanted him too, so I lashed out. But I know now that that’s not the case. And even if you were interested, that gave me no right to take it out on you. If I’m feeling insecure, I should keep it to myself.”

Immediately, your nurturing sense of nature kicks in, ready to reassure her. “Well, no Sharon, you shouldn’t keep insecurities to yourself. There’s definitely healthier ways to go about it…and I’m not excusing you, but I understand it. When you like someone and they seem to have something with someone else…it’s quite crushing. Sometimes you do anything to fill that void, regardless of consequences. I understand.” She smiles at you.

“Thank you. But still, that doesn’t make what I did to you okay, by any standards. I was…I was hoping maybe we could start over? And maybe try to eventually be friends?” Her shy hopefulness gets the best of you. You nod. “Yeah. Of course.” 

This is definitely gonna come back to bite you in the ass.

“Plus, you’re into Bucky now, aren’t you?” She asks, and you’re taken aback. It feels like the narrative you’ve been cultivating for the past month or so has come shattering down. Have you been that obvious? “I can tell by the way you look at him. It’s cute, honestly.” 

You deflect. “Um, I suppose we’re close.” You wring your hands under the table where she can’t see and just like that Nat and Wanda both come barreling back in.

“Oh come on, don’t lie. You’re completely smitten by him.” Nat grins, holding up six bottles of wine. Six? How the hell are we gonna get through that?

“Okay and?” You ditch any pretense, knowing that if Sharon’s figured it out, then there is no point in wearing a mask when everyone knows of the hideous face underneath. “It’s not like he likes me back, so—.”

“So can I ask him out?” Sharon asks, her demeanour entirely changing. Then you realise what she was doing, she was trying to covertly figure out if you and Bucky are actually together, because she wants him.

Of course she does. And even though your heart splinters into a million pieces in your chest, you smile. “Yeah, go for it. Just because I have a tiny crush on him, doesn’t mean others can’t. Go ahead.”

“Do you know where he is now?” You feel the lump in your throat hardening, and refusing to dissolve even though you know you should answer her question, should speak.

“Yeah, he’s sparring with Steve.”

“Oh, I’ll go find him now then. Thank you so much!” She walks around the table and hugs you, and you don’t have it in you to pull away like you so desperately want. 

You don’t say another word until she leaves, then bow your head and let the tears fall. 

Dear God, what chance do you stand now? Sharon is prettier, skinnier than you. How could you even think to compete with her? Her hair is perfect, her body is perfect, her face is perfect. It makes sense. She’s the kind of woman Bucky should go for, who he makes the most sense with. Not you.

Once again, you are close to him, but you’ll never be the one he wants. You don’t register your shoulders shaking until you feel yourself wrapped in a hug. It’s stupidly childish, to be crying like this.

It’s not like she’s trying to steal your boyfriend — she just happens to have a crush on the same man as you. So why are you so distraught?

Because deep down you haven’t let go of hope. That maybe, if you’re nice enough, then Bucky will like you. For your heart. For your soul, for your mind. Maybe, he’ll be drawn to your kindness and generosity, and it’ll win him over. 

He’ll have to compromise with your looks, but…if he liked you enough, wouldn’t it be worth it?

But you forget that someone else who looks like Sharon can also do the exact same. And then, there will be no compromise. He’ll be happier. 

He’ll be happier.

“God, she’s such a bitch.” Wanda says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You lift your head, drying your tears.

“Wanda…you can’t just call women bitches. And she’s not that horrible, she apologised for the stuff she’s done before. She’s braver than me, she can actually ask out the man she likes. Don’t blame her.”

Natasha pulls away, glaring daggers at you. “Girl, you know I love you, but are you fucking blind? She got your guard down, to talk about if you and Bucky are a thing, and then pounced when you said you weren’t. She wanted to see if the rumours were true.” 

Both women pull away from you, sitting down as you wipe your cheeks clean. “What rumours?” Wanda uses her powers to pour you a glass which you down almost immediately, and then Wanda pours you another.

“Haven’t you heard? Word on the block is that you and Bucky are dating.” You sink into yourself, knowing what people must be saying.

“What? Well, we definitely are not, unfortunately for me. We’re just friends—well, I guess everyone’s gonna find out when she asks him out and he says yes.”

“He’s not gonna say yes,” Wanda breathes, laying a gentle hand on your arm.

“You guys don’t know that for sure.”

“We do.” They both chime in unison.

“How?”

“He looks at you like he’d rather gouge his eyes out than not. Plus, he’s well up to date with what Sharon’s done to you. He’s not saying yes. Trust us.”

You nod, deciding to divert the topic. “What about you guys, what’s new with you?”

Natasha tells you about the hot girl she saw at the gym, and Wanda recounts her latest escapade with Vision. The three of you gossip and talk for hours and hours, getting louder and louder as more alcohol enters your systems. 

You’re incredibly drunk as you head back to your room, stumbling in the elevator and giggling over Nat calling Thor’s new long hair “horse-shaped”. To sober you, it makes no sense. But to the inebriated version of you, nothing’s ever been funnier. 

Bucky’s standing outside your door, waiting for you to emerge. “Bucky!” You exclaim, voice full of love and adoration as you fall into his strong arms and warm chest, pressing a noisy kiss to the closest part of him which happens to be his neck. He blushes.

“Dear God, doll. You’ve had a lot to drink haven’t you?” He chuckles, amused. 

“Uh huh. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be off giving Sharon the pounding of her life or something?” You gaze up at him through your lashes, and this is the precise moment Bucky realises he’s falling in love with you. Flushed, round cheeks, sparkling eyes, and a fondness in your face that nobody else could ever replicate. And that dirty fucking mouth. You’re going to be the death of him.

“What? No. Absolutely not. After what she did to you?” You frown, and fuck he just wants to kiss you so bad. “But why would you let that stop you? She’s so pretty, and she’s so interested. She told me a few hours ago.” You open the door to your room, and he carries you bridal style. You snuggle into him, even as he sets you down. 

You thank your lucky stars you’re not wearing any makeup, so you can bury your face in the pillow all you want. But all you want is Bucky. So beautiful, how can you resist? He watches you, snuggling into the covers. He wants you so bad, it’s ruining his life. 

That’s what it feels like.

You reach for him, just as he plucks up the courage to offer you a half-truth. “Why would I want someone that cruel? And you’re a heck of a lot prettier, doll. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He moves closer to you, to tuck you in up to your chin in this freezing cold night, when your eyes crack open and you latch onto his arm.

“Please don’t go, Buck. Don’t leave me. I love you.” You pout, and tears escape you, disappearing into your hairline. He brushes them away, and the contrast of his hot and cold hands has your eyes flutter.

“You love me?” He chuckles again, because you’re just too damn cute. He quickly takes a picture and sets it as his lock screen, too enamoured by you to resist.

“Of course. You’re my best friend, and I love all my friends. Just—Will you please get over here? It’s fucking freezing.” Bucky quickly jumps under the covers, facing towards you and pulls you in. Your shivering subsides immediately, wrapped in his warm chest and his metal arm.

“I love you too.” He whispers, and you hum in agreement, not knowing the double meaning those four simple words carry.

You drift off peacefully, dreaming once again of desire-filled blue eyes, and a smile graces your face.

NEXT PART

[yourstingrey]

do you think you could write a luke x y/n friends to lovers based on too sweet by hozier? Maybe have it be a little angsty like someone tells him he’s not good enough and so he distances himself. I really love your writing and feel like you would write it beautifully.

Too Sweet Pt.1

Thank you so much for this request I loved this idea its so cutie im so sorry it took so long for me to make but hopefully Ive done it justice this one is a bit short but I kinda reallyyyyy wanted to put it into separate parts (which i swear wont take as long but it will be longer cus i gotta get that juicy angst in better!!!)

Hot.

That's all I felt as I was training, That's all I ever feel when I train with Luke. Not because he’s insanely hot himself but he has to put his all into everything even if I ask for practice with sparing. I'm crouched down a bit less like a fighter's stance as Luke has already got me winded but I try to hold up my tough gaze as he stands in front of me mirroring my stance except he's not tired at all it looks like he has even lifted a finger but this is our third go and unsurprisingly he's won every time so far. “Y/N/N are you sure you don't wanna give up? I'm not sure I can watch your face get all sad when you lose again.” He’s smirking as he talks and for a second he puts his hand on his chest to fain sadness about me. In that split second, I take the opportunity to try to tackle him to the ground. 

He lets out a surprised Oof before he hits the ground I try to grab his hands to pin them down “I'm not so sure Luke I think you be pulling your sore loser face” Of course I didn't learn from Luke as my talking got me too distracted as Luke flips us over and now he's pinning me down into the dirt. He simply smirks and does a little tilt of his head pretty much signaling id lost. He stood before holding out his hand for me to get up which I gladly took from him. “Luke, I asked for practice. I thought you were going to go a little easy… I'm gonna have to sleep early or I'm gonna be so sore.”  Discomfort on my face as I brush the dirt off my shorts and shirt “About that…” Luke says with a certain tone I've learned means ‘I'm gonna try really hard to convince you to do something you're really not gonna wanna do’ “Oh god what is it, Luke…?” A mischievous look spread across his face “Apollo kids are having a small lake party tonight and I was thinking I could take you” I let out a taut laugh before squinting my eyes playfully at him “Weren't you already out partying last night! Chris was telling me all about it!” I watched his face flush a bit as he stood there watching me talk before stammering his words “Wait- when did you see Chris today I wasn't with you??” I narrow my eyes at him a bit “This morning I went on a walk and I ran into him yknow you're not denying it soooo i'm right you did go out…?”

He gets up from leaning against a pillar to come put his arm around my shoulders and start walking out of the arena “Well yes.. But! I wasn't hanging out with my best friend so that's why I'm telling you that you gotta come out this time!” 

“Luke you're always out so much lately don't you think YOU especially should rest, oh so great swordsman!” I clasp my hands to my chest whilst looking up through my lashes at him. He lets out something between a laugh and a scoff “You know that I do this all the time you're the one who always stays cooped inside her cabin almost all day usually!” Our steps absentmindedly got slower as we approached my cabin “I don't know Luke… I promised I was going to hang out with my siblings tomorrow and if I party with you I might forget or sleep in'' He opened his mouth to rebuttal me but I quickly cut him off “And andddd! You know I don't like to drink. I'm too nervous about being caught!” 

We finally got to my cabin but I stood outside because I knew Luke wouldn't be satisfied unless I let him try to convince me one last time. “For one, You see your siblings every day you live with them. Plus I know some of your siblings are coming tonight anyway!” I go to open my mouth ready to shut him down already but before I had the chance Luke swiftly made sure to playfully cover my mouth with his hand before tsking at me and putting his finger to his lips shushing me “Ahem as I was saying YN, I'll be with you the whole time you can rely on me the whole time, just go this once for me and if you hate it I'll never force you to come again!” 

He lowered his hand from his mouth to reveal my lips in an exaggerated frown. He let out a loud laugh before huffing out what sounded like ‘Oh c'mon now’ but it fell on deaf ears as his fingers went to my sides to get me to let out a laugh (well more than just one) I laughed so hard at his relentless tickles hunching myself onto him before we heard the laughs of my sibling behind and Luke turned back into a stoic statue practically I let my laughter die awkwardly as he separated from me. Rocking back and forth on my heels I look back at him “Well okay I guess I'll think about it… but this isn't a yes okay!!” He let out a small chuckle before slowly starting to walk backwards “I’ll see you later tonight” he flipped around completely to start walking away I let out a small laugh turning away to walk to my cabin door before something dawned on me, I flip around and yell back out to him “Wait Luke how will I know where to go!!” He turns back to me putting his hands behind his head with a sort of arrogant smirk on his face 

“Don't worry about it, I am a messenger aren't I?” 

[roguishcat]

BG3 Fanfiction Masterlist

(Header and dividers by @saradika)

Mostly Astarion x female Tav or Astarion x my OC, although other characters do make appearances.

Series

Conversations with a vampire

Summary: Astarion's eyes shot open and he scowled at the child crouched near him. This had to a trick. Because there was no way that a child dressed like a noble would be in a back alley behind the Flophouse at this time at night offering him salvation in the form of a potion of superior healing.

Humor/Friendship/Angst

Rating: Teen. Mild language, mentions of abuse in later chapters, canon compliant violence.

Setting: Set before the events of the game.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Art - chapter 5

Chasing perfection

Chasing perfection is not only impractical but mostly unattainable. Instead of boosting our achievements, it shrinks them. Why? Because when we aim too high, "failure" becomes the norm, chipping away at our self-confidence bit by bit. But then again, maybe perfection is overrated.

Humor/Angst/Romance

Rating: Mature. Mentions of abuse, violence, mature themes. Chapters with smut will be marked red.

Pairing: Astarion/(Fem)Tav

Setting: Act 1 and Act 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

One-shots

Clumsy - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act I, before Astarion confesses to being a vampire. Tav has always been a little clumsy, but it was nothing too inconvenient until Astarion came along. Since then, whenever Tav’s blood would spill, he would be there.

Part of his plan - Pairing: Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act II, just after the tiefling party. Astarion was sure that being indispensable to Tav was the best way to secure his place by her side. And this is where his sewing skills would come in handy.

A welcome distraction - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act II. Astarion was not nice. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning. But perhaps, given the right incentive, he could be persuaded to be nice to the one person who he felt deserved it most.

Honeycomb - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. Set in the beggining of Act II. Astarion had a brilliant, fool-proof plan. And nothing, especially not a piece of honeycomb, would get in the way.

Yours, if you'll have me - Pairing: Astarion x female Tav. Set in Act II. Astarion found the letter on the ground between his tent and Gale’s earlier this morning. Not thinking much of it, Astarion swiped it, hoping to get a piece of juicy gossip. Gale having a secret admirer, how fun! He didn’t realise that the contents were meant for him. And from their leader, no less!

Upon reflection, I find you perfect - Pairing: Astarion x female Reader. Set post-game. You find a way for Astarion to see his reflection for the first time in over 200 years.

A sound judgement - Pairing: Astarion x female Reader. Magistrate Astarion AU (Elf Astarion, No Cazador). Astarion was bored and you were the only acceptable source of entertainment. Luckily for Astarion he was, in fact, the law and you had no choice but to obey him.

Two-shots

Brunch - Pairing:Astarion x female Tav. AU two-shot (no Cazador, elf Astarion). Another, better emotionally equipped male would probably just ask Tav out. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting for brunch as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

Batstarion Week 2024

My headcanon is that spawn Astarion can turn into an adorable bat. Here are some drabbles exploring your and Astarion's life post-game for Batstarion Week 2024.

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 1 - Falling asleep in unusual places

Batstarion Week 2024 -Day 2 - Cuteness aggression

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 3 - High fashion

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 4 - Cameo with another character

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 5 - Feeding your Batstarion

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 6 - Bat cuddles

Batstarion Week 2024 - Day 7 - Any prompt (Happily Ever After)

Augustarion 2024

Interconnected drabbles and one-shots celebrating our favourite rogue. Mostly reader (You) x Astarion.

Augustarion Day 1 – Strawberries 🍓

Augustarion Day 2 – Pool Party 🌊

Augustarion Day 3 - Apron 18+ MNDI

Augustarion Day 4 - Mythologies

Augustarion Day 6 - Cream

Augustarion Day 7 - Underwear

Augustarion Day 14 - Protective

Augustarion Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

Augustarion Day 28 - DILF 18+ MNDI

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9