#I would go on but need I? it's all on the tin

[eddieslunchbox]

eighty-six, baby

summary: the ups and downs of the day eddie finally graduates

18+ [boyfriend!eddie x female!reader]

contains: blood, violence, bullying, hurt/comfort, swearing, mentions of alcohol, superficial injuries, fluff, kissing, surprise party, dustin and eddie acting like siblings

word count: 9.7k

a/n: baby's graduation day! eddie really deserved to walk across that stage in '86 and this is my interpretation of how he ended up going out with a bang and some blood. please heed the warning above if you're not comfortable with blood/violence. as always, please reblog/comment if you enjoyed this- I love hearing from you ❤

A metal clang rings through Eddie’s ears as he shuts the lid of his, now empty, lunch box, having met up for one final deal before the start of the ceremony. He shoves the tin into the back of his van and plucks his graduation cap off of the passenger seat. 

"Hey, Munson!"

Eddie stiffens, his knuckles turning white around his cap as he straightens his spine and heaves a heavy sigh through his nose.

Graduation starts in thirty minutes and he really thought that he could avoid this today, but he just isn’t that lucky. 

Shutting the door to his van and turning around, he plasters an unbothered smirk on his face to meet Jason and Andy, both dressed in their gowns like everyone else. 

“Happy graduation, freak.” Andy grins, trailing behind Jason until they both come to stand in front of Eddie, effectively cornering him against the side of his van and blocking anyone’s view who may be walking through the parking lot. “I’m shocked that Higgins is actually letting you take home a diploma today.” 

Eddie brushes this off, glancing towards the school where you’re waiting inside the front doors for him to finish his deal so that you could steal one last kiss before he has to line up with the other students. 

“Happy graduation, fellas.” He tips his chin in a small bow. “If you came here for a trade, you’re out of luck as of-” he glances at his watch, “three minutes ago.” 

Before he can blink, Jason is wrapping his fist around the collar of Eddie’s gown and slamming him against the side of his van, rolling his eyes in the process. 

“We don’t want your weed, freak,” Jason grits, the corner of his lip turning up in a menacing smile. “You really think I was just gonna let you walk right out of here without a goodbye?” 

Eddie plasters on his best poker face despite the way his heart skips a beat in his chest, Jason’s breath fanning across his face smelling like beer and the remnants of cigar smoke. 

This was the third year Eddie spent as a senior in high school and with your help, he finally managed to get good enough grades and actually submit all of his assignments to secure his diploma and get the hell out of Hawkins High.

When you met, Eddie was in the eleventh grade and you in the tenth, and you were the dictionary definition of high school sweethearts. Attached at the hip and caught making out in the hallway between classes a few too many times. 

When Eddie was held back from graduating the first time, he was pissed but he also secretly enjoyed getting to spend another year with you, taking a majority of the same classes. The second time it happened though, he had to watch you graduate while he sat in the stands with a flimsy bouquet of flowers in his hand and a shameful feeling in his stomach that he was forced to be there again, but this time without you. 

And on the first day of what ended up being his final senior year, Jason and his gang were in the same grade and opted to fuel their egos through Eddie’s torment, making him their own personal punching bag whenever they needed to blow off some steam. It worked in their favour, not having you around, but you still knew what went on when you would show up to Eddie’s trailer on a Friday night and he opened the door with a bag of peas pressed against his cheek. 

He never took the bullying well, at least not behind closed doors. And after attempting to fight back and being pummelled into the ground for a fourth time, earning himself a concussion, Eddie stopped defending himself.

They were stronger than him. So he let the jocks take what they needed without really blinking an eye, and he got off a little easier for it. 

When he showed up to school with a black eye or a fat lip, he acted like it didn’t exist. No matter the judgemental looks he received from his teachers or the worried ones from his friends. But he struggled with the embarrassment he felt for himself, that teenagers were the ones overpowering him.

It was something he eventually confided in you with when he broke down over the phone one night the week after Christmas break. 

They made him feel weak, immature, and downright stupid each time he was forced to clean up his nose in the school bathroom before Hellfire or see the look on his uncle’s face when he came home with another shiner. 

But now, he’s graduating. 

Third time’s a charm, he had said to you the night before the first day of class, and had been more determined than ever to get it right this time. 

And he did. 

But he still isn’t so lucky to believe that he could’ve gone the entire day without running into Jason. 

“Look-” Eddie mutters, his jaw tightening. “I’m not fighting you. So just let it go, man,” he says, stooping low enough to practically plead for his own mercy today. 

Wayne is here, waiting for him in the stands with the rest of the parents and families, and you’re bound to walk out of the school at any minute, looking for him. 

“Shut up. You’re a piece of shit, Munson,” Jason spits, his nose close to brushing against Eddie’s with how close he’s standing. “I think I deserve one last hurrah, don’t I?” he breathes through a smile that makes Eddie’s stomach turn. “To show everyone here you’re just some weak and pathetic satanist that can’t even bother defending himself?” 

“Jason- just wait… at least until after the ceremony, man, please-” 

“You’re the last person here who deserves to walk across that stage today. You can go ahead and show your girl how fucking pathetic you are.” 

Eddie manages to keep a straight face despite that comment feeling more painful than the fist that Jason throws across his face. His knuckles collide with the top of his cheek bone and skim across his nose with a soft cracking sound, springing tears to his eyes. 

Warmth immediately spills from Eddie’s nose and before he can turn his head back to face his abuser, a glob of spit lands directly on his cheek that makes him wince. 

“I truly wish you all of the best,” Jason says when he drops his hold around Eddie’s collar and takes a step back. “Lord knows you’ll be spending the rest of your life slinging drugs in alleyways until the chief finally locks you up for good.” 

Eddie glances at Jason who grins as he walks backwards, knocking his fist against Andy’s. 

“See you up there, yeah?” Jason points behind him to the football field where the ceremony is taking place. He sucks his tongue against his teeth before spinning on his heel and making his way back around the front of the school where everyone is starting to line up. 

Blood seeps between Eddie’s lips and he spits it onto the ground, lifting his arm to wipe off the saliva on his cheek with his sleeve. 

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, bringing his hand to his nose and glancing at his fingers to see them coated bright red. 

Your eyes flicker up to the clock above the doors, letting out a quiet sigh when Eddie still hasn’t shown. You cross your arms over your chest and rest your head on the wall, silently hoping he didn’t bail at the last minute since you had to convince him to come to this thing in the first place. 

It��s only when you spot Jason and Andy walking past the front doors, laughing about something that you feel your stomach drop. Jason pulls a cigar from the pocket of his gown and you spot the blotchy red skin covering his knuckles. 

“Shit,” you breathe, pushing the door open and stepping outside, rushing around the building to where Eddie’s van is parked. 

The back doors are open wide, facing the forest where he backed in when he arrived and there’s a wet, red stain painting the road next to his passenger side door. You press your lips together, your heart rising into your throat. 

Eddie is sitting in the back of the van, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and a tissue soaked in blood pressed against his nose. Broken blood vessels are painting the skin under his eye, turning a deep shade of red as it swells.

“Eddie…” you gasp, shoulders falling as you spot the two tissues he’s already discarded.

His head lifts up when you reach down to pick up his graduation cap off the ground where he dropped it, brushing it clean with your hand. 

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, voice nasally as he holds the tissue tightly to his nose. 

You glance towards the school, aware that the students are starting to line up. If Eddie doesn’t get there in time, he won’t be walking the stage. 

Climbing into his van on your knees, you set his cap to the side and grab a few more tissues from the box he keeps in the back. 

“Let me see,” you say, pulling out the water bottle you brought in your bag for the long day, dampening one of the tissues. 

Eddie turns to you and carefully lowers the maroon coloured tissue from his nose. Your eyes dart across his features and threaten to fill with tears, drops of red staining the green and orange stole that sits around his neck. 

Blood seeps slowly from one of his nostrils and you bring the tissue to his upper lip, carefully cleaning away the drying blood that’s smeared there. “Does it hurt?” 

“It’s not broken,” he says, voice quiet and although he didn’t answer your question, you don’t push. When your finger grazes over the side of his nose, he hisses, pulling away and lifting his hand to your wrist. “Fuck- stop. I’ll do it.” 

You frown, sitting back on your heels. “We don’t have time. You need to stop the bleeding, everyone is lining up already.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“What doesn’t?” 

He shakes his head, letting your arm go and plucking a fresh tissue to hold under his dripping nose. “I’m not walking that fucking stage,” he mutters, and you don’t miss the sheen of saltwater that spills across his vision before he looks down at the pavement. “Not like this. Not when Wayne is here… he-” his breath catches in his throat and his jaw tightens, “-it’s humiliating.” 

A lump forms in your throat that you swallow down, lifting your hand to his chin and turning him back to face you. You keep a gentle grip on his face as you wipe up the remainder of blood on his face, which he doesn’t fight you on. 

“I didn’t even fucking do anything this time, I barely said a word but he needed to get one last punch in,” he continues, blinking quickly in an attempt to clear his bleary eyes. “But he got what he wanted. I’m not going up there. I shouldn’t even be getting this diploma.” 

You pause at his words, lifting your eyes to his which are averted down to your thighs. “Did Jason say that to you?” 

“Does it matter?” 

He lifts a hand to rub at his uninjured eye and you notice the blood staining his fingers, dropping the dirtied tissue to the side and wetting a new one. He looks at you when you take his hand into your lap, chin tilted down to your chest as you clean up his skin. 

“You deserve to graduate more than anyone here, Eddie,” you start, his brows twitching down at the conviction in your voice. “And you’re going to walk across that stage today and snatch that god damn diploma out of Principal Higgins hand, give him the bird, and celebrate the fact that you’re finally getting the hell out of here.” 

You raise your eyes to meet his, noticing that his nose has almost stopped bleeding. 

“This shit doesn’t make you weak,” you quietly continue, tilting his chin up to wipe up the blood sitting in his nose. “And Wayne isn’t going to think you are. Especially not if you go up there without caring about what any of those assholes think about you. They may be physically stronger than you, but they have nothing over you, Eddie. You’re already so much more than they will ever be.” 

He’s quiet when you drop your hand from his chin and ball up the tissues in your hand to throw away later. His rings clink together as he curls his hand into a fist before flexing his fingers outward and back again, a nervous habit he developed a few years ago. 

“You proved everyone wrong this year. And you’re graduating today. You finished high school.” 

Despite the gnarly bruise that’s forming beneath his eye and the blood on his gown, he still looks just as beautiful as he did this morning when his lips curl up in a shy smirk, and he lifts his eyes to yours. 

“Fuck Jason and his friends, you’re not going to see them again after today. And this day is for you. No one else,” you say, lifting your hands to rest on his cheeks, smoothing your thumbs over his skin to collect any tears lingering there. “Got it?” 

He lets out a soft chuckle, sniffling and wincing slightly at the taste of blood in his throat. “Yeah, sweetheart. I got it.” 

“Good. Now… just try not to touch your nose for a while. It stopped bleeding for now but you might like… rip something open again if you do anything,” you murmur, eyeing his nose carefully. “Do you want me to break into the nurse’s office and find an ice pack for your eye?” 

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” he replies despite the throbbing pain in his face. “But, are you really going to make me walk out there with blood on my gown?” he says in jest although he knows that it’ll only solidify his standing as the ‘freak of Hawkins High’ until he walks off of that stage and doesn’t look back. 

“You might need to avoid Mrs. Click after the ceremony or she’ll make you pay for it, but-” 

You’re cut off by Eddie’s lips eagerly meeting yours, muffling the noise of surprise you make. He rests his hand against the side of your neck, forcing himself to stop from melting into a puddle on the pavement from the way you slide your fingers into his hair, the sweet lip gloss you’re wearing smearing against his lips.

His nose brushes your cheek and forces him to pull back from the sting, his lips glossy and pupils wide when your eyes flutter back open. 

“What was that for?” you giggle quietly as he slips his tongue out over his bottom lip to taste the gloss on his mouth and presses his fingers into the side of your thigh. 

“I’m happy you’re here,” he breathes, sniffling softly. “I still wish that we would’ve been graduating together- but you’re here, and I couldn’t do this shit without you.” 

You smile, giving him another quick kiss before swiping away some of the lip gloss on his bottom lip. “Don’t get all sappy on me already. You’re not allowed to make me cry until the ceremony.” 

He chuckles with the shake of his head, tilting his head down to glance at his watch. His face falls slightly as he sighs. “I should get going.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to find you some ice? It’s going to be a while before your name is called.” 

He shakes his head as you take in the swelling skin below his eye, knowing that his appearance is going to end up shocking some of the parents there today when he gets his diploma. Not that he cares about them. 

“I’m sure,” he cements and you give him a small, unsure frown. “I don’t want you worrying about me- I swear I’m good.” 

“Fine,” you mumble. “But I have some tylenol that you should take.” Pulling out a couple of capsules from your bag, you drop them into his hand and he swallows them down with the water you brought. “And bring your sunglasses. It’s sunny.” 

You have no doubt that he is going to wind up with a headache by the end of the day, more sensitive to sunlight ever since his head got slammed into the ground by one of Jason’s friends after Eddie threw a punch that busted their lip open a week before Halloween last year.

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie murmurs and you roll your eyes, leaning into the kiss he presses to your cheek before plucking his sunglasses off of the floor of his van and sliding them onto his nose. 

He grabs his graduation cap before getting up and pulling you up with him. “I’ll be in the stands with Wayne, but if you need anything-” 

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” he assures you, tugging you into his chest for one last hug before he locks his van and leaves you to go sit under the sweltering sun for the next hour. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you mumble, kissing him again before stepping back and nudging him towards the school. “Now go!” 

He smirks, walking backward and giving you a two-fingered salute before spinning on his heel and sauntering off across the parking lot. 

You make your way back over to the football field, spotting Wayne at the end of one of the rows, saving a seat for you next to Dustin who Eddie had no idea was here. They had become pretty good friends over the school year and Dustin was the reason Eddie had started getting passionate about his Hellfire campaigns again after the slump he went through when school first began. 

And, Dustin practically begged you to let him come today, although you never thought of turning him down when he asked the first time, knowing Eddie would appreciate having him here even if he denied it.

Climbing the steps, you give Wayne a small smile before sliding past him to sit down, Dustin immediately holding out a bag of trail mix for you. “Thank you,” you mumble, plucking some from the bag to munch on. 

The graduates are slowly filling into the seats but you can’t see Eddie yet. 

“Hey,” you say suddenly, turning to Dustin. “Could you do me a favour?” 

“Uh, depends what it is,” he mumbles through the food in his mouth. 

“I need you to sneak into the school and find Eddie an ice pack and some water,” you reply and he looks at you with the raise of his brows high on his forehead. “And you’ll need to get it to him during all the blabbering-” You wave your hand towards the stage where the teachers are quietly conversing to each other. “Please?” 

Dustin glances towards the school. “What happened?” 

“What do you think?” you mutter quietly and he frowns, turning to you. 

“Alright,” he sighs, shoving the bag of trail mix into your hand. “But if I get caught, you owe me big. And I mean big.” 

“Deal.” 

With a pause of hesitation, Dustin sighs before standing up and making his way down the stairs, disappearing behind the stands. Wayne clears his throat and you glance at him. 

“He has a black eye,” you say unpromptedly and he blinks at you. “But he’s fine... I made sure.” 

He doesn’t reply, flickering his gaze towards where the students are walking into the field, his lips pursing softly in disappointment. 

“Dustin’s finding him some ice, and I gave him painkillers so he’ll make it through the ceremony without any issue. And this is… well hopefully, the last time he’ll ever deal with this,” you quietly continue and Wayne nods, keeping his eyes on the teenagers when he finally speaks up. 

“Who did it?” he asks, nodding towards the group and you glance over, seeing that most of the first few rows are filled in, but Jason happens to be standing at the side of the stage, talking to his coach and tilting his head back with a loud laugh. 

“Kid beside the stage… It’s been him and some of his friends.” 

Shaking his head, he sighs and sits back, hands clasping the edge of the seat beneath him. “Well… thank you. For always making sure he’s okay.” 

“Of course,” you shrug like it’s nothing and it makes Wayne smile as he plucks the program off of the seat and flips through it to pass the time. 

When you finally spot Eddie making his way onto the field, his sunglasses are still perched on his nose and his graduation cap sits snugly on his head, flattening some of his curls. His head turns towards the bleachers and you can tell the exact moment he spots you, a grin spreading on his lips before he eagerly waves to you. 

You smile, waving back and nudging his uncle’s leg with your knee to get his attention. He spots Eddie and lifts his hand in a wave, smiling softly as he follows the line into the next row of chairs stationed on the grass and sits down, his back facing you. 

You’re glad he’s in good spirits after what happened and can only hope that the rest of the day goes smoothly. 

About ten minutes later, while Principal Higgins is in the middle of his speech, you spot quiet commotion coming from the side of the field. Dustin is pulling his arm away from one of the teachers standing by the exit, a bottle of water and a plastic bag filled with ice clutched in his hands. 

He manages to get out of her grip and runs towards the plastic chairs, catching the attention of almost everyone in the stands as he slides into the row that Eddie is in with his lips moving in what you can only assume to be quiet apologies to the people he passes. He stops halfway through the row and shoves the items into Eddie’s lap without a word before turning around and hurrying out of there. 

A teacher is making her way over to him but he immediately darts around the rows of chairs and back over to where you’re sitting, his feet slamming loudly against the metal stairs as he climbs them. He hurriedly squeezes past you and Wayne and sits down with a heavy sigh, panting to catch his breath. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” he huffs and you ignore the glances of both parents and students in favour of finding Eddie in the crowd, his body twisted in his seat and sunglasses in his hand. 

He raises an eyebrow at you and you just smile, shrugging your shoulders to your ears. His tongue pokes into his cheek and a smile tugs at his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. You pucker your lips and press your fingers to them before blowing him a kiss, his cheeks turning a visible shade of pink. 

With his sunglasses off you can see that his eye is now a deep shade of purple, and you’re glad you didn’t listen to him about the ice, knowing he’ll be grateful he has it if he needs it.

He turns around in his seat and you can feel another pair of eyes on you, lifting your gaze towards the second row of students where Jason has his head turned, eyes narrowing in your direction. 

You lift your hand and wiggle your fingers at him before promptly sticking out your tongue, making his jaw tick in annoyance. He rolls his eyes and slumps into his chair as he looks back towards the stage and you smile in satisfaction, dropping your chin to rest in your hand. 

You, Dustin, and Wayne spend the next little while finishing off the bag of trail mix and keeping as hydrated as possible in the heat, and you silently envy the parents who brought umbrellas to shade themselves from the unrelenting sun as you fold up your program into an accordion to fan yourself with.

The ceremony doesn’t drag on as much as you anticipated it would, already on the L’s after forty-five minutes, but Dustin is keeping himself occupied with the copy of Lord of the Rings he had borrowed from Eddie, who checked it out of the school library two years ago and dodged enough late fees until the librarian reluctantly ordered a new copy in replacement. 

None of you are planning to stick around once Eddie gets his diploma, knowing that the last thing he would want is to be forced to sit here for the next hour or two until the end of the ceremony. And there’s currently an ice cream cake sitting in Wayne’s freezer that Eddie doesn’t know about, but that you’re dying to dig into after sitting in the sun all morning. 

Wayne wipes a bead of sweat off of his temple with the back of his hand and you trade programs with him so that he can use your makeshift fan, flipping through his pristine one until you find the list of names. There’s only five people in front of Eddie and you glance up to see that his row is lining up at the side of the stage. 

His water and ice were promptly discarded onto his seat before he stood up which you’re unsurprised by, happy nonetheless that he keeps his sunglasses perched over his eyes until the first M name is called out. Eddie tugs his glasses off and shoves them into the pocket of his gown, his eye visibly black and blue even from where you’re sitting. 

Of course, this being his last day ever at Hawkins High, he’s going out with a bang. Although, you don’t miss the way he starts to fiddle with the rings on his fingers, toeing at the ground with nerves the closer he gets to the stage. 

Wayne glances at you when you pull your camera from your bag, turning it on and tugging your bag back over your shoulder. “I’ll get a photo of him. Just enjoy this,” you say when you catch his eye and he quietly clears his throat, nodding as he looks towards the stage again. 

You stand up and make your way out of the stands, careful not to trip over your feet on the steep stairs before walking closer to the side of the stage Eddie will be leaving from. Fiddling with your camera, you spot him on the other end, gripping the railing tightly as the student in front of him grabs his diploma and shakes Principal Higgins hand. 

“Edward Waylon Munson,” Mr. Kaminski drones from his place at the podium and there’s scattered applause as Eddie hops up onto the stage with his signature smirk on his face. 

You can’t help the tears that well up in your eyes as you lift your camera to your eye. Principal Higgings barely holds out the diploma before Eddie grabs it from his hand with a mocking bow. He turns to walk backwards for a few steps and lifts his middle finger into the air, letting out a loud “whoo!” that makes a few parents in the audience jump. 

He is a sight to see with his frizzy curls poofing out from underneath his graduation cap and the violent bruise painting his cheek, but no one would have a clue that he was ever bothered by his injuries.

You’re not surprised when Eddie’s eyes snap to a section in the front row, hearing a quiet yell from Jason that you can’t understand but which makes your jaw tick in frustration. Eddie merely tilts his head to the side and lifts his hands up near his head, poking his fingers up and sticking his tongue out with a crazed look in his eye.

A few gasps erupt from the bleachers and Eddie’s face falls into an amused smirk as he lowers his hands back to his sides.

Snapping a few pictures, you hear Dustin cheering loudly from the stands next to Wayne and there’s a few others from the crowd that you recognize as Robin and Nancy, both who are in the same graduating class, Eddie’s bandmates, Mike, and Steve who you spotted in the bleachers when you first arrived. 

Higgins and the other teachers roll their eyes, grumbling nonsense under their breaths, but Eddie just smiles, giving a two-fingered salute to Dustin and Wayne. 

A lump settles at the base of your throat with your emotion, happy that despite all the people who had no problem voicing their negative opinion about him over the years, and particularly this past school year, that he still did make a couple of friends that were actually happy he was able to finally get his diploma.

There’s a soft pink hue ghosting across Eddie’s unmarred cheek that you’re pretty sure is from the handful of genuine cheers he received that he never expected, but you know if you mention it, he’ll blame it on the sun. 

He tugs his tassel to the side and practically skips down the steps onto the grass as you shove your camera back into your bag and find his eyes with a beaming smile on your face. You hurry to meet him halfway, leaping into his arms with your legs wrapping around his hips and arms latching onto his shoulders. 

Neither of you care about the eyes of anyone in the crowd as you hug him tightly. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Eddie Munson,” you say with so much conviction that his eyes threaten to water as he buries his head in your neck. “You did it!” 

You pull away, planting your hands on his cheeks and your lips on his. It’s hard to kiss him with your smile and you pull back when he groans.

“Careful of the eye, sweetheart,” he murmurs through a grin and you giggle an apology, sliding your hand to the back of his neck and kissing him again. 

He sets you back down on the ground a few seconds later, keeping his lips on yours with a content hum vibrating his chest, only stopping when you hear Dustin’s voice. 

“Get a room.” 

Eddie smiles, pulling away from you and glancing up to see Dustin and Wayne walking over to you. You step to the side and notice the slight shift in Eddie’s expression when he sees his uncle’s glossy eyes. 

You fumble to pull your camera back out of your bag as Wayne clasps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, shaking his head as he takes in the bruise on his cheek. “Christ boy,” he mutters. “That’s one hell of a way to go, isn’t it?” he jokes, making Eddie laugh before pulling him into a hug.

It’s hard to decipher any of the words they exchange as you snap a photo of the sweet moment, Eddie pulling back with a wobbly lip before he sniffles and glances down to his feet, letting out a soft laugh when Wayne pats a heavy hand on his back. 

“Know I’m proud of you kid,” Wayne mutters and Eddie wipes at his eyes with his sleeve with a quick nod. 

The sweet moment ends abruptly when Dustin walks up to him and throws his arms around his shoulders, making Eddie stiffen slightly. 

“I knew you could fucking do it, Eddie-” he starts and Eddie gives him a brief pat on the back before squirming out of his hold, Dustin ducking before he can put him in a headlock. “You’re gonna let me use the throne now, right?” 

“Considering none of those other guys take it seriously enough… Yeah, it’s yours man.” 

You smile when Dustin pumps his fist into the air with a whispered “yes” and continues babbling about his campaign ideas as the four of you walk towards the parking lot. 

Luckily Eddie’s friends walked the stage before him, so he isn’t missing out on anything, leaving early. He throws his sunglasses back on and waits until you’re at his side to slide his hand into yours, lightly bumping his hip against your side.

“You have to keep hosting campaigns, you’re the best Dungeon Master there is!” Dustin exclaims with wide eyes as you step off the grass and onto the asphalt, turning to walk backwards so he can look at Eddie. “I have so many things I still need to show you, and you have to help me with my own games now, and-” 

“Dude, relax,” Eddie cuts him off. “I’m not giving up DM that easily. You’re taking the reins here-” he points to the school. “But I’ll still host campaigns, I just have to work out the details first.” 

Dustin’s shoulders slump in relief and you notice the tiniest hint of a smile on Eddie’s face once he turns back around. 

Wayne is parked a couple cars down from the van and you stop in the middle to part ways, Eddie lifting his foot to nudge at Dustin’s leg.

“Thanks for coming, man. Means a lot,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Dustin frowns. “Obviously. We’re all going to your house.” 

You roll your eyes with a small sigh, not knowing why you ever trusted Dustin to keep even part of a secret to himself. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows, glancing from Wayne to you and you give him a small smile, shrugging your shoulders.

“Come on,” you start, hooking your arm into his and tugging him towards his van. “Let’s go before someone says too much.”

“You got something planned?” he asks with a teasing smirk before his face falls slightly and he tugs you back. “But wait, can we stop for milkshakes or something? I’m sweating my ass off.” 

“Don’t you need to go and return that gown before you go anywhere?” Wayne pipes up from behind him and Eddie spins on his heel, plucking at the fabric covering his chest. 

“Not unless I wanna give ‘em any amount of money for this,” he says, grimacing down at the blood, now stained a murky shade of brown against the fabric. “They can’t do shit about it once I’m gone.” 

“If you say so,” Wayne grumbles, rounding the bed of his truck to get into the driver’s seat as Dustin climbs in on the other side. 

“We don’t need to stop for milkshakes,” you say and Eddie looks back at you with his bottom lip jutting out. 

“Hey-” Wayne suddenly calls from over the top of his truck and Eddie turns back. “Don’t get any more speeding tickets, alright? ‘Cause I’m not paying for them anymore. You’re finished high school, so you’re not getting away with that shit as easily,” he scolds with a pointed look towards his nephew, but you can see the glimmer of pride in his gaze. 

Eddie doesn’t reply but gives him a thumbs up before turning to you and curling his arm around your shoulders.

“So… why are you denying a graduate his milkshake? You know I’m driving right, so you don’t really have the ultimate say-” 

“It’s a surprise!” you cut him off and he laughs, walking with you to the side of his van.

“One sec,” he quips before he’s ripping the stole off over his head and hastily unzipping the gown with a relieved sigh when the slight breeze in the air flits across his skin. 

Your eyes trail down to what he’s wearing underneath, which you did see before he picked up his gown this morning, but it had somehow slipped your mind. 

His favourite ripped black jeans are sitting on his hips, lacking their usual jewelry in place of an old leather belt that has a faded silver buckle of a skull resting just below his navel. A fitted, black singlet tank top hugs his lean figure, tucked into his jeans and showing off his arms which are slightly more defined than usual with the push-ups he started doing a few weeks ago. 

He pushes the gown off of his shoulders, letting the fabric drop to the ground and your eyes drag over the recent additions on his arms from over the last year, the dark ink prominent across his pale skin. 

When he turns to pick up the discarded gown, you notice the sheen of sweat coating his heated skin, glimmering under the summer sun and matting down the subtle peek of hair you glimpse under his arm.

Eddie turns his head to look at you and a smirk lifts to his face when he watches your lips part as your eyes dart over his figure. 

“Baby?” he drags on slowly, standing up straight and tilting his head to the side. 

Your eyes snap back up to his face, cheeks growing flush. “What?” 

His eyes crinkle softly as he laughs, pulling open the door to his van and chucking his cap and gown behind the front seat with the fake diploma, the real one being sent through the mail in the coming weeks. 

“See something you like?” he teases before lifting himself onto his toes and turning his back to you, whipping his head over his shoulder with a much too-forced smoulder that makes you giggle. “Doesn’t this deserve a milkshake?” 

“No, Eddie!” you laugh, nudging him to get inside the van. “There’s something better at your house. Promise.” 

“Oh yeah?” He arches his brow at you, perching himself on the edge of the driver’s seat, and you nod. “Consider me intrigued.” 

He pulls you in for a kiss by the back of your neck, moaning quietly at the taste of your lip gloss before patting the back of your thigh and telling you to get in the van. 

The drive back to his trailer is filled with blaring music combined with Eddie’s screams as he sings along, batting his hands against the steering wheel and bopping his head enough that his hair sticks to his cheeks, damp from the heat. There’s a wide smile on his face for almost the entire drive and you watch him and his happiness, recognizing how much more relaxed he already seems, the further away from the school you get. 

The air conditioning in his van busted yesterday and he hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet, so you’re sweating in places you didn’t even know could sweat, but nothing could have stumped your happiness in that moment, knowing that he’s finally free of all of the shit that’s been holding him back for so many years. 

He reaches over to turn down the music when he pulls into the trailer park, having been scolded more than once by his elderly neighbour for the noise. He has a soft spot for her though, shovelling her walk in the winter in exchange for a cup of cocoa, or scrubbing her car clean in the summertime for a lemonade, like he’s done for the last handful of years. 

You take your seatbelt off before he’s even put the van into park next to Wayne’s truck, twisting around to grab his graduation cap, smoothing the tassel out between your fingers. He watches you, shutting off the van and dipping his chin when you lean forward to secure the cap over his curls again. 

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, nose twitching when the tassel tickles his skin. 

“Can you keep it on for a little bit?” 

“Why?” He lifts his head and you push the tassel to the side of the cap, smiling at him. 

“Because, I’m proud of you and you look really cute wearing it.” 

His features briefly twist in annoyance as he groans, but you catch the faint smile that quivers at the corner of his lips. “Fine. But it’s coming off as soon as you’re done taking all your little photos.” 

With that, you both get out and Eddie sighs in relief from no longer being in the hot, humid air inside of his van. He lingers in the subtle breeze, tipping his chin up towards the sky with his eyes falling closed and you take the opportunity to snap another picture of him, his head turning to you when he hears your camera. 

You smile at him, shoving it back into your bag and holding your hand out. “Come on, I’m dying out here.” 

He grins at you, looking like an excited little boy as he strides over to take your hand and follow you eagerly up the stairs and into the trailer. 

“We’re home!” Eddie bellows, the screen door loudly slamming shut behind him. “There better be a damn good reason why I couldn’t buy myself a shake-” 

He pauses, taking in the sight of the four boys sitting in the living room, talking each other’s ears off about some movie you haven’t seen. Your shoulders fall in relief that his bandmates made it to the trailer before you did, knowing they only left the ceremony as soon as Eddie walked off of the stage. 

There’s a shiny foil banner hung above the television, reading “Happy Graduation!” and a few balloons scattered around the room; the most you were able to do in the short time you had the trailer to yourself this morning when Wayne took Eddie out for breakfast.

No one even glances up at Eddie’s voice, too engrossed in their conversation and you press your lips together with a disappointed roll of your eyes, having initially planned that they would all surprise Eddie as soon as the two of you walked through the door. Not even Dustin looks up, rambling to Gareth. 

“Surprise?” you say timidly, looking up at Eddie to see a crease between his brows, an unreadable expression on his face. 

His eyes snap down to yours when he hears your voice and his face softens. “You planned this?” 

You nod. “I know it isn’t a big… party or anything, and if you want, I’m sure we can head over to Steve’s a little later to see everyone else but I just thought-” 

You end up cutting yourself off with a quiet ‘oof’ when Eddie crushes you in a hug, almost knocking you straight onto the floor with the force, if only his arms weren’t holding you tightly against his chest. 

“You’re incredible,” Eddie breathes into your neck, pressing his face there despite the pain radiating in his cheekbone. “I don’t care about a party… this is all I wanted- even more than I thought I did,” he says before pulling back and placing his hands on the sides of your neck. “Shit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks and glancing at the party banner on the wall. “I was so happy just to come back here with you and Wayne.” 

“I still thought it would be a little bit more than this,” you say in quiet frustration, motioning to the boys in the living room who still haven’t acknowledged either of you. “They were at least supposed to say ‘surprise.’” 

The smile on his face only grows before he’s pushing at your shoulders until your back hits the wall, his lips promptly smearing against yours. His kiss is rough and a little uncoordinated but it only lasts for a couple of seconds, Eddie pulling back when you hear a familiar, low clearing of a throat. 

Wayne stands with his hip resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Should I barbecue tonight, or do you want to go out again?” he asks, rubbing his fingers over the scruff on his chin and Eddie’s face drops into a sarcastic scowl. 

“Do you have to ask?” he accuses and Wayne grumbles something under his breath before turning to go back into the kitchen, waving a dismissive hand. 

“You’re helping me grill then,” Wayne calls and Eddie gives him a salute that he doesn’t see, turning back to you. 

“This is still a surprise, baby,” he reassures your previous comment, tilting his head towards the living room. “But if you think you’re ever gonna pull them away from talking about Day of the Dead, you’re so wrong,” he drags out his words, voice dropping into a low hum. 

You laugh, his hands squeezing at your hips before he plants another kiss onto your lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs and you smile, dipping your chin to rest your forehead on his. 

“You’re welcome… Are you happy?” 

“So fuckin’ happy,” he whispers, eyes glimmering in delight and you think today might just be the day that those brown eyes officially make your heart burst into pieces. 

“Can I show you why we didn’t stop for shakes now? Maybe we can actually all cool off,” you ask and he nods quickly, the tassel on his cap wiggling with the movement. 

Wayne is pouring sodas for everyone into solo cups when you walk into the kitchen, two beers dripping in condensation sitting on the counter and Eddie slips one into his hand, taking a swig of it. He keeps his hand on your hip as you pull open the door to the freezer, the icy air coming out in visible clouds and chilling your skin. 

You feel his chin come down to rest on the top of your head while you grab the ice cream cake and slip out of his grip to set it on the counter.

His eyes widen when he sees it, blindly shutting the freezer and standing next to you with his jaw falling open in surprise. 

It’s a simple sheet cake with white icing covering the entire thing, black piping around the edges and the demon from his Hellfire logo iced onto the centre in gel next to a dark green graduation cap, matching the one sitting on his head. 

The words at the top of the cake read, 'Graduating Munson of ‘86,' with a cursive, 'Congratulations!' piped below the demon’s head. 

Eddie cackles at the message on the cake as you pop off the frosty lid and set it to the side. 

“Holy shit, this is amazing,” he beams, sliding his hands around your waist to pull you into his chest. “You do this?” 

“Maybe… I placed the order anyway,” you reply, smiling when he tightens his arms around you. “Wayne came up with the writing though.” 

“Well we’re not celebrating the whole bloody class of ‘86, ‘side from your boys,” Wayne mumbles from his place near the sink, nodding towards the living room. 

“Is it chocolate inside?” Eddie asks, lips brushing your ear. 

“Duh.” 

His hand lifts up, eager to swipe off some of the icing on the side of the cake. 

“Ah!” You lightly slap his hand away. “You’ll get your piece. But don’t you want a picture before you dig into it?” 

“Hell yeah,” he agrees and moves around you to pick up the cake carefully in his hands while you bring your camera back out. 

He smiles widely at you and you lift your camera to your eye. “Say ‘happy graduation!’” 

The camera goes off but you instruct him to take another one and he pretends to pose just to humour you before he leans down and takes a big bite off the corner of the cake, smearing his face and nose with black and white icing as soon as the shutter goes off. 

“Eddie!” Your jaw drops as you lower the camera and he looks at you innocently, chewing down the cake and ice cream in his mouth. “That’s going to stain your face.” 

Wayne chuckles as Eddie’s face falls and he puts the cake down, sticking his tongue out to try and lick up the black icing on his upper lip. His uncle tosses a wet kitchen towel at his face as you move to start cutting up the cake. 

“Better?” Eddie asks after a few seconds and you glance at him to see a small stripe of black still staining the side of his top lip and darkening the stubble he has there. 

“Sure.” You smile and he frowns, poking a finger into your side. 

When the cake is cut and distributed onto paper plates, Wayne calls the boys to grab their food and Eddie saunters into the living room with his arm curled around a bowl of chips, beer in hand. He drops down onto the sofa with a happy sigh, setting the bowl onto the coffee table and patting the cushion for you to sit next to him, grabbing the plate you made up for him with his already-bitten cake.

The next hour flies by with the boys greedy in their helpings of cake, and you eventually wind up curled against Eddie’s side and holding a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a dish towel to his cheek after he mentioned how badly it was starting to sting. 

He has your legs pulled over his, one hand curled around your thigh with the other gesturing animatedly at his side as he talks about the new setlist he wants his band to try the next time they book a gig, since The Hideout is currently closed down for some much needed renovations. 

It used to make you a little uncomfortable, joining in on hangouts like this with Eddie where you were the only girl in the room. But despite the people he deals to, or the ones that have a sour taste in their mouth whenever they so much as glance in his direction, Eddie generally surrounds himself with good people. 

He has a habit of latching onto anyone that shows him any ounce of kindness, and was eventually left with the very few that never once got sick of him.

His friends are some of the most respectful you’ve ever met, treating you as any other member of the group aside from the occasional wrestling, headlocks, and crude pranks that they play on each other. 

You’re also lucky that Wayne has always been so easygoing with your relationship with his nephew, so long as you stuck to keeping things strictly PG when people were around: a rule he demanded after having caught the two of you fooling around on the sofa one night when he came home from work early with a cold, the very first year that you had started dating. 

You’re happy in a room with the people that Eddie loves the most and he’s overjoyed that you’ve found your place so seamlessly within the group, even if you occasionally slip away to spend some much needed time with Robin or Nancy. 

The frozen peas eventually get too warm to do much of anything, but Eddie insists that they helped anyway, lightly prodding at his bruised cheekbone to feel how cold his skin is. Wayne takes the bag from you when he heads back into the kitchen to start prepping dinner and Eddie grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips to press a light kiss there. 

He keeps his hand tucked into yours and turns to join in on the conversation about D&D, specifically, the new characters they were working on, started up by Dustin. 

Without thinking about it, he tugs the graduation cap off of his head when it starts to feel too tight and your lip juts out in a small pout, catching his attention. 

“Sorry, baby. But it’s gonna give me a headache soon,” he says, smoothing down his already flattened curls. “Here-” he twists to face you better and lifts the cap to set on your head, tucking it down over your hair. 

“You’ve already seen me in this, Eds,” you mumble in resignation, not fighting him when his eyes brighten at the sight of you in his graduation cap. 

“Yeah but you look hot in it.” He shrugs, nudging his finger against the tassel before dropping his hands onto your thighs. 

Your cheeks feel hot at the compliment and you bite back your smile, dropping your head to rest on his shoulder. 

Both of you briefly forget about the stiff piece of cardboard stitched into the top of the cap, the corner of it jabbing Eddie in the neck and making him yelp. 

“Oh my god.” You whip your head up and he bursts into a laugh. “I’m so sorry!” 

You press your hand to the red mark already forming on his pale skin, his shoulders shaking softly as he chuckles. 

“I should’ve seen that one coming. You and Carver really know where my weak spots are,” he teasingly prods and your frown only deepens. 

“Don’t compare me to Jason,” you mumble, his face falling at the joke he didn’t realize was a little too far. Your thumb brushes gingerly over the freshly marred skin near his collarbone and he lets out a quiet sigh at the delicate touch. “You know I didn’t do that on purpose-” you start to defend yourself but he grabs your hands to tangle them together with his. 

“I know- hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what I was saying.” He feels awful at the genuine sadness now painted across your features. “Was super shitty of me to say.” 

“I still hate what he did today,” you admit, eyes lifting to his bruise. 

“I know,” he murmurs against the back of your hands, his eyes rounding out in apology. “Forgive me?” he softly pleads, kissing your knuckles and you give him a weak nod. 

You absolutely hate the reminder of what that piece of shit did to him, but you know that his words slipped out without thought with no intentional malice behind them. He had also mentioned to you when he pulled out of the school’s parking lot that this wound up being the first time he ended up not caring so much about what Jason did - once you talked him down at least - knowing now that the chances of ever running into him and his friends again are truly slim to none.

“Thank you,” he says through a sigh and lifts his head. “Can I have a kiss?” 

Leaning forward, he merely pulls back and the crease between your brows deepens until he taps against the side of his neck. The corners of your lips turn up and you pull his cap off of your head, tilting your chin forward to press one soft kiss to his skin. 

He finds your lips with his own when you sit back, resting his hand on your jaw. He lingers on you for a few seconds before pulling back, the tip of his nose brushing yours. 

“You kissed me better… did it work with you?” he wonders, dark eyes flickering back and forth between yours and you have to pull your lips to the side to hide your smile. 

There is a part of you that would love nothing more than to tease him more than you’re currently capable of with the presence of his friends in the room, but you just shake your head. His brow arches in surprise. 

“No? How many do you need?” 

You shrug and his eyes narrow at you before he starts counting up from one. Shaking your head with every number he says, you deny him satisfaction only until he reaches five. 

“Five it is,” he murmurs, creeping his fingers over your collarbone before he wraps his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you forward. 

It’s hard to kiss with the smiles lifting onto both of your faces and you laugh when he accidentally kisses your teeth. The five consecutive pecks are fast and noisy each time your lips part from each other, and you pull your bottom one between your teeth after the fifth one as Eddie trails his kisses up and over your cheek until you giggle, pulling away from his grasp. 

“Worked like a charm,” he hums, laughing softly into your hair and catching Dustin’s disgusted gaze over the top of your head. 

“Are you guys done?” he asks and has to duck behind the coffee table when Eddie immediately chucks a throw pillow at his head. 

“Fuck off!” Dustin yells, throwing it back and Eddie dodges it as it flies past his head. 

“Watch it! I’m damaged goods, Henderson.” 

“You’re damaged something alright,” Dustin mutters under his breath and you press your lips together, not surprised when Eddie’s eyes narrow and he carefully pushes your legs off of his lap. 

“You wanna say that to my face like a man?” Eddie taunts, a menacing smirk on his face as Dustin’s eyes briefly widen but he hides it with a forced clearing of his throat, pushing his fingers through his hair. 

“What? No- I didn’t say anything.” His voice is quiet and Eddie pats his hand against your thigh before standing up to tower over his friend. “I’m just uh… gonna go to the bathroom,” he continues, pushing himself to stand and rushing around the sofa to put it between him and Eddie. 

“You’re dead,” Eddie barely gets out before Dustin is sprinting out of the trailer with a shriek, making Eddie roll his eyes, sitting back down with a satisfied smile. 

“You’re not going after him?” 

He shakes his head. “Nah. Let him hide out there for ten minutes, he deserves it. I graduated today, he doesn’t get to mess with me.”

“You’re really going to keep milking that for the rest of the day, aren’t you?” 

His brows raise high on his head and he nods, grabbing a handful of chips to shove into his mouth. You playfully roll your eyes as he sits back and hooks an arm around your shoulders before pressing a salty kiss to your cheek. 

“Ugh,” you scoff lightly at the crumbs that fall from his lips and down your shirt. “You’re lucky I love you,” you grumble and he chuckles once he’s swallowed down his snack. 

“Luckiest guy in the world,” he replies, gently knocking his head against yours and you smile, cuddling deeper into his side, knowing just how much he truly believes that. 

You feel the same way, after all.

[ilguna]

☼ say it like you mean it (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; over time, you’ve learned his techniques, and you’re really not entertained by it. if he likes you as much as he says he does, then why does he just say so?

warnings; swearing,

wc; 3.2k

--

The summer heat has finally decided to catch up with District Four it seems, and it only took until mid-August for it to do so. It’s not gentle by any means, either. All you’re doing is getting ready for the day, and it feels as if you live in a tin can smack-dab in the middle of the desert. 

This house is small enough as it is, the last thing you need to be baked alive in it. You think your mother is on the same train of thought that you are, because she’s opened every single window in hopes that a breeze will roll through. 

You find her in the kitchen, fanning herself with a thin book, boiling a pot of water on the stove to loosen up the metal for the hooks that are laid out across the dining room table. You would just use a torch to make the hooks easier to bend, but you weren’t cleared for a permit since the house is flammable, and it’s in a fairly nice neighborhood.

So, you have no choice but to use water, even though it’s more time consuming. Between you and your mother making hooks, it’s getting harder and harder to make the Peacekeeper’s deadlines on time. It would be just a little bit easier if you had one more person to help, but then you’d be given a bigger workload.

“How long are you planning on being out for today, honey?” Your mother asks, pausing her fanning long enough to look your way.

“It shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.” You tell her, gathering the bags of hooks to place into your tote bag. “Just a few errands to run and I’ll collect what I need for my hooks along the way. Once I drop them off at the docks, I’ll come straight back.”

She nods, “PLease be careful when you speak to the Peacekeepers, you can’t afford another warning.”

“I will be.” You say, turning your back to her. 

You pull the tote bag onto your shoulder, rolling your eyes. It’s not your fault the Peacekeeper’s are a bunch of sensitive wimps—none of them can take a joke. All you did last week was tell them that you may or may not see them the following day to make the drop.

This resulted in several Peacekeepers being sent to your door in the morning to escort you straight to the docks to deliver your hooks. When you tried to tell them that you weren’t being serious, you were met with a citation, but really it was just a warning. If you get another one, then you’ll be taken into custody until they think you’ve learned your lesson.

Talk about ridiculous, right?

“Love you, mom.” You murmur, opening the front door, hand reaching to push the screen door out of the way before you even see it.

“I’ll see you soon, honey.” She says back, her footsteps fading away.

Your hand comes into contact with cloth, hand squishing into whatever it is. You yank your hand back, as if you’ve just touched the hot stove, eyes peering around the door. 

As soon as you see who it is, your shoulders drop, worry leaving you in an instant. Your face twists at the sight of Finnick, leaned up against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his face. You begin to dread what the rest of your day is going to look like, if he’s here already.

Usually he has enough courtesy to give you a headstart before ruining your afternoon.

“Please, not this today.” You groan, pushing past him to get out of your house. You pull the front door shut with a slam, heading down the steps without waiting for him to say anything.

“Good afternoon.” He muses, following behind you. He must not shut the screen door, because you can hear it squeal as it swings back into place. “You don’t want me here?”

“I wouldn’t mind as much as I do if you weren’t so annoying. How long were you waiting out there for?” You ask him.

“Long enough to hear your mom ask you to be careful.” He says, taking long strides to catch up with your pace. “Which she won’t have to worry about, because I don’t plan on leaving your side today.”

“Of course you don’t.” You sigh, adjusting the bag on your shoulder.

He ignores your comment. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

“I’ve spent all week trading for fishing lure while you were in the Capitol, so I’m picking it all up today.” You tell him.

“What’d you trade them with?” He asks. “If you’d waited for me—”

“I don’t need you to negotiate for me, Finnick.” You shake your head. “I’ve been doing this since we were in school, I know how to get what I want without being scammed. Besides, I didn’t have time to wait for you, the Peacekeepers wanted the new hooks as soon as possible, and you weren’t here when the request came in.”

“How long ago?”

‘A week and a half ago.” You reach into your bag, pace slowing to go up to the first house. 

“You still didn’t answer my question on what you traded them for.” Finnick comes to a stop, back to the door so you have to look at him.

“We paid for some of them, and on some of the others I offered specialty hooks.” You tell him, going up to the house. 

The man that lives here answers the door after the first round of knocks, a smile on his face. You hold a polite conversation with him, while you unravel the cloth that covers the hook you made. He wanted it purely for decoration, since he’s been long-retired from being on the boats. He gave you the rest of his lure for free, no strings attached.

“Have a good afternoon.” You tell him, waving before you go back down to Finnick.

“How much did you pay?”

You really hate it when he gets on a roll with the questions. You’re not sure why it matters how much you paid for the lure, in the end you’ll be making a bigger profit with the Peacekeepers. And people don’t really have a need for lure when the Capitol provides good hooks for them in the first place. They just want something for them so they’re able to afford an extra meal.

“Not much.”

“You’re making more than what you paid, right?”

You stop walking, turning to Finnick. “Do you really take me for an idiot?”

He stares at you. “No.”

“Then why are you asking me questions like that?” You tilt your head. 

“Because I don’t want them to take advantage of you, (Y/n). You do a lot for the docks, whether these people know that or not.”

“I’m aware of that. And I don’t care if they appreciate my work. I’m just doing what I have to in order to survive. It’s not a huge deal.” You tell him, starting to walk again. “I’d rather prick my fingers a hundred times with the barb than have to deal with the boats.”

“You wouldn’t have to deal with either if you let me take care of you.”

Your face scrunches up at the thought. Once for the fact that he just said that to you, and twice for the idea of being supported on his Capitol money, which you despise. He earned his dollar of his money by beating the Hunger Games at such a young age, you’ll admit that.

But you’ll never come to terms with the person the Capitol has turned him into. 

The old Finnick—the one you grew up with before he got reaped—would never have said half of the things he does to you. His flirtatious comments are constant, they’re everyday, and they’re borderlining disrespectful. You’re not sure how many times you’ve told him to quiet it, and he never listens.

He’s not laying it on as thick today, but that might have something to do with what you said to him before he got on the train in July. You’d met him at the station after the reaping to wish him luck, because he’s still your friend, and he made a joke about taking you to the Capitol with him and showing you what luxury is.

You felt disgusted at the suggestion, because he should know that you’d rather be at the bottom of the ocean than in the Capitol. You backed away from him, and with a shake of your head, you told him that you’d never go there, much less with him. You left the train station after that, not bothering to give him the goodbye you usually do.

You hate the fact that he’s required to mentor the tributes. You think it’s a good idea, because Finnick broke the record for the youngest victor, but the person it turns him into… it’s just gross. He used to be friendly, funny and courteous, and a couple of years ago he changed. 

There were no signs, one year he went to the Capitol to mentor, and a month later he came out this insufferable Capitol brat. It only got worse when he mentored Annie Cresta, causing her to win the Games two years ago. Ever since, he’s been cocky, as if the world owes it to him.

You’re sick of dealing with it. Especially when it lasts for months, and by the time he seems to be getting better about his attitude, it’s Hunger Games season again. The cycle is never-ending.

“That’s nice, Finnick.” You mutter, pace quickening, as if you’ll be able to leave him behind.

“What?” He asks, as if he’s clueless. “It’s true. If you were with me, you’d never have to worry about half the things you do.” He begins to catch up with you. “There’d be dinner on the table every night, you’d have access to hot water in the winter, you’d be able to buy anything you want. You could’ve woken up in an air conditioned house today.”

“While that all sounds nice, I don’t want a life like that.” You tell him, eyes on the ground.

“Why not? Everyone wants a life like that.” He throws his arms out, you can tell by his shadow. “And I want to give it to you.”

“Because that means nothing to me.”

“Nothing?” Finnick asks. “So you’re telling me you don’t like the necklaces and jewels and—”

“Finnick!” You shout, irritated. You stop to look him dead in the eye. “What you’re doing isn’t working on me. I will never fall for the facade you put on for the Capitol.” You place a hand over your heart. “It’s all an act, and you need to give it a rest.”

Finnick’s face has dropped. “(Y/n), I mean everything I say.”

“Well, it doesn’t feel like it.” You throw a hand out. “Your lines are rehearsed. How many other girls have you talked to like that and believed it?” 

“I don’t talk to other girls, (Y/n). I’m not interested in them.”

“I don’t believe you.” 

Finnick stares at you for a long moment. “What can I do to prove to you that I do actually want you.”

“You can’t figure that out on your own?” You roll your eyes. “How long have we known each other? Have you ever listened to anything I’ve said?” When he doesn’t speak, you wave your hand. “Just go, Finnick. I’m sick of this, really. I got stuff to do and you’re slowing me down.”

Finnick looks down at the dirt, making a face. “All right.”

You watch as he walks off in the direction of Victor’s Village, looking like a kicked puppy. As soon as he hangs his head, you close your eyes, tilting your head back to take in the sun. You have half the mind to call him back and apologize, but you are running behind.

You turn to continue down the street, heading for the next house. You really hope he doesn’t give up entirely because of what you’ve said, you just want him to listen to what you’re telling him. 

It’s not like you don’t enjoy his company, because you do. He’s your favorite person to hang out with when he’s not being uptight. You think that if he were to ask you to be his girlfriend properly, you’d say yes, but you want it to be real. This doesn’t feel real, with the expensive jewelry, the money, the constant presents. It’s insane. 

You try to be quick to get done within the next hour, paying several people back for their kindness. You barely make it in time to the docks before they shut down for the rest of the day. While the Peacekeepers trust your handiwork, their Head Peacekeeper likes to inspect the hooks to ensure they’re good quality.

You’ve never had a hook sent back.

You tuck the money from the Peacekeepers into your bag, taking your time heading home. You’re sure mom has lunch ready, and most of her part of the work creating the hook has to be done by now. You’ll just need to attach the new lures and sharpen the barb.

When you make it home, it’s late afternoon. The front door and the screen have been opened to their max capacity to allow fresh air to enter the house. You pass right through the doorway, thinking nothing of it, until you come to a stop in your kitchen.

Finnick is leaning against your countertop, inspecting a hook you made last night. “Have you two ever considered opening up a shop closer to the dock? That way you don’t have to walk as far.”

“We have, but it’s expensive next to the dock. We know we’d probably make the money we need, but we can’t know for sure.”

“Have you considered a pop-up?” 

“A stand?” Your mom asks, considering it for a moment. “No, but I’m sure if we tried, the Peacekeepers would deny the permit, like they’ve denied everything else we’ve requested.”

“I’m home.” You tell them, mood fading. “I thought you went home, Finnick.”

“I did, but then I came here to wait for you.” Finnick says. “You should go and put on something more loose and comfortable.”

“For what?” You ask, setting your tote bag down by the door.

“Don’t worry about the details.” Finnick smiles. “I’ve got it all planned out.”

“I don’t have the time. I’ve got hooks to do.” You shake your head.

“Oh, leave them.” Your mom says, winking at you. “I’ll take care of it. The stove has been burning hotter lately because of the heat, I was able to get most of my work done. I’ll get you started.”

“I can’t have you do all the work.” You reason.

“(Y/n), you need a break.” She tilts her head down at you. “Go get changed. You can enjoy a proper day off for once.”

“Mom.” 

“Now, (Y/n).” She tells you.

You look at Finnick, a little upset by the fact that he’s ruined your plans for the rest of the day, but you know better than to argue any further with your mom. You pass them to go to the back of the house, where your small bedroom is. You swing the door shut with a single push, sitting down on your bed as you stare into the closet.

He said something more loose and comfortable—but you’re already wearing that. A regular shirt, a baggy pair of pants that once belonged to your father. You wish he’d given you more details.

You stand back up, mindlessly swiping through your tops before you stumble upon a tank top with thin straps that you haven’t worn in a while. You pull it off the hanger, throwing it over your arm as you turn to the small pile of jeans and shorts that line the wall. You crouch down, picking through them, finding a nice pair of light blue shorts that’ll reach your mid-thigh. 

You change quickly, throwing your previous clothes into the hamper, retying your shoes. When you join your mom and Finnick back in the kitchen, they both seem pleased with your choices.

“I’ll see you later this evening, honey.” Your mom tells you, touching your shoulder. “Finnick will take good care of you.”

You look at Finnick, who has a brighter smile on his face. He hands you your tote bag, which is no longer empty, like it had been when you dropped it off by the door. Now, there’s a neatly folded thin blanket inside. 

“Where are we going?” You ask Finnick, weirded out.

“Nowhere you haven’t been before.” He tells you, motioning for you to leave first. “Thank you, Ms. (L/n).”

“No problem, Finnick.” She waves.

The walk with Finnick is mostly quiet, not a lot of conversation is exchanged. You feel the need to apologize for what you said to him earlier, but you were just expressing how you felt, again. If he would just listen to you, then there wouldn’t be a need to be so straight-forward.

He brings you to the beach, under one of the few palm trees, where he lays out the blanket from the tote bag. Which reveals a couple of snack boxes underneath, containing fruit, crackers, spreads and juices. You stare at Finnick, wanting to tell him you’re not interested in experiencing the Capitol, when he completely takes you off-guard.

“Welcome to our first date.” Finnick laughs, “Sit, please.”

“A date?” You ask, pulling off your shoes to sit on the blanket. “Usually you have to ask the girl out first.”

“I would’ve, but you were already mad at me. That’s why I asked your mom for help.” He smiles. “Sorry, by the way, but I couldn’t let you be after what you said.”

You can’t help it, now. “I’m sorry, Finnick, I just—”

“You don’t have to apologize, I get it. Your mom explained it pretty well, actually.” He sits beside you, popping open the lids on the boxes. “I know where you’re coming from, and I know most of it is because of a rumor.” 

You nod, agreeing. 

“It started in the Capitol.” He tells you, shaking his head. “And as much as I hate it, I can’t escape what they say about me, so I’ve stopped trying. But I want you to know that I don’t talk to any other girls. You are the only one I talk to, because you’re the only one that’s stuck by me after my Games.”

“I’m your friend, Finnick.”

“Not everyone saw me that way.” He says. “They either stuck around because I was rich or left because I was a Capitol darling��a status I can’t help. They labeled me that way.”

“Oh.” You murmur.

He pauses for a moment, looking out at the water. “There’s a lot that happens in the Capitol when I go every year, and it’s partly why I act the way I do, and I’m trying to work on it.” He then looks back at you, taking your hand. “But I’m serious when it comes to my feelings about you, (Y/n). I really do like you, and I would like you to be my girlfriend.”

You stare at him, heart pumping in your chest, “I would love to, Finnick.”

He gives you a smile, “I thought you’d say-so.”

[deoidesign]

What’s your favorite animal?

goblin shark

[cerbreus]

baking never feels more like science to me than when i'm trying to cobble together an intricate multi step recipe together from several different recipes and tutorials online because the recipe I'm imagining doesn't exist....

[astonmartinii]

day six: not so home for christmas | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem reader

oscar and y/n are having their first christmas in monaco because of a snow storm, unfortunately this also means they're now hosting most of the grid as well.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 137,094 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: thanks a lot snow storm :( i guess it's our first ever christmas here in monaco

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user1: yall global warming might just be real

user2: you're only just realising it now ?

charles_leclerc: you kids and your complaining - a white christmas in monaco, what more could you want?

yourusername: a christmas at home with our families?

charles_leclerc: families? when you're in your adopted father-in-law's home city, i'd watch your tone if i were you

oscarpiastri: if you think of your kids as often as you say then you should be worried that your aussie son is going to FREEZE to death :(

charles_leclerc: if it's the bbq you crave, you can still do that?

yourusername: it's snowing? and he is NOT bringing our bbq inside

charles_leclerc: okay jeez, not much christmas spirit here i see

oscarpiastri: we miss our families, sue us

user3: wait... if they couldn't get out of nice... who else couldn't

user4: the storm kicked in like a day ago right?

user5: based on instagram activity, my guess is that max, lando, ollie (idk why he was in monaco anyway), kimi (i think he's attached to ollie), alex (and lily) and george

user6: i know it would never happen but wouldn't it be so cute if we got a grid christmas dinner

yourusername: please don't give them any ideas

oscarpiastri: i only just got rid of them 😩

landonorris: so, just out of interest, is y/n still free to maybe wrap my presents for me?

yourusername: do i look like the christmas fairy to you?

landonorris: well i know for a fact that oscar's ass was not wrapping those presents

oscarpiastri: well y/n actually likes doing things for me soooooo

landonorris: PLEASE Y/N I'LL HAVE TO RESORT TO USING TIN FOIL

yourusername: tin foil... please you are a 25 year old man

landonorris: does it look like i'm a man who has sellotape in his house?

yourusername: no.

user7: y/n is like a full time mum to a load of men all older than her

user8: she better get ready to cook for them at christmas because none of these men can cook for themselves

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 692,108 others

tagged: yourusername & landonorris

oscarpiastri: i'm not sure how this went from our lonely christmas away from both of our families to babysitting half of the grid but what the hell, sure

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user10: i personally blame all of you for this

user11: and what??? i'm so excited

user12: i hope they post nothing more just to spite your ass

charles_leclerc: i’m kinda offended no one thought of coming to mine :/

maxverstappen1: you’re shit at cooking

charles_leclerc: how would you know?

maxverstappen1: i saw it in your vlog

charles_leclerc: you watch my vlogs???

maxverstappen1: NO?

yourusername: okay queens stop flirting and get back to your stations in the kitchen

charles_leclerc: can we flirt there?

yourusername: if you're still peeling - knock yourselves out

user13: y/n basically confirming lestappen? wow christmas DID come early this year

user14: the real question is why she would let those menaces in the kitchen?

yourusername: i have seen how much these people eat, i need help even from the useless

yourusername: also if they want certain dishes from home they have to help

maxverstappen1: i am CORING AS MANY APPLES AS I CAN I PROMISE THE APPLE BEIGNETS WILL BE WORTH IT

oscarpiastri: i know they will be, y/n is making them

maxverstappen1: okay buddy, i don't see you helping

oscarpiastri: i am keeping everyone else in line, that's a full time job as well

user15: who made the youngest couple in charge of these fools?

user16: a comedic genius

yourusername: they're annoying but i'll deal with them for you

oscarpiastri: you make such sacrifices for me, i love you

yourusername: i love you more

alexalbon: we're really not that bad you guys are being dramatic

yourusername: george walked up to our mantle piece, pointed at my baby picture and said "ugly. my condolences" ?

alexalbon: that's george ? he's mean to everyone

yourusername: HE'S IN THAT BABY'S HOUSE

olliebearman

liked by charles_leclerc, estebanocon and 418,934 others

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri & kimiantonelli

olliebearman: first christmas with my big brother :))))

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user17: yall be on oscar about him holding onto the leclerc family joke but the real enemy is ollie

olliebearman: i think it's cute

olliebearman: and it's NOT a joke

user18: you know what? yeah i'd also keep going with the joke i need to get in that leclerc family

olliebearman: the real catch here is y/n she's going to teach me to crochet :)

yourusername: we can make little bear mans !!!

user19: the grid dad stuff was cringey... but grid brother well that's hitting like crack i fear

charles_leclerc: grid dads are cringey ??? count your days

user19: sorry?

charles_leclerc: i (and my family) will NOT tolerate sebastian vettel slander. not now not EVER

fernandoalo_oficial: and me?

charles_leclerc: i couldn't give a fuck about you old man

fernandoalo_oficial: excuse me

fernandoalo_oficial: i'll have you know i am just as much oscar's father as you are

charles_leclerc: and how have you come to that OBVIOUSLY WRONG conclusion

fernandoalo_oficial: WELL i don't know maybe his REAL grid dad is actually mark webber who i have a well documented homoerotic relationship with and therefore oscar and most importantly Y/N are my children

charles_leclerc: what a load of bullshit

charles_leclerc: if grid children were based on homoerotic tension then i'd be father to all of the red bull juniors and max would have custody of the FDA

maxverstappen1: well....

pepemarti: hi !!!

dinobeganovic: hey.....

yourusername: what happened to the original plot of the movie

user20: i think the cabin fever is getting to them

lilymunhe: no they're like this all of the time it's exhausting

yourusername: tell me about it

olliebearman: but not me :(

yourusername: no we love you

oscarpiastri: you are the least annoying one

olliebearman: omg thank you :3

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 163,207 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc & landonorris

yourusername: not so home for christmas but with family nonetheless

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user22: what was the dress code here?

landonorris: what we had left? all the dry cleaners are closed because of the storm

yourusername: you take ALL of your clothes to the dry cleaners?

landonorris: why wouldn't i do that...

yourusername: yk what, whatever !

user23: omg of course leo was there as well

yourusername: we only invited charles for him

charles_leclerc: excuse me?

landonorris: he was invited ????

oscarpiastri: well he was staying in monaco anyway and you guys all invoked your squatters rights in my house so what was one more

landonorris: i am not squatting? my ass is already big enough as it is

yourusername: i know your ass is big because YOU'RE ALWAYS SAT ON IT

oscarpiastri: god i love you

yourusername: i love you even more

oscarpiastri: nuh uh not possible

yourusername: i love you so much i'm not even that angry about half of the grid crashing our christmas

oscarpiastri: i love you so much that i personally barged a child out of the way to get you your eras tour merch

yourusername: i do love my merch.... but not as much as i love you

oscarpiastri: you're so romantic

georgerussell63: right that's it, i am SICK of you people pretending you are not enjoying our presence

yourusername: did i or did i not say family ???

oscarpiastri: george i'd appreciate if you didn't talk to y/n this way

maxverstappen1: yeah back the fuck off

georgerussell63: why is max here?

maxverstappen1: ummmm y/n busted her ass to make apple beignets for me so i had some netherlands with me at christmas so i would die for her. i am somwhat fond of oscar as well

maxverstappen1: so fuck with them, you fuck with me

maxverstappen1: and you seem to like doing that recently

yourusername: awwww thanks max!

oscarpiastri: we are fond of you too buddy

georgerussell63: how did i lose this?

user24: max out here getting wags on his side

maxverstappen1: that's my ma

maxverstappen1: wait that makes my homoerotic tension with charles incest

maxverstappen1: that's my home girl

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, jackdoohan and 1,094,577 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: y/n absolutely smashed our makeshift grid christmas and she said she'll accept thanks in qualifying tows or easy passes on track 👍

view all comments

user25: oh they want me dead

user26: i would do questionable things to get a slice of that cake

user27: drop the recipe please xxx

yourusername: oh babe i be following the tiktoks like the rest of yall - i'll repost it

user28: woman of the people

yourusername: babe i don't really remember saying those exact words...

oscarpiastri: PLEASE ! they don't say no to you now you've filled their stomachs

landonorris: he's not wrong

maxverstappen1: you're in my will now

charles_leclerc: you're now my favourite daughter in law

yourusername: i'm your only daughter in law?

charles_leclerc: idk kimi and ollie are pretty attached with their weird tension

landonorris: like father like son

charles_leclerc: huh?

landonorris: huh?

oscarpiastri: ^^ see !!!! y/n please !!!

yourusername: fine.

yourusername: thank you all for coming, i hope you enjoyed dinner and your time with us. i loved spending time with you all but if you wish, i will be accepting thanks in the form of qualifying tows and easy passes for oscar or pornstar martinis from any hospitality

yourusername: happy?

oscarpiastri: yes

oscarpiastri: YOU HEARD THE WOMAN GUYS

maxverstappen1: oh i love y/n but i'd rather put you in the wall than let that ugly orange car past without a fight

georgerussell63: @fia i told yall

yourusername: are you ever gonna give that up ?

georgerussell63: no? and i KNOW IT WAS YOU WHO SAT ME NEXT TO HIM AT DINNER

yourusername: you'll never prove it :P

user29: oscar is such a sassy man

yourusername: he gets it from his momma

oscarpiastri: and you :)

yourusername: i will say your ability to watch my reality tv with you is a big factor in how much i love you

landonorris: is that why oscar once woke me up the night before a race by shouting "get her ass lisa" ???

oscarpiastri: we watch real housewives together on facetime :)

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 1,130,672 others

tagged: yourusername & oscarpiastri

charles_leclerc: i made the right choice in son and most importantly daughter in law

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user31: okay the cinnamon buns have thrown me over the edge now

user32: i NEED to know who asked for them

alexalbon: guilty 💅 and they slapped thanks y/m

oscarpiastri: we've been dating for years? like when i was still in f3?

charles_leclerc: semantics

oscarpiastri: no i met and charmed y/n all on my own thank you very much

charles_leclerc: because she saw the future and the potential of our prosperous family !!!

oscarpiastri: at this point, whatever you wanna hear old man

charles_leclerc: relegated below ollie

olliebearman: score !!!

user33: oh these people are never letting this joke die are they

user34: i think we're stuck with it

charles_leclerc: are you people sick of whimsy ???

charles_leclerc: i am ALLOWED to flex my son's amazing choice in women, especially a woman who will make me a swiss roll on demand

yourusername: he does have amazing taste

oscarpiastri: thank you :3

yourusername: as much as you guys were somewhat annoying, we had an amazing christmas xx

oscarpiastri: please do not bother us until march

charles_leclerc: fine. but we're still on for the double date in melbourne?

charles_leclerc: (maybe triple? idk ollie can just bring kimi)

kimiantonelli: score !!!

yourusername: we would love to !

oscarpiastri: i guess you could meet my actual family ?

charles_leclerc: not now oscar, let me enjoy chritmas with you all before you remind me of that

oscarpiastri: okay?

user35: y/n and oscar actually have the patience of saints because if these clowns crashed my christmas i'd be on the news

yourusername: any christmas is perfect with him

oscarpiastri: with y/n, i can get through even the most annoying people

user35: okay yall didn't have to flex on me that hard damn

fin.

note: here's day six! i'm not sure if you guys saw my update post but this series won't be done by christmas day but will stretch to NYE because unfortunately my cat has to be put down :( i've had him for nearly 19 years and it's really hard to think about him being gone so i'm just spending as much time as possible with him atm. anyway, i hope you enjoyed !! xx

[peppy-jester]

During all these fifteen years Fizz hasn't even been able to smile during his birthday and just recently had let people wish him 'Happy Birthday' with gifts without declining them. Even if it did hurt to hear the wishes in such a day. But now, he was smiling, he was tearing up with joy and happiness he felt in a long time. All the smile was as genuine as a smile can get and it was all thanks to Blitzø, the person he had fallen for ages ago.

"Uh that's the wrong finger-. . ." Fizz managed to say in bit confused tone in his voice as he tilted his head a little. He thought Blitzø was just fooling around like usually what he did not expect was the actual ring. The jesters maw dropped open as he saw the little box the other took out of his pocket. "Blitzø you didn't-.." oh he did. HE DID! The actual ring was the most beautiful rings Fizz had ever laid his eyes on. His heart was bounding faster as he was holding back for more tears. This was too much, he would have never asked Blitzø to spend this much money on him. This just means Fizz needs to spoil him rotten now that they had each other in their lives~

And the ring was now on his finger. It was official! Fizz was finally engaged with the person who he ever laid his eyes onto back in the imp circus, his first crush, his gay awakening, his most important person in his entire world! "I-..it's beautiful. I love it so much, thank you babe~" he almost choked up to his own words there while looking at the ring before turning his gaze back to his fiancé with a teary gaze.

"Mmmm-.. it wasn't shitty. Believe me. I loved every moment even if it was scary to think I may have to let you go at some point. . ." Fizz paused for a moment as they were now inches away of each other, letting out a small happy chuckle. It felt like his legs were about to give up and butterflies fluttering in his stomach. "I wouldn't have it any other way, my love" time to get all sappy now that he finally could be without being judged. "I wanna be with you in ups and downs. Heal up with you from all the traumatic shit we've been through and just be there for you every day for the rest our lives~" as Fizz said everything he needed to he closed the small gap between them, sealing their lips with a deep loving kiss as he wrapped his arms around his fiancé minding the rings so those won't fall off or anything. His tail was swooshing around a little as he was feeling all excited of this new chapter of his life. The kiss was broken up after a moment, Fizz needed to catch his breath but never let go of Blitzø. This all just felt right~

"And all top of everything I just said, I love you~"

【𐂃】 Widened hues peered at the offered hand, trailing over their digits' prosthetic features — finally, able to see past most of his guilt. although his ptsd wasn't completely gone; it was beginning to heal. They, both, were starting to mend the bond that was led astray. ❝ Oh, right! I knew that. ❞ he wholeheartedly chimed, giggling as he slipped the ring-pop on the wrong finger. Deliberately doing so as he proceeded to pull out a small box stashed in his pockets. Cupping the box between his palms; delaying yet again to properly propose this time around. now that he had gained their smile, their consent, the assassin had no more qualms to push forward with the engagement.

❝ Like I said before — I want my feelings t' be real. Now that I'm brought back t' you . . . I want our love t' last, t' be treasured until we both part from this Hellhole. The candy jewel isn't going t' last forever — so I . . . sorta spent most of my savings getting this. ❞ on cue, he then opened the miniature box to reveal a ring with white geranium flower patterns ( mostly symbolizing pure love && protection ) The centered piece diamond had a red tint, that of matching the jester's eyes, && the inner side of the ring had "Fizz's eyes only" engraved in it. It was a very expensive commission, yet, he knew he'd pay it off with time. He couldn't set a price on Fizz's happiness; it's priceless! He'd buy two rings if he had to! he would of done anything to make their birthday special, as its meant to be.

Taking the ring out of its holder; he gently put it on Fizz's index finger. Averting his hues for the moment with enamored features.

❝ you . . . look pretty dashing in white — it suits ya. ❞ focusing on what his partner had to share, he then fixated his focus back towards the jester. Still prolonging a smile as he spoke. ❝ yeah — that was shitty of me t' do. I wasn't . . . y'know, thinking. I should have known it was only going t' make us wanting t' see each other more. I've been self-sabotagin' for the longest time . . . guess I lost sight of how t' really "love", y'know? ❞ wrapping things up, he then tugged them closer. Half-lidded eyes gazing at them as he slowly inched his maw closer to theirs.

❝ I'd love t' see ya every wakin' moment. all of you. without the pretty getup, I love you for you. I want t' be by yer side indefinitely, if you'll have me, baby. ❞

[josephquinnswhore]

Christmas Eve - joel miller x female reader

summary: Christmas Eve with your husband.

word count: 2k

content warning: fluff..slight insinuations to sex, girl dad joel, heavily pregnant reader, anxiety surrounding pregnancy, birth etc. Pre established marriage, joel is in his early 30’s. no outbreak. I think that’s it?

a/n: it’s chrissy eve in Australia… 10:15pm as I’m posting this. Merry Christmas to all my moots / fans of Joel / Pedro / whoever reads this. Love you all x

Lights draped around the window frames and along the porch were strung up, emitting a golden glow along the cleared pathway to the front door. Tinsel is tightly wrapped around the wooden frame of the steps to your front house, complete with a beautiful wreath on your front door.

Through the curtains, you could make out Joel’s figure up on the step ladder, hanging more lights in the living room.

As you step foot into your home, the harsh wind follows you as you tap the snow off your boots on the doormat, a freezing breeze curls up your neck, making you shudder.

But as the front door closes behind you, all you feel is warmth. The ugly Christmas sweater you wore has poorly stitched reindeers, snowflakes and the ugliest shade of green you’d ever seen. Alas, You’re shocked to see Joel wearing his matching sweater as you step through the threshold of the living room.

Tinsel hangs along the hallways, the smell of the pine tree fills your lungs with warmth. Never did you think it could be possible to crave a smell—until now. The fresh scent of pine tree that Joel had cut down, he and Tommy had lugged it into your living room to use as a Christmas tree upon your insistence.

He turns to face you, raising an eyebrow at your messy hair and few intact snowflakes on your sweater. In hand, you’re clutching a sacred tin of powdered hot chocolate.

His ugly Christmas sweater is the same as yours, but red. His dark hair is littered with greys, feral curls untamed and his face framed with a pair of thick specs. The rainbow lights he’s hanging up with a hammer and nail reflect in them for a moment, before he removes them. His sweet, warm brown eyes meet your own.

“House looks good baby,” you call softly, admiring how beautiful the decorations looked with his determination, not allowing you to do anything more than decorate the tree, and wrap the gifts, since it was your favourite part about Christmas, excluding the gingerbread baking.

He climbs down the ladder, hooking his glasses through the neckline of his sweater, setting the hammer and nails onto the flat surface at the top of the step ladder.

“Without your vision this never would have come to life. Sarah’s going to love it.” He preens, stepping toward you. “How was it out there?” With an all recognisable voice of concern, you smile.

It was beginning to snow outside, and Joel was anxious the entire time you’d been gone.

“Chaotic, shopping on Christmas Eve isn’t for the weak. I had to practically fight an old lady to get this tin of hot chocolate you know?”

His soft laugh breaks the tension of his anxiety, just glad to have you back. His arms snake around you, resting on your hips. “Sounds like you needed your man to come with you hm? I’ve got no problems protecting my girl from the oldies.”

“I can handle them, plus.. I’m glad you stayed. Sarah’s going to be so happy when she sees all of this. Did you remember to do Santa’s footprints with flour?”

Tsk. “So much distrust baby, course I remembered, I ain’t the one with baby brain y’know?”.

You roll your eyes at him, shoving his chest lightly. “And who’s fault is that, hm?”

Joel chuckled as you rolled your eyes, knowing how much you secretly loved his teasing. He followed your gaze to the lights before smiling, proud of his work.

"I’ll take half the blame, honey," he said,

“If you don’t recall, I’ll recite the way you begged me to get you pregnant—“

With your cheeks warming you interrupt. “Alright.. alright. I remember.”

His thumb leaves your waist, curling into your cheek to caress you softly with adoration. "I’m glad you convinced me, baby. You look so beautiful, you’re glowing.”

Your cheeks feel warm at his praise. The warmth of the fire crackling inside of the living room begin to ease the ache in your joints, particularly your knees and ankles.

“I look and feel like a whale.” It had been hard on you, anyone could see, with your stomach so round and swollen, the Christmas sweater struggled to stretch over your stomach to cover it entirely.

Joel shook his head, slipping his warm hands underneath your sweater to caress your aching stomach in a soothing notion.

"No," he protested softly. "You look like my beautiful, pregnant wife who is about to bring a little bundle of joy into the world. Half of me, and half of you.”

With a soft hum, you find yourself smiling. The thought warmed your heart, a small bundle of love, made of you and him. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, Joel Miller.”

"Hm?" Joel hums in return, planting a kiss on your cheek, his nose nudging your own. "That's good to know, I might have to use that to my advantage."

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Maybe... it'll get me everything I want."

With a baited breath, you breathe out a shaky response. “And what is it that you want?”

"Hmm..." Joel pretended to ponder about it for a moment, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips again, fingers curling into the curved surface.

"Since you asked," he murmured, his voice low and enticing. "All I really want for Christmas is to spend it with you. But if you're looking for a more tangible gift, I guess I could think of a thing or two."

With a roll of your eyes, you snag a candy cane off of the tree beside you, and uncurl the plastic and stick the hooked peppermint lolly into your mouth, sucking the flavour off with a pop.

“Hot chocolate first.” You insist, kissing his cheek, leaving sticky residue on his warm skin. “I didn’t drive through a snowstorm and fight an old lady for nothing.”

You shake the tin of chocolate powder as if to remind him, garnering his attention.

Joel chuckled wipes the sticky candy cane residue off his cheek. “You got it mumma. Hot chocolate first, then I'll tell you what I really want for Christmas."

Joel gestured towards the couch by the fireplace with one hand and an expectant gaze.

"Go take a seat and relax. I'll make the hot chocolate, and then you can tell me about that beautiful baby of ours and how you’re feeling."

He swats your ass softly, amusement clear in his voice.

“Thanks baby. For everything. My feet are killing me.” Minutes later you graciously accept the warm mug of hot chocolate, the white mini marshmallows are soft and starting to melt.

"Anything for you baby.” You know he means it too.

He took a seat on the couch beside you, the leather sinking under his weight. "How's everything been today? Any contractions?"

You shake your head with a small mouthful of the gooey, warm, sweet drink. “No, nothing yet. I feel like she’s never going to come at this rate..”

A soft hum vibrates within your chest as he encourages you to shift towards him, and he props your feet up onto his lap to remove your shoes and socks, promptly massaging your swollen ankles.

“Do you think she’ll come before the new year?”

Joel continued massaging your ankles, looking down at your huge baby bump as you rubbed it tentatively, he can sense some anxiety coming from you as a first time expectant mother.

Sure, you’d practically raised Sarah since she was twelve months, but this was different. A newborn, the birth.. that was all new to you.

"Hard to tell, baby," he said with a thoughtful expression, not wanting to cause you any stress. "But judging by how big you are, I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to make her debut soon."

He looked up at you, his gaze meeting yours as he decided to pry further, coaxing the truth from you. "You feeling ready for the big day yet?"

“I’m terrified,” you admit in a gentle whisper between you, a sudden sense of vulnerability curates between the two of you. It makes it all the more real.

Joel's expression softened as you admitted your fears, his fingers pausing in massaging your ankles. Watching as you set your now empty mug down onto the coffee table, having satiated your sweet tooth.. for now.

"Hey, I get it," he reassures quietly, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your foot in a comforting gesture this time, rather than a massage. "Giving birth is a big deal, baby. But you're gonna be incredible. You're strong, you're capable, and I'll be right there with you every step of the way. I promise.”

Joel smiled warmly, squeezing your shoulder gently as you slowly processed his words of encouragement, that no matter what happened through the birth, you’d soon have a family of four. “You’re right.. it’s all going to be okay.”

"You're damn right it's going to be okay," he said with conviction. "Because we've got each other, Sarah, and our precious little girl.. Sadie, right?”

He moved his hand from your feet, leaning closer to place his hands on your stomach, feeling his daughter actively kick at his affectionate touch. Seeing you nod in confirmation. “Yeah.. Sadie.”

"Just think, in a few days, you'll be holding our baby in your arms."

The thought is overwhelming, a small baby in your arms, Sarah, who had turned six earlier in the year. She was stoked to be a big sister, asking every day when the baby was coming. Constantly cradling your heavy stomach with her small hands, singing as she prompts the baby to kick.

The image of innocence, a young child that still believes in Santa, which will hopefully carry into the next few years of your lives.

The thought makes you smile, wrapping dozens of presents for everyone and sticking them under the tree for all of you, your family of four plus Tommy and Maria who annually joined you for Christmas celebrations.

Joel glances around the living room, taking in the sights of the lights and the decorations that adorned the house. The tree stood in a corner, covered in colorful, homemade decorations from Sarah, the topper at the top of the tree shaped like a snowflake coloured in with a half dozen colours being Joel's favorite of them all.

"You know," he said softly, his hand still resting on your tummy. "This is going to be our last Christmas as a a family of three..."

The thought makes your heart ache with guilt or perhaps anxiety, biting into your lower lip. “It’s all a bit much isn’t it?”

"Yeah, it is," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. He was getting older now, creeping into his early thirties. To start over again, he felt a little out of practice.

"It's a lot to take in, baby, I know. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. We can do this together, Tommy and Maria will help.. we aren’t doin’ this alone. Sarah will adore our little girl. And I know you’re goin’ to be an incredible mother.”

Ever the romantic.

With a wry smile and your heart swelling inside of your chest, you offer him what he had indignantly prompted for earlier in the evening. “Want to try and get this baby out?”

Your hand trails through his hair with a suggestive smile. Joel raised an eyebrow at your suggestion, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Hmm... Now that's a proposition I can get on board with, baby."

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

im begging you to make more shapeshifter!141 tormenting witch!reader pleek

since you said pleek :)

65 / 1.1k / part 2 of shapeshifter familiars!141 tormenting witch!reader

...

You pour two warm cups of cloudy sloe ale—one for you and one for Price. You're the only one who feigns enough interest to sip it.

Price laces his hands together and leans forward. "I didn't come for blood."

None of them did, apparently. You curl your hands around your tin cup. He wasn't supposed to come at all. He visits when the moon is full. That was the deal. "I understand that."

Price’s gaze flicks to a bit of drying blood on your hand, and you feel his displeasure at the sight. "Then you also understand my irritation when I learn I've been kept in the dark."

"About what?"

"A number of disturbing reports from the townsfolk."

"Hm." Tension rolls through your muscles before you force them to soften. "I wasn't aware you spent time in the village. Do you visit often?"

Price doesn't like your coyness. His voice loses some of its politeness. "The villagers have become too savvy. They forge protective charms. They invoke holy names. They line the thresholds of their homes with salt and rue." He leans forward. "Now, how would they know to do that?"

You swallow delicately around the lump in your throat. "Old folk tales, I imagine."

"Folk tales?" He chuckles. "They're not paying protection money to cupboard sprites. Old tales don't teach them how to bless trees and cut the lumber into cradles."

"Then I wouldn't know. The villagers don't speak to me on principle."

"Then you have no knowledge of this? You’ve accepted no coin from them in exchange for your talents?”

"You know I'm banned from trading in the village market. The guards would take my head off the moment they caught me inside the walls."

“Maybe so. But there are other ways of propagating information, aren’t there?” Price leans back, arms crossed. “Rumors spread.”

You scoff to sound braver than you are. "They've puzzled out how to keep you away from their daughters. It has nothing to do with me."

Price's blue eyes flicker. "We’ve been quite careful with our food source. Gone out of our way to be discreet. They shouldn't suspect us of being in the area, let alone come up with protections against our kind."

You tilt your head in a stiff shrug. "Maybe Soap let one get away."

"Soap is brash. Not sloppy." Steel creeps into his voice. "He's more likely to bite his tongue off than spill our secrets."

You go to sip your ale again, but Price's fingers latch around your wrist as you raise it.

"Careful with that." His grip tightens as he forces your hand back down to the table. "You'll inebriate yourself if you're careless."

You slowly release the mug. After a long beat, he releases your wrist.

He doesn't say anything else, but you can't meet his eyes. The cold metal of his rings still burns against your skin.

He studies you in silence. The dry glint in his eye tells you he doesn't need to pry for what you're hiding from him. He knows already. But a deal is a deal, and you're under his protection. "Regardless of the reason, our feeding options are suddenly limited. If you insist on keeping my boys half-starved, we'll travel outside our territory to offset your stinginess."

"Fine. We’ll suspend our contract."

"Certainly not."

Your jaw sets. "A temporary suspension of our terms would serve all parties' needs well enough, would it not? You seek your fill elsewhere."

"I will seek it where my needs are most pressing."

"I don't have the means to leave my hut. I assure you I'll keep to myself until you get back."

Price smiles, and your heart sinks. "Another witch might. You?” He hums. “Besides, you know how they get when they're deprived."

You’re hyperaware of Ghost's shadow falling over you. His rough hands cover the back of your chair. It creaks in his grip. You squelch the instinct to cover your blind spot and, fisting one in your skirt under the table to steady your nerves, keep your back to him. You also ignore the gleam of two other sets of eyes behind Price, hovering in the pitch-blackness of your kitchen.

“That’s kind of you,” you say finally, “but there’s no need to be overprotective.”

Price stands. He pours the last sip of your ale out onto the soft dirt floor. You hadn’t even seen him pick it up. "We'll come for you tomorrow night, witch. You'll travel with us."

Your head spins. No, no, this isn't how it was supposed to go. You covered your tracks. You planned perfectly. He can't just uproot you—can't just kidnap you like this.

"No, I—" You stand before you realize it. All four shapeshifters turn back to glance at you. Price looms halfway out the front door. You steady yourself with a white-knuckled grip on the table. "I'm not leaving my home."

Price takes in the defiant look on your face and the tense, brittle set of your body. "No? Hmmm." He rubs his beard. "We're in a tight spot, then. Ghost, what do you think?"

The scars on Ghost's tight scowl gleam in the candlelight. "I think she owes us a meal, and we expect to eat. One way or the other."

Gaz scoffs. "There’s a proper solution."

Soap grins. "We could just take her, you know. Suspend the contract and make her come with us."  His eyes light up. "We could have a lot of fun on the road."

"Not if there's a fight," Gaz says, eyeing you. "She can make real trouble if she wants to."

"No' if she knows what's good for her."

"That's enough," Price says. He looks back at you. "Lads are in a mood. They've been feeding from the villages as a stop gap, and they're not nearly full. Their tempers are short, their stomachs are growling, and they have energy to burn. You understand?” His gaze steadies on your neck. “We'll be back tomorrow night. You'd better be ready to go or else ready to give them a full meal."

Soap’s grin sharpens. The implication is obvious. Payment is payment. If you don't give them what they want, they'll take it by other means.

They turn to go. Ghost is the last to step over your threshold. "Blood won't be enough," he says. Then he's off, a black dog bounding into the night.

...

← part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 ➡

more Price / more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / masterlist

[dear-ao3]

friends, besties, worsties, davids, and meow meows of the jury. i have a tale for you. while i claim to be no bard (like saph, the queen of very long dramatic tumblr stories that make your heart weep), i must spin a wee bit of yarn in the form of a story. what story? a story of the green cake.

we shall, as most stories do, start almost at the beginning.

the date? january 2nd.

the time? late.

the occasion? saph comes home the third.

the problem? i have no butter or sugar.

now, saph's birthday was recently, so like any other best bud i said i was making a cake. i believe my exact words were 'i'm making you a cake whether you like it or not."

now, gang, i must level with you. this is the fourth cake i've made in my life. i am a reasonably good baker (i can bake a Mean Loaf of Bread), but i'm not a very experienced baker. 3/4 cakes were reasonably good, and only one was just slightly off. so, my track record is mixed, but i am hopeful.

now, let me take you to the present.

i am sitting at my dining room table, typing this post. i am wearing a shirt covered in flour, the green cake is in the oven.

how did i get here?

well, we won't go to the beginning. we've already seen what was basically the beginning, with me having no butter or sugar. the real story begins the morning of january 3rd. which is today. which is when saph comes home, expecting a green cake. as most reasonably well adjusted people do when their roommates parents are visiting, i stressed cleaned the entire apartment at 4am, after realizing the mice in my walls are fucking. i did not leave them a condom. i did not have one that would fit them. i can only hope they have plan b. so naturally, i went to bed at 6am.

and i still had no sugar or butter for the green cake for saph.

and i needed to get started on this cake before 10am, or saph would be here before it was finished.

and i went to bed at 6am. so naturally i set my 9:00, 9:02, 9:04, 9:06 alarms, and hoped i'd lock in when i woke up.

friends, i hate to admit it, but i did not lock in. nay, i slept through all of my alarms and woke up at roughly 9:45. it was cold, damp, and the mice were still probably fucking. i threw my hair into a messy bun, and ran downstairs, only to find my mom was selling me to one direction.

jk. it was far worse.

because saph said she had sent me something.

what did saph send me?

a full poster of david malukas! do i know why? no! but he lives in my kitchen now, providing me with mental support. thanks david!

so, i begin to make the cake after laughing for about 10 minutes about why david is now in my apartment. it starts off surprisingly well. i have not forgotten the salt.

everything is normal.

until i remember.

the cake needs to be green.

why? idk thats what saph said she wanted so i am just going to do what i was told to do and make this damn cake green.

but its now late in the process, and if there is one thing i have learned in all my years of watching the great british baking show with my mom, it is to never over beat your cake.

and my cake, right now, was perfect. trust me. i ate plenty of dough to know it was wonderful.

so now i am trying to figure out how to make the most perfect shade of nico rosberg green, feeling a bit like an alchemist. david malukas is staring me down. my time grows shorter and shorter with each beat.

and then, gang, i had to give up on this being nico rosberg green. i did not want to kill my cake. my green cake. my now mint-green cake that i am baking for saph. so naturally i'm like, okay, time to pour this.

easy, right?

WRONG.

so one thing to know about me is i suck at cutting things.

it's unfortunately a key ingredient in cake making that you have a stupid little circle on the bottom of your cake tins. i cut it the best i could. which was bad. so i'm already fighting demons trying to get the stupid parchment paper from sliding every which way, and then, my friends, i realized something horrible.

the batter had not mixed at the bottom. so now i was fighting even more demons and trying not to get loose flour in my cake.

i think i succeeded. only time will tell. david is watching. the cake is almost done.

i am setting the green cake free.

look upon him now, and weep. the green cake prevails! even though he doesn't look very green yet.

and now, for the hardest part. frosting.

let's see how that goes.

david still watches.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Android x Reader (I)

It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.

Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)

Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism

[Part 2] | [More original works]

You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.

"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)." 

That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock. 

"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message. 

"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.

 It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.

You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.

 "There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days. 

 You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows. 

"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?" 

He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window. 

"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?" 

You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied: 

"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."

You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake. 

"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused. 

"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else." 

You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing. 

"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat. 

"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."

"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.

Nothing.

"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport. 

He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.

At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks. 

"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.

"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, you've seen this before?"

"In history books."

You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society. 

"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation. 

"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly. 

"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."

He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.

"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail." 

You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary. 

"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."

You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment? 

"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously. 

"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"

"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.

Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.

"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."

"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.

As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."

You scoff.

"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"

You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology. 

"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."

True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.

Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.

"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."

You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.

While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.

"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."

He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.

"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.

"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."

You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.

"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa. 

The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport. 

"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.

"Oh?"

"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."

"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead. 

"Almost."

His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment. 

"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans. 

Just you."

[plutosillywrites]

neighbor!price x reader except she’s moving in to the house next door and needs help from the strong man next door..

fyi: oral f! receiving, age gap (not explicitly mentioned), praises, sweet talk

it’s hot, and your sundress is not helping at all to elevate the burn on your skin, your hair is tied pretty up in a bun, and your carrying probably one of the heaviest boxes known to man.

you set it down right before the stairs to your porch and groan, “fuck, my back hurts.” you comment, your hand resting on your lower back.

you look to the house next door, it’s beautiful. blue, and white adorned the whole house, the trim of the windows and doors being white and the rest being blue. you notice a man sitting on a chair on his porch— hat tugged so you can’t see his eyes, and a cigar between his lips. (and he’s so hot you could drool.)

you look to the rest of the heavy boxes and bite your lip, you’d hate to be a bother— but, you really can’t lift all these alone. you walk towards the edge of his yard, your soft voice ripping through the silence. “i’m sorry, sir?” you ask, his head lifts to get a better look at you. “yes, ma’am?” he responds, and you feel an odd flutter— he was being nice for the love of god!

you fiddle with your dress a bit before saying, “will you please help me load these boxes inside? i’d hate to bother you— and i’ll give you anything you want for helping!” you say, quite innocently, it’s unfortunate for you that john has a dirtier reward in mind.

he goes to stand, a grin plastered on his face. “i wouldn’t mind helping a pretty girl like ya’self anyday.” he says, and you thank god that it is sunny and you are already burning red— or else your blush would be way more noticeable.

you smile and go towards the boxes to help before john just coughs and scoots you out of the way. “you’re all right love, sit down and look pretty for me, yeah?” he smiles before grabbing the box in front of you. “don’t want you to hurt ya’self lifting these heavy things.” (they don’t seem very heavy to him.)

you laugh and nod, move to sit on the steps of the porch. you fluff and play with your hair, smiling at john so sweetly he works twice as hard loading these boxes inside.

when he’s all finished, he wipes his hands together and smiles. “all done, pretty. now.. can i get my treat for helping you so kindly?”

you smile, standing to go make him a nice drink, thinking all too literal of his request. “of course.. you worked so hard! thank you— what are you wanting?” you ask, entering your home and gesturing for him to come with.

“oh, i’m in the mood for something a little..” he comes close to you, closing the front door with his foot. “.. sweet, like a delicious cupcake.” he says, but you notice his face is a lot closer to you now. you have to resist the urge to bite your lip and tell him the cupcake is standing right in from of him—

“of course, let me get the cupcake tin—“ as you turn to go open the boxes, he slides behind you, hands resting lightly at your sides— allowing you to move away from his advance if you didn’t like it.

“oh.. you’re so sweet..” he says, having leaned close to the shell of your ear. “clearly i was too vague.. you’re the cupcake, darlin’.” you smile, and giggle from nervousness, turning to meet his gaze. “really? you— me?” he laughs, loudly and boisterously before meeting your eyes again.

“have you looked at yourself? especially in that pretty lil’ dress you have on..” his fingers dance along your sides, wanting to get closer but not daring to cross a line. “let me have a bite?”

you leave him no more room for talking as you pull him down to your lips, your mouths in a synchronized wave, the kiss is leaving you wanting more— harder, faster.

your arms wrap around his neck and at some point he lifts you, setting you atop the kitchen counter, breaking the kiss only to pant and try and catch yours and his breath.

“you look so pretty..” you tell john, slipping his hat off, and sliding your hands down his chest. “i’m just a little jealous of your eyes..” your mumble, leaning up to capture his lips in a searing kiss again, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him close.

he smiles into your lips, slowly tugging the hem of your dress upwards his hands feeling so big on your thighs, sliding them back and forth. “should be calling you pretty, baby..” he mumbles in your lips, his fingers softly nudge your legs apart.

one hand slides down to where your clothed core is, fingers making slow figure 8’s as you moan into his mouth, pulling away just so you can look down and watch him work. “does that feel good, lovie?” he asks, his fingers speeding up when you whimper out a “yesss….” .

he smiles, before his hand grabs the hem of your panties and tugging them down your knees and off completely. you gasp at the cold air touch your slick cunt, you grab the hem of his jeans before unbuttoning his them. “not fair if i’m the only one..” you say, tugging his pants down but john stops you with a smile.

“need to have a good excuse to see you again, and again..” he says, before moving his hips away from you and sliding his fingers up and down your cunt, before slowly inserting one.. then two fingers. pumping them with want and desire, rubbing in a spot deep inside.

he laughs pitifully at your quiet whines and cries, “poor baby.. not enough hm? i’ll fix that..” he leans down to his knees, his mouth face level with your pearl and hole, (which is squeezing his fingers harder cause he’s so close.)

he leaned close and sucks gently on your pretty little bud, slow but getting faster quickly. you whine and moan under his incredible feeling attack, “fuck- fuck!” you cry out, hips moving on their own.

before you know it, there’s a tight bundle of heat twisting and turning, exploding at its peak which has you crying out johns name and sagging slightly on the table. “so perfect.. just for me now, yeah?” and you nod dumbly.

maybe you won’t be moving into your house, you’ll be moving into his.

an: oh my i hope you enjoy this yummy treat, i’m so eepy so i will be crashing as soon as this posts so not a proof read (they never are..)

[pathologicalreid]

milk and cookies | s.r.

in which you and Spencer try to bake gingerbread cookies with your daughter, the operative word being "try"

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: toddler tantrums, cookies, presents, christmas, talks about having another baby, it's not explicit but this is technically jareau!reader word count: 1.02k a/n: i put off doing my own christmas baking to write this so here we all are!! i hope you enjoy it!! now, i have pie to make and gifts to wrap!

In hindsight, you should’ve called it off the moment the bag of flour fell on the floor, but Mila had asked for gingerbread men. The last thing you were going to do was disappoint your daughter this close to Christmas.

You weren’t entirely sure she was going to like the taste of the cookies, but she hadn’t stopped asking about them since she saw them in one of her cartoons. At the very least, she’d enjoy decorating them, but you’d likely have to make some regular sugar cookies after this batch was done. Spencer was a fairly impressive chef, but he didn’t show the same aptitude when it came to baking, leaving you to take the lead.

Your focus on the baking and Spencer’s focus on you had left Mila unattended for just a moment too long, which led to the all-purpose flour on the ground. You assured Mila that it was fine while Spencer got the broom and dustpan. “We’ll still have enough, honey,” you consoled her, wiping away tears as quickly as they fell.

She reached out her arms, and with tears in her eyes and a pout on her face, you couldn’t deny her comfort as you picked her up from her stool and let her wipe her eyes on your sweater. “Cookie,” she whimpered softly, looking sadly at the empty countertop while Spencer rid the dustpan of flour. “Daddy, cookie,” she said mournfully, the kind of misery that could only be depicted by an almost three-year-old imagining a world without cookies.

“I know, princess. We’ll get you your cookies,” he told her, putting the broom back in the closet and rounding the counter to kiss her cheeks. The two of you had debated whether or not it would be okay to purchase a tin of gingerbread men, but a previous agreement to give your daughter nothing but the best holiday experiences led you to this point.

It certainly didn’t help that she was now old enough to understand what Christmas meant: presents and treats.

After her first year of life, you’d needed to put the kibosh on random gift-giving, particularly from Garcia. Though you still gratefully accepted Rosemary’s hand-me-downs from Matt and Kristy, Christmas and her birthday were the only times Mila was allowed to be spoiled. Of course, you and Spencer were more than willing to spoil her year-round.

The three of you resumed working through the dough, falling a bit short on the flour, but Spencer assured you it would be just fine. “What if they don’t turn out?” You asked, letting Spencer wrap his arms around your waist from behind as the two of you watched Mila twirling in her dress in the light emanating from the Christmas tree.

“Then you’ll insist on going back to the store to get the right ingredients,” Spencer whispered, swaying gently to the sound of the holiday music, a record gifted to you by Rossi when he insisted that you needed to raise Amelia with “real” music.

You hummed, “And how do you know that?”

“Because I know you,” Spencer reminded you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Do you think she’ll be okay knowing we didn’t get everything on her list?”

Your face warmed as you recognized the implication, “I think she was influenced into adding that to the list.” Turning around, Spencer kept his eyes on Mila while you looked up at him. Penelope had acted as the scribe for your daughter’s Christmas list. Naturally, the words ‘brother or sister’ were scrawled on the bottom of the list in glittery gel pen.

Spencer’s hands squeezed your waist gently, “Maybe next year?”

Before you had a chance to respond, a small voice rang out from the living room, “Mommy!”

You spun around, watching your toddler run to you, her two braids bounced on her shoulders as she skidded to a stop. “What is it, sweetheart?”

A shy smile spread on her face, putting her arms behind her back as she prepared herself to ask for something, “Peek?” She asked, pointing at the oven, which currently had your first batch of gingerbread women in it.

Nodding, you leaned over and turned on the oven light, letting your toddler gaze into the oven, startling you when she screamed at the sight of them.

Instinctively, Spencer reached down and scooped her off of the floor, resting her on his hip while you opened the oven to see the misshapen cookies. “Oh,” you said, the dough had spread out on the sheet, creating one slab of what was a sorry excuse for a cookie, “it’s okay, Mila.”

There must’ve been even less flour than you thought, and your daughter wasn’t standing for it, “They’re ugly!” Her exclamation took you by surprise, no more than the tears currently streaming down her face did. Gingerbread cookies were obviously not a welcome treat in your household, this is the second meltdown they’ve caused.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” you said, setting the cookie sheet on the range and setting a comforting hand on her back. You watched as she wiped her tears on Spencer’s shirt, “It’s okay, they’re just a little deformed.”

She turned back like she had an answer for you, but as soon as her eyes caught on the cookies, her face crumpled again. Somehow, your lack of flour had managed to completely devastate your two-year-old, and it was putting a pit in your chest. Spencer walked her into the living room, making sure the gingerbread blob was out of sight.

“Hey,” you whispered to her, tickling her side gently, “How about we make sugar cookies instead? Mommy’s really good at sugar cookies.”

Apprehensively, she nodded, balling up her tiny fists and rubbing at her eyes before reaching out for you. She rested her head on your chest, her eyes starting to shut as you swayed, “Ugly cookies,” she whispered.

What she couldn’t see was the smile that you and Spencer exchanged, holding in your laughter. While you understood that she was expressing her emotions the only way she knew, you couldn’t help but be amused at the phrase “ugly cookies.”

[psychhound]

announcing spiritkeep: a therapeutic ttrpg

howdy all! some big announcements!!!

first, im nearing the end of my master's program, studying rhetoric and writing, games, and educational psychology. im about halfway done with my thesis, and figured it was time to make an announcement …

my thesis, entitled "designing ​spiritkeep​: therapeutically applied RPGs as a discourse community" is … about what it says on the tin :) in it, I look at the practice of TA-RPGs, which are TTRPGs run for the express purpose of inducing therapeutic growth. TA-RPGs are usually run by a clinician, like a therapist or counselor, or a certified therapeutic game master. my thesis is looking at the needs of therapeutic game masters as a community and asking … what do they need from TTRPGs that isn't currently available?

the thesis takes concepts from rhetoric, linguistics, game studies, literature studies, psychology, and more to ask the question … what would a TTRPG specifically designed for therapeutic use look like? i examine concepts like bleed, close to home characters, dramatic rehearsal, performative speech acts, fixed vs growth mindsets, information processing theory, and more. i also look at criteria set forth by current TA-RPG practitioners for what makes a good TA-RPG, and examine five current games against those criteria. then, i put together the research into a foundation for spiritkeep, a dedicated TA-RPG

spiritkeep is designed around the goal of helping teens and adults heal from complex trauma

that said, its perfectly suitable for a homegame as well, as long as everyone is on the same page and approaches it with the mindset of collaborative growth. all in all, it's still going to be a fun game and a good TTRPG!!

in spiritkeep, you play as a smalltown taskforce with the shared goal of restoring your currently struggling community to a thriving state. you go out on missions like finding resources, diplomacy with neighboring cities, researching ecological problems, and more, while you slowly make your town a better place to live. spiritkeep includes collaborative worldbuilding, a large assortment of playbook options like the Wayfarer, the Knight, the Ghost, or the Shepherd (all designed to hit where it hurts, at least a little!), and a brand new system inspired by PBtA, FitD, BOB, WoD, and more. while the game is designed around grappling with identity and learning how to grow, it can also get a bit tactical and crunchy!! the new dice mechanic makes you think on your feet with every roll

this announcement is also to say that i am beginning the initial crowdfunding of the game through itch. right now, im trying to raise funds to pay the fee to my school to make my thesis open access, meaning anyone can read it. then, remaining funds will go towards things like resources, consultants, art for the kickstarter, and everything else i need to get this project off the ground. ideally, ill be able to team with a publisher to cover the logistics of business while i can focus on the game itself. once the game is finished, there will still be plenty of playtesting, consulting, and other work to do. but!!! this post marks my first steps towards what has been my dream for years now

this sale is how im starting the funding process. it includes the zine preview of my thesis, covering my chapter outline and big concepts, and also my first TA-RPG: with breath & sword, a solo game to help players calm down from anxiety. both items have community copies available: please feel free to grab one if you can't contribute !!

questions, comments, or partnership offers can be sent to psychhoundgames @ gmail(.)com

thanks y'all!!! wish me luck!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

[lookninjas]

You know what I'm gonna miss? I'm gonna miss the weeks being a week long instead of like ten years long. That's what I'm gonna miss.

Anyway, pick a song from a bad description! You do not have to recognize the song you choose. Go from the vibes. Maybe you just need hopeful words from your anti-racist grandpas right now. Maybe you need some emotional support metal, or soothing piano music. Whatever works for you.

At the end of the week I will put all the songs in order, from the song with the fewest number of votes to the song with the highest number of votes. If you would like to hear the playlist, please leave a comment or put it in your reblog, and I will tag you when the playlist is up.

Also, please reblog the poll! It's not much, but it's a minor distraction, and I think we all need a little distraction.

[starlightervarda]

I can't sleep so Star Trek TOS/SNW dashboard simulator

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

to this day I can't understand why they're called the Three Musketeers if there's FOUR of them? Did Dumas just forget his own main character???

🪴 plantdad Follow

You've got to be kidding me

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

I know right? A mistake like this would never happen in Russian literature!

5,324 notes

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

After months of taking care of everyone else on this giant tin can I really earned this shore leave. Now I get to drink, relax, flirt with some lovely ladies and sleep until noon 😎 Just what the the doctor ordered!

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

Update: A fucking purple tree ate five crewmen. Again.

955 notes

🖖 iamspock Follow

Despite being among humans for close to a decade, I still find their tendency to overcomplicate and avoid aspects of social situations to be confusing at best and infuriating at worst. So much time is wasted on tedious matters such as who gets to 'make the first move' or 'not come off too strong'.

For example, everyone aboard my vessel is keenly aware of Lt. Uhura and Engineer Scott's 'budding romance'. But their need to extend their oddly avoidant courtship ritual, rather than outright state their interest in one another, is pointless, as well as frustrating to witness.

Why do they do this? Why not 'get it over with', as they say?

I encourage answers from all cultures, human or otherwise.

💅 janicethemenace Follow

I'm sorry Scotty and Nyota are WHAT

💉 xtinechapel Follow

DELETE THIS

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

SPOCK NOOO HE DOESN'T THINK OF ME LIKE THAT 😭

🔧 scott-free Follow

But I do! I thought you knew and were just being nice about it!

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

DMing you rn 😳

🖖 iamspock Follow

You're welcome.

24,103 notes

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

PSA: If you visit Antares VII, stay clear of any yellow plants, their pollen can have some...inconvenient effects on the biology of humanoid peoples.

My XO and I suffered through troubling symptoms until it was almost too late. Thankfully, we figured out a cure in time.

🪴 plantdad Follow

I can only find info on the symptoms. What was the cure? 👀

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

Do I really have to say it?

6,322 notes

💊 mmmbenga Follow

The galaxy if Klingons didn't exist

⚔️ glorytotheempire Follow

Wow. Humans are openly advocating for our disappearance yet Klingons are the bad guys? I thought your federation stood for peace.

💊 mmmbenga Follow

Cry harder you genocidal wrinkly-faced bitch I hope your planet gets sucked into a black hole

#If you think a joke is on par with what they do then book an MRI because you might have brain damage #fuck Klingons and anyone that sympathizes with them

35,007 notes

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

So I can either skim through this asteroid belt on Warp 2 for 3 hrs or on Warp 5 for 15 mins

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

Erica no! That's not how navigation works!

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

FLOOR IT???

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

ERICA NO

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

HOW ABOUT WARP 7 FOR 15 SECONDS?

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

ERICA YOU'RE GOING TO CRASH THE SHIP

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

I AM GOING TO HARNESS LIGHT-SPEED TO ZIGZAG THROUGH THE VOID

🚀 mitchiemitch

ERICA P L E A S E

112,517 notes

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

I know some species are very private, but you'd think they'd share the important stuff, esp when we should trust each other by now.

How are we supposed to enjoy my weekly dinners if you all don't tell me what to watch out for :/ This is the third time this happens to the same person and I had to get the answer why from our CMO

💫 numerouna Follow

Wait what did I miss while I was gone

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

Spock got wasted on my chocolate fudge cake and hit his head on the counter ://///

2,904 notes

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Prompt 17

The woman is on a call with her partner

Prompt: “Are you pushing?”

AN: I really enjoy the trope of a partner rushing home to their labouring wife, driving fast trying not to miss the birth, the sounds of the woman’s labour echoing around their car. But for this, I thought it would be fun to reverse it. Hope it’s just as fun to read this way round. [fpreg, 2915 words]

Almost Home

Answering the phone Jack immediately put it on speaker, placing the device beside his laptop as he worked from home. “Hi honey, how’s the shopping going?”

“Err… yeah. Fine. Got everything I wanted but um…” His wife, Rosie, trailed off. Her voice sounded strained and uncertain. “Do you think you could mmm-maybe log off from w-work this afternoon-?”

“Why, what’s wrong? Are you alright? You sound a bit breathless, well more so than usual.” Jack joked but his eyes narrowed in concern.

“I’m fine it’s just— hoooooo — I don’t think those c-cramps this morning were false con-contractions.”

“What…You’re…in labour?” Jack grabbed his phone and stared at the caller ID in shock. “Okay… errr where are you, still at the mall? I’ll get an Uber and come get you.”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m on my way home now.” Rosie’s voice assured down the line.

“You’re driving… with contractions? Jeeze Rosie.”

“Will you relax, I’m fine. It’s only half an hour away and it’s all straight roads-mnnnhhhhh…” Her voice disappeared into a low groaning sound through the tinned speakers.

“… Rosie?” Jack called her name nervously but only got the sounds of her heavy panting in return. He swallowed the urge to shout at her for driving whilst in labour - it was their first baby and he didn’t want to be the cliche panicking father-to-be. It was probably just early labour pains so instead tried to offer help and support down the phone line.

“Try and breathe through it sweetheart, in and out.”

He could hear the way her voice rattled around the car as she moaned, deep and long, and the sounds of her suffering pulled at his heart. When it was over his wife was back on the phone again.

“Oof!… baby feels really low babe. Can you get our hospital bag ready by the door? We might have to head out pretty quickly.”

“But we don’t need to go to the hospital until the contractions are 5 minutes apart, or if your waters break.”

“Uh-huh.” Was all that his wife replied.

“Rosie… how long have you been having contractions?” Jack sternly asked, knowing his wife and fearing the response.

“Mmnnnnh… well, they’ve not really stopped since the ones this morning. And I guess I was feeling a bit crampy during the night…” Rosie admitted between deep and measured breaths.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn't realise they were labour pains, well not at first. But you’ve got that big project at work and we really needed to get this stuff for the nursery so I figured a walk around the mall would help get things moving a bit… Oohhhhhh….it's definitely done that job.” Rosie found herself humming on each exhale as she breathed through the fierce pressure and pain deep in her pelvis.

“Screw the work, Rosie, you should have told me you were having contractions.” Jack scolded, worried and nervous his wife was currently in labour without him.

“Mnnngh— shout at me later, just- just get the bag ready. Hoooooo-fuck..!” She groaned, gripping the steering wheel tight in her fists as another contraction rippled across her belly sending shooting pains up her spine and down her thighs.

Jack slammed his laptop shut and ran through the house trying to remember where they’d put the bag - why was it that you could never remember where you’d put things when you put them in a “safe place”? - all the while keeping his phone gripped in his hand and hearing the sounds of his labouring wife echo out the small speaker. Insisting that he stay on the line, Jack continued to offer words of encouragement and support as Rosie dangerously made her way home. He found the bag in their closet and rifled through the contents to check everything was there before heading downstairs to wait for his wife to return with the car, a journey which at this moment seemed to be dragging on for a lifetime.

“Mngh— thank fuck!” Rosie gruffed.

“What is it?”

“Traffic lights… contraction… Ooooohhhh- mmmnghhhhh….!!” Rosie took her hands off the wheel as she stopped at the lights, holding her rock solid belly in both hands and trying her best to breathe through the waves.

Jack checked the time on his phone, keeping track of the very short gaps between her groans, and hesitantly and reluctantly he said “Honey, they’re sounding awfully close together. Maybe you should stop and call an ambulance?”

“What?! No, I’m f-fine… hoooo…I’m not giving birth without you. I can m-make it h-home…” Despite her words and determination Rosie’s thighs subconsciously widened in her seat.

“Are you sure?” Jack could hear the almost constant low rumblings of a groan coming from his wife, through every breath and every word spoken.

“Nnnghhh— yes. Just… talk to me… keep me distracted… from these- oof!- contractions.” Rosie gruffed and put the car back into drive when the lights turned green and continued her journey home.

Following Rosie’s instructions, Jack started rambling about nonsense; work stuff, friends and family messages he’d received, mindlessly muttering to keep both their focus away from the sounds of pain emanating from his wife every few minutes. He stayed by their front door, looking through the window at the quiet rural street, waiting desperately for the first glimpse of their car.

Rosie meanwhile tried to hang on to every word coming through the car Bluetooth speakers, trying to ignore the pressure in her hips that was getting excruciatingly worse with every passing second. Her legs were spread as wide as they could go in the driver's seat; one squished against the door while the other was pressed against the centre console, her solid bump right up against the wheel. Even with wide legs nothing was relieving the pressure and the wrenching pain pulling her pelvis apart. The groans coming out her mouth were getting longer, deeper, and had started to end with an almost primal grunt. Her sweatpants were already damp from her waters breaking earlier; whilst walking around the shops she had eventually admitted defeat when the contractions had gotten close enough together that she could no longer ignore what was happening, and typically her waters had gone just as she was waddling across the quiet car park.

It was during a deep grunt that Rosie had a panicked realisation that her body had been automatically pushing. “Ohhhhhh… oh no….oh no…” She whimpered quietly, immediately trying to stop the contracting muscles. The car microphone obviously picked up her words for Jack immediately asked what was wrong.

“Nothing… I’m okay… we’re okay. I just have to breathe through it.”

And not push! Rosie thought to herself, gripping the steering wheel and trying to sit more upright in the hopes that if she blocked the baby’s exit that her labour might slow down a bit.

Jack could hear the raw panic in his wife’s voice, making him practically jump off the walls with frustration that he was stuck at the end of a phone and not with her. He knew she was not okay, she was in labour for fucks sake, but there was something else in her tone… He didn’t know what to say… he wanted to press the question, but she was suffering contractions and driving herself home - she didn’t need his frantic questioning as well.

“Remember the breathing we learnt in antenatal class; short, sharp breaths. You can do this Rosie, you are nearly home.” Jack said reassuringly, but he had no idea if that statement was true.

Rosie’s legs were trembling, barely able to keep her foot on the accelerator to keep the car moving. She would not have stood a chance in a manual car. Following her husband's instructions she panted through the contraction but she could feel the baby sinking lower and lower… she tried to squeeze her thighs together, clench anything that would stop this baby’s progress but everything she tried just made the pressure worse. It was torture, fighting against her body’s primal urge. She needed to push, her body screamed at her to bear down, her baby apparently desperate to be born. Sweat rolled down the back of her neck as she baulked against her instincts, her tight belly was radiating heat like a furnace and she wanted to turn up the air conditioning but daren’t take her hands off the wheel. Her tight grip was the only thing keeping things together, her fingers digging deep into the leather keeping her laser focused on the journey.

Two more contractions passed with that excruciating pressure, the gaps between almost non-existent. The baby’s head was right between her thighs, she could feel it, bulging obscenely into her underwear. Her upright position was agony, feeling like she was practically sitting on the baby’s head. With the next contraction her body slumped, acting without any instruction, trying to relieve the pressure that was bringing tears to her eyes. The pain and pressure was rising up and up and Rosie had no choice but to push with the barrelling force, grunting and widening her legs in the process.

“…Rosie…?” Jack’s concerned voice whispered out the speakers.

She opened her mouth to reply but her body had other ideas and all that came out was a lowing groan as her body bore down against the solid mass in her cervix.

“Are you pushing?!” Jack yelled down the phone.

“Mnghh-trying-not-to- ughhh! Oh fuck!” She gasped.

“Stop! Don’t push. You can’t be pushing now!”

“Try telling our b-baby that— ooohhhhh mmnghhhhhhhh!!” Rosie gripped the steering wheel and sank into the seat, uncontrollably bearing down.

“Rosie pull over, the baby is coming now.”

“Mnnnghh… no! It’s not c-crowning… I can hold it -hooo- in… I’m just down the r-road…” The baby was right at her entrance, her labia bulging and sore against her clothing, but she could make it. She was so close to home.

“For fucks sake Rosie.”

“Oh Jack!” Rosie suddenly cried, her body still bearing down even without her help and she felt her lips start to part. “The head… I think it’s coming - grrrhhhhh— out!! … I’m— I’m trying not to push but I can’t stop it— grhhhhhhh oh god!!!”

“Rosie, stop the damn car!!!” Jack screamed down the phone.

The labouring woman’s foot had come off the pedal already, the car rolling along the quiet rural street. She should brake and safely stop the car, but she wasn’t in control of her body - it was too busy pushing against the heavy boulder in her vagina. The car thankfully slowed to a stop at the side of the road and in between frantic pushes Rosie managed to put the car into “park”.

“Ooohhh Jack… I can feel the head…” she cried out as the round shape pushed against her folds. Rosie tried to lift her knees, to make more space, but the steering wheel blocked any real movement.

“Have your waters broken hun?” Jack’s voice was strained in his attempt to stay calm.

“Nnghh…they-broke-at-the-mall-mmmghhhh…!” Gritting her teeth Rosie disappears into another deep and primal push, her body taking charge determined to get this baby out.

“Fuck. Okay… honey I need you to listen to me; I need you to try and see how much of the baby has come out. Can you do that?”

Rosie panted and nodded her head, forgetting for a moment that Jack couldn’t see her. “…yeah. I’ll try…” she added.

Knowing that removing her clothing wasn’t an option in this position, Rosie moved a nervous hand around her big belly between her spread thighs and felt the clear shape of the top of the baby's head through her leggings.

“It’s poking out a bit but— hooohooo- it’s not fully out yet.” She whimpered and sobbed, the realisation of her situation hitting her full force with the first contact with her baby. She was trapped in her car at the side of a road giving birth.

“Where are you babes? I’m gonna call an ambulance.” Jack's heart was breaking, not only for missing the birth of his child but also not being there to support his soul mate during all this.

“At-the end- of our road… oh Jack,” she whined with fear and tears “I need you. I can’t do this.” Her chest heaved with her rapid breathing, the pressure was overwhelming and her labia was on fire.

Jack flew out of the house so fast he didn’t even shut the front door behind him when he sped down the street, running. “Just hold on Rosie, I’m coming.” He panted down the phone, his legs burning with the sudden physical movement.

“Ohhhh the baby’s coming… I need to push again— ughh…no…have to pushhhh but— mmmnnnghhh!!!— not enough room! ” Rosie was panicking, her legs were as wide as she could get them in the driver's seat but it wasn’t enough to make space for the emerging baby. Her body was too upright, her belly too squished, her legs too close for the large head to get through her birth canal.

“I can see the car Rosie, I’m coming, hold on just a little bit longer.”

“Mnnghhhhh!!!!” Rosie was completely lost to another uncontrollable bout of pushing. When the contraction waned, enough to somewhat control the urge, Rosie threw open the car door and swung her legs out immediately. “Hoooo-hooo… baby hang on just a minute… just give me one minute…ohhhh”

Awkwardly and cumbersomely Rosie managed to pull her body out of the low car seat, gripping the car door and heaving her labouring body to stand. The weight in her womb suddenly dropped even lower, the head pressing against her opening and stretching her lips wider than she thought possible, the baby fully crowning between her legs. “Ohhhhhhhh…shit!!.” She turned around and braced against the door as the baby’s movements prompted another contraction. Before she could take a breath her body was already bearing down and her knees widened and trembled. The car was still running, the phone call with her husband still connected, but she couldn’t speak. All that she could think was getting this baby out and getting it out right-fucking-now.

A long animalistic grunting sound came out her throat as she dipped into a deep push. The baby’s head was slipping beyond the crown into her clothing, pushing against her maternity leggings and bulging it down. A gasp, a desperate gulp of air, was all she was given before she was pushing again giving it everything she had.

If the car wasn’t already in Jack’s eyesight, Rosie’s loud roar would have told the anxious father exactly where his wife was at that moment. He watched her pull herself out the car, her face flushed and exhausted, her hair limp and damp on her shoulders. He thought she must have seen him, and was getting out to get to him, but when she turned around and grunted deeply Jack almost froze in fear. This was really happening, their baby was actually coming, here and now. The car door blocked the view of his labouring wife but her cries echoed down the country road and he could see her body dipping down and bouncing back up. She was pushing, that much was evident, but he was panicked at what he'd find when he’d reach her.

“Rosie!!” Jack shouted as he approached. She turned, tears falling from her cheeks, but her eyes widened with relief for a split second when she saw him. Her mouth opened to shout back but instead the relieved look in her eyes vanished and another groan spilled from her lips as she clasped back on to the car door and pushed again uncontrollably.

Jack could see her body was trembling from head to toe with the strain, and when he passed the open car door he could see why - there was a giant round shape pulling at the crotch of her leggings.

“Jack— the head— hooooo I think it’s out…” Rosie panted, still clinging onto the vehicle for dear life.

“Oh my god. Oh Rosie…” words failed him and his arms went around her back.

“Get them off! Get my leggings off!” She growled through clenched teeth.

“Right… errr of course.” Jack stuttered, completely lost and uncertain. He pulled the clothing down over his wife’s hips and was immediately greeted with the face of his newborn child. “You’re right, heads out I can see them! Oh my gosh hi baby!”

“Mmnngh— Jack… is there a chord? Round the neck?” Rosie shifted awkwardly from hip to hip, leggings bunched at her knees, as she felt the start of the next contraction coming.

“I— I don’t think so. How do I check?”

“Can you see anything— wrapped around the neck?? Ohhhhhh hurry… there’s so much pressure… I’m trying really hard not to push…” Rosie balled her fists and dug her nails into her palms.

“No… nothing is round the neck.” Jack confirmed.

“Ohhhh great. Get— hoooo get ready to c-catch!!…” Rosie warned before taking a gulp of air and clamping her mouth shut as she pushed. Her hips dropped and knees bent, almost into a squat, with the force of her push. She tried to open herself as much as she could, the shoulders pressing against her opening. “Mnnnghhhh— come on baby…!!!” She cried and bore down, growling with the effort and eventually feeling the baby move downwards. “It’s coming— out!!!”

With a gush of fluid the baby slipped from Rosie into Jack’s awaiting hands and immediately gurgled a soft cry.