#That and I WANT to make sure that everything is returned home

[unknownati]

xii. never lose me

a/n: (i lost the ask so sorry to that anon, hope u still find this 💀 but the ask was like: can you make a fic based off never lose me by flo milli? with smut)

happy new year my loves!

sorry this took so long im such a slow writer. plus im braindead asf. ik i said i had to proofread this in my last post but i lied i didnt 😬

nooobody ask me where he got all this money cuz baby idk. i hope some of this stuff is correct bc i am not rich 😭

warnings/tags: smut 👻, fem!black!reader, no use of y/n, no desc of reader's physical features BUT reader dresses feminine (think aliyahsinterlude), modern!ekko, boat sex yay, semi-public(?), risky, backshots 🎉, oral (e! recieving), reader getting spoiled, soft dom!ekko, so loosely inspired by the song, not proofread. raw vibe

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ekko goes above and beyond treating you right.

anything you want, all yours. that new purse? check your mailbox. you need your nails done? here's $300, keep the change, don't worry about it. he always makes sure you're pleased, even if you don't ask. he knows everything about you by heart. favorite flowers, favorite foods, plus your usual orders, so it's not uncommon to come home to food on the table with a fresh vase of florals seated next to it.

of course, nothing about this relationship was ever one sided. there is no one who prances around announcing that ekko is your man quite like you do. you make sure ekko knows that if he ever needs you, no matter what, you're there.

in return, you get whatever you want.

"ekko," you sing, putting your phone down in the cup holder. your hand rests over ekko's, which has a gentle grip on your thigh. crickets chirp outside, veiled beneath the dark sky and lack of light. you're speeding down an empty backroad on your way back home from a little shopping spree at a mall an hour and some change away. "i wanna go somewhere."

he hums. "where were you thinking?"

"dunno yet," you lean your weight onto the center console, maybe somewhere in asia."

"yeah?" he asks, squeezing the fat of your thigh. you smile wide. "sure. let me know when you decide."

"i will, thanks baby," you chirp, gently pulling his hand up your thigh and closer to your center. his fingers catch on the hem, pushing your denim skirt up and gently pressing his thumb into your clit. he's rubbing featherlight circles into it, running over the lacy underwear he bought for you a while back. your gasp is barely heard beneath the music.

the engine whirrs, and you see the speedometer shoot up.

so impatient.

.:*☆

it truly didn't take long for ekko to book that flight. you said the place, and about 30 minutes later everything was set in stone.

excitement rushed through your body as you packed, making sure to tuck your matching sets beneath your clothes. he deserved some type of reward, right?

when you finally arrived at your hotel, late into the night, jet-lagged to all hell, you couldn't help but ask ekko if he needed some help. he did everything, all you did was walk around, complain about your feet hurting a bit, and cling to his arm. regardless, he insisted you worried about nothing and just got comfy for the night because he had something big planned tomorrow.

never would you have ever guessed that you'd end up on a cruiser yacht.

he had you blindfolded after you returned to the hotel from eating and shopping, promising that you'd love it and that you just needed to be patient and trust him. you did; no hesitation there.

and once he slipped it off after your minor freak-out wondering what you're stepping onto that has to be so wobbly, it took your breath away.

the sun sinks below the horizon, yellow rays glittering off of the water. your hands met his, perched on your hips, looking back to find his prideful grin.

"ekko..." you pout.

"iii know, i'm a great boyfriend, you love me, i know," he jokes, chuckling as you walk around the cockpit, marveling the fact that you're on one. "it'll leave soon, there's a cooler with drinks, and i can take pictures for you."

you smile wide. "my personal photographer. in fact, take some of me right now before the sun sets," you rush to hand him your phone, quickly posing yourself in front of the scene.

ekko took taking photos for you so seriously, genuinely telling you how to switch your posing and expression, and without missing a beat always hyping you up to the third degree.

so when you heard nothing from ekko, no 'oooh's or 'mhm's, you turned to him.

"ekko?"

"sorry, you're just..." he laughs sheepishly, avoiding your gaze as if he wasn't the key to your heart. "so pretty."

you roll your eyes. "you're so corny."

the tone of your voice completely betrayed your words, honeyed and bashful. he catches it, shaking his head and raising the camera again.

"right—okay, let's try this again."

.:*☆

the pictures came out great. you wanted to wait until you got home to pick your favorites to post, but all of them were so good that you didn't know which one to pick.

you leaned against the railing, staring out into deep night, city lights twinkling in the distance. the cool sea breeze rushes against your skin, the salty scent of the ocean flooding around you. it was too good of an opportunity to not take more.

"ekko, take a few more for me?"

he hums, not a moment of protest, finding your phone and settling into the seat opposite of you.

you take your seat as well, your torso twisted and legs crossed. his mouth opens—'move your leg a little' rests on his tongue, until he inspects your gaze through the phone. you weren't quite looking at the camera, but rather...behind it.

"you okay?"

you nod. "yeah...you look good as fuck over there."

he fumbles over his words for a moment, looking down at his attire. "in my spiderman shirt?"

"mhm, especially in your spiderman shirt," you look him up and down, eyes sliding over his muscles. "come back over here real quick?"

he's surprised he didn't trip from how quickly he scrambled over to you, sitting in the seat beside you. his smile is poorly hidden as you crawl into his lap. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer.

you direct his face up, fingers gently pushing at his chin, leaning down to lock your lips together.

his hands roam your body—clearly too impatient—fingers pushing beneath your shirt, pulling up and revealing your bra. intricate lace, almost in a floral pattern, dyed a dusty pink that was barely visible under the moonlight. the cups had a deep cut, plunging down from your collar bone to the bottom of your sternum with a dainty little decorative bow.

you literally feel him getting hard. he looks up, fingers running along the band. "this for me?"

"sure is." you nod, reaching down to tug your skirt down. the hem of your matching panties peek out. "you like 'em?"

"do i?" he glances above the short barrier at the captain, who isn't paying an ounce of attention. just humming in his own world, only focused on the path they were going on. perfect.

"shit..." his lips reconnect with yours before trailing down, sucking hickies into your skin, tightly squeezing your thighs, brows furrowing.

you can already tell he's going to find a way to seat you right on his face so you stop him—not because you don't want that, but you've been spoiled enough for one day—pushing his shoulders back and getting off of him.

he looked like a kicked puppy when you separated from him and you just roll your eyes, sinking down onto your knees with a wide smile. it all connects for him and he relaxes against the seat, lips parting as you quickly unbutton his pants, your nail hooking at the band of his trunks. you tug, down, down, down, until his dick springs free and lightly taps his naval.

you waste no time, your lips meeting the base, then parting to let your tongue run up a vein that lead you to the sensitive tip.

ekko shivers, eyes shifting from the arch in your back to your lips, leaving glossy stamps all along his length.

you, on the other hand, kept your eyes locked onto his. he kept averting his gaze. for what, you weren't sure. but you tapped his tip against your tongue, capturing his attention. finally, his eyes meet yours. now you feel like you can continue.

you kiss the tip again, smiling up at him as you allow it to breach your lips, sliding into your mouth agonizingly slow.

"fuuuck," he drags, watching you slowly sink down, taking almost all of it yet stopping where your lips met your fingers.

you get acquainted with the feeling, adjusting your tongue to press against the skin. your cheeks hollow, your head slowly falling into a bobbing movement, stroking him alongside your movements.

he struggles to not thrust straight up into your mouth, gripping the edge of the leather cushions. one hand meets the back of your head but doesn't push or pull, just rests there.

his hips twitch, torso relaxing against the back of the seat, growing rigid whenever your tongue ran across just the right spot. his chest rises and falls rapidly, quickly drawing in breaths then moaning them right out.

your jaw already started to ache, but looking up at him as he falls apart from just your mouth is beyond worth it. he shakes his head, eyes leaving yours, squeezing shut, and you can tell he's already close.

his hand leaves your head, forearm laying against his forehead. you tap him, a reminder. look at me. he peeks down, a breathy chuckle pushing through.

"doin' so good for me, yeah? 'm close—" he warns you—you nod in acknowledgment.

you unhinge your jaw, sticking your tongue out so he can watch his cum spill all over it,

he sucks air in through his teeth, and before you know it you're bent over the seat, looking out onto the horizon. you start to speak and he just shushes you, tugging your skirt up and pulling your panties to the side. soaked.

maybe you were just too impatient, because before he could even get comfortable you were reaching back to put it in. his laugh rings behind you, shooing your hand away so he can finish sinking all the way inside you.

his pelvis meets your ass and you almost caught a glimpse of the back of your skull. he started slow, gripping your waist and bringing you back to meet his strokes.

you're squeezing around him so tight, and all he can do is stare in awe at it. his length glistens, coated in your juices. then he couldn't take it, his pace quickening, watching the fat of your ass recoil against his movements.

it feels euphoric, almost unreal. staring out into the night sky, stars twinkling above you, ocean swaying below you, and ekko thrusting into your heat, moaning behind you—it was overwhelming, it had your flesh running hot.

"feels good?" he questions, though your gasps and mewls answer loud and clear.

"fuck, yes."

"mhm, you're mine, right?"

"a-all yours." you nod.

"all mine?" he asks, and it's rhetorical. not like you could reply anyway, because your moans caught in your throat, rendering any chance you had at words useless.

your noises drowned beneath the whirring of the motor paired with the water swaying beneath you, which you're endlessly grateful for. you're lucky that driver pays almost no attention to what's happening behind him.

you were especially loud, and it only got worse as you felt your orgasm building. ekko knew it too, the way your voice shook, the way you tightened around him, the way you begged him not to stop—it was pushing him over the edge too.

"fuck, that's it. just like that. i got you, okay? good."

your cries overlap ekko's softer groans as you came, your form trembling, jolts of pleasure coursing throughout your body as he fucked you through it.

he had to hold back from coming inside you, letting you ride out your high before pulling out to release all over your back.

he gives you no time to recover, immediately diving in for another round, intoxicated with the way you gasps caught in your throat, holding onto the seat for dear life.

he leans down, his lips meeting your shoulder, his brows furrowed. it did not take long for the two of you to get close again, still sensitive from your previous release. within a few minutes, your juices coat his length and another load lands on your back, seeping down and settling into the dip of your spine.

you're both catching your breath, ekko presses a kiss to the shell of your ear, and you have to stop him from kissing you more. "we're almost there," you hiss, and he huffs, lifting off of you to get himself together,

thank god there were paper towels on board. he cleans his release off of your back and skirt, managing to get the both of your appearances together by the time the yacht met the docks.

the moment the captain comes back to thank you for riding with him, ekko's giving him the quickest thank you possible along with his tip and rushing you off of the boat.

"let's get back to the room? i just wanna see that set you have on a little better."

you know that the second that door closes behind you in the hotel, there is not a chance you'll be stopping.

__________________________________________

pssst!: not the most confident in this one.,. i will make up for this one i swear 😔 locking in!

maybe a part 2 with what happens at the hotel cough cough

[deadlychansaw]

— hope

pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x reader

warnings: vomiting, no use of y/n, bit angst, pregnancy, it happens during ep 2 s2

a/n: omg first time writing something like this, i hope someone enjoy this 🫣

00:30 was the number sparkling in neon red in her bedside watch. She couldn't stop looking at it. She couldn't sleep. How could she? The bed too big and cold for her to be alone, she missed her husband. Where was he?

She thought that after the coma he would retire and live peacefully with her, maybe in some cabin in the woods with two kids and a dog. this thought alone made her want to tear up.

She knew being a police officer was dangerous, so every time he wasn't home she feared that something had happened. This made her want to throw up, and she did.

That was unusual for her, maybe... no. It couldn't be. But when was the last time she had her period again? It was nine days late, this was also unusual. How haven't she noticed it?

00:45. She couldn't wait until morning so she picked up her car and went to a 24h open drugstore

"Do you need any help, miss?"

"I want a pregnancy test"

"Are you alright, dear?"

She hadn't noticed that small tears started to run down her face.

"I will be"

As the old lady gave her the test she smiled sympathetically and said:

"I'm sure you will. You don't need to be afraid"

" My husband is a cop" She felt the need to reply

"Oh, I see. But you will be fine, dear. I felt the same when my husband fought in war."

This time, she didn't reply.

She got home after speeding the car a little more than necessary and running a few red lights and went straight to the bathroom to do the goddamn test.

Palms sweaty, hands shaking and feet stomping in circles. It hasn't even passed the three minutes the test needed to be ready, just a few more seconds and...

oh.

Positive. p-o-s-i-t-i-v-e.

She was pregnant and wasn't even sure her husband would return home. Where are you Jun-ho?

"Babe, why are you sleeping on the couch?"

His voice reached her ears like the light in the end of a dark tunnel.

"I was waiting for you"

"My love, you know you don't need to"

"But I wanted to. Where were you?"

"I was in some kind of a car chase, but they shot in my tires"

That made her eyes open wide. "What? Chasing who? Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt. I wish I could tell you everything but i don't wanna put you at risk"

"I accepted the risk the day i accepted to be your wife. Please tell me. I'd rather know what i'm scared of"

"I guess you're right"

So he tells her everything. The games, his brother, his plan with Gi-hun. Everything.

"That is awful. Unbelievably awful. How can some people be so disgusting and evil? Gosh, that makes me sick"

She ran to the bathroom and started to vomit in the toilet, he ran after her and held her hair.

"Are you okay? I know it's s lot to process"

"Oh my God, I'm sorry for this, now you'll never want to kiss me again."

"There's not a world where i wouldn't want to kiss you" He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "But let's brush those teeth, shall we?"

Jun-ho gets up to put toothpaste in her toothbrush and give it to her.

"I don't know what i did to deserve you, Jun-ho"

"I am the lucky one here, babe. You're still here with me after everything i told you."

"i'm not leaving your side. Never."

He picks her up in bridal style.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting my wife to bed, as i should"

He really was the sweetest thing in her life, she needed to tell him already. All the what-ifs started coming to head again what if he doesn't want a child? what if he doesn't have time to form a family? what if he never come back home anymore?

"Babe, are you crying?"

"Do you really need to search for that island?"

"I do. These games need to stop."

"I don't want anything bad happening to you"

"I promise it won't. I will always come back home to you" He seals the promise by joining their lips in a long, slow and passionate kiss.

"Jun-ho, I need to tell you something but i'm so afraid of how you're gonna react."

"You don't need to be afraid, my love. I'm always here for you no matter what"

"I- I am pregnant" She doesn't wait for him to answer. " I know it's not the right time, and maybe you don't even want to be a dad and-"

She sees that he opened his characteristically big and warm smile, one that lights up her whole world.

"Are you... happy?"

"Are you kidding? Babe i feel like the luckiest guy of all South Korea. I'm so happy. Oh my god, i'm gonna have a daughter "

That made her chuckle.

"We don't know if it's a girl"

"Oh i'm sure of that. We need to celebrate"

"Celebrate? At this time? How?

"Hmm, i can think of a few ways..."

And she had a feeling she haven't felt in a while. relief. Hope.

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (4)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following the events of PART THREE, things begin to heat up.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), piv sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk/nicknames, kissing, messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; hurt/comfort; angsty angst; allusions to violence; miscommunication; jealousy

Series Masterlist

A/N: I continue to be overwhelmed by the love you all have given this series. I appreciate you all so much. Everyone who have commented, reblogged and followed- thank you so much. I love reading everything and I have had so much fun seeing everyone's reactions. It fills me with so much joy. Let me know what you think of this next chapter!

Please vote for Eddie or Steve in the poll at the end while it is live! The results will be how I end this series <3 BUT, if you want me to do an alternative ending as like a bonus chapter let me know cause I'd love to do that too.

His knuckles were white from his grip on the steering wheel, Steve felt like he lost control of his actions as he resolved to follow Eddie’s van. Eddie had said you wanted space, but now he’s here picking you up from the game? What the actual fuck. He’s fuming, the longer the night goes on. He should’ve just gone home, probably. But he was so angry at himself for taking forever, he couldn’t wait another second. He’d finally had the epiphany. He loves you. He wants you so badly, he can’t find it in him to care if he ruins everything. 

Earlier that day, it had hit him all at once. That overwhelming, all encompassing realization that stopped him dead in his tracks. Robin had left for the day, and he was stuck behind the counter rewinding returned tapes. He’d been sitting with his own thoughts. He was thinking about that dream, and then he was also just thinking about you. You took up all his senses- all he could think about was you. He looked back on shared moments with you in a different light. So many moments between the two of you that would’ve been your start. How could he have not seen it, seen you, all this time? 

Oh. 

Oh. 

He’d bailed on the rest of his shift at Family Video, fuck it. Keith wouldn’t fire him anyways. He knew Robin mentioned the game- of course you’d be there. He’d realized he loved you and didn’t want to waste another second. He wanted to find you in the crowd, climb up over the stands to whoever you were, and finally fucking kiss you. It was his grand gesture. 

His plan would have worked, but it was easier said than done. The confidence he felt before was wiped from him when he saw the way your face fell. He thought you didn’t want to see him, and that you were upset to run into him. He misread your sadness for distaste and resentment. That brief moment made his whole world come tumbling down around him. You were sad because you missed him, but he didn’t know that. So his plan fumbled in a moment of panic. 

Seeing you with Eddie had been his final straw. He felt like a ticking clock counting down was looming over his head. He was running out of time, he was losing you. He couldn’t let that happen. Was he going about it the right way? Probably not, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care in the least as he stormed over. Everything he’d been feeling was heightened. He was panicked and desperate and angry and so fucking jealous. This should’ve been him with you, driving you home in his car, and he had fucked that up. 

Eddie remembers how nervous he was when he picked you up for the dance that Friday night. He’d done his best to tame his hair, and Wayne let him borrow his suit. Wayne had stayed to help with his tie and to give him a talking to about how to be a gentleman when Eddie went to pick you up. 

“Actually go up to the goddamn door and knock. Say good evening to her parents,” Wayne instructed. “Make sure you hold her hand to help her down the stairs, open her car door, hold the door for her…” 

“Wayne I know, I know,” Eddie fused, worried he was going to be late. “It’s not a date anyways,” Eddie insists, although he wished it was. Wayne scoffs. 

“Whatever you say,” he said, rolling his eyes at Eddie. 

“Lemme get a picture,” Wayne had insisted, stopping Eddie from running out the door. Grumbling the whole time, Eddie stood in their little kitchen while Wayne fumbled with his old camera. “You never look halfway decent, gotta capture it for the book.” 

The photo is still hanging up on Wayne’s fridge to this day. Eddie has not worn a suit since. 

Arriving at your house was so daunting to Eddie. He’d never really met your parents before. Just in passing when he’d pick you up or drop you off for school. He’d been to your house before, you’d hosted a few times for Hellfire- but it was never anything like this. This was special. 

He went up to the door like Wayne instructed and he shook your dad’s hand. He was worried that they’d judge him- they would hate his hair or something. It’s the first time he’s relieved that his tattoos aren’t out on display. They were both kind to him, but he could tell they were not sure how to react to him. Self-conscious, he worried they were disappointed because he wasn’t Steve. Eddie wasn’t who they pictured for you. They envisioned you with Steve. That was they future they had planned. 

Eddie thought you looked absolutely unreal that night. He always thought that those scenes where the girl makes her grand entrance and floats down the stairs were corny. Until it happened to him and it felt like time stopped. Your descent down the stairs after your mom called you down had Eddie in a trance. You were angelic in your dress, the one Eddie will pretend you bought for him- not for Steve. Eddie must have been staring with his mouth agape, because your father needed to clear his throat for Eddie to realize you’d been expectantly waiting for him to say something. Literally anything. 

“You look beautiful,” Eddie marveled, and you giggled a shy thank you. A few hundred photos later and you both were finally on your way. 

 You were right, the Snow Ball was not Eddie’s scene at all. He didn’t like the music, or the people, but he was just so happy to be spending time with you that he couldn't care about literally anything else. You seemed happy too. Eddie thought you were glowing. He even danced to every song you wanted and took the cheesy photo booth pictures. You tore the photo strip in half so you could each have some. You use yours as a bookmark to this day and Eddie’s is still clipped to the visor in the van. 

You’d hardly even noticed Steve the whole night. Eddie kept you on your feet and kept you laughing so hard your stomach hurt. 

The bang on the side of the van made you jump. You both were startled. You watched as Eddie’s eyes widened as the panic set in for both of you. Neither of you had ever seen Steve like this, it wasn’t his nature. You both didn’t know what to do. 

“Just wait here,” Eddie said comfortingly, before jumping out of the van. “I’ll talk to him.” 

Steve stood outside waiting impatiently, his hands on his hips as his chest rapidly rose and fell. His hair was messy, as you watched from the side mirror, you could tell he’d been tugging at it- a nervous habit of his you knew quite well. 

“What the fuck is this?” He accuses. Eddie offers his hands up in surrender jokingly. 

“Come on Steve…” 

“You told me she wanted space! Then you swoop in and pull this shit?” 

“She did want space- not to be fucking ignored for weeks!” Eddie points out. “You had every opportunity and you just left her alone, so how long did you expect me to just stand around while you play these fucking mind games with her? I was the bigger person, Steve! I was willing to literally take myself out of the fucking equation if you both wanted each other- and you didn’t do shit!” 

Steve looks towards the van and you make eye contact in the side mirror. He looks devastated under the outward projection of anger. It’s like you’re a million miles away. He can’t be too late. He just couldn’t. How is he supposed to just walk away after everything? Is this just it? He pleads that you’ll do something- say something- anything! Just tell him you still care. 

You avert your gaze. Steve shallows harshly. 

Eddie crosses his arms, and steps in front of Steve’s view of you. “Come on man,” Steve pleads, voice cracking. “Let me just talk to her.” 

Eddie looks to you, and you shake your head “no.” 

“How about you call her tomorrow when you cool off? You’re scaring her,” Eddie proposes. 

“You don’t speak for her,” Steve argues. “Baby, please,” he pleads looking over Eddie’s shoulder. 

Baby? Eddie fumes- he can not be serious. 

You roll down the window a crack. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Steve. I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you shout from the van. Before he can respond, you crank the window back up. 

“Fine,” Steve glares at Eddie. It’s not over, but he’ll concede for now- if it’s what you want. He slams his car door shut before speeding away, the car screaming as he pulled away as quickly as he could. 

He knew his parents would be gone, so he opted to go to their house to crash tonight. He couldn’t bear facing Eddie back at their place after this. 

You don’t even realize that you’d be crying until you feel Eddie’s arms pull you in for a hug. He rubs your back comforting you as you are shocked at what just happened. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair before placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Let me bring you home, yeah?” 

The ride back to your apartment is silent, neither one of you knowing what to say. Eddie doesn’t want to push, and you’re too exhausted to get into it. You rest your forehead on the cold glass of the window to help your head. Eddie wants to reach out and hold your hand as he drives, but he keeps his distance. 

Eddie always walks you all the way to your front door, even after you’ve told him he doesn’t have to so many times. Wayne would kill me, he would joke. He held the door open for you so you could hop out. He held your arm, helping you navigate the icy walk. And he walked you upstairs to your apartment. 

There’s a piece of paper taped to the front of the door. 

I decided to spend the night at Vicky’s. Do with that information what you will. - Robin 

“I don’t want to be alone,” you admit, a little panicked knowing you’d be walking into an empty apartment. Eddie sighs, biting his lip nervously. Steve is going to never want to see him again, he’s sure of it. 

“I can stay if that would make you feel better?” He offers. You nod. 

“Please.” 

You pull the note down and toss it in the bin on your way inside. Eddie follows after you, kicking off his boots in the entryway. You both hang up your coats. You move over to the thermostat and turn it up. Eddie lingers in the living room, not quite sure what to do with himself. You both say nothing for a few moments. 

“Eddie, I’m so sorry about all of this,” you say finally. “Just everything- everything is falling apart it feels like.”

“None of this is your fault- it’s really not anyone’s fault…well, except mine,” he says, like a confessional and he takes a step closer. 

“Yeah,” you reply softly, matching his step. 

The air in the room was thick with tension between the two of you. In the silence and still, there was a pull dragging you into each other. 

“The whole thing is quite unfortunate really,” he contemplates, a knowing smile forming on his face. One step. 

“Most unfortunate,” you whisper. One step. He reaches out and intertwines with fingers with his. 

“Awful,” he whispers, tracing circles on your hands with his thumb gently. It sears through you completely. 

He tilts his head and his lips ghost over yours. Your body feels like it’s on fire being so close to him. The first kiss is so delicate, and the familiar feeling ignites in you. It’s perfect, being held by him by this. 

His lips are softer than you expect when they slot against yours. You let yourself forget about everything else in that moment- everything just melts away at his touch. Your brain melts at the sensation and warmth spreads throughout your whole body. You part your lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss and he does gladly. 

Waiting for a kiss like this was worth it, Eddie thinks. All the nights he spent thinking about it and all the times he held back from touching you… all of it felt like nothing as you fill up all his senses. It’s almost too much. 

“Sweetheart… please,” he begs, mumbling against your lips. His hands rest on the expanse of your back and the sensation sends a shiver up your spine. You gently tug by his belt loops closer to you, so your body is flush against his. You moan softly against his lips. 

Without disentangling himself from you, he guides you as you walk backwards towards the door of your bedroom. His hands make everywhere on your skin burn in their wake as he brings them down your back, to your hip, then settle firmly on your ass. It makes you whimper. 

The back of you knees touch the edge of your bed, and you let yourself fall backwards- pulling Eddie to climb on top of you. His hair tickles as it curtains your faces, and he leans in to press hot kisses to your jaw and down your neck, a hickey forming right where he ends just above your collarbone. 

When he pulls back briefly, you take the opportunity to pull your sweater over your head and toss it to the floor. Eddie’s movements stutter, his eyes hungrily taking in all of the newly exposed skin. You were a vision. “Shit,” he breathes, “look at you.” 

He wastes no time pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. Warmth rushes to your core at the sight of his tattoos, the subtle muscle under his pale skin, the chain around his neck, the happy trail that leads down to wear his jeans are hanging low on his hips and showing off a prominent bulge… you’re fucked. He sits up on his knees over your thighs and your body aches at the separation. 

You watch as he takes his hair and gathers it together in his hands. Making a ponytail should not be this sexy, but it’s Eddie. He winks at you as he does when he notices the way you’re staring with your mouth open, heaving breathing. 

“Take these off, sweetheart,” Eddie hums, nodding down to your jeans as he pulls the elastic from his wrist around to secure it in his hair. You’re face is warm as you nod, wiggling out of them and kicking them away. You’re left in just your bra and panties and spread out before him. 

“These are so pretty,” he muses, teasingly, running his ringed fingers over the skin just above the edge of your panties. He kneels down on the floor at the foot of the bad, hooking your legs over his shoulders in one fluid motion. “So pretty,” he mumbles, pressing delicate, teasing kisses to your inner thighs as his hands rub up and down the length of your legs. 

His eyes are directly in line with the wet spot that has formed on your panties. It aches, and you’re desperate for him to do something about it. Without him even touching you yet, you’re squirming in the anticipation that he will do something to soothe the sensation that has been building up in  your core. 

He presses a kiss to your heat over your panties, his nose pressing against your clit and the feeling makes you gasp, relieved for just the littlest amount of contact. Satisfied with your response to him, he hooks his thumb through your panties, and drags them aside- the metal of his rings feel cool against the hotness of your skin and it makes you flutter. 

He grins devilishly, “All of this for me, pretty girl?” 

One hand holds your panties, the other rests on your hip to hold you steady when Eddie wastes no time, devouring you. His nose against your clit, his tongue lapping at your arousal- it was too much. He was like a man starved. How dare you deny him this for so long. He was desperate to taste you, and he groans- he knew you’d be so fucking sweet. He just knew it. 

He pulls back to rub his thumb over your clit, making circles that feel so good you could cry. You’re so needy, writhing in his arms as you feel a familiar knot form in your stomach. With his thumb firmly in place, he returns to latch his tongue back to you. 

“Eddie,” you whine, your hands tangles in your sheets to stabilize yourself. Your head is spinning, and you know you’re so fucking close. “Please,” you cry desperately at the sensation, chasing your climax. 

Eddie continues his pace, the exact way you need him to and he continues to work you through your first orgasm. He kisses your thighs when you finish and he smiles at you- his face glistening with your slick. Cheeky bastard. He kisses your legs, your stomach and all the way back up to your lips, tasting yourself on him. He tugs off your panties and tosses them on the floor. Something about making you cum, a switch flipped in Eddie. 

He’s kissing you like he’s depending on it to survive, he’s feeling confident and desperate to do that again. He practically growls against your skin, face buried in your neck. He works off his jeans and boxers. Your mouth waters. He’s gorgeous fucking everywhere. 

“Your turn,” you mumble, unhooking your bra, eyes wandering to Eddie’s hard cock. He shakes his head, kissing you again. Fuck if he doesn’t want that, but he can’t trust himself to not completely fall apart. 

“Next time, sweetheart,” he promises, and you pout. “Need to fuck you,” he mutters against your lips, his blood breath heavy against yours. You moan at his words. 

“Please, Eds,” you drawl, “need you inside me.” 

He teases your entrance, the top of his cock so painfully close to pushing inside you. “I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll forget all about Steve, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck, Eddie please,” you whine, you hips trying to create some friction, already desperate and needy for another release. Oh, you liked that, Eddie muses. He can deliver. 

“He doesn’t deserve this pretty pussy does he?” Eddie muses, pushing in just the tip of his cock, watching as you fall apart, desperate for more of him. “This perfect… fuck, tight pussy,” he moans, pushing himself fully into you. 

“Can’t take care of you as good as I can,” he promises, thrusting into you at just the right, hitting that spot that makes your brain go stupid. You feel so full of him, you can’t imagine anyone feeling better than Eddie by the way he’s fucking into you. 

“He’s never gonna fuck you as good as this,” Eddie promises. You can believe it. He leans down and kisses your neck, his hand massaging your breast, tugging gently at your hard nipple before giving the same care and attention to the other one as well. He whispers more filthy things against your neck, and you moan- your body responding to his so well. 

“Fit around me so good, sweetheart,” he muses, hot kisses trailing over the stance of your neck, “you take my cock so well.” 

“Such a good girl… making my cock all messy,” he praises, and then he presses his lips to yours in a desperately messy kiss. “Fuck, sweetheart…” 

Tears threaten the corners of your eyes, it all is too good, too overwhelming. You’re so over sensitive from your first orgasm, you are reaching your peak again, all too quickly for your liking. You can’t help it- he feels too good and he’s so fucking attentive and fuck- you feel so close. 

“Cum on my cock princess,” Eddie encourages, feeling you tighten around his cock. “you’re gonna look so good for me, let me see you cum for me, yeah?” 

He holds your cheeks in his hand, your lips squished together as you look up at him, wide eyed. “You can do it, be a good girl and cum all over my cock,” he encourages. It’s just enough to make you fall apart all over again. Messy things spilling from your mouth as your body pulses and he continues his pace, working you through it- kissing your forehead. 

Eddie pulls out, making a mess on your stomach as he cums. Exhausted, he collapses on the bed next to you. He kisses you softly, praising you for being so good for him. It makes you feel like putty. He disappears for a second, disappearing behind the door. He comes back with water for you and a warm cloth. He kisses you, making you take the water from him, and then he cleans you up gently, kissing your body all over after the job is done. 

You don’t know what you’re going to say to Steve. All you care about now, is burrowing yourself into Eddie’s chest. For the first time in weeks, you and Eddie both actually sleep soundly, limbs tangled together- your bodies intertwined. 

Taglist: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part six

About the ending of this one: don't hate me! Hate Hotch :)

Warnings: angst! the usual! a meeting with Strauss, Rossi knowing Hotch too well and it annoying the fuck out of Hotch (lovingly)

Everyone knows the case isn’t over, but it might as well be. With nothing else to uncover and Lila safely returned home, the BAU team is called back to Quantico.

Hotch makes sure that the Monroes have some security round the clock in their neighborhood, especially on their street. He doesn’t think anything will happen, but then again, no one can ever be certain. 

The problem is that they can only afford the security for so long. One week, at the most.

You ignore Hotch the entire way home on the jet. In your defense, you ignore everyone. You put your headphones in and curl up in one of the chairs toward the back, perfectly secluded from everyone else.

Hotch watches you, trying not to look as worried as he feels, and hating that he feels such deep worry for you. Sure, your words stung earlier, that he’s the last person you’d want to work for, but they weren’t entirely untrue. You are the last person he expected or wanted to walk through those glass doors. 

He hasn’t had the chance to discuss your placement with Strauss, but he will. Either it was pure coincidence that she placed you here, or she thinks she’s being funny. If it’s the latter, he hopes she can see how hard he isn’t laughing.

Rossi lightly kicks Hotch’s leg under the table. He raises his eyebrows when Hotch drags his eyes over to him.

“What?” Hotch says, settling down further into his seat, glancing at the file he’s supposed to be going over. “Got a cramp?”

Rossi scoffs. “Do you?”

Hotch hums. “When do you think they’ll send us the sketch?” He’s trying hard to change this subject to anywhere but where Rossi wants to take it.

Rossi, of course, ignores Hotch’s question. “I’m guessing she didn’t appreciate you prying into her past.”

Hotch focuses very hard on one word in the file, wondering if he might make it catch fire. “No, she didn’t.”

“Well,” Rossi sighs, looking out the window. “Serves you right.”

Hotch’s eyes snap up, glaring tiredly at his friend.

“What?” Rossi asks innocently. “It’s too soon. You should’ve known better.”

“You know just as well as anyone that in order for this team to work well together we need to have an established level of trust—”

“Save the pep talk,” Rossi waves him off. “I think you just can’t stand being left out of the loop. There’s a missing piece here and you can’t take it.”

Hotch doesn’t know if Rossi is still talking about you or not. “Richard said—”

“I heard what he said,” Rossi interrupts again and Hotch really wishes he’d stop doing that. “And if it was anything that concerns us, don’t you think it would’ve come up in her background check? That you, as Unit Chief, have to go over.”

Hotch can’t say that he disagrees there. He does go over the background checks, just a glance, really. Maybe his eyes lingered on yours a little longer, so what? Maybe he tried to focus on smaller details to puzzle you out, so what? That’s not a crime.

What is criminal is hiding things from the team, especially the Unit Chief. He hates to pull rank, he really does, but when one of the FBI’s Most Wanted sits in an interrogation room and says he recognizes your newest agent, isn’t that cause for concern? Especially when said agent refuses to elaborate?

Why would Richard Monroe of all people recognize you? Or a younger version of you, so he says, because you’re older now than he remembers. Did he see a picture of you? How and where and why and from who? 

Rossi is right. There’s a missing piece. And Hotch can’t stand it.

+++

Hotch gives you the following day off. You know damn well that isn’t standard, and that everyone else is still going into the office, but you don’t argue with him. He’s as surprised as you are about the fact.

Instead, you sleep in, you have a slow morning, you make brunch, and you do everything in your power to not think about your father.

It’s easier said than done most days. It’s hard not to think about him when there’s so much you don’t know — so much you’ll never know.

Because he’s dead. You know that for a fact. Got a phone call from the prison ward and everything.

Still, your mind wanders. You hold your coffee close, the mug practically burning your palms, but you’re too in your head to feel it.

Lila…everything about it was so similar to your situation. Kind of. Given that you still don’t know who kidnapped her, and you might never find out, it could be a freak coincidence. 

You roll your eyes at yourself. Coincidence. Yeah, right. You stopped entertaining the childish idea of those long ago. Everything happens for a reason, which is why you have such a gut feeling about Lila. You just need to get to the bottom of it.

But you have no clue how.

+++

When you return to the BAU the following day, well rested and somewhat less anxious, you head straight for Hotch’s office.

Not because you want to. God, no. Hotch summoned you via text while you were still on the freeway.

You make him wait, though. You need coffee first.

After a pit stop at the staff coffee pot, and then at Emily's desk to chat, you waltz into Hotch’s office without knocking — his blinds are open and you can clearly see he isn’t busy — earning you an exasperated look from your new boss. 

“Don’t give me that look,” you snap without thinking. “You’re the one who called me for a meeting when I wasn’t even halfway here yet. So what? What do you want?”

Hotch really wonders why he tries to be patient with you. “Sit down.”

“Gladly,” you smile, knowing it has to look as fake as it feels. You lower yourself into one of his stiff chairs across from his desk.

Hotch takes a moment, clearly pulling himself together, before he asks, “How are you?”

Your coffee freezes midway to your mouth. You drop the mug back down, resting it on your thigh, letting it burn you there. “Fine,” you give a little shrug. “Thanks for the day off, boss.”

“I thought you might need it,” he replies, like he’s caught you in something.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I think you’re being an asshole on purpose,” you conclude. “I think I make you nervous, and you’re not used to that, so you take it out on me by being an ass.”

“Projecting, are we?”

“Proving my point, are we?” you grumble, ignoring how right he might be. You take a scorching sip of your coffee. “What did you actually want?”

Hotch stares at you for a moment, studying your face. You stare right back at him, unperturbed.

He’s going to learn that two can play at this game whether he likes it or not.

He’s the first to look away, down at the files on his desk. “The sketch artist spoke with Lila.”

“And?”

“She refused.”

You sit up straighter, nearly spilling your coffee. “What?”

Hotch’s eyes lift to yours. “She refused.”

You sit back again, propping your elbow on the arm of the chair to rub your forehead. “Okay. So what does this mean?”

Hotch threads his fingers together on his desk. “Her mom is going to talk to her, see if she can convince her to talk to the artist again.”

You nod slowly, looking out the window. “Okay. That’s good.” You’re not sure if she will. Or if it’ll get her in any trouble. She’s just a kid.

Hotch stays silent. Your coffee burns your thigh just enough finally that you move to rest it on the other arm of the chair.

You pause, looking over at him without moving your head. Your eyes narrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I thought you might like to know.”

You turn your head, smirking. “Missed me?”

He frowns.

You lift your coffee to your lips, waiting for Hotch to say something else, like you know he will.

He does. “I thought you might be able to shine some light on why she refused.”

You glare at him, but you finish your sip of coffee. “And no one else on the team was capable of shedding light?”

He stares you down. You return the favor.

You’re the first to cave this time. “What do you want from me, Hotch?”

“The truth would be a great start.”

All you can do is laugh, so you do, hanging your head. “Great meeting.” You stand and head for the door, raising your mug. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

You hear Hotch push his chair back as he raises to his feet. “We’re not done.”

You pause, but you stay at the door. “You just don’t know how to leave well enough alone, huh?”

“I can write you up for insubordination.”

“Go ahead,” you shrug. “I could use another day off.”

On that note, and before he can hold you captive any longer, you yank his office door open and escape to your desk.

Hotch watches you through his open blinds. The way you settle into your desk chair, the way your hand shakes as you lift your mug to your lips. 

It’s not that he can’t understand why you won’t confide in him -- or, well, it’s less about confiding and more about just telling him the truth. He doesn’t need to be your confidant, or anything remotely friendly. God knows you wouldn’t want that. 

But this is serious. A serial killer recognizes his agent, shakes them up so bad they have what he can only assume was a panic attack in the parking lot, and he’s supposed to, what? Forget he saw anything? 

Forget like his life didn’t flash before his eyes when he saw you crouched down, fighting to take in a single breath of air? Forget like he didn’t pace his entire apartment last night, recalling everything he knows about you to try to ascertain why an FBI’s Most Wanted would recognize you as a child? Forget like he didn’t nearly make himself sick with the implications of that?

It’s uncharted territory for him. Members of his team have hidden things from him before, but they’ve let the truth out. They’ve let him help.

You don’t seem keen to do either of those. Again, it’s not like he doesn’t understand. The two of you aren’t exactly each other’s favorite person -- and won’t ever be. But the nature of the work you do…this isn’t something Hotch can just let go.

+++

The next week at the BAU passes similarly and without much fanfare. No new cases come in -- surprisingly -- but a few seminars come up, some mountains of paperwork, and a meeting with Strauss.

The latter comes as a shock. You think for sure that it is Hotch’s doing, and you’re entirely prepared for a fight. You’re either being fired, reprimanded for your behavior, or who knows what else.

What you don’t expect is for it to be lunch. Plain and simple.

“Thank you for joining me,” Strauss says, in an uncharacteristically good mood, guiding you over to her comfortable chairs. “Sorry for the formality. It’s the easiest way to schedule these things. Please, sit.”

You sit across from her, waving off the apology. “Not a problem. I was a little worried, so I’m glad it’s only lunch.”

“Why?” she asks. “Is everything alright in the BAU?”

“Oh, yes,” you laugh it off. Hotch just hates me, but not to worry, the feeling is mutual. “Just new job jitters, I suppose.”

“Ah, still adjusting?”

“You could say that,” you nod with another sheepish laugh.

“Well, you shouldn’t worry,” she says. “I hear your performance is exceptional, and you fit right in.”

You raise an eyebrow. Hotch told her that? “Oh,” you try not to show your shock. “Thank you, I’m…I’m glad to hear that.”

She smiles. “Aaron can be a little rough around the edges, but you’re doing fine. Don’t worry. Ah, there’s lunch.”

Sandwiches are brought in, leaving you no time to really process what she has just confirmed. 

And he is never going to live it down.

The rest of your lunch meeting passes by easily. To your surprise, Strauss steers the conversation away from the BAU and toward how you’re settling in here in general. 

“It was a big move, I heard,” she says. “I hope the area is treating you well?”

“It’s great,” you nod. “I do love it here.”

Of course, work topics come up, such as professionalism among the team and how those lines blur around some. She doesn’t linger here, though, so you think nothing of it. 

“A new case will likely come tomorrow,” she says. “You’ll hardly ever be without one this long. Consider yourself lucky.”

You laugh at that, mostly to hide your scoff. You wouldn’t consider yourself lucky to be without a case because it only means Hotch’s focus is on you instead of catching a killer -- which is a much better use of his time. Safer for him, too. Because with every passing day you come closer to spilling hot coffee down his suit.

Kidding. Kind of.

“Mm! I do have one thing to ask you,” Strauss says suddenly.

You swallow your nerves and look at her expectantly.

“Richard Monroe,” she starts, and you feel your blood run cold. “He’s still cooperating in their investigation, however,” she pauses, lacing her fingers together. “He’s asked to speak with you.”

You blink. “With me?”

She nods. “You clearly made some impression on him. He’s apparently been asking for you for a few days, though they only just notified me this morning.” She pauses to sigh. “Do you have any idea what he might be after?”

You shake your head, dusting crumbs off your leg. “No idea.”

“Alright,” she accepts your answer far too easily. “Well, if there’s time, and if he keeps asking, I might ask you to go speak to him. Just to…keep the peace, I suppose. We can call it research for the BAU.” She waves her hand. “But it’s not at the top of my list.”

“Of course,” you nod slowly. “Just let me know.”

She smiles. “I’ve taken up enough of your lunch time, so I’ll let you get back to work.” She stands and you do as well, a rare moment where you’re itching to get back to the bullpen. “You’re going to do just fine here. You’re already exceeding expectations, so well done. Keep it up.”

“Thank you,” you return the smile, your chest expanding from the praise. It’s nice knowing your boss’s boss thinks you’re doing well, no matter how Hotch acts when you’re in the same room. Checkmate.

+++

Hotch scowls at the paperwork before him as he listens to your laughter filter up to his office. You returned from your meeting with Strauss in a frustratingly good mood and have been joking around with Morgan for half an hour.

Fed up, Hotch shoves his chair back to shut his door. Maybe he slams it. It doesn’t matter.

He hears the conversation come to a halt. Good. Maybe now they’ll get some work done for once.

He signs off on what he needs to, closing the folder and moving on to the next. And the next. And the next.

Before he knows it, he’s the second to last in the office again. Rossi knocks once on Hotch’s office door before he opens it, one hand holding his coat over his shoulder.

“Working late?” Rossi asks, striding in and settling down across from Hotch.

“Yes,” Hotch says, not looking up from the paperwork. He still has a mountain to get through, and maybe it could wait until tomorrow, but he needs to focus. On something that isn’t you.

“Want to get a drink?”

“No.”

“Alright. Any particular reason you’re so grouchy today?”

Hotch sighs, looking up at his friend and hoping his eyes convey the best I’m not in the mood look that he can. 

He must succeed, because Rossi presses even more. “Doesn’t have anything to do with, say, a certain new agent who seemed to be in a great mood today for the first time in a week?” He pauses, musing. “Or maybe it’s the fact that said new agent didn’t say one word to you today?”

Hotch’s jaw tenses. It’s true. Neither of you spoke to the other today. Plenty of glares were shared, though, which is the same as words for you two.

Rossi leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Aaron. She’ll come to you if she needs help. If she wants help.”

No, she won’t, Aaron wants to say, but he can’t. Because what’s his reasoning? Something he doesn’t want to admit.

The facts are that Rossi doesn’t know you. Rossi wasn’t there when Hotch first met you on that case all those years ago. Rossi wasn’t there to watch you try to do everything yourself and nearly fistfight Hotch every time he tried to take one thing off your plate. Rossi wasn’t there to watch you nearly get yourself killed because you refused to ask for help. Rossi wasn’t there to see the panic that had crossed Hotch’s face when he saw your reckless behavior. 

Rossi doesn’t know you. Not the way Hotch does.

Which is why after Rossi leaves, Hotch gathers his things, and stops to see Penelope on his way out of the office.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 3: Focus on Us

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: "you're important"

Welcome to chapter 3 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

It was late, and my tiny dorm desk was cluttered with camera equipment, SD cards, and a cup of lukewarm coffee I’d forgotten to drink. The incident in the gym with Paige lingered in my mind as I sat editing footage for my final project. My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I debated whether to open the file labeled “Gym Footage – Paige.”

Curiosity got the better of me, and I clicked play.

The screen flickered to life, showing Paige’s face as she fumbled with my camera. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she adjusted the angle, murmuring to herself, “How does she make this look so easy?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the way she treated my camera like it was something sacred. Then her tone turned serious.

“Hey, Y/N,” she began, her voice soft but sincere. “I know you’re probably still upset about what happened, and honestly, you have every right to be. But I hope you know how much I admire you—your work, your passion, everything. You’re incredible, and I hate that I hurt you.”

My chest tightened as I listened, her words more heartfelt than I expected.

The video continued, capturing the moment I returned from the bathroom. Paige must have thought she’d turned the camera off, but it kept rolling as we talked, laughed, and shared pieces of ourselves on that cold gym floor.

By the time the video ended, I felt a mix of emotions—touched by Paige’s honesty, but also incredibly awkward knowing it had been recorded. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to delete it. Instead, I duplicated the footage onto a hard drive, labeling it simply as For Paige.

At the next practice, I made my way to the gym, the hard drive tucked securely in my bag. I was nervous to hand it over, unsure how Paige would react.

She spotted me as soon as I walked in, her face lighting up with a grin. “Hey, stranger! Decided to stop avoiding me?”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t hide my smile. “I was never avoiding you.”

“Sure,” she teased, jogging over to meet me. “What’s that?”

I pulled the hard drive from my bag, holding it out to her. “It’s… the footage from the gym. I thought you might want a copy.”

Her smile softened as she took it from me, her fingers brushing against mine. “Thanks, Y/N. I didn’t think you kept it.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s good footage. And, well… I think it’s important.”

Paige’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You’re important.”

The words hung in the air between us, making my heart skip a beat. Before I could respond, Coach blew his whistle, calling the team to start drills.

Over the next few weeks, Paige and I grew closer. At games—both home and away—she made a point to check in on me, making sure I had a good spot to shoot from and subtly positioning herself during warm-ups to shield me from stray balls.

“Protecting your camera,” she’d say with a smirk, though the warmth in her eyes told me it was more than that.

At home games, her attentiveness didn’t go unnoticed by the team—or the fans. KK and Azzi teased us relentlessly, while fans on social media began speculating about our dynamic, tagging us in posts with captions like, “Paige’s photographer girlfriend?”

One particular home game, as I set up my equipment during warm-ups, Paige jogged over, her usual grin in place.

“Let me try,” she said, gesturing to my camera.

I raised an eyebrow. “Try what?”

“Taking pictures,” she said, her tone playful. “You make it look easy, but I bet it’s harder than it seems.”

I hesitated, glancing at the camera in my hands. “Paige, this is expensive equipment. What if you drop it?”

She placed a hand over her heart, feigning offense. “Y/N, I’m an athlete. I have excellent hand-eye coordination.”

I laughed despite myself, eventually handing her the camera. “Fine, but if you break this one, you’re buying me a new one.”

“Deal,” she said with a wink, taking the camera from me.

She spent the next ten minutes snapping pictures of her teammates—some candid, some posed—and even turned the lens on me a few times.

“Paige!” I protested, holding up my hand to block her view.

“Come on, you’re the star of this project,” she teased. “Let me get one good shot.”

Reluctantly, I lowered my hand, letting her capture a few photos. She grinned at the screen, clearly proud of her work.

“You’re a natural,” I admitted as she handed the camera back.

“Only because I have the best teacher,” she replied, her tone soft.

Later, as the game began, I couldn’t help but notice how Paige glanced my way after every big play, her smile brighter than usual. When she made a block that sent the ball flying dangerously close to my corner, she immediately looked over, mouthing, “You okay?”

I nodded, giving her a thumbs-up, and she grinned before returning to the game.

By the time the night ended, I had more than enough photos for my project—and a growing collection of memories with Paige that I knew I’d treasure.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

[seongwars]

hiraeth | jeon wonwoo

model!wonwoo x veterinarian!reader genre: fluff, no real angst

I really want to start my wonwoo series but I have too many wips at the moment so this will have to suffice 😭

You and Wonwoo grew up as childhood friends and next-door neighbors in a small countryside town. You both dreamed of moving to the city—you to become a veterinarian and him to pursue a career as a photographer.

But tragedy struck when your sister and brother-in-law were killed in a car accident, leaving behind your baby niece. You decided to stay in your hometown, attending a local university to take care of your niece and grandmother. Meanwhile, Wonwoo moved to the city, where he was unexpectedly street-cast as a model and quickly rose to fame.

Your friendship falls apart when Wonwoo comes home for winter break, and you both get into a heated argument when he tells you that he's ashamed he grew up in a place like this and that you'd never be good enough to make it like he did.

That was the last time you'd ever spoken to him.

A decade later, Wonwoo unexpectedly returns home, shocking everyone. No one knows why, but the paparazzi and fans flood the town trying to figure out his whereabouts. Wonwoo tries to evade the paparazzi and his rabid fans and hides out in Mr. Kwon's barn.

Meanwhile you're helping Mr. Kwon find his missing cow, and it turns out she gave birth to a calf in a field. All is well until a bunch of cars speed by, potentially stressing out the cow and her calf. Stupid city slickers!

You return to the barn and find Wonwoo hiding. Obviously, you rebuff him but then point out he's covered in poop.

Later at dinner, his dad reveals that these rich developers keep coming to town trying to convince people to sell their land and there's lots of resistance from the locals. But they keep getting threatened by these city folk!

Oh and you're being romanced by Choi Seungcheol, your niece's gym teacher.

Wonwoo doesn't like that.

You and Wonwoo somehow always seem to cross paths. Whether its dropping your niece off at school or making a farm call, he always has on a dumb disguise.

The only person in town who seems thrilled about the sudden rise in tourism is the town head, Lee Jihoon. Because money.

Sometime later, your grandmother invites Wonwoo and his dad over for dinner, and lo and behold Choi Seungcheol is also there.

It turns out that Seungcheol is originally from the city but took the teaching job in the countryside because it was too competitive in the city. Sure, Jan.

You get an emergency call from Mr. Kim because his dog Kimja is having a difficult labor. You rush over, doing everything you can to help her. Despite your best efforts, Kimja doesn’t make it, and neither do the rest of the litter, except for one tiny, puppy.

Wonwoo, still awake, sees you coming home and you're a sobbing mess. He musters the courage to reach out to you, and you kind of just rant about how you did everything to try and help her and the rest of the litter but you failed.

"You did your best and that's all that matters."

You bury your face in his shoulder, unable to stop the tears. It’s been years since you’ve felt this defeated. As a veterinarian, you’ve faced so many challenges, but nothing like this. Never something so completely out of your control.

Wonwoo admits that he came home because he also felt like a failure. He was supposed to play the lead role in an up-and-coming movie by the famous director Yoon Jeonghan, but the project was put on hold due to Jeonghan's frustration with Wonwoo's inability to act convincingly as they looked for a new lead.

"He said I couldn't act my way out of a paper bag."

So, Wonwoo came home to reevaluate his life choices and decide if he could start over.

You tell him he absolutely can, that it's not too late. But that he shouldn't give up or let some city boy take his place.

"You're gonna let some city boy prove he's better than you? Go take back what's yours!"

You both reconcile and you go home.

The next day, those darn developers come back, and the townsfolk are out protesting. You, your grandma, your niece, Wonwoo, and his dad are all there, standing with the protestors.

One of the developers recognizes him, even with glasses, and mentions that his daughter is a big fan.

"Wonwoo? Famous? Nahhh," the townsfolk laugh, waving it off like the developer must have mistaken him for someone else.

The developers approach Wonwoo and attempt to sway him to their side. They want him to convince the town to sell their land so they can build their fancy golf course. But Wonwoo refuses outright because this is the place that raised him, and no amount of money or pressure can change that.

Using his star power, Wonwoo pulls every string he can to get the developers to back off. In the process, he uncovers a shocking twist: Turns out, Seungcheol was a spy for the developers and, to top it off, the son of one of them!

Wonwoo tells you the truth, and with a heavy heart, you end things with Seungcheol.

"He was too perfect," you sighed.

Thanks to the power of privilege and friendship, Wonwoo manages to help save the town from the developers.

While everyone is celebrating, Wonwoo tells you he's going to go back to the city and convince Director Yoon to give him another shot.

"Make sure you rub it in his face when you win an award for that role."

Over the next few months, Wonwoo visits home between shoots, and you both rekindle your friendship—and something more. It's in the way his eyes linger on you just a moment too long.

Or after a particularly long day, you find yourselves sitting on the roof of his parent's house, eating ramen. Somewhere between conversations of the past and future, his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining in a quiet, tender gesture.

The night of the Golden Carat Awards rolls around, and everyone gathers in the courtyard of the town center to watch the ceremony.

Wonwoo’s name is announced among the nominees for Best New Actor, and the crowd quiets instantly.

“And the winner for Best New Actor is…” The announcer pauses dramatically, drawing out the moment.

“Jeon Wonwoo!”

When his name is called, you let out a little gasp, unable to help the way a smile breaks across your face as the crowed erupts into chaos. Wonwoo’s dad, who had been sitting quietly at the start of the evening, is now sobbing uncontrollably.

“That’s my son!”

Your heart swells with pride as the camera pans to Wonwoo, standing from his seat to hug the people around him before making his way to the stage.

“I really didn’t think I’d be standing here tonight. Thank you to the Golden Carat committee, my team, the amazing cast and crew I’ve been lucky enough to work with—and, of course, my fans. None of this would’ve been possible without you.”

Wonwoo pauses, glancing down at the trophy for a moment. You wonder if he’s collecting his thoughts or trying not to cry. Then, he looks back up, his expression softer now, almost shy.

“I’d like to thank my family for their unwavering support,” he continues, his voice quieter but no less heartfelt. “And…” He hesitates, his lips curling into a faint smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“My guiding light. Someone who’s been my source of inspiration to keep fighting against those city boys, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

The courtyard falls silent as every single person turns to look at you and you can't help but sink lower into your chair.

“Marry him already!” Mr. Kim yells.

When Wonwoo returns, he’s standing on your doorstep with a bouquet of wildflowers your niece helped him pick out, grinning from ear to ear. He promises that he'd be happy waiting for you to come home, taking care of the laundry while you help animals.

So you take him up on his offer.

[amazingmsme]

Like Salt in the Wound

AN: first fic of 2025, woohoo! Starting off strong with some angst/comfort & I honestly wouldn’t want it any other way! Odysseus really needs a hug, but I guess he’ll just have to get wrecked instead, lmao. Telemachus & Athena’s friendship means everything to me! I had an absolute blast with this one, & I hope you do too!

Odysseus had only been home just shy of a year, but even a few months spent with his beloved family repaired more of his soul than he ever imagined. There were nights where he slept peacefully; the nightmares fading away as his wife cradled him in her arms. He was less jumpy, more at ease. He no longer drew his sword when he heard a loud clatter or bang, instead merely gripping the hilt until he was sure there was no threat.

The past still haunted him, but he had learned to cope as best as he could.

He had changed, yes, but he was still Odysseus, and the man Penelope fell in love with all those years ago continued to shine through in little ways.

It was in the way he held her with such tenderness, the way he cupped her cheek and kissed her. How he laughed at his own terrible jokes. The way he blushed and shied away when she said something suggestive. How he hung on their son's every word, showering him with love and affection to make up for lost time.

He might've done terrible things to return to them, but he was not nearly the monster he saw himself as. There was still the smallest unspoken softness about him, but it slowly grew larger every day.

He shoved his insecurities down, only allowing Penelope to see him so weak. But there was one secret he kept from even her.

The first time he saw Telemachus, dawned with spear and helmet, wearing Athena's cloak, he felt a wave of panic wash over him. He couldn't let his mentor do to his son what she had done to him. He refused.

But then, Athena apologized. She actually admitted to leading him astray, and offered the chance to rebuild a better, more peaceful word. That this time, things would be different. She promised to train Telemachus with empathy, to not shut him out like she had done to Odysseus all those years before.

The idea terrified him. He saw so much of himself in Telemachus, and knew first hand how easy it would be to strip away his vibrancy and innocence. He had been hesitant to allow her to continue training him, but he caved the moment his son asked.

It felt... strange, watching the two of them interact. Watching his Telemachus spar with Athena stirred old memories that brought a bittersweet smile to his face. Oh, what could have been.

Telemachus had told him that Athena once called him her friend, on the day they first met. She didn't say his name, but he now knows she was referring to his father. Odysseus just wished she would've admitted that back then.

They both acted differently in each other's company; unlike they ever were with him.

Telemachus adored Athena. He looked forward to her visits, lighting up the moment she entered a room before running off for his next lesson. He was never so eager when Odysseus trained with him, questioning his methods and suggesting what Athena would do. He tried not to let it get under his skin, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't sting a little.

Athena might as well be a completely different person with Telemachus. She was patient and understanding, gently correcting him when he made a mistake. Odysseus seemed to remember her harsh tone and judging words when he was to screw up. It felt hypocritical, and it left a sour taste in his mouth.

He felt horrible for harboring such thoughts, and yet, he couldn't help it. He was jealous. Athena already knew Telemachus before he ever had the chance to truly meet him. She taught the boy how to fight; something he had been looking forward to doing himself. He still had much to learn, but he would rather listen to a Goddess than his own father.

Odysseus could never fault him for doing so. After all, he had been the same way at that age.

He remembered how great it felt to have her favor. To earn her praise after a battle well fought. She used compliments sparingly and went heavy handed on the criticism, so you would know when she really meant it. She would try to hold in her laughter when he would tell jokes, but he was able to catch her off guard on more than one occasion.

Even if the friendship had been one sided at the time, it had felt real to him.

So you can imagine how much it hurt to see Athena and Telemachus get along so well.

She didn't push him as hard as she did Odysseus, making sure to respect the young prince's boundaries. With the King of Ithaca, she sparred with him as her equal, as if he had the strength and speed of a God, and ridiculed him when she bested him in combat, pointing out everything he did wrong. But with Telemachus, she held herself back, only increasing the difficulty once she knew he could handle it. Her criticism was constructive and soft, and it made Odysseus roll his eyes. That wasn't the Athena he knew.

She didn't brush him off or keep him at arms length either; she welcomed the friendship with open arms. She called Telemachus her friend, to his face. And without a drop of condescension! She gave him plenty of breaks to go goof off, sometimes even joining in on the fun. Odysseus had only been allowed three breaks at most. 

It was fine. He was happy for them. Well, mostly for Telemachus. As long as he was happy, that's all that matters.

They were deep in the woods, close to where Odysseus killed the boar all those years ago. Oh how Telemachus loved that story. He loved all his stories, really. Odysseus feared that he would never quite live up to the legend Telemachus saw him as.

He was currently training him on his sword work,  blocking every strike Telemachus made. He swung down towards his father's shoulder with the blunt practice sword, only for Odysseus to parry the blade and spin around behind him. 

Telemachus whirled around just in time to block the sword with his shield, tucking and rolling across the ground. He popped back up, slashing across the back of his father's legs. Odysseus played along and fell to the ground, crawling as if he were severely wounded.

"Great job, you've disarmed your opponent and hold the advantage. But I could get up if I try, so I'm still a capable threat. What will you do?" Odysseus talked him through it, waiting for his son's next move.

"I..." Telemachus started, thinking of his options before committing, "I go straight for the heart," he said, raising his sword high above his head before stabbing down. He softened the blow just before poking Odysseus in the chest.

The King of Ithaca arched his back, screaming and writhing in mock pain. Telemachus couldn't help but chuckle and roll his eyes at the dramatics, but his amusement was obvious.

A slow clap sounded from behind, and Telemachus turned to see Athena watching from the trees. Her scar was healing well and she sported a proud smirk, "Well done, little wolf."

Telemachus smiled wide, running over to greet her. "Athena!" He threw his arms around her in a tight hug, one that she reciprocated.

"I see you're keeping him busy," she addressed Odysseus with a fond smile of her own.

"Are you kidding? He practically begged me until I agreed to spar with him," he teased. He stood up, brushing himself off, taking a step closer.

"Father!" Telemachus whined, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Athena chuckled and shook her head.

"Well then, how about I take him off your hands for a bit?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Be my guest," he invited, taking a seat on a fallen log.

"Alright Telemachus, let's give him a show."

"Alright!" he cheered, pumping a fist in the air. He snatched his discarded sword from the ground, taking a fighting stance.

Odysseus watched the training session with a gentle smile that felt more forced than he cared to admit. It was as though he were looking into his own past through rose tinted lenses.

They moved around each other with such practiced ease, as if it were a well rehearsed dance. Telemachus grinned from ear to ear, dimples on full display. He never smiled like that when it was Odysseus teaching him. Instead, he wore a tense, focused expression, broken only by the occasional smile before determination settled back once more. They bantered back and forth, goading and teasing each other as weapons clashed.

"Ha, is that the best you got?" Telemachus taunted as he parried another strike. Athena smirked, arching a brow before swiping her spear behind his legs and knocking him off his feet.

"Nope."

He sprung back up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Bring it on then!"

Athena charged at him, only for Telemachus to sidestep her at the last second. He spun around, kicking the back of her knees to buckle her legs. She yelped and stumbled forward, leaning against a tree for support.

She stood up, studying the tree thoughtfully. Odysseus watched on skeptically, unsure where she was going with this.

"Is this a dogwood tree?" she asked, running a hand up the trunk.

Odysseus scooted closer to the edge of the log. No, she wouldn't!

"Uh, I don't know. Why?"

"I'm pretty sure it is," she mused, barely holding back a smirk.

"Really? How can you tell?" Telemachus asked, stepping closer to get a better look at the tree.

Athena looked down at him, allowing her smile to make its presence known. "By its bark."

She fucking did!

It took Telemachus a moment to get the joke, but once he did, he threw his head back in laughter. "Oho man, that's a good one!"

"Hey, that was my joke!" Odysseus spoke up, because what the hell gives? He told that joke to Telemachus a month ago and all he got in return was a fake chuckle! And further more, he could barely remember Athena ever laughing at his jokes, but suddenly, they were funny enough to steal?

Telemachus looked at his dad and shrugged. "Sorry, I guess she's just funnier than you!" he teased.

Okay, ouch. Odysseus clenched his jaw, ducking his head to hide the twitch of a frown tugging at his lips.

"I suppose she is," he agreed, trying to play along. He looked back up, an empty smile back in place as they resumed sparring.

"Flattery won't get you very far," Athena rolled her eyes, but joined in on the playful taunting. "That goes for both of you," she cast a quick glance towards Odysseus, faltering when she could've sworn she saw a look of sadness on her old friend's face. But it was gone just as fast as it appeared. She decided to let it go for now, but made a note in the back of her mind to check in on him later.

"I don't know, it's gotten me pretty far in the past," Telemachus bragged, showing off with some sword twirling that Odysseus had taught him.

"Okay, take it down a notch," she teased, but her words only embolden him. He tossed the sword in the air, catching it with his other hand.

"Make me!" he taunted. Athena grabbed her spear and shoved the blunt end against his chest, effectively knocking him off balance. He fell on his back, playfully glaring up at her from the dirt. "That was mean."

"You were being cocky."

"Yeah, and?" he asked, arching a brow. Athena shot Odysseus a look when he barked out a laugh, but a smile played at the edge of her mouth.

"The last thing he needs is more encouragement."

Odysseus merely shrugged, sporting a smug grin that put her mind at ease.

Then again, he'd always been a great actor.

Odysseus couldn't help but to feel like a third wheel. They clearly enjoyed each other's company more than his own, so why not just... slip away?

He scooted off to the side, sitting on the edge of the log. Neither one seemed to notice, so he casually stood to his feet, giving his back a stretch. He silently slipped into the shadows of the trees as the continued training.

He didn't go too far, but far enough to feel alone. He leaned against a tree, rubbing a hand over his tired face. He was surprised when his palm came back wet. When had he started crying? He quickly wiped away his tears, sniffling softly. By the Gods, he needed to get ahold of himself.

He closed his eyes, taking a few deep, yet shaky breaths. He could still hear the faint echoes of their taunting jeers in the distance, and sighed. He supposed he'd better head back before they noticed he was gone. He took his time on the way back, staring at the ground and dragging his feet.

Meanwhile, Telemachus and Athena continued to spar, although she had noticed the moment he left. She had known something was off, but she didn't know it was that bad. She tried to keep Telemachus busy so he wouldn't notice his father's absence.

She was lost in thought when a foot suddenly connected with her face and she was sent tumbling to the ground.

"Whoa! Dad, did you see that?" Telemachus cheered and jumped in the air, turning around for his father's approval. "Dad?" He looked around, but saw no trace of him. Panic began to creep inside his chest. He ran into the woods, shouting, "Dad? Where are you?"

"Telemachus, wait!" Athena called after him, but the kid was fast and he was in a mission. She ran after him, calling out for Odysseus as well.

As soon as he heard them call out, he ran towards them, yelling, "Over here!"

He came into view, and Telemachus ran into him with a bone crushing hug.

"Where were you?" 

Odysseus wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, wrapping his arms around his son. "Can't a man take a leak in private?" he joked. Telemachus chuckled, shoving at his chest.

"Just tell us next time! I roundhouse kicked Athena in the face and you didn't even see it!"

"Really? That's amazing! I'm so sorry I missed it," he apologized, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You'll just have to catch her by surprise and do it again, eh?"

"I doubt that'll happen," Athena piped up, crossing her arms.

"I wouldn't underestimate him," Odysseus praised, slinging an arm around his shoulder as they walked back to the clearing.

"Yeah Athena, don't underestimate me!" Telemachus taunted, sticking his tongue out at her from behind his father's back. She scoffed, eyes widening in shock.

"That's it, you're in time out when we get back!" she scolded.

"WHAT? You can't do that!" he yelled, a blush quickly spreading across his face as his father's laughter filled the air.

"Shehehe put you in time out!" he giggled, patting his son's back comfortingly.

"Don't laugh," he whined, but the smile on his face told him he didn't really mind. After all, he had barely heard him laugh since he returned.

"On the contrary, laugh it up Odysseus," Athena said, but something about her tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "When we get back, it's your turn."

"I don't know," he trailed off, hesitant to accept.

"You gotta! I never get to see you fight!" Telemachus begged, and he caved.

"Well if you insist. But go easy on me, I'm not as young and spry as I used to be," he said, and now it was Athena's turn to laugh. She threw her head back as she cackled, loud and hearty. She wiped a tear from her eye, glancing over to see matching quizzical expressions.

"Wait, you're serious? After what you did to Poseidon? Absolutely not," she deadpanned.

"You fought Poseidon?" Telemachus practically screamed in his ear, making him flinch away.

"You mean you haven't told him? If you ask me, that should've been the first story you shared," Athena mused.

"Come on, you gotta tell me what happened!" he hopped in place and shook his father by the shoulders until he relented with a chuckle.

"Well, it's kinda a long story. One you'll hear at dinner so your mother can enjoy it too," he deflected.

"Boooo!" Telemachus whined, giving him a thumbs down. "You can tell it twice!"

"He just wouldn't let me go home! So I stabbed him until he called off his storm," he huffed out, telling an abridged version to satisfy his son.

"With his own trident," she added. Telemachus stared at his father in awe.

"Whoa," he said breathlessly. Odysseus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"What can I say? I had limited options," he shrugged, ducking his head down.

"Why so bashful all of a sudden?" Athena asked, cocking her head as she looked down at him. Odysseus gawked, face turning red.

"What? I am not!"

"If you say so," she conceded. "Now, what's do you say you and I have a go, just like old times?" she asked, shooting Telemachus a wink out of the other's sight. He arched a brow quizzically, unsure of what plan she had brewing up. But whatever it was, he wanted in on it.

"You're on."

Athena lulled him into a false sense of security, sparring bantering back and forth before she struck. She dodged his attack, managing to disarm him as she spun around, locking one arm beneath his and held the back of his neck as she held his own sword to his throat with the other.

"Alright, you win," he held his hands up in, surrender, furrowing his brows when she didn't move. "Um... did I... do something wrong?" he questioned, not daring to move an inch.

"Not at all. I just noticed you seemed a little down today."

"Athena," he warned, tensing with a gasp as she squeezed the back of his neck. Telemachus watched on curiously.

"Do you remember my lessons on morale?" she asked, ignoring the threat.

Odysseus was squirming now, tugging at her arms, but she held firm.

"Come on 'Thena, not here," he whined, voice dropped to nearly a whisper. The nickname melted her heart, and made her feel only a little guilty for what she was about to do.

"You mean not in front of the kid?" she taunted, waiting until he opened his mouth to speak before scribbling at the nape of his neck.

Odysseus yelped and flailed around in her hold, scrunching his neck for protection.

"Hey stop! What are you doing to him?" Telemachus protested as he saw his father struggle in Athena's hold. From where he sat, it looked as though she was about to snap his neck. She flashed him a sly, knowing smile.

"Yeah Odysseus, what am I doing?" she asked in such a playful tone, even Telemachus hadn't heard.

"Huh?" he cocked his head, confusion knitting his brows together.

Odysseus clamped his mouth shut, but a wobbly smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She tossed the practice weapon aside, scratching just behind his ears with both hands. He snorted and tossed his head around, grimacing as he tried to contain the giggles building up inside his chest.

"Come on, you're usually so talkative," Athena prompted, reaching around to flutter under his chin. He threw himself back to try and get away, but only succeeded in leaning against Athena's chest for support, feet frantically pushing against the ground as he fought to escape.

Telemachus watched on with a growing smile as he realized what was happening.

"Wait, father, are you ticklish?" he asked, not bothering to hide his excitement.

"No!" Odysseus choked out, yelping when Athena reached down to tweak his hip.

"Ignore him, he loves to lie. But you didn't think you got your sensitivity from your mother, did you?" she asked, somehow finding a way to tease both of them at once. Telemachus looked away, cheeks dusted a light pink.

"Well, yeah, kinda," he admitted, unable to take his eyes off the pair. Athena rolled her eyes fondly, easily evading the frantic hands slapping at her wrists.

"You share more similarities with your father than you might think," she said, shooting him another wink. Odysseus shoved at her arms as they wrapped around his waist, shrieking when she picked him up off the ground.

"No! Put me dohohown! Stohohop!" he broke down into deep chuckles that were quickly melting into hysterical giggles. Telemachus had only ever heard his father laugh like that when he told terrible jokes, but he had always kind of assumed he was playing it up for his behalf. He didn't know he actually giggled like that! It was a funny, infectious laugh that seemed adorably out of place.

"Careful what you ask for," Athena smirked before dropping him to the ground, quickly pinning his arms above his head. He desperately pulled at his arms, surprisingly strong despite being mortal. "You sure are struggling a lot. I think I might need some help," Athena raised her voice, making the hint as unsubtle as possible. Telemachus was by their side in a heartbeat, sporting a mischievous smirk.

Odysseus could only grin wider as he shook his head. "Son, wait! She's ticklish too, wouldn't you rather go after a God?" he tried to bargain by deflecting the attention onto Athena, who scoffed in disbelief.

"Excuse me?" She drilled her thumbs in the center of his exposed pits for even suggesting such a thing. Telemachus ignored his father's screams for mercy, tapping his chin as he considered the offer.

"Sounds tempting, but you're the one pinned down," he reasoned with a shrug, planting himself on his kicking legs. Athena held up a hand for an approving fist bump.

"Wise choice."

He grinned as he knocked their knuckles together, adding a few extra slaps and bumps. Athena's hand just hovered there awkwardly, not copying any of the steps he taught her. He shrugged, "Eh, still needs some work."

Telemachus wasted no more time and latched onto his knees, squeezing around the bone. Odysseus snorted and tried to kick his trapped legs, barely able to move them an inch. He couldn't help but laugh along at his reactions, noting, "Wow, mom was right! You do have a funny laugh!"

His words sparked a blush to spread across his cheeks as he cried out in protest, "Shehehe sahaid whahahat?" Logically, Odysseus knew Penelope talked about him while he was away, or at least, he hoped she would. But she really talked about him, not just the legends he left behind. She humanized him...

Maybe a little too much, but still.

"No no, she said it in a good way!" Telemachus assured, spidering over his knees with blunt nails. Odysseus wheezed, drumming his legs against the ground to cope with the ticklish jolts shooting through his nerves.

"I agree Odysseus, your laughter is quite endearing. It's such a shame we don't hear it more often," Athena chimed in. He whined through his giggles, unable to pull his arms down from where she had them pinned. She traced maddening circles against his exposed hollows, making him squeal and arch his back. But no matter how hard he tried, he remained trapped between his son and his friend.

Granted, he might not be trying all that hard. What? He hadn't laughed like this in years, so sue him. And Telemachus seemed to be having fun, so why stop him?

He shook his head in denial, blushing profusely at her words. "Nohoho ihihit's nohoHOHOHOT!"  Loud cackles abruptly gave way to a hysterical shriek as Athena began scratching the spot just behind his ears with long, sharp nails. A stream of giggles and snorts spilled past his lips, nose scrunching adorably.

"I don't know, you sound pretty cute right about now," she drawled, leaning over him to "inspect" his face. Odysseus giggled and tried to look away, failing to protect his now exposed ear with his shoulder.

"'Thehehenaha!" he whined, sounding all too giddy to actually mean anything by it.

"Yep, you look cute too-"

"Ohoho just shut up!"

Athena mock gasped, and Telemachus covered his mouth in shock.

"Uh oh," he teased in a sing song tone, poking all around his stomach. He twitched with each touch, pulling on his arms desperately each time he felt that nagging finger wiggle into the slight pudge of his belly.

"Oh you're gonna regret that," Athena growled playfully. She turned his head to the side, keeping him pinned with one hand. She took a loud, exaggerated breath just so he would know what was coming.

His eyes widened in giddy fear and his thrashing grew stronger once he connected the dots. Empty protests fell past his lips, "No, no wahahait! I'm sohorry, I'm sorryyyy! Plehease dooooon't!" He was already giggling, and his smile only grew wider.

Telemachus couldn't help but laugh along and tease, "She hasn't even touched you yet!"

"Bullshit! You both HAHAHAHAVE! Ohohokahay, oKAHAY! I GEHEHET IHIHIT!" he squealed as Athena leaned in to blow a loud, obnoxious raspberry on the side of his neck. She grabbed his hair and moved his head so she could get the other side.

Not wanting to be left out, Telemachus clawed at his father's stomach, encouraged by his hysterical laughter. Odysseus jolted in place, unable to curl in on himself for protection. The only thing he could do was kick frantically and laugh his heart out.

Which, unfortunately for him, caught his son's attention.

"Great idea, dad! Can't forget about the feet!" he taunted, wrestling his legs down to untie his sandals.

"Nohoho, plehehease! Ihi don't deserve thihihis!" he pleaded, hiding his face behind a pinned arm. Athena snorted in amusement and pulled away to stare down at her friend.

"Actually, if anyone deserves a good laugh, it would be you," she said, her tone softer, yet still teasing.

"Hehehey!" he whined at the remark, his blush now reaching the tips of his ears.

"Yeah, laughing at your own jokes doesn't really count," Telemachus added, raking blunt nails down his arches.

"HEHEHEY!" Odysseus shrieked indignantly at the comment. He tried to keep his feet planted on the ground, but all it took was a quick scribble against the backs of his knees to get him kicking again. "Ihihit counts!" he insisted through deep, rumbly chuckles.

Both Athena and Telemachus rolled their eyes. Telemachus decided to take it a step further and shrugged, unable to hide his smirk.

"Does it though?" he asked skeptically. Before Odysseus could answer, he scratched just beneath his toes. Odysseus cackled wildly, thrashing around as best he could, bucking hard enough to throw Telemachus off.

Athena took that as her cue to back off as well, releasing his arms from where they were pinned. He either didn't have the strength to pull them down, or he just didn't care at this point.

Odysseus let out a giggly groan, throwing his head back against the ground. "You two ahare thehehe worst!" he spoke through residual giggles, but didn't mean a word of what he said.

"Yeah, but I learned from the best!" Telemachus quipped, reaching out to pinch his side one last time. Odysseus jerked away, finally yanking his arms down as he barked out a laugh.

Odysseus scoffed in amusement, a wide smile still plastered on his face. He doubted it would be going anywhere for a long time.

He shook his head fondly, gently shoving at his son's shoulder. "You're a real piece of work. Both of you," he added, shooting Athena a playful glare.

Athena decided not to say anything... to him. She just smirked and addressed Telemachus, as if Odysseus wasn't even there. "Notice how he said just about everything except stop," she noted smugly, and Telemachus muffled his giggles behind his hands.

Odysseus gasped, his fading blush quickly returning. "Well- I- you two looked like you were having fun," he justified with a huff, crossing his arms as he looked away.

"Like you weren't!" Telemachus goaded, throwing his arms around him in a bear hug, rocking side to side.

He couldn't help but give in to the smile tugging at his lips. "It was coerced." Telemachus laughed and shoved him away.

"Oh whatever!"

"Regardless," Athena piped up, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "It's... refreshing, hearing you laugh again." Odysseus placed a hand atop her own, leaning into the touch.

"Yeah well, you better not make it a habit. There's easier ways to make me laugh, you know," he sassed.

"Ah, but this is the most entertaining," she shot back.

He turned to Telemachus, pointing with his thumb at Athena over his shoulder. "See what I mean? Piece of work."

"Careful, or I'll go for round two," she warned.

"Maybe tomorrow. After all, I believe I'm overdue for some revenge."

"Is that so?" she cocked her head, and Odysseus nodded smugly.

"Yup."

"Well then, you'll have to earn it," she teased, standing up and offering him a hand.

"And you better watch your back, because the tickle monster strikes when you least expect it," he threatened, pointing at Telemachus.

He giggled nervously and took a step back, a pale blush dusting his cheeks. "I'll uh, keep my guard up."

The response made Odysseus throw his head back with a hearty chuckle. He threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer and ruffling his hair.

"Just relax. You won't even see it coming."

"That's not as comforting as you think it is," he deadpanned.

"It wasn't meant to be," Odysseus quipped, and Athena had to stifle a snicker at the comment. "But I believe it's about time we head back for dinner."

Telemachus whined, even though he knew his father was right.

"We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow," she promised.

"Or you could join us," Odysseus invited after a moment's hesitation. The offer took her off guard, but she softened nonetheless.

"Really? I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"Come on, 'Thena! It'll be fun!" Telemachus encouraged, tugging on her arm.

"Yeah, and you'll get to hear the story about how I stabbed your uncle until he cried."

"In that case, how could I resist?"

The three walked back to the palace, chatting all the way. It may very well be true that Athena and Telemachus were closer than they had ever been, but that doesn't mean the friendship wasn't still there. And Telemachus thought the world of him, that much was made clear.

Now that he thought about it, he didn't know why he had been so worried in the first place. He was home, he was loved, and that's all that matters.

[fairy-princette]

i gave your name as my emergency phone call

AO3 link

1 (you are here) 2 3 4 5 6

Stan receives a postcard from his twin brother - who he's not seen in a decade - asking for his help. But like with everything else in his life, he runs into some trouble on his way there

———

1. and the dial tone is all i have

Stan looked down at the phone number written under the return address on the back of the now-crumpled postcard as he punched the digits out on the metal keypad.

ring ring ring ring

Stan shuffled his feet on the scuffed linoleum floor, his head falling back to look at the tiled ceiling.

ring ring ring ring

The uniformed man next to him crossed his arms, clearing his throat as the phone continued to ring.

ring ring ring ring

“Hello?”

“Ford, thank Moses,” Stan let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“Ah Stanley, you got my postcard then, good good, and you’re on your way here?”

“I’m on my way but there’s been a slight hiccup in my travel plans.”

Ford instantly sounded annoyed. “Stanley, this is of the upmost importance, we do not have time for you to be stopping at tourist traps or whatever is taking up all your time.”

“Well, heh,” Stan let out a self-depreciating laugh, “It’s not exactly a tourist trap that I’m stuck in.”

“Oh for- Stanley, I already told you, I’m incredibly busy and I don’t have time for whatever nonsense this is, I’ll see you when you get to the cabin.”“Wait, Ford, don’t hang up! This is my only phone call, I won’t be able to get to you otherwise.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”“Well, see, I might’ve been in a bit of a rush to get to Oregon and gone a teensy bit over the speed limit and then-“

“Get to the point Stanley.”

“I’m in jail and I need bail money.”

Silence.

“Ford? Sixer? You still there?”

“Yes, I’m still here Stanley. Of all the idiotic, thoughtless-”

“Hey, you’re the one that made it sound like an emergency, excuse me for being in a rush.”

“And what exactly do you expect me to do about it? As I have said, I am very busy and my work is-” there was a harsh sigh through the phone. “I am not in the position to just drop everything and drive across the country because you are incapable of abiding by the speed limit.”

“Look, Ford, if it were up to me I'd be perfectly fine cooling my heels in a holding cell, but you’re the one that’s wanting me to haul ass to some forest in the middle of nowhere. This is as much your problem as it is mine. Are you telling me you don’t know a single person in Science Dives or wherever that likes you enough to get your brother out of jail?”

“Gravity Falls, not Science Dives.”

“Whatever”

“I-,” Stan heard an exhale through the phone. “There might be one person I could ask. We’re not exactly on speaking terms right now, but I’m sure he’d make an exception. It is for the greater good after all.”

“Thanks Ford, I-”

click

———

ring ring ring ring

“Hello?”“Fiddleford - it’s Stanford, I-”

click

———

ring ring ring ring

“Hello?”

“Fiddleford, it’s-”

click

———

ring ring ring ring

“Fid-”

click

———

ring ring ring ring

“The number you are calling is not in service.”

click

———

Stanford stood in the floral carpeted hallway of Fiddleford’s landlady’s home - he may not be well known in town but at the mention of the cabin she had invited him in, wanting to meet the ‘mysterious scientist’ who lived in the woods. After evading her attempts at small talk and offers of tea - apparently they thought it was very kind of him to support Fiddleford in this hard time, whatever that meant - he found himself stood outside the door of his ex-lab assistant’s sublet.

He knocked on the door and crossed his hands behind his back as he waited.

He heard shuffling from inside the room approaching the door.

“Mrs Duskerton, I’m real appreciative, but I really don’t need more tea right-”

Fiddleford cut himself as he looked up from the paperwork in his hand, swinging the door shut much faster than he had opened it. Stanford shoved his foot in the gap between it and the doorframe, thankful he had decided to wear his lab boots for this expedition.

“I don’t want to talk to you Ford,” Fiddleford started kicking at his foot to try and shut the door. “I unplugged the Duskerton’s phone specifically so we couldn’t talk. Now get out!” The last word was punctuated by a much harder kick and Stanford’s foot slipped back, the door slamming in his face. He stood facing the door, letting the silence hang between them for a moment.

“I’m destroying the portal.”

A beat. The door opened a crack, just enough to see the edge of Fiddleford’s glasses peering out at him.

“You’re destroying it?”

“Yes.”

“For good?”

“Yes.”

“Well then. I’m guessing you better come in.”

———

Ford sat on the singular desk chair in the room while Fiddleford faced him, leaning the ex-vanity-now-desk strewn with notes, blueprints and calculations. The floral theme continued throughout the room, covering the walls and curtains with pastel pink and yellow flowers. Fiddleford looked worse for wear than the last time Stanford has seem him - though not as bad as he himself certainly looked. The shadows under his eyes spoke of restless nights, as did the bloodshot eyes and clenched jaw, though the latter could be a result of his presence.

“So, you’ve finally come to your senses and realised that demon was lyin’ to ya then?”

“Yes. Bill was… not exactly what he seemed.”

“You’re telling me. And now you, what, need my help dismantling it?”

“In a manner of speaking. Bill is still able to get in my mind - anything I know, he knows. I can destroy the portal but I need to take precautions to make sure it is never built again. I’ve already hidden two of my journals - I don’t even know where I was when I buried them so there’s no way for Bill to find out - but I need the other one to be taken as far from here as possible so the three can never be reunited.”“Stanford, are you askin' me to travel across the world to hide your journal?”“No, of course not. You have your family, Emma-May and Tate, and a whole life, I couldn’t ask that of you. No, I have a brother, he travels a lot. I’ve asked him to come here so I can give him the journal. I can entrust it to him, he can keep it safe.”

“Look, I’m mighty glad you’ve decided to do the right thing, but I’m not seeing how I fit into this here plan of your’s? And doesn’t Sherman have a family of his own?”

“No, not Shermie. I have a twin brother, Stanley. We’ve not spoken in- in a while, but he owes me this. Stanley got into a bit of trouble on his way here. Long story short he’s been arrested for speeding and now needs bail money and a lift here because they’ve impounded his car. I know it’s a lot to ask - it’s a long drive - but you’re the only person I have to ask, Fiddleford.” He looked up at his friend pleadingly.

Fiddleford crossed his arms, staring at a spot on the wall above Stanford’s head, mumbling to himself as he thought. Stanford waited for him to make his decision - time may be of the essence but science had taught him many things, including the need for delicacy and patience.

Fiddleford let out a sigh that sounded like it came from his bones. “Fine. But I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for the safety of Tate, and Emma-May, and the rest of the world. And I have one condition.”

“Yes, what?” Stanford looked up at him with the unblinking stare of a man running on too little sleep.

“I want an apology.”

“An apology? What for?”“What for Stanford? What for? How about for not believing me when I told you Cipher was bad news? How about for lyin’ to me about where you were getting your ideas and blueprints from? How about for dismissing what happened to me when I went through that portal? How about for any of that Stanford?” Fiddleford drew himself up to his full height, taking a step across the room to Stanford with his fists clenched at his sides.

Stanford dropped his head to look at his fingers entwined in his lap. “No, you’re right, you’re right of course,” He lifted his back up to look Fiddleford in the eye. “I have been a terrible friend. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I’m sorry you felt like I didn’t listen to you about the portal, and that I didn’t trust you.”

Fiddleford glared down at him. “I suppose that’ll have to do. Now give me the address of where I’m getting your brother from.”

[talxe]

Reading the Iliad, Book 10 thoughts

This is my first time ever reading it and I know next to nothing abt greek mythology so if I interpret anything wrong by all means pls correct me

Im reading the Robert Fagles translation

This book is short but does not lack in the entertainment department

Agamemnon can't sleep bc how can he with the war going the way it is?

So he goes out to find Nestor but as he's doing that he runs into his brother Menelaus who also cannot sleep and is doing the same thing Agamemnon is abt to do

Menelaus pitches the idea that they should send someone to spy on the Trojans. However, he's almost sure that no one is going to want to do this job bc its super dangerous

Agamemnon agrees bc the very thought of Hector is making him sweat hard asf

So they split up to gather a council. Agamemnon says he'll get Nestor and tells Menelaus to grab Ajax (Greater), Idomeneus, Meriones, and Nestor's son.

I don't think they say the name of Nestor's son in book 10 or maybe they said it in an earlier book bc I don't know who tf Nestor's son is lol

But Menelaus asks "Um where tf am I supposed to meet you after I'm done??" I really like how NO ONE clears anything up unless asked too

They decide to meet back at Agamemnon's tent

Agamemnon ends up scaring the shit out of Nestor when he enters his tent.

Nestor's like 80 you can't be scaring him like that😭

Nestor suggests they grab Dio, Ody, Ajax (Lesser), and Phyleus for this meeting too

Then Nestor starts shit-talking Menelaus out of nowhere???? LMAO😭😭

"Ur brother's so fucking lazy lol, we still need to get Ajax and Idomeneus but they're on the other side of camp." -Nestor

Why is he acting like Menelaus hasn't been pulling his weight this WHOLE time? Hello?

Then Agamemnon says "You're right as always buuut Meneluas is doing that very thing as we speak so..."

Menelaus catching strays this book ig

Odysseus gets super pissy at Nestor for waking him up so I'm going to assume he's one of those ppl who are just in a bad mood after being woken up. He doesn't seem to be a morning person at all

Nestor shouts at Diomedes to "WAKE UP." A complete 180 from how he woke up Odysseus btw

"Why are u yelling at me?" - Diomedes

After everyone is rounded up in Agamemnon's tent Nestor presents their plan in a way that really told me a lot abt his character

He's like "Hmmmm I wonder who would be willing to spy on the Trojans for us? It has its risks ofc but think of the glory he'd receive upon his return, all the gifts? All the men will ask him to their feasts" (it's a feast not the fucking prom💀)

I really like the way Nestor says it. I can just imagine having been a young man himself at one point he knows how to play into the egos of the men around him

Diomedes is the first to jump at this opportunity

But Dio says he needs a partner and everyone stands up to volunteer

But he picks Ody

Jump to the Trojan camp: Guess who had the same plan as Menelaus? Hector, they have like, the exact same plan.

Dolon who is just some ugly guy decides he'll be the Trojan spy

Both teams of spies run into each other

And Dolon starts running for his life

Diomedes and Odysseus end up catching this guy and he automatically starts crying

Ody asks him a whole bunch of questions abt their camp

Dolon is the world's worst spy bc he tells them everything and by the end he asks "You guys are going to spare my life now, right?"

And Diomedes just goes "Nah.♥️" and CUT THIS MANS HEAD CLEAN OFF

They loot his body and give the armor to Athena

Anyways they get to the Thracians who are currently asleep and Ody and Dio see that the Thracians have some nice ass horses

Diomedes kills 13 of them while they sleep, one was a king.

Once it's time to go Athena has to come down and tell Diomedes that it is time to stop and go home. (they take to horses)

Apollo watches this whole mission happen and wakes up the Trojans

Dio and Ody make it back to camp, Nestor asks where those nice ass horses and that's the end of the book

[kyywritess]

CHAPTER 10: KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER

pairing: aged up!katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

summary: After six intense years in Japan, YN LN has firmly established herself as a renowned gym owner. She's known by many pros for her charm, strength, and boxing abilities. She has a strong support system and amazing friends... her life in Japan was everything she dreamed it would be.

But everything changes one fateful night when a mysterious package appears on her doorstep. No note, no return address—just a plain box wrapped with a single pearly pink ribbon. As she unravels the contents of the box, she’s drawn into a dark, twisted mystery that seems to reach deep into her own past—a past she thought she had buried when she left her old life behind.

wc: 3.5k

warning: Guns, blood, car accident (let me know if I missed anything)

an: this was actually the hardest chapter to write, my brain has not been working properly. This chapter shows what Bakugo was doing the night he found out about James and Morettis daughter (chap 8). While Y/N was taking Milly to the cabin and figuring out Morettis location, Bakugo was plotting behind her back. Anyways enjoy 🫶

“Dynamight, we’ve found something.”

Bakugo stood in the middle of your home, surrounded by officers and detectives tearing through your personal belongings. The scene was chaotic, and the constant rustling of drawers, the clinking of metal, and the shuffle of paper filled the air.

He wasn’t sure how he’d arrived at this point. All he could remember was staring at the picture of the young girl—the one that had sent his mind spiraling. From there, everything became a blur. Thoughts of you, of Moretti, of connections he didn’t want to make but couldn’t escape, tumbled through his mind. The sinking feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away.

Rage began to churn in his chest. The next thing he remembered, he was barking orders, directing his best detectives to enter your house. He hadn’t expected you to be here—didn’t want to look you in the eyes as his team scoured every corner of the home you’d made.

It felt wrong, even as his anger justified the intrusion. This was an invasion of privacy—bordering on illegal. But he didn’t care. The truth was the only thing that mattered now, even if it meant crossing lines.

“Sir?”

A younger detective called to him from down the hallway. Bakugo turned to find the officer standing at the door of your bedroom.

Walking down the hallway, his gaze landed on the framed photos that lined the walls. They were snapshots of your life—moments you had chosen to remember, moments that once made him feel like he knew you.

One of those photos caught his eye, a picture of you and him together. It was taken after his birthday celebration. You’d begged him to take a picture with you. The photo was simple—he stood beside you, dressed in his usual attire, while you held onto his arm with a soft, playful smile. His eyes were focused elsewhere, but he remembered the night vividly. He remembered the warmth of the crowd, the laughter, the sense that something unspoken had passed between the two of you.

Now, the sight of that photo made him want to destroy it, to wipe away the reminder of how wrong everything had become.

“We found a safe in the closet,” the detective said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “We’re working on opening it now.”

“Good. If you don’t get it open soon, I’ll blow it open myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the officers worked on the safe, Bakugo took a moment to assess the room. His eyes scanned the surroundings, noting how much it didn’t match the woman he thought he knew. The room was too dull, too plain, for someone as vibrant and energetic as you.

The beige walls felt sterile, the white sheets on the bed lacking even the smallest touch of personality. It didn’t feel like you. It felt like an imposter.

He wondered if this was where you went to grieve in silence. If it was him, he’d feel suffocated by the emptiness of the space.

“Sir, come take a look at this.”

The detective’s voice broke through his thoughts again. Bakugo stepped over, looking down at the contents of the safe with growing unease.

A M1911 pistol rested on the first shelf, and beneath it, a picture and a clear bag containing something shiny—was that a necklace?

“Is it loaded?”

“No, sir.”

“Put the gun in the evidence bag.”

Bakugo’s eyes shifted to the photo, his stomach twisting as he picked it up. It was a picture of you and Moretti’s daughter, the little girl smiling with her toothless grin. And you… you looked so young, so full of life in the selfie you’d taken with her.

A sick feeling washed over him as the realization hit—this wasn’t just some random photo. It was proof that you were connected to Moretti in ways he hadn’t wanted to believe.

He slipped the picture into the evidence bag before his eyes fell to the necklace. It was a simple gold charm with the letter “N” etched into it. His fingers traced the surface as he turned it over, trying to make sense of it, but nothing clicked. He shoved it back into the bag without thinking.

Every inch of his body ached with betrayal. You were someone he’d trusted, and now he found out you had been lying to him the entire time. The woman he had secretly loved, who had kept him in the dark.

Turning away from the bedroom, he made his way back to the living room, the weight of what he’d just uncovered sinking deeper with each step. He was seething now—his body shaking with fury, the kind of anger that made it hard to breathe.

“Bakugo?”

Kirishima’s voice reached him just as his hands began to tremble. His red-haired friend stood frozen in the doorway, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell did you do, Bakugo?”

Bakugo’s teeth clenched. He didn’t care about what anyone else thought. He didn’t care about the way this might look. To him, the truth was clearer than ever.

“She’s working for Moretti.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Kirishima’s voice was laced with confusion, clearly not following his train of thought.

“Moretti’s daughter is her damn daughter. She’s the reason he’s even here.”

“No, man… you don’t know that. Calm down.”

Bakugo was beyond calming down. His voice rose, dripping with fury.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” His fist clenched, ready to put it through the wall if only to release the frustration coursing through him.

Kirishima shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Bakugos shaking hands. His heart sank as he pieced together what Bakugo must’ve found. “Okay,” he said carefully, “I’m not saying it doesn’t look bad. But we don’t know the full story yet.”

“I know enough.” Bakugo’s voice was lower now, but no less deadly. “She lied to us. She lied to me.”

Kirishima hesitated. “What if she didn’t? What if there’s more to this? Maybe she had a reason—”

“Reason?” Bakugo barked a humorless laugh. “You think there’s a reason good enough to keep photos of another man’s daughter? The man who’s been killing innocent women?” His voice cracked, and he abruptly turned away, his fists shaking at his sides.

Kirishima stepped closer, his voice softening. “I’m not saying Moretti isn’t scum. We both know he is. But we’ve got to be smart here. If we go off half-cocked—”

“I’m done talking,” Bakugo growled, cutting him off. “I’m done sitting around waiting for the truth to slap me in the face. I’m ending this. Tonight.”

“Bakugo, no!” Kirishima’s hand shot out, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Don’t do something you’ll regret. If you go after her now—”

A feminine voice cut through the tension, freezing both men in their tracks.

“Katsuki.”

Bakugo’s head snapped toward the sound, his breath hitching. Standing in the doorway, her figure silhouetted against the dim light, was the last person he wanted to see right now. Her gaze was steady, unreadable, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior.

YN POV

You had headed back home to grab a few things for the cabin, expecting a quick in-and-out trip. But as soon as you turned onto your street, your stomach dropped. Red and blue lights strobed against the darkened houses, and cop cars lined the road like a barricade.

Your heart pounded as you pulled to a stop, barely managing to put the car in park before you stepped out. Your house was the center of the commotion, its front door hanging ajar. Officers milled about, some talking into radios, others examining the scene.

Anger bubbled up, hot and unrelenting, pushing past the confusion. Your house was supposed to be your safe space, a sanctuary. Now it looked like a crime scene.

“What the hell is going on?” you demanded, striding toward the nearest officer.

“Ma’am, you can’t be here,” the officer said, holding up a hand to stop you.

“This is my house!” you snapped, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “Someone better tell me what’s going on right now.”

Detectives swarmed your house, tearing through your things, rummaging through your personal items with no care for your privacy. Bags of evidence piled up on your kitchen table, and a detective nearly barreled into you.

You froze in the doorway, your heart hammering in your chest. Among the chaos of the ransacked house, the sight of Bakugo and Kirishima arguing in front of your kitchen was the last thing you expected.

“Katsuki,” you managed, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to sound steady.

Both of them turned at the sound of your voice, but it was Bakugo who held your gaze—and the look on his face nearly stopped you cold. The fury in his eyes was unmistakable, a storm raging just beneath the surface.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he spat, his voice venomous and sharp enough to cut.

Your stomach twisted at the sheer hatred in his tone. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat.

Kirishima stepped forward, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “Hey, Bakugo, chill out for a second—”

“No,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off without looking away from you. “She doesn’t get to ‘chill out.’ Not after this.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like the ground beneath you was shifting, threatening to collapse entirely.

Kirishima noticed your stillness and laid a hand on your shoulder, but you yanked it off immediately, still frozen by Bakugo’s gaze.

“You raided my home?” 

“And I had a damn good reason to,” he snarled, his anger unrestrained.

“Why?” The words slipped out of your mouth, a mix of hurt and confusion.

Bakugo said nothing. He just glanced toward Kirishima.

“Detain her.”

“What? Are you out of your mind? She didn’t do anything!” Kirishima’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“I said detain her. That’s an order.”

The room was spinning. Your head felt light as Kirishima reluctantly moved toward you, his hands on your wrists, but he was gentler than Bakugo. You didn’t fight him, though. You knew it would only make things worse.

“It’s okay, Kiri.” you said, forcing a smile through the tightness in your chest.

Kirishima’s expression faltered, but he complied. He cuffed your hands behind your back, ensuring they weren’t too tight.

As Kirishima gently guided you toward the door, his grip more protective than forceful, you stole one last glance at Bakugo. But he wouldn’t look at you. He just stood there, staring at the floor, his fists still trembling at his sides.

You didn’t fight, didn’t plead anymore. The truth was about to come out and you couldn't stop it. 

---

The ride to the precinct was silent.

The cuffs were uncomfortable, but you refused to let the discomfort show. You sat with your back straight, eyes focused on the road ahead, trying to push away the suffocating feeling of betrayal and hurt threatening to take over.

Kirishima sat beside you, silent as well, his expression hard to read. He hadn’t spoken much after putting the cuffs on you. But you could feel the disappointment radiating off of him, just like you could feel Bakugo’s fury burning into your skin, even though you weren’t looking at him.

Your mind was racing, replaying every moment, every word, every glance exchanged between you and Bakugo.

There was a part of you that wanted to scream, to yell at him for thinking the worst of you. But you knew that wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make him see reason, or make him understand what you were trying to protect.

Kirishima’s hand on your shoulder felt comforting, but also distant.

"Y/N..." He spoke your name softly, like he didn’t want to push you further. “I know this is hard, but... you’ve got to trust me, okay? This will all get figured out."

You shook your head. “It’s not that simple, Kiri.”

"I know," he murmured. "But I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you."

The words were kind, but they did little to calm the storm inside of you. How could you explain everything? How could you make him, or Bakugo, understand that there was so much more to the story than they could ever imagine? 

“Hey, slow down a little, will ya?” Bakugo’s gruff voice cut through the tense silence, pulling your attention away from your frantic thoughts.

The driver didn’t answer. His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles turning white as the car weaved recklessly through traffic. The engine roared as he pressed harder on the gas, the speedometer needle climbing past 80 mph.

Bakugo shifted in his seat, glaring at the man behind the wheel. “Did you hear me? Slow the hell down!”

But the driver wasn’t fazed. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, jaw clenched, a sinister focus etched across his face.

Bakugo turned his attention to you and Kirishima in the backseat. “Put your fucking seat belts on. Now.”

Kirishima reached for his belt without hesitation. 

​​“I can’t,” you muttered, lifting your cuffed hands slightly.

“Shit,” Kirishima hissed, moving to help you before pausing. 

The unmistakable click of a gun echoed in the car, and you saw it—

“She leaves her seat belt off.”

The barrel of a gun pressed against the side of Bakugo’s head, his reflexes too fast for most, but this time, he was trapped. The driver held the weapon steady with one hand, the other gripping the wheel as the car swerved dangerously close to the divider.

Bakugo’s ruby eyes sharpened into daggers. His growl was low and menacing, each word laced with a promise of violence. “You really wanna point that thing at me? You won’t even have time to regret it.”

“Shut up,” the driver snapped, eyes darting to the rearview mirror to catch you and Kirishima. “If anyone moves, I’ll put a bullet in his skull.”

Kirishima started to speak, his voice cautious. “Hey, man, let’s not—”

“Quiet!” the driver barked, his voice cutting like a whip.

“Kirishima,” Bakugo said through gritted teeth, his tone eerily calm despite the gun at his temple. “Put her seat belt on.”

“No!” the driver roared. His voice rose in panic and anger as he glanced at you. “I said leave it off! If anyone tries anything, I’ll kill you all right here.”

Your breath hitched as you locked eyes with Bakugo. His jaw was set, his teeth grinding audibly. The unspoken rage in his glare was enough to shake anyone to their core.

“Kats, leave it,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Just... don’t.”

The car surged forward again, narrowly missing a merging vehicle. The tires screeched as the driver veered into another lane, the momentum slamming you against Kirishima. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

The car was speeding recklessly now, weaving through traffic at a breakneck pace. If he crashed, you knew there was no chance of survival.

You leaned closer to Kirishima, keeping your voice low enough that the driver wouldn’t hear. “8237 Alpine Avenue,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on him.

“What?” Kirishima’s brows knitted in confusion as he glanced at you.

“8237 Alpine Avenue,” you repeated, your tone urgent and unwavering. “Don’t forget that address.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?”

You leaned in closer, your gaze locking with his, every word you spoke heavy with determination. “If something happens to me, find the girl. She’s your priority. Do you understand? Promise me.”

His face paled, and his mouth opened to argue, but you didn’t give him a chance. 

Bakugo’s sharp voice pulled your attention back to the front. “You think you’re getting away with this?” he spat at the driver, his tone a mix of rage and scorn.

The driver sneered but didn’t respond. The tension was unbearable, and every nerve in your body screamed for an escape.

Then Bakugo’s voice cut through the chaos like a detonating bomb. “WATCH OUT!” 

The driver’s reaction was split-second—he jerked the wheel hard to the left to avoid the oncoming truck. The car swerved violently, tires screeching against the asphalt. Horns blared as other drivers slammed on their brakes, narrowly avoiding the spiraling vehicle.

The world seemed to tilt as the car lost control. You felt the terrifying weightlessness of your body being thrown forward, held back only by Kirishima’s arms as he shielded you with his bulk.

“Hold on!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of metal scraping and glass shattering.

The car spun out of control, skidding sideways before tipping. The deafening sound of crunching metal filled the air as the vehicle flipped.

Once.

Twice.

Your head slammed against the side of the door, stars bursting across your vision. The cuffs on your wrists dug painfully into your skin as you struggled to brace yourself.

“Y/N!” Kirishima’s voice was frantic, his grip tightening like a vice as he tried to keep you from being thrown around the cabin.

Then two gunshots rang out next.

The sharp crack was almost drowned by the chaos, but you saw the flash of the barrel as the driver fired in panic. The bullet shattered the windshield, fragments of glass spraying like deadly confetti.

Bakugo roared, his instincts kicking in despite the chaos. He lunged forward, slamming his elbow into the driver’s wrist. The gun flew from his hand, ricocheting off the dashboard and landing somewhere in the wreckage.

The car hit the guardrail with a bone-jarring crunch, flipping one last time before coming to a grinding halt on its side. Smoke and steam hissed from the crumpled hood as the vehicle groaned under its own weight.

Silence.

For a moment, the world seemed frozen, the air heavy with the acrid scent of burning rubber and gasoline. Your ears rang, the sound of your own ragged breathing the only thing grounding you.

“Y/N,” Kirishima rasped, his voice pained but steady. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you choked out, though your entire body ached. Blood trickled down your temple, and your hands were trembling as you tried to move.

A groan from the driver’s seat snapped you back to reality. The man was slumped over the wheel, dazed but alive.

Bakugo, however, was anything but dazed.

He kicked open what was left of the passenger door, his movements sharp and deliberate despite the blood dripping from a cut above his brow. His crimson eyes burned with fury as he reached in, dragging the driver out by his collar and slamming him against the side of the wreckage.

“You’ve got five seconds to tell me who sent you,” Bakugo snarled, his voice a lethal growl.

“Katsuki!” you called out weakly, struggling to sit up as Kirishima worked to try to free you from the wreckage.

Bakugo ignored you, his grip tightening on the driver’s shirt. “Five seconds,” he hissed, raising his fist. “Then you’re gonna wish you didn’t survive this crash.”

You tried to shift, to push yourself upright, but the moment you put weight on your left leg, a sharp, searing pain shot through you. It wasn’t just pain—it was like your body refused to move, as if the limb had simply given up.

“I—I think I broke my leg,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you clutched at the car door for support.

Kirishima’s head whipped around to look at you, his expression shifting from panic to something darker as his eyes traveled down to your leg. He crouched down, his hands hovering just above the injury as he took in the sight.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his face paling. “That’s not a break. You’ve been shot.”

Your breath hitched. You glanced down at your leg and saw it—the dark stain of blood spreading across your thigh, dripping down to pool at your feet. 

The pain in your leg was unbearable now, sharp and throbbing with every heartbeat. Your body screaming at you to stay conscious even as your vision swam.

“Fuck…” you groaned again, the dizziness hitting you like a wave. “I’m dizzy…”

“Hey, no, no, don’t do that.” Kirishima’s voice cracked, his worry palpable. “Don’t move. I’m gonna get Bakugo. Just hang on!”

You watched as he climbed out of the shattered car window, his movements frantic but deliberate. The muffled sound of his voice shouting for Bakugo was the only thing anchoring you to reality, though even that was fading fast.

The car felt like it was spinning, the metallic scent of blood and smoke filling your lungs. Each breath was harder than the last, and your eyelids grew heavier despite your best efforts to keep them open.

From outside, the sound of screeching tires from cars appearing and distant explosions shattered the chaotic silence. The fury in Bakugo’s signature blasts reverberated through the air, shaking the ground beneath the car. It was as though the world itself was trembling in response to his rage.

Your head lolled to the side, the edges of your vision darkening. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was the roar of Bakugo’s explosions, louder now, like he was right outside the car.

And then, nothing.

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @faetoraa @iissza @theasgardianmexican

[kangshxrtie]

Four | Use me

"Tell me, why'd you have to hit-and-run me? Now I'm all alone cryin' ugly" - Gone, Rosé

you and nien were acquaintances, sharing the same friends, major, and classes, yet you barely spoke. so imagine her surprise when she found you sitting in front of her door, curled up with a bottle of soju in your hand.

"y/n?" nien questioned, approaching you slowly.

you looked up, hoping one of your friends was finally home. "oh, hey nien," you greeted.

"don't mind me... just waiting for the others," you said before taking another sip of soju.

even though you two didn't talk much, nien knew this behavior was unlike you.

nien walked closer, concerned. "does anybody know you're here?"

"umm, no. my phone died because i haven’t charged it all day," you said, face-palming.

"okay, i'll let them know," nien said, pulling out her phone to text her roommates.

nien where are y'all? y/n is here

after a few seconds without a reply, nien decided she couldn't leave you out here while drunk. what if you wandered off or something happened to you?

"come on, let's get you inside," nien urged, helping you stand up and removing the bottle from your hand. she made sure to hold you upright as she unlocked the door, walked inside, and closed and locked it behind her.

"i know i said we should get closer... didn't think you would take up the offer so soon," nien joked as she helped you to the couch.

luckily, you weren't looking to take your anger out on her. "guess i just couldn't resist you."

nien laughed lightly before helping you sit down on the couch, setting your bottle on the coffee table. "stay here. i'll get you some water."

"nien," you called as she started to walk towards the kitchen.

"hmm?" nien turned back around almost immediately.

"let's drink together," you said, grabbing the bottle back and holding it up.

"i don't know if that's a good idea," nien said, noticing you were already quite drunk.

"please, i need this tonight," you pouted slightly.

nien thought it over. you did seem sad about something, and now you were in her house. what's the worst that could happen?

"okay," nien agreed with a nod.

"good. i don't like drinking alone," you said.

nien then went to the kitchen, returning with more drinks, two shot glasses, and some snacks. once she had everything, she set it down on the coffee table.

"do i get to know why you're in a drinking mood tonight now?" nien asked as she sat down on the couch opposite you.

"let's take a shot first," you said, pouring soju into the two shot glasses in front of you.

nien leaned forward to take one of the shot glasses, and you took the other, making eye contact before downing the shots together.

"she cheated on me," you slurred as soon as you placed your shot down.

she? all this time, nien thought you were straight. and cheated? she didn't even know you were in a relationship. you never mentioned dating anyone during your hangouts, at least not that she remembered.

"and it was with the girl she told me not to worry about," you revealed with a chuckle.

nien didn't know who this person was, but now she hated them. how dare they mess you up this much?

as you continued to spew nasty words about both of them, nien nodded along. but when you started crying, she didn't know what to do.

nien left her seat to sit next to you, letting you cry on her shoulder as she rubbed your back.

"she doesn't deserve you," nien told you, continuing to rub your back.

you didn't respond, only letting out small sniffles. "god, i hate this."

"do you want me to drink more so i won't remember this?" nien asked, making you laugh softly.

"would you?" you asked, not serious but curious.

nien immediately grabbed one of the bottles, opened it, and went to take a sip before you quickly stopped her. "wait, i was joking."

"are you sure? because i'm a lightweight; i'll get drunk real fast," she said.

"oh, so you finally admit it?" although you didn't talk much, whenever your group went out together, nien could never admit that she was drunk, even though she got red after only a couple of sips.

"don't tell the others," she whispered, even though nobody else was around.

"your secret's safe with me," you whispered back, playing along.

nien poured both of you shots, handing you yours. "you promise?" she held out her glass, signaling for you to clink your glass against hers.

you nodded, clinking your glasses together and downing the shots.

"by the way, did you know yunjin and chaewon are dating?" you asked after setting your glass down.

"i figured, but what does that have to-" nien paused, looking at you. "no... you're lying."

"i wish i was. i really fucking wish," you sighed.

"is yunjin the one you were dating?" nien asked.

you nodded solemnly, grabbing the bottle to take another swig, the shot glasses now forgotten.

"the crazy thing is nobody even knows about us, so i can't even do anything about it," you said.

"you should expose her. post something and get her canceled," nien suggested.

"she could deny everything since there's no proof."

"not even any couples items or pictures?" nien asked.

you shook your head. "it was a secret relationship. we—she didn't want anything that could expose us."

"i'm so stupid. of course she wanted to keep it a secret so she could date multiple people."

"no. she's stupid for taking advantage of you."

"that is true, but i should've known. she's not even famous enough to be in a secret relationship."

"don't blame yourself, y/n. i'll help you."

"what do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"you want revenge for what she did? i'll help you get it," nien said.

"how would we do that?" you questioned.

"well, do to her what she did to you."

"but i can't cheat. it goes against so many things i believe in," you said.

"you don't have to. just don't let her break your heart like this; you need to make her regret cheating on you by playing her game."

"so basically, i'm supposed to make her jealous and make it seem like i'm cheating on her," you clarified.

"exactly," nien nodded.

"but with who? i don't really talk to anybody outside of our friend group."

"use me," nien suggested with a shrug.

you raised an eyebrow at her wording.

"use me to make her jealous," nien clarified.

"what if this backfires and she makes me look bad?"

"there's no proof you two are dating," she said.

you thought it over, weighing the pros and cons. pros: you get revenge and avoid going out bad. you get closer to nien. cons: well, there weren't any, but that might be due to the number of drinks in your system.

"we have a deal," you said, pouring another glass for you and nien.

"i'll drink to that," nien said, clinking glasses with you for the second time that night, proud of what was to come.

"you're red," you pointed out, looking at nien's neck.

"shh, don't talk about it," she whined, trying her best to cover her neck.

"lightweight," you teased.

Masterlist ــــــﮩ٨ـ Next

[elvister]

Guys, its my Telegram channel, and I will be glad if you you sign up there :)

(P. S. : Everything there is only in Ukrainian language) And don't say that I didn't warn you, please!

Mr. Crawling, as soon as his feet set foot on your floor, liked to hide in the dark and from time to time scare you, but always unintentionally. Once, tired and exhausted after a hard day, you returned home and did not see your protector on the threshold - this added even more bitterness to your mood on a picturesque night.

Passing into the depths of the dark rooms, you reach for the switch, leaving the door slightly open to remember where you have already been and where you have not yet looked. Your eyes narrow in the dense darkness of the children's room, and suddenly you notice a tall, barely visible figure that has turned its head towards you. It looks at you intently, not taking its unseeing gaze off, and smiles broadly, and at that moment your blood freezes in your veins, and your stomach twists unpleasantly. You are not yet used to such tricks of this monster, although thoughts about it have visited your imagination more than once.

The ghost giggles quietly and a little squeakily, without taking a single step towards you. You were not sure what you were really trembling from: whether it was fear for you, or for your own child. She was sleeping peacefully in the crib, but you could only guess - the tall figure of a man was blocking her sleep from your eyes. His dark shadow seemed to be deliberately closing her from you, as if trying to protect her from her own mother.

Suddenly you turn on the light, and the room is filled with a bright glow. Mr. Crawling falls to his knees with a flash, as if nothing had happened. He crawls towards you, dragging a dark robe behind him and combing the floor with his coal and long hair. Your heart is still beating faster when you decide to slowly look up at the child. And indeed, she was peacefully dozing in her crib. Your feet lead you to her to make sure of this, leaving the monster on the doorstep alone. As soon as you look into the baby's crib, you see her tightly closed eyes and a calm, relaxed expression on her face. You exhale with relief, and out of the corner of your eye you notice that the blanket covers her up to her neck and remember that you covered her up to her stomach. A calm smile appears on your face and a soft and caring look when your head turns to your partner, because you already guessed that this was his handiwork. He giggles again and waits for you at the exit door, carefully watching your every move.

—I'm proud of you, you're good. I love you, — you whisper, stroking Mr. Crawling's head. His soft hair was pleasant to the touch, which made you want to hold your hand on it. The monster giggled and repeated your words, addressing himself, because the voice and praise of his beloved is the best reward that exists for a black-haired man.

// Enjoy reading ☕🫖

[pennylane-dreams]

Apple Scruff Carol Bedford’s “relationship” with George Harrison Part 2

After returning to London in May 1970, Carol’s story becomes more “intimate” I would say as her “relationship” with George continues. The Apple scruffs witness the break up of the Beatles and the drama between everyone and even describes an incident where reporters physically attack George outside the studios and the scruffs help remove the reporter and get George to his car to escape, also making sure no one else attack the other members when they leave the building.

There are a few odd interactions with Mal but he was known for hitting on the scruffs. Margo warns the others that Mal uses your interest in one of the Beatles to make his own pass. I’m aware those incidents are described Living the Beatles Legend.

After staying almost all night outside the studios, the scruffs decide to call it a night and head home. Carol states on her way to where she’s staying, George’s car pulls up beside her. During this interaction, George gives her a book; The Autobiography of a Yogi by Yogananda. There's been a few people that have said that George would give out this book to friends and family.

“I want you to remember something that will help you,” George said, seriously. “God is in you and everyone. We all have God in us.”

The next day, Mal finds Carol and asks her if she read the book yet and said that George was “anxious” on her opinion of it.

There’s interaction Carol and George was when Carol was heading to her bus stop after leaving the studio. George’s car pulls up beside her and offers her a ride home, which she says yes to. It’s sad conversation, both of them are talking about depression and he talks about the pressure of being a Beatle and his lack of privacy. Carol offers him a number to a clinic where he can talk to someone about his depression. I can see one of them venting to a fan or to someone who will listen especially with everything that was happening during that time. Unfortunately, Carol just had to tell the others about the car ride and the talk they had which she shouldn’t have done. It’s not their business.

“This is special. You’re the only one of us to get close to one of them. […] I’ve had loads of conversations with Paul but none that personal. George was treating you like a friend. […]”

Jumping ahead to the day where Mal asks the girls to come into the studio. Entering the control room and are played the song Apple Scruffs for the first time which they was in awe. They thank George for the song and even gift him flowers later.

The 1970 Christmas party part was a little crazy to me. Carol sent George a letter, thinking he was making fun of them by coming out of the studio saying how “warm” it was in there and it’s cold outside. (No one making camp outside girly. That’s on you lol). During this conversation, it almost feels like a "confession" scene that George says while drunk.

“He [George] gently pushed me into a narrow area where the filing cabinets made a small box square. […] George stepped in front of me and leaned against the wall. He then pulled me closer in front of him. […]

'If you think of me, I'll be there. I'm with you always, in here.' he tapped my breast gently and removed his hand. 'I'm not sure what you mean by that. it would be impossible to "get over you." Every time I turn on the radio, I'll hear your voice. [...]". “I’ll [George] always be with you. We’re apart of each other. I wrote a song about us the other day. It goes like: I, I, I love you. You, you, you love me. We’re together always. We’re in each other. You don’t need to see me walk out of a building, do you?”

Who knows what happened at the party but drunk men can say pretty wild stuff.

As the story goes, Carol continues on with her small moments with George and her relationship with the other scruffs.

One of the craziest things she said in this book is implying that George wanted to start an affair with her by moving her into a LA apartment so he can visit her without the media finding out which of course doesn’t sound like George at all but this is Mal telling her that this is what George wants, only for Mal to force a kiss on her. So either Mal was telling the truth or wanting her to be vulnerable to make a move on her.

After this, she decides she needs to stop “waiting” outside the studio for George and move on with her life which is understandable. She does what she can to avoid him and the last time she saw George was when he entered the A&M Records (where she was working at the time) when he was creating his own label Dark Horse Records.

I know people don’t like Carol’s book and say she lied about most of the things in her book but I found it interesting and I’m not taking it to heart. I remember reading something about George being upset about the book, but I can’t remember where.

It does at first feel like reading someone’s diary but it takes a turn half way through. It does read a lot like fanfiction and if it was, it would probably do well on Wattpad to be honest.

Excerpts from Waiting for the Beatles and photo from fellow fan.

[thiccsoftserved]

The Buffet/Stuffing in Public

Content Warning: References to childhood food restriction

The car ride to the buffet is short, but is filled with extreme anxiety. Your partner has been feeding you so well that you put on more weight than you expected since the last time you saw your family. You have outgrown all your pants and the leggings you are wearing tonight are brand new.

"I don't want to pop a button at dinner," you remarked lightly when getting dressed. Your partner then had playfully pouted, wrapping their arms around you from behind and tucking their hands under the swell of your gut.

The thing you are most nervous for is seeing your mother. She had always been an “Almond Mom” and made sure that you and your siblings had been extremely thin growing up. You know she is going to make a comment of your recent weight. Maybe a month or two ago you could have hidden yourself under baggy clothes and Spandex, but now there is an unmistakable curve to your middle that you can't hide when sitting down. And even then she will notice your widened hips and the softness of your jawline.

You squirm in the passenger seat, wishing you hadn’t eaten so much for lunch. Your stomach growls loudly and you absentmindedly rest a hand on your upper belly, rubbing and giving a small hum of disapproval. It feels like something is trying to break free and usually that's a point of arousal, but tonight it just reminds you of everything your mom said about chubby people when you were younger.

Your partner gazes at you hungrily, glancing at you when the road is clear, “You’re so sexy, you know? I know you’re worried your mom is going to say something, but you are so perfect and soft.”

That does make you feel a bit better and you shift in your seat, adjusting your seatbelt around your belly. Your partner steals another glance and then taps the steering wheel, letting out a small groan.

"What?" You ask.

"Fuck, sorry, you're just so hot," they say, "Should we pull over and fuck in the backseat?"

You roll your eyes, "We'll be late for dinner."

"Okay..." they say, "I'll just have to stuff you in front of your family and then explore all your curves when we get home."

"I'm not going to eat a lot tonight."

Your partner is silent and you can tell they trying to think of something to rebuff that. They turn up the music and neither of you say anything for the rest of the car ride. You arrive to the buffet and see your family getting out of their cars. Your mother says hi to each of your siblings and then goes to hug you. There is an obvious hesitation as she rakes her eyes down your body, but she doesn't say anything.

You all go inside and take your seats around the largest table in the establishment. As people get up to go to the buffet, your partner puts a hand on your arm.

"Want me to grab you a plate?" They ask.

You pause, but then something flips inside you and you feel ravenous. A pit opens in your stomach and the look you receive from your mother across the table hardens your resolve.

"Yes," you say, "and forget what I said in the car. Get me one of everything."

Your partner beams at you and makes good on that. They run away and return with a plate piled high. Chicken kabobs, cornbread, pizza, sausage rolls, salad, shrimp, mashed potatoes, mixed veggies, and a healthy scoop of fruit salad. While everyone else is talking you dig in and you don't care what they're saying. With each bite you can feel your partner's eyes on you, full of love and lust, and you are aware of your mother sitting at the far end of the table scrutinizing your eating. You don't care.

You make it through half of the plate and your stomach starts to strain. The feeling spreads through your abdomen, making your entire body tingle. You continue to eat, your belly pushing out so far that the table starts digging into you. A burp rumbles up and you take a second to stifle it. It's the first time you've looked up since you started. You're breathing heavily and another burp almost comes out, but you shove it down. You sit back for a moment, wiggling in your chair to reprieve the table pushing your middle. You resist rubbing your belly. This is a family event.

You get your breathing under control, but it still feels difficult to take a full breath. Suddenly your partner's hand is on your shoulder. Their eyes are dark and filled with unmistakable lust. You know that look... they want to throw you down on the bed and climb on top of you.

"Are you going to finish your plate?" They ask.

You go to answer, but all you can do is nod. What wanted to come out was a moan, but not here. Not in front of family.

You go back to the plate, but you're slower this time. Bite after bite the mountain of food disappears into you and you think that you're so stuffed you might not be able to get out of the chair you're in without help. It's almost like the back of your throat is also filling up.

Another burp, this one is actually kind of loud. A couple of your family members look over and your mom shoots you a glare made of daggers. You cover your mouth and apologize, hiding a smile. Your partner's hand finds your knee and squeezes it, sending a thrill through your core.

Somewhere during the rest of the plate your partner gets up and heads back to the buffet. Maybe for seconds? For them or for you? You don't think you'll be able to put any more away if they do bring more, but you'll certainly try. You're entire body feels gigantic and round, like a doll full of stuffing.

You finish the last bite of mashed potatoes just as your partner returns and they set down a giant slice of chocolate cake in front of you. Looking up at them, you wonder if they can see the dizziness in your eyes. You're starting to feel light headed. Do they really want you to eat dessert too?

They grab your face with a hand, squeezing your soft chin. Then they lean forward and kiss you.

They are still nose to nose with you, gripping your jaw as they say, "You're going to eat dessert, too, right?"

You heave a giant sigh and pick up a fork, feeling like you might pass out as you take the first bite of chocolate cake. The buzz of people around you dies out into the background as you shove down the whole slice. You feel another burp coming and this time you don't try to stop it at all.

A couple of the people at the table laugh and make a joke or two, but your brain is almost fuzzy with delirium. You are so warm, so round, so stuffed, so soft. You know they're going to talk about this later, but right now you want to go home and have your partner explore all your curves. Just like they wanted. Because how could you possibly refuse them now?

----------

This is a slightly longer one. Let me know if you like it 🥰 I love the idea of being stuffed in public.

[sadiecoocoo]

Hazel, Sweet and Dynamic Chp. 5 - Arcane Fanfiction

Summary - While Viktor notices more and more things wrong with Jayce, their relationship reaches a climax

Word Count - 3,817

Full Word Count - 15,469

Read on Ao3

Previous Chapter

Chp. 1

Notes: I wrote half of this in one sitting you guys can live with the typos anyways I'm back in school and need to make the gay men suffer because of it so things will be getting SO MUCH WORSE

The two had held onto each other for what felt like an eternity. It was one Viktor would gladly spend with Jayce, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to delve into why he felt that way.

The only thing that convinced the two to separate was the toll of their physical needs. Both of their bad legs were begging them to move to a more comfortable position. That combined with the two’s growing hunger was enough to do the trick.

Viktor bid Jayce to lay down, to rest his eyes, while he fixed some food. Jayce clung to his arm when he stood, holding him in place for a solid five minutes before relenting and letting go. Viktor hadn’t said a word the entire time it happened, only placed his hand over Jayce’s and squeezed it.

They ate silently after Viktor brought the hastily made meal back to Jayce. It honestly felt suffocating. Viktor thought there was more he should say, something like “I’m sorry,” or “I shouldn’t have gotten mad,” but he couldn’t force the words out. 

He honestly still felt like he was right. Viktor might always be bitter about the fact that Jayce still wanted to leave. If the other man’s occasional glances back towards the lab were any hint, he clearly still felt the urge to work on a way home.

Once Viktor had finished eating, he watched as Jayce only mindlessly picked at his food, pushing the chunks in the stew around with his spoon. Viktor was once again reminded by how much had truly changed.

There had been many days in the lab where Viktor had to be physically dragged away from his desk just so he could meet his basic needs. It would always be Jayce that finished his food first, though he still sat next to Viktor and silently made sure he finished as well.

Viktor was starting to hate everything that had changed. Why couldn’t they go back to that easy comradery that they had fallen into, that silent routine that brought them so much comfort and warmth?

“Viktor,” Jayce said, breaking him out of his stupor. He looked back at Jayce, who still looked like a kicked puppy. It made Viktor want to hug him again and this time never let go. “I-I can stop.” He continued quietly.

Viktor blinked once, twice. He furrowed his brow as Jayce nodded towards the lab, a silent explanation.

Oh. he was offering to give it all up. Just like that. It was what Viktor had wanted, but it brought a pit into his stomach. It would’ve made him lose his appetite if he hadn’t already finished eating.

“I-” He started, breaking off as he suddenly became very unsure of his words. Last time he managed to mess everything up, he didn’t want to repeat that so soon. He steeled himself for a decision that he would likely regret later, that would make him even more bitter with time.

“No, you deserve to go home.” He said, surprising the both of them. Jayce looked down contemplatively, then returned Viktor’s gaze with a confused expression, his mouth open as if to protest.

“This isn’t a world that we could be happy in for long,” Viktor could be happy, if he had Jayce with him. Being alone in this world seemed worse than death, but with Jayce it seemed like a paradise. “After everything that’s happened, we deserve to live an easy life with the people we love.” Jayce deserved it.

Jayce blinked at him for a moment, he looked lost on what to say. He looked down at the ground, picking at his food again before turning back to face Viktor. He smiled lightly.

“Thank you, Viktor.” He said, relief bleeding into his voice. Viktor nodded with a small hum, smiling back at him through his watering eyes.

After the incident, things went back to normal. Jayce noticeably stopped working in the lab as much. He went outside more often, insisting that he accompany Viktor on some of his expeditions.

The two of them were around the bridge now. Jayce looked over at its crumbling form as Viktor picked through a dumpster on the side of a dilapidated building. It probably would have held one of the luckier trenchers, being so close to the bridge.

Viktor found an old child’s toy that had a few gears and screws in it. It would be useful for whenever they got restless, but not for anything more than a bit of tinkering. He put it in the small sack Jayce had sewn anyway.

He turned back towards Jayce, who was leaning on his cane and staring out into the golden city. The shining bronze and pristine white were dull with age and had the same growths of arcane as the undercity did.

Viktor went up to his partner, his own cane clopping against the ground. It felt strange to be using it again, but after his fall and overextension of his bad leg, he found it more difficult to rest his weight on it without feeling sore quickly.

Jayce made him a cane when he had been out. He hadn’t said a word when he handed it to Viktor. Viktor had taken it solemnly and used it as necessary.

“Have you been across the bridge?” Jayce asked once Viktor stopped beside him. Viktor followed Jayce’s gaze. From the bridge, it was a straight shot to the hexgates. If it weren’t for the decay and crumbling of the buildings, it would have been fairly easy for them to go all the way to the top.

“No,” Viktor responded with a sigh. “It never felt right to go without you.” He added. For some reason, he almost felt guilty about it, like he was pushing an obligation onto Jayce.

Jayce sighed and Viktor turned to look at him. The man seemed to have permanent bruises under his eyes, sleeping coming to him less and less as the days went by. His mouth was set in the frown that Viktor noticed more often.

Viktor felt as though they were about to have a conversation. The kind where everything either went horribly wrong or surprisingly right. The kind where one of them broke down into tears for one reason or another.

Instead, Jayce turned his back to the golden city. He limped back towards their humble home, his own cane causing an echo that bounced through the alleyways.

A marionette turned its head to follow him as he passed. 

Viktor and Jayce sat around the fireplace. They had managed to find some wood that would be suitable enough to start a fire. With the lightbulb having finally gone out, and little hope of finding another one that wasn’t completely broken, this was the next best thing.

They sat close to one another, with the blanket around both of their shoulders. It reminded Viktor of those first few days they spent in this world. The two of them had been near inseparable, curling up together at any chance they got.

He wasn’t sure when the change happened, when things got so tense between them. Maybe it was just Jayce having finally realized that he was near cuddling with a murderer who had nearly caused a genocide. He hoped that Jayce hadn’t realized that, or that if he did he didn’t care. He hoped it had been something else.

Jayce had still only been picking at his food, taking meager bites and scrunching up his nose whenever he did. It looked like a genuine struggle to swallow it down. It was worrying Viktor. The days were getting colder and the nights were getting even worse, he needed to eat.

“Is the food not to your tastes?” Viktor asked, because this time he was the one to cook and he had no qualms about guilt tripping his partner into eating. He knew he wasn’t a better cook than Jayce, so it was very likely that he had just happened to mess it up and that was why Jayce was struggling to keep it down.

Jayce let out a huff, a small smile gracing his lips. Those were becoming rarer, Viktor realized. He blamed it on the weather. Jayce had always had a strenuous relationship with the cold, for good reason. Viktor couldn’t imagine how much worse it must be when they were living in these conditions.

Abruptly, Jayce started to cough. They were small huffs at first as he scrunched his nose. Then he started coughing into his fist and trying to clear his throat.

For a moment, Viktor stared. It felt strange being on the other side of something like this. It felt like he was watching himself from another’s eyes. He wondered how long it had taken others to notice that he had been truly sick.

With a blink, he broke out of his stupor. He grabbed the mug of still warm water and handed it to Jayce when he reached for it. The other man seemed to down it in one go, setting it down next to him with a strained exhale.

“Sorry,” Jayce muttered, “must’ve been a tickle in my throat.” He shrugged, looking at Viktor sheepishly.

Viktor looked down at his food before answering.

“It’s alright.” He said softly.

Viktor was sitting at the table, writing in the small notebook he had found around a week ago. It had a couple of pages already filled with various drawings. He had finally given Jayce something to do other than research that wasn’t needed to survive.

He had seemed happier, being able to draw little things. Viktor had even caught Jayce drawing him a couple of times, much to his surprise. It was flattering, and made his chest ache in ways he couldn’t explain.

Viktor enjoyed writing as well, little things like observations of their environment or a few poems. He had banned Jayce from reading those, and in turn promised not to snoop on his private works as well. Though, the urge was still there, and he knew Jayce felt a similar way.

Viktor had been writing down his observations of a plant he had found when their refound peace was broken again. The plant had the same arcane corruption on it, much like the plants he had experimented on with the hexcore. It was scary to think that the device still had so much influence on this place.

Viktor had been writing when he heard something shatter in the kitchen. When he heard the hitching of breath and something falling with a thud.

He sat there a moment, blinking into the doorway that led into the kitchen. Jayce had been making them lunch.

He hurried into the kitchen, practically tripping over his own two feet before steadying himself in the doorway. His breathing was ragged with panic.

Jayce sat against the cabinets next to the stove, shaking and breathing hard. There was a shattered plate next to him, along with scattered ingredients that had fallen with it.

“Jayce!” Viktor exclaimed before rushing over to him and crouching down in front of him. He didn’t react to the call, only sat there, shuddering with each ragged breath. He wasn’t looking at him, more through him, with glazed eyes.

Viktor placed a hand on his shoulder, making the man flinch and let out a sound akin to a whimper. He moved back, terrified of making things worse. He had no idea what he was even supposed to do. He’d never dealt with something like this before.

“Jayce, please, can you hear me?” he asked softly, looking for some kind of recognition. He couldn’t help if Jayce didn’t talk to him and he couldn’t stand not being able to help. He couldn’t just sit there while his partner was shaking on the floor and unresponsive.

He tried several more times to get Jayce’s attention. They all had similar results. The only difference was that Jayce had started to curl in on himself even more, with his hand digging into his hair and his knees pulled to his chest in a way that Viktor knew made his leg twinge.

It was then that Viktor noticed the blood on Jayce’s wrist. The way it was shaking so much more fiercely than the rest of him. Viktor blinked several times, then glanced over to the broken plate.

Blood was on the edges of some of the shards as well.

He turned back to analyze Jayce’s wrist. It was the same that once held his beloved rune, the rune that an older version of Viktor had gifted him to help him discover his dream. It was the rune that had been embedded into his skin and later ripped out when he gave it to Viktor and fulfilled his promise.

During the time that different worries and theories flooded through Viktor’s head, Jayce’s breathing started to get steadier. He was looking at Viktor now, looking as the other man stared dagger at his bleeding wrist. Looking at the blatant concern making his brow furrow.

“Vik?” He asked hoarsely, breaking the other man out of his stupor.

Viktor visibly flinched, but quickly recovered. He sat there with his arms outstretched for a moment, wondering if he still shouldn’t touch. The urge to hug Jayce was so perilously great. It was another foreign feeling that he wasn’t sure whether to loathe or accept.

Before he could make up his mind, Jayce grabbed his wrists and pulled him against his chest. Viktor gasped quietly, sucking in a breath. He placed his hands on Jayce’s shoulders and gripped them firmly.

“Wh-what happened?” He asked, somehow sounding worse than Jayce. He grasped Jayce’s shoulder in a death grip, like if he even thought of letting go, the other man would dissolve through his fingertips.

“I’m okay,” Jayce reassured. And how cruel was Viktor to be the one in need of reassurance? “Just-” He broke off, not yet ready to speak.

Viktor was torn between forcing it out of Jayce, of finding a way to make sure whatever just happened would never happen again, and giving him the time he needed. He bit his lips to keep his endless questions from flowing.

For a long time they remained silent. Jayce’s breathing became shallower and calmer, smooth like the morning shore. All the while Viktor had never felt so high-strung. Viktor was walking on a tight-rope, so precariously that the faintest gust of wind would make him fall.

The wind blew, and he couldn’t resist leaving himself with so many questions. He was a scientist, after all.

“What happened?” He asked again, forcefully this time. He felt Jayce’s shoulders tense, he felt the way Jayce’s jaw set firmly and his chest stuttered with another hiccuping breath. Viktor pulled away to look him in the eyes, though he kept his hands on Jayce’s shoulders.

“It just-” he tried again, pausing a moment before he fully regained his voice, “happens, sometimes.” He forced out, the words biting like a snake.

“What does?” Viktor interrogated. He felt more and more uneasy with each breath. He squeezed Jayce’s shoulders, his fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

“Sometimes I’m reminded of the bad things that happened and I just shut off, I don’t know.” He snapped, not looking Viktor in the eyes. The other man could see them anyway, how they were red-rimmed and still a little hazy.

“What set it off?”

“The smell.” he muttered, nodding towards one of the newt he had been chopping up to cook.

Viktor wrinkled his nose as he looked at its bloodied form. If he really paid attention, he could smell rot. The thing had gone bad, it had probably been stuffed in the back of their small pantry.

Viktor felt a pang of sorrow strike his gut. He let go of Jayce’s shoulders.

In a way, Viktor was still the cause for Jayce’s grief. Perhaps if he had never left in the first place, Jayce would have had no reason to go to the hexgates. And was it not him that left Jayce in that cave to rot for so long? Was it not him that had in some way caused all of their problems?

Neither of the two men looked at each other. Eventually, Jayce stood and went into the living room. Viktor soon heard the ruffling of covers as Jayce decided to rest early.

Viktor threw out the rotten newt, and any others that he suspected.

It was the middle of the night. Neither of them were sleeping, though they were both lying down on their shitty mattress, holding each other tightly. VIktor didn’t think that Jayce had slept the entire half day he had been laying in bed. Viktor couldn’t fault him for it.

There was something dark unfurling in Jayce’s mind. Viktor could practically see it emerging in real time. He ate less. He worked less. He even slept less now. It was all too similar to his own experiences for Viktor to not be at peace as well.

Something was in his own mind too. Something that whispered and taunted and told him to leave Jayce be. It told him that this kind, loving, beautiful man was not meant for him. It told him that he was infecting Jayce with his darkness and would continue to do so until one of them died.

He closed his eyes, willing the darkness away. It would not leave, no matter how far he pushed it away. It was always at the edge of his mind, rearing its head when he was at his weakest.

He had never felt so weak as he did now.

He was accustomed to being weak, to not being able to do things everyone else could. He was used to the days he couldn’t stand without falling, to the days he couldn’t even make himself get out of bed because the pain was so great.

He was not accustomed to being useless. To having to sit back and watch as someone he loved so dearly rotted away. He was not used to having to observe from a distance, where the only thing he could do was place a hand on his shoulder, or give him a hug once the worst of an episode was over. It all felt worthless in the long run.

Was this what Jayce had dealt with when Viktor had been dying? Had he felt as useless as Viktor did now? Did he cry and pray and beg t whatever higher being existed that things would not end this way? That he would still be given a second chance?

They both had been given what felt like a million chances, each they somehow messed up worse than the last.

The first second chance must have been when they first proved Hextech’s worth. How he longed to go back to those first days. To the time when Viktor’s illness was far enough away that he could live in the moment. He longed to go back to something as simple as the Innovator's Competition.

They would never be given another simple life like that again. And it was all his fault.

“What are you thinking about?” Jayce asked, cutting into the agonizing silence. It felt like he had just broken some kind of rule. Whenever they had both been stuck awake they only lied there in silence.

“Why don’t you hate me?” He blurted. He didn’t know the words were on his tongue. Nevertheless, they pushed their way past his lips.

“How could I?” Jayce whispered back.

“I’ve ruined everything. I killed so many people. I left you in a cave for weeks. I’ve been so cruel to you while we’ve been here.” Viktor said, listing every transgression he could in the moment. There were so many more. There were endless reasons for Jayce to hate him, to throw him away like the sump rat he was.

“All I do is make mistakes.” He finished weakly. He looked down at the pillow his head was against. He could not meet Jayce’s eyes at this moment, he couldn’t.

“The times I’ve spent with you have been the best times of my life, Viktor.” Jayce started, his voice so achingly soft. Viktor silently begged him to stop talking.

“The nights spent working in the lab when we could barely talk without sounding like we were high, one of those nights had been the first time I had heard you really laugh. I thought it was the most beautiful sound.” Jayce paused as he let out a small sigh. “Those few times I convinced you to go to brunch with me and you got the most obscenely sweet thing you could find,” stop, stop, stop Jayce had to stop!

“That first time I got you to go to one of those stupid galas with me, and you wore the most stunning suit. It was the dark purple one, almost black, with all the gold accents. All I could think about was that it would have been perfect if you had some Talis red on you.” Viktor closed his eyes tightly. He sucked in a breath.

“The first night we met,” Jayce gently wiped a tear that had snuck its way down Viktor’s cheek, “When you convinced me to fight for my dream with every tooth and nail.” He rubbed his thumb along Viktor’s cheek bone. He couldn’t keep his eyes shut any longer.

Viktor stared into Jayce’s hazel eyes. The eyes that were so sweet, and beautiful, and made him feel loved even though he deserved all the hate that the world could throw at him. His breath hitched, and it suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe at all.

“When you gave me a reason to live.” Jayce finished quietly. It felt like he was saying a vow. Viktor didn’t think he had ever seen the man wear such a bright smile. After days of nothing but small smirks that looked like he was being held at gunpoint, Viktor felt like he was staring at the galaxy itself. He was suddenly surrounded by so much color once again. And once again, the hazel stood out the brightest.

“What are we?” Viktor asked, because it had been eating him alive for the past few months that they had been entirely alone together, and if he had to wonder for another minute he would be devoured.

“Does it matter?” Jayce asked with a huff, “We’re together. I love you.”

Viktor cried then, fully cried. He felt tears track down his cheeks and snot dribble down his nose. He must have been disgusting. He must have been disgusting, but Jayce leaned in anyway.

He was horrible, and worthless, and was the reason everything had gone wrong. But Jayce still pressed his lips to Viktor’s and muttered a million promises that he would stay with him forever.

End Notes: kiss kiss smooch time <3 I'm gonna be real I do not enjoy writing kiss scenes and I cannot write smut so you guys get abstract kisses where your dirty little minds can wander whereever they want to go (or you can be really cutesy with it and give them cuddle time) anyways, things will still be getting worse and I've thought of a bad ending to give them so… (maybe it'll be a grey area ending tho I have a few different ideas) also I'm gonna guess that there are about 2 more chapters left (always subject to change) so yeah :) also fun fact I was debating making this chapter the last one and then I realized that I left so many plot holes and I still wanted them suffer I love you guys so much and you guys please manifest a snow day on friday the weather says it'll snow but my school system is borderline abusive and might not give us a snow day so let's all use the magic of friendship and summon it together!!! (If I sound insane it's because I'm horribly sleep deprived because my sleep schedule is majorly fucked :D) anyways, thx for reading! I always appreciate comments and try to reply to as many as I can <3

[flameleads]

He couldn’t get air into his lungs. He fell into the sea, and, as if he was always meant to drown, he couldn’t hope to get out. 

Why, though? He thought he was safe this time. He was careful. The sun did not melt his wings like he previously thought. Nay, the wax remained intact.

Simple: he looked down, and he didn’t look back up. He wasn’t sure he could.

The fabric of Maes’ shirt was almost enough to silence Roy’s cries. Even though he wanted to, he did not completely smother his face into Maes’ shoulder. Idly, he wondered if perhaps that would stop him from nearly hyperventilating in front of the man he loved. If he could just breathe, and manage to get a few, rational words out, then everything would make sense. This? Bawling like an infant who only wanted to be held in a warm embrace? Ridiculous. Obscene. Deplorable. 

This was not the man Maes said he loved. Fire incarnate, he was supposed to be a welcoming hearth for his man to sit next to on a cold day, a torch to light his way, or a wildfire that took down forests if left untamed. What Maes held in his arms were mere embers, soaked from the sea as he could not stop himself from weeping. Pathetic. 

Five minutes passed, and he hardly slowed his pace. The tears couldn’t stop. He couldn’t move from his spot. His hands continued gripping Maes with all the strength he could muster while his body quaked. 

Another five minutes passed. His breathing began to calm as his body stilled. Calloused hands relaxed their grip, but did not let go. 

Several minutes, or close to an eternity, later, a quiet voice broke the silence.

“I loved you since we were at the academy,” Roy murmured as he spoke more to the floor, his head bowed, “I knew it then. When you said you joined the military to protect the woman you loved, I wanted to tell you that you already did. She was me.” Roy offered the floor a weak smile for a brief few seconds before his frown returned. “But, I couldn’t risk it. Not with our country as it is, and not with the anti-frat laws. I wasn’t about to damage your career like that. So, you got married and had a daughter while I kept up my reputation, and I worked on attaining the Presidency.”

The hands gripping Maes trembled. With a sharp inhale of air, his breathing stuttered. He just stopped crying. Starting again would be absurd. Everything was fine. Maes was alive and right in front of him. Couldn't he see that? Why did he keep quaking like this?

“But… then you died, Maes. When I was in East City.” Why did his voice break? He made this report before. He had to before he transferred. Moreover, Maes knew what happened. It happened to him. “I don't remember what happened after the phone call. The Lieutenant took me home, and I woke up there the next morning. I don't remember if I even changed that morning before I left for Central.” Roy forced himself to pause and breathe, his hands moving to his sides. 

“I went to your funeral. I listened to Gracia and Elicia cry–she asked why they were burying you, and none of us could console her. I saw the phone booth. I listened as Major Armstrong said he couldn't tell me who killed you.” As he spoke, his hands clenched into fists. “And, after all of that, I promised I would find your killer and bring them to Hell myself. What I did to Lust is nothing compared to the funeral pyre I plan to make for the one who took you from me.”

At last, obsidian dared to look into hazel. Alive and on fire, the blaze in Roy moved with his quick breaths. The water on his face, an element said to make the Flame useless, glistened in the soft lighting of his living room. With one deep inhale, and then another, the fire began to calm. Several deep breaths later, a solemn voice, barely above a whisper, left the embers standing in front of Maes.

“I told a ghost I loved him. Without him, I was lost. How would I go anywhere without mi Estrella Polar? I said all this to an empty grave, not once thinking it was empty. That you were alive, Maes.” He tried to smile, but such an attempt was in vain. His lips quivered with the rest of him—as if he hadn’t fully dried from being underwater. 

“I never stopped loving you. Not once, even when I told myself I should. And now… you're saying everything I dreamed of hearing. You want to be mine when I’ve wanted nothing more since we were cadets. But…” Again, his clenched hands trembled as his gaze moved to the floor. “How do I know you won’t be taken from me again? I couldn’t protect you before. If I go through with these plans–to overthrow the Homunculi and Senior Staff—what will stop them from taking you? I can’t–I can’t lose you again.”He bowed his head as tears cascaded down his cheeks, the sea claiming him once more. Perhaps water truly did make him useless.

He saw that beautiful smile of his and that was what made his heart soar. He couldn't help but watch him as he spoke to him. Maes heart fluttering and he could feel himself giddy even for the fact that this happened, though that only lasted for a bit before he admitted how he truly felt for Roy.

Maes didn't expect to see this man cry so hard over his words, it caught him off guard. His heart tightening as he watched this man hide his face in his shoulder and sob.

Maes didn't say anything he just wrapped his arms around him and held him close, he let him wail. It was the first time he saw this man break down the way he did.

Did Maes say something wrong?

He sure hoped not, but if he did he was sure Roy would tell him eventually. He knew that Roy hardly ever cried this hard and it felt like he was the only one to see such a sight and all he could do was let him lean against his shoulder. A hand against the back of Roy's head as he continued to hear the loud sobbing that had been coming out of him.

Maes would always be here for this man. He wouldn't dare leave his side, even if he didn't feel the same like he thought he did. His heart remained open for Roy. If they had to take their time with things he was willing to do that.

There were things he hadn't realized about Roy. How Roy felt about him for all those years. He had been oblivious to everything and if that were the case if he have said something now, Maes would feel guilty having not notice him like he should have. He was already feeling guilty for not noticing his very own feelings for Roy.

He squeezes the man softly, letting him know that he's not moving or going anywhere. He wants him to see that this wasn't a dream, that this was really happening. They were in this room together expressing how they feel for one another. Even if it was taking both of them this long to say or admit to anything.

"It's okay, Roy. I'm here... I'm here." He whispers, the other hand rubbing Roy's back to comfort him, to let him see that Maes was HERE and he was alive and he was so very much in love with Roy Mustang.