#at least she gets a bit of tlc

[thejesterstears]

Hi there! I love your fanfics :)

A few posts ago, you referenced a Pomni period cramp fanfic that you wrote. Did you ever end up publishing that? I’d love to read it!

Hello, thank you so much! I really appreciate it ;v;

I actually did post that one a bit ago! I’ll leave you the link here if you’d like to read it. Thank you for your interest!

[thegreatyin]

How would the Scoundrel react to Miss Emilia Stone, do you think? To give you an idea of who she is, the Threadbare Outrider is one of the alternate identities of Barnabus Moss, and possibly the closest to who he actually is - he's only still an egg because he's too busy with his job to give too much of a shit about being trans right now.

She is functionally the Hyde identity; open revolutionary, Parabolan wanderer, purveyor of extreme and generally unnecessary violence. I also considered naming her the Extremely Unlicensed Silverer - she has never actually fulfilled the requirements to become a proper silverer (she thinks the sunglasses look kind of dumb) but she offers equivalent services for cut-rate prices to people who can't afford a "real professional."

In terms of her actual personality, she is... frighteningly happy. To steal a phrase, she wields her joy like a hammer; judiciously and with great violence. Moss is basically drunk on life whenever he's her, and it very much shows. She is a release valve on all of his life's worries - whenever he gets too pissed off at his life as Moss or Haversham or the spy, he can just duck into Parabola and gut a few chessmen with a meathook to unwind.

Correspondingly, he gets really irritated under the hood when she has to act consistent with the persona rather than how he actually feels - for example, Emilia is the kind of person who doesn't really dislike anyone, so when someone pisses him off she can't really show it without breaking the cheer, and it is thoroughly upsetting to him.

I think original flavour Moss would probably be fascinated by the Scoundrel, from a professional standpoint - he has a degree in the Correspondence and the whole bat thing is very interesting - whilst simultaneously being deeply, deeply exhausted by the man's life choices. Meanwhile I think Emilia would enjoy doing this to him.

Thoughts?

first of all, love the OC dissertation, chewing ur little guy like a gummy bear as we speak

second of all, the scoundrel would probably react the same as they always do- with overwhelmingly smug manners and more than a little bit of "i'm better than you and i'm being generous and indulging you by existing in your presence"... at least at first.

depending on how their interactions go from there, the scoundrel would either be delightfully open to infodumping about the bat thing to the point of tedium, or needlessly spiteful for Literally No Reason aside from a vague sense of pettiness and jealousy. how dare she get to be so damnably happy all the time, how dare she act so damnably carefree about it, etcetera etcetera. whether or not they'd like to admit it, i could see them holding a grudge against emilia purely on the principle of (supposedly) having everything they've ever wanted.

which is to say, they absolutely get scrunched like a cat, and they are biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + b

[whitmore]

i also think the reason courtney’s arc always gravitates around teams and family and community themes is because stargirl is by nature a social creature; stargirl is created out of courtney’s yearning for community and understanding—something she feels she left in california, something she feels she (courtney whitmore) can’t have anymore, but an alternate version of her (stargirl) might be allowed to. and it’s kind of sad actually because if they’re not shoe-horning her into some romantic relationship, her emotional development over any given arc always follows this pattern where courtney (as courtney) feels like she can’t rely on anybody and everybody relies on her (as stargirl) and always ends with her learning to rely on someone but this narrative cycle also never ends. it repeats forever and ever. this is the only emotional plot they write for her (outside of giving her a love interest, which i could argue is just the same thing in a different font but w/e)

i don’t know when this post got so negatively charged actually i apologize i think it’s fascinating how stargirl is inherently a social creature because she was born of courtney’s need for community but i am also tired of seeing her go through the same emotional developments run after run because there are so many interesting narratives and developments that could be done with her and it feels like every issue and run just goes through the same motions. which yes. that is in fact just what comics are like i suppose. still i’d like to see something new and interesting with her. i think it’s possible that because of her genesis and the inspiration for her as a character there’s a sort of fear to take any risks with her, resulting in this endless loop of same-shoe-different-foot stories

moreover on the relationships arc point i do think it’s interesting how her love interests always fall for stargirl first, and it reinforces this ‘stargirl gets what courtney can’t have’ theme; mainly interesting because courtney sees herself as so enmeshed with stargirl that it’s rarely introspected on in any meaningful capacity and yet it’s so blatantly prevalent throughout her narrative. not to tie it all together in a neat little bow but it’s also because she’s rarely given room to be introspective; between the fear of tarnishing the memory of a real life woman and the inherently socially hungry creature that is stargirl, her arcs and narratives are almost bound to fall into the trap of being more about stargirl’s companions and the people she rescues rather than focusing on developing or even embellishing her as a character in her own right at all

[dearest-nell]

here comes your man

s. harrington x f!reader, 2.1k

summary: you go to pick up your very drunk boyfriend from the bar after a well deserved night out warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, reader uses she/her pronouns

a/n: i was half asleep when i wrote this so all i can say is my bad, and i hope my three am deleirum brings you some joy

Hey… you might wanna come pick up your Stevie-Boy. He’s a bit wrecked...

It was a phone call you had half expected, though you didn’t mind admitting that you wished it had not come at 3am on your Saturday night. Steve had been so excited for a night out with the boys – work seemed to be piling onto him more than usual, and more often than not you’d find him half asleep on the couch by 8pm, arm propped uncomfortably beneath his head and back twisting awkwardly. This night came along with the extra TLC you prescribed him this week, taking on a little extra responsibility around the house so he might relax even just for a moment. Steve was a caretaker by trade, and doing things for himself seemed to hark back to a time where he only did things for himself. It took a lot for him to rewire that belief in his brain – self care did not mean selfish, he was a good person. 

You thought that the time out with his friends would remind him of that; how wonderful he was, how loved he was. He could be without responsibility for a night and simply enjoy himself. And enjoy himself he was… you hadn’t heard such an amused lilt to Eddie’s tone for a long time. You spent the drive over pondering just what kind of state your boyfriend might be in, your eyes heavy, body cooling with the iced air that blew through windows opened in an attempt to keep yourself awake. Eddie at least had sounded coherent, so you figured you would not be alone in the battle to try and haul your boyfriend into your beat up car. 

Dressed for the comfort of your own home, it took one disgruntled look towards a stubborn bouncer to let you past without paying an entry fee. You wondered how often this happened – half asleep partners turning up moments before closing to take their inebriated darling home. The thought made you chuckle softly to yourself, body weaving through the stragglers of the night still dancing to a wrapping up DJ. 

Eddie had told you they’d meet you by the lounges when you arrived, though Steve was nowhere to be seen as you approached your tired looking friend, his face pleased, if not a little weary. 

“Where is he?” You questioned, letting Eddie lean down to wrap his arms around you tightly, his weight pressing heavier on you that you had expected under the influence of what you assumed had been many, many shots. 

“At the bar. I thought he’d crashed half an hour ago, but he’s had a second wave.” 

You felt the short burst of laughter bubble up, an unsurprised uh-huh leaving your lips at the notion, eyes drifting towards the thinning crowd collected for the last call. Eddie let you go with a shrug, stepping back to let you go. 

“Alright, I’ll go get him. I’ll wave if I need you, ‘kay?” The nod you received was answer enough, and you set off leisurely towards your unsuspecting boyfriend. 

Steve was half hunched over the bar, palm rolling an empty shot glass flatly across the sticky surface as he waited for an already busy bartender. You couldn’t see his face, but you could picture the expression with such clarity – eyes heavy, blinking slowly as they tracked blearily across the back of the bar, that sweet, contented smile plastered on his lips for no reason at all. 

Following suit, you leaned yourself up against the bar beside him, elbows propping you up to rest your head in your palms. 

“You getting another drink, handsome?” 

Steve made a soft sort of mumbling sound, his head lulling to the side as he leaned away ever so slightly. “Mm, yeah… think so.” 

You nodded, smiling at the way he swayed on his feet. “Oh, I see. You wanna have some water with me?” 

Steve rubbed harshly at his face, eyes screwing shut tightly before blinking hazily at you. “No, thanks.” 

His gaze turned away, his grip on the shot glass faltering for a moment, reflexes only just catching it before rolling over the edge. You reached slowly to pluck it from his hand, though he recoiled sluggishly at the contact, forcing your brow up into a curious arch. 

“How about I take you home, then? Seems like they’re wrapping up.” 

Steve sighed, hands running through his hair in that same familiar flustered motion you were so acquainted with. Ordinarily, Steve would have been bouncing out of his skin to see you, but right now, he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere else. 

“Look, it’s nice of you to ask, but ’m taken. My girlfriend’s comin’ to get me.” 

Oh, how sweet. You’d never seen Steve so far gone that he hadn’t recognised you, but now that you focused your own tired eyes, you could see that his own were barely open to begin with. Your smile widened, amusement settling over you at the sweetness of him. 

“Really? You’re not even gonna look at me? Maybe I’m worth breaking the rules for.” 

He scoffed at that, body straightening up as much as his addled state could allow, his feet stumbling beneath him to put another feet of distance between the two of you. 

“I’m sure you are f’someone else, but ‘m not interested.” His tone was more clipped now, friendliness falling away in the hopes of deterring you. “Not another girl in the world for me but her.” 

God, he was sweet, and more in love with you than you could have ever hoped for a person to be. Your heart ached, entirely overwhelmed with adoration for this man who was waiting for you. 

“Well that’s very lovely.” You cooed, turning sideways to look at him, one arm dropping to your side while the other hand continued to prop your chin up, helping to hide that rosy blush that seemed to stain your cheeks. “I really think you should look at me, though, Stevie.”

You watched as the thought crossed his mind, a slow understanding that something about this interaction seemed out of place. It seemed to take another moment for reality to set in, his body turning and eyes widening comically as they came into focus. 

“Honey!” 

It had you in hysterics, the way his arm gave out from under him, narrowly avoiding his torso from smacking down against the bar top as he lurched towards you. Your arms extended out to catch him, meeting him halfway until his body was pressed tenderly against yours, eager hands creeping up to cup your cheeks, holding your face towards his so he might really look at you. 

“You’re here!” 

Your laughter rang out happily, eyes crinkled at the delight mirrored in his own. 

“Yeah, baby, of course I am. Wanted to make sure you got home safe.” 

If an iris could change shape, then you were certain you saw Steve’s melt into delicate hearts just at the thought of you coming out to take care of him. His thumbs ran adoring lines across your cheekbones, trembling slightly with restraint. 

“S’good to me.” He mumbled, words drowning out within the still deafening music that surrounded you. “Missed you.” 

You felt him slump against you ever so slightly, still conscious of weighing too heavily against you even in his inebriated state, though how he was holding himself up anymore was anyone’s guess. It was your sign to wave Eddie over, though, who without fuss looped a supporting arm around Steve’s back. 

“You gonna let your girl take us home, then? I’m gonna pass out, man, I’m so wrecked.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed, alarmed to have been so suddenly pulled back from you to lean on Eddie, and he reached out a hand in a needy sort of motion towards you. “I wanna dance with her before we go.” 

Too sweet for his own wellbeing, you offered him a sympathetic look, slipping yourself under his other arm to help prop him up. 

“We can dance at home just you and me, okay? In our pjs too — won’t that be nice. We just don’t wanna keep Eddie waiting too long; he’s all danced out.” 

You watched the contemplative look cross his features, leaving him distracted enough for Eddie to start guiding the three of you towards the door without much fuss from Steve. 

“Did you have fun though Ed? Really?” Steve asked, genuine concern threading through his tone as he addressed his friend who managed an affirming nod in response. 

“Loads. We’ll all go out again soon, but I’ve gotta give you back to your sweetheart before she gets too jealous.” 

Steve’s nod was so serious as he processed the words, entirely missing the small look of amusement shared between you and Eddie as you pulled yourselves from the establishment. 

“Yeah.” He agreed, his head lulling sideways to rest on the crown of your own. “She needs me.” 

It had sounded like a joke when he said it, but even you could sense the small severity behind the words, almost reassuring himself of the truth behind them. Of course you needed him. 

“Yeah, she does.” You confirmed, kissing at his shoulder clumsily as you tried to focus on your steps, narrowly avoiding toppling the three of you right over uneven pavements underfoot. “I always need you, honey.” 

You did not need to look at Steve to know that he was smiling — you felt it as you held him, felt it in his touch and the heat of his body carefully wrapped around yours. At least this night felt like a success in your eyes. Steve was happy, and you had done your part to make him so. He’d be awfully hungover tomorrow morning, but he’d be happy, and that was all that seemed to matter to you in the moment. 

Eddie managed to hold Steve upright while you fiddled with the lock of your car door, the boy now contently distracted with regaling tales of the night to the man who had witnessed them first hand. Getting him into the car was easy enough, tucking him cautiously into the front seat, your body leaning over him to click his seatbelt into place, his hand lifting to rub at your lower back in thanks. 

“You’re the best, y’know, baby? The real best. The best best.” 

You paused to smile at him, head shaking in amusement before brushing your lips against his cheek, relishing in the way his hand gripped excitedly at you for the briefest of moments. “I could say the same about you, y’know.” 

“Nuh uh.” 

A groan sounded from outside the car, drawn out and exasperated beyond compare. “Jesus H Christ, I’m begging for someone to take me home. It’s so fucking late, guys.” 

You pulled back with a laugh to witness Eddie’s petulance, your hand coming out to gesture to the back seat. “Then get in the car, dingus, and I’ll take you home.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Steve slurred from the front seat, the battle against his weariness now long lost, eyes closed and head resting heavily against its back, unable to hold itself up any longer. 

Eddie clambered into the back with a half assed eye roll, splaying out across the work back seat until he, too, was one with the upholstery. “You guys aren’t gonna be gross and sayin’ i love you’s all the way home, are you?” 

Steve’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh shit, I haven’t said I love you yet!” 

The charming little frown that spread across his face was enough to melt you in your entirety, your hand reaching out to brush his check with affection, his nose nuzzling sweetly into the cup of your palm. “I’m not worried about it; I know you do.” 

“Yeah, but I do love you. I was thinkin’ it the whole time, thinkin’ you’re so pretty n’ all. So pretty that I couldn't remember to say it.” 

Eddie just huffed again in the back seat, his complaints overtly ignored despite the growing expletives.

“I love you too, Stevie. How about we get Eds home and get you some water, then we can be as sweet as we wanna be.” 

Steve’s lips pressed into your palm, his kiss unhurried and uncoordinated as the alcohol hindered his usual grace, a mumbled m’kay tickling your skin as he spoke. 

You looked up into the rearview mirror, dropping your hand to Steve’s knee for the boy to hold, keeping his neediness satiated for the time being as he grasped it between his own eagerly. “You hear that, Eds? You’re in the clear. Let’s get you boys home.” 

A grumbled thank god and the creaks of the backseat window being clumsily wound down was enough incentive to start your travels, a pleased smile gracing your lips to know that Steve had been given exactly the night he deserved after all. 

[jarofstyles]

bf harry aftercare with sensitive + emotional + and secure pleasee

Hell yeah 🥹 I love this one. Short n sweet (hi Sabrina)

Check out our Patreon!

Warnings- aftercare, allusions to a bit of subspace

“There you go.” He murmured, brushing his fingers over her flushed cheek. The skin was hot from their shower. Sat up on the counter in her towel, Harry moved away for one moment to grab the moisturizer he always saw her use and set it beside them. “Need t’make sure you’ve got at least some of your night routine done, hm?”

Harry had fed her full, fucked her good, and now he was taking care of her. Y/N was still coming down off of the floaty feeling he’d given her. It was sometimes a little more difficult for her to get out of the headspace. Her eyes felt slightly heavy, likely due to the mixture of exhaustion and that headspace but she kept them open.

“Mhm.” She nodded, not bothering to fix it as the towel slipped a bit. “Thank you.”

“Don’t have t’thank me for anything, my sweet.” He murmured, leaning in to kiss her swollen lips. “You did so well for me today. All day, been the best fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen. It’s my job t’take care of you.” A job he loved and took extremely seriously. Harry, never once, had let her go without some TLC after sex. Even in the beginning of their relationship he had made sure she was taken care of.

Y/N hadn’t dealt with that before, hadn’t been handled with such gentle hands and soft whispers and she had cried the first time. He’d seemingly known what to do, and from that moment on she’d never felt more safe with someone in intimacy in her life.

The warmth that bubbled from her stomach at his praise had her preening, albeit sleepily. The warmth of the shower, the exhaustion of the day and the way he’d nearly fucked her to sleep had taken a toll on her. “I love you.” She bleated, reaching up to play with his damp hair. His fingers were smoothing the moisturizer over her cheeks and gently massaging it in, taking more care than even she did when applying it.

“I love you even more.” He replied with a satisfied simper. “My sweet girl. Almost done with this n’then we’ll have a cuddle, hm? The cuddle in the shower wasn’t enough for me, personally.”

[trippinsorrows]

ltye: unpretty

authors note: well, this got a lil heavier and definitely longer than i intended. though, i hope at least some of you enjoy it. ❤️

warnings: angst, smut, violence, brief scene of csa, and strong theme of mental health

words: 6.5k

song inspo: unpretty by tlc

masterlist

I wish I could tie you up in my shoes.

Make you feel unpretty too.

I was told I was beautiful,

but what does that mean to you?

-----

Solana is having a good day.

A good week, she'd even argue.

A bit surprising, though appreciated.

It's only been a few weeks since she completed residential treatment, and while she was most certainly trepidatious about transitioning to being back home full time, that concern has been unfounded.

It's been wonderful being back with her husband, friends, and sweet puppy. Even with visits, more than a few from her husband especially, while she was gone, it wasn't the same.

The swell of sadness that filled Solana every time she had to say goodbye, the bittersweet kiss Roman would place on her forehead when he had to leave in the wee early hours. It was hard. She wanted to see him, but that parting portion was rough, to say the least.

However, not exactly knowing how things would play out upon her return was something that gnawed at her, created a level of anxiety, though she's beyond grateful it ended up being unnecessary concern.

Being back has been phenomenal, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Dropping her bag on one of the benches separating the set of lockers, Solana starts to pull out her water bottle and headphones. It's not a training day, but she'd decided to head over to the Warehouse and get a little session in, missing the adrenaline and strong feeling she receives from training and moving her body.

She goes to open the locker to deposit the rest of her items in said space when she hears conversation, laughter and footsteps.

Solana looks over to see two women dressed in similar workout apparel as her own, though their slim but curvy figures seem to fill said outfits out in a way that Solana's doesn't. They just fit better.

And look nicer.

Each with contrasting complexions, one a deep, rich chocolate, the other lighter, caramel in tone, though each equally stunning. They're talking among themselves when the one with a lighter complexion casts Solana a glance. She does a double take, looking Solana over from head to toe.

"You're Roman's new wife, right?"

At over six months of marriage, Solana isn't sure she'd still consider herself his "new wife," but she's also not one to be caught up on semantics, either.

"Yeah," she finally answers. "I'm Solana." She offers a small smile and then almost awkwardly offers her hand for a handshake. Both sets of women just stare at her extended hand with a hint of confusion and disinterest. Solana clears her throat, pulling her hand back, feeling a bit silly.

"That's pretty," the other one says. It feels insincere. The two turn their attention away from Solana to open their own lockers.

Solana pulls out her phone to find a playlist but also just wanting a distraction of sorts. The entire air of the locker room seems to have shifted and not in a good way.

"You're lucky, you know."

Solana looks up from her phone, surprised to see the lighter tone woman leaned back against the lockers.

Solana frowns. "I'm sorry?"

She snorts, shaking her head, looking over at her friend. "Of all the men I've slept with, Roman will always be number one on that list."

Shoulders slumped, small smile now dropped into a frown, Solana has a hard time responding. Doesn't know what to make of what was just said. "What?"

The woman sighs almost dreamily, looking at her friend. "Don't you agree?"

The other woman makes a sound. "You already know it." Solana's blood grows cold. "That man had me speaking in tongues every time."

Every time? Solana suddenly has a hard time staying present for the unexpected turn in conversation.

"Oh, you don't mind us saying that, right?" One of them asks in that same insincere tone from earlier. She then laughs and shrugs. "I mean, everyone knows how Roman was. That he only got married cause he needed an heir."

"How's that going by the way?"

"Chantel." A faux type of scolding voice, followed up with continued fake concern. "Ignore her, though you do seem….not exactly like his type, so I'm cur—"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Solana fully intended for her voice to come out significantly more assertive than it did. She sounds so small.

Another fake look of innocence. "I'm just saying, you're so…quiet and passive…and everyone knows Roman is anything but."

The other woman smirks eyeing Solana once more. "He fucks, and he fucks hard. Likes it rough."

"Kiesha," Chantel scolds, providing the name of the woman with the lighter complexion. "Stop. That's her husband. Of course she knows that already." She tilts her head to the side, twirling a piece of her hair. "Right?"

Solana swallows. The jovial disposition she had is all but depleted, replaced with a concoction of sadness, confusion, anger and a shit ton of insecurity.

"Just how he likes when you caress his balls when sucking him off."

"Kiesha!" Chantel laughs, her friend joining in, the two of them clearly getting off on this. On making Solana feel so small and insignificant. "No, I'm sorry, that's way too much."

It is. It absolutely is.

Overcome with emotion, and not wanting to cry in front of these two cruel women, Solana finds herself gathering her items, rushing out of the locker.

"Wait, don't leave," one of them calls after her, laughing once more when Solana is out of view of them, standing by the door. She goes to rip it open to leave but can't help but listen to their continued conversation.

"Oh my God, I can't believe Roman really settled with someone like her. She's so fucking sensitive. And those scars? Hello? Ever heard of plastic surgery?"

Snickering followed up with, "I know he liked his women thick, but that's not thick. She's just fat. Did you see her stomach?"

"Girl, I thought she was just bloated."

"Baby, I've seen bloated. That ain't it. Sis needs to hit that cardio 7x a week."

"I wonder if she ever feels heavy on top of him."

"You know she does. He probably had to up his workouts just to make sure her big ass don't smother him."

At that, Solana has more than enough, rushing out the locker room without another word.

My outsides look cool

My insides are blue

Every time I think I'm through

It's because of you

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

Roman has a long, late day, which means he won't make it home until later than usual. Solana is immensely grateful for this one thing that would typically make her a little sad, a little lonely, bored, even.

But, that's not the case.

It's not the case, because having time away from him is necessary. It's necessary, because it gives her much needed time to think.

To overthink.

By the grace of some higher power, she's able to hold it together until she gets home, expertly playing off her premature departure from the Warehouse as the result of not feeling well. An excuse, thankfully, bought by Bautista.

But, the minute she's home, in the privacy of her master bathroom, that's when it all comes out. The tears. Sitting on the floor, back against the locked door, Solana cries into her knees.

She's worked so hard the past few weeks to build herself back up, to sound out the negative voices, to silent her inner demons. And, for the most part, she has. At no point does she ever consider harming herself or does she desire to harm herself, she just has a sudden, strong dislike for herself.

For her body.

And insecurity. So much insecurity. In her appearance. In her sex life.

Solana learned a long time ago about her husband's promiscuity, so that was of no surprise.

It's now the nature of that promiscuity, however, and how it vastly contrasts their sex life, that has her mind racing.

Not to mention the women. So beautiful. Their curves generous but attached to a nice, slim frame. Solana knows her breast and ass are big, but so is everything else about her figure. Slim thick is what she's sure those women would be categorized under.

Nothing about her is or ever has been slim.

It's a thought that brings about another set of tears.

Not only does she not fit the mold and standard for what Roman typically went for, the sex they have isn't even close to what pleases him.

Nothing about their intimacy has ever been rough or hard. He's always been so gentle with her, which is exactly what she needs, but it never crossed her mind as to if it's what he needs.

Has he been satisfying my needs and negating his own?

A terrible, heavy thought that only makes her feel worse.

Solana has only ever wanted to make her husband happy, the same way he's made her happy. She thought she did, or maybe she just wanted to believe it.

Believe that what she was doing was enough, but clearly, it isn't.

Solana tears through the growing lingerie collection she's compiled over the past few months, largely thanks to Naomi and Bayley's encouragement. A part of her wants to reach out to them, to ask for their advice. Even Melina and gang.

But, she doesn't. She can't. It's way too personal and between her and Roman.

Solana has to do this on her own.

Finally, she settles on a one piece from Savage X Fenty. A short skimpy dress with beautiful lacing on the bosom part and material that flows and conceals her stomach area.

It's a sexy yet modest and shows just enough but not too much, because while she knows Roman has already indicated he hadn't noticed her weight gain, she certainly has. And, she's definitely noticed it in her stomach.

So, until she can get some of the weight off, she'll just have to be a bit more mindful with how she dresses.

Dinner is easy to make, Solana opting for a less complex, less time consuming recipe, as she has to have Dulce taken care of, as well as her everything shower and her hair to complete before Roman gets home. And, she does.

She manages it all.

Has the foot hot on the plate and on their dining room table when he walks in the door. It's a bit rushed, Solana can acknowledge that much. Roman is really good with asking about how her day was, giving her the space to share. It's always appreciated but not necessary. Not tonight.

Tonight is about him and pleasing him.

So, when dinner is completed, Solana rushes to put away the leftovers and heads upstairs to get ready. She'd already cleaned the kitchen while waiting for him to get home, which ended up being a great decision.

Allotted her just the right amount of time.

Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed in another room, Solana, dressed and nervously fiddling with her dress and hair, waits for Roman to finish in the shower.

She listens for the telltale signs. The sound of the water shutting off, the sink running, towels and dirty clothes being tossed into the hamper.

They all point to one thing.

Roman is barely out the door when she untangles her legs and moves to kneel on the bed. "Hey."

His warm brown eyes drink her in, Solana a bit self-conscious, holding in her stomach that can't even be seen through the short, opaque gown. "Hey…" He moves toward her, lifting his gaze from her body to her face. "Are you—"

She doesn't let him finish. Just grabs him by his shoulders once he's close enough and smashes her lips onto his. Assertive. She has to be assertive.

Roman naturally returns the kiss though eventually pulls back, looking down at her. "You alright?"

"Of course," she answers, not even really be paying attention to the question. "Just…just missed you, that's all." Not a lie. She always misses her husband when he's not around.

Solana grabs him by the back of the his head, pressing their lips together once more. Unlike most times, instead of his tongue entering her mouth first, she beats him to the chase.

Solana is grateful when he moves his hands to her waist, moving them so that he's laying on top of her. She's also appreciative of the way he starts to kiss her back with equal fervor and desire.

But, it's when one big hand moves under her dress, clearly eager to pull it off, she stops him.

"I—I wanna keep it on," she explains with a hint of stammering. Solana tries to play it off with an objectively weak excuse. "I've—I've been a bit cold all day."

Roman casts her a doubtful and confused expression. "Cold?"

Solana ignores him, grabbing his face and starting to kiss on his neck.

"Sol—"

Once again, he's ignored as Solana moves her hands to slide off her underwear, tossing them to the side as she switches their positions so she's on top straddling him. She goes back to kissing him, hard, borderline aggressive, body moving against his. A hand trails down his chest, going to grope him through his boxers.

"Baby, slow down," Roman breathes, though the erection in the palm of her hand would indicate he's right where she wants him.

"Why?" She questions, voice filled with innocence. And before he can actually answer, she's informing, "I—I wanna try something different tonight."

"Different?" He's frowning as she peppers kisses against his bearded face. "How?"

She licks her lips, looking him dead in his face. "I—I want you to fuck me from behind." At that, Roman's expression shifts once more to a perfect mixture of surprise and confusion. "Doggy style? That—that's what it's called, right?"

Roman is quiet at first, an unexpected, slightly discouraging response for something she hoped he'd be more excited about.

"Solana…."

She shakes her head, pulling him, once again repositioning them so they're both kneeling on the bed. Her back pressed against his solid front. "Come on," she urges, taking his big hands and bringing them to her breast. "This is what I want."

Right?

She has to ignore that question sitting in the back of her mind and instead focus on bringing one hand to the back of Roman's head, forcing it downward just enough to indicate she wants his mouth on her. Wants his kisses on the column of her neck.

Needs them.

"Please," she whimpers when Roman starts palming her chest, his thumb flickering over her hardened nipples. "Need you…"

Her words do something, Roman tugging on the thin strap of her gown, freeing her big breast from the loose confines, continuing to caress her, as her mouth falls ajar from the delicious sensations.

"Solana," he breathes against her neck, one hand leaving the swell of her breast to tease at the material of her gown, scrunching it in his hands. She places her hand over his, expertly guiding it down to the space between her legs, a preferred placement away from her stomach. "Baby, we can have sex but not—not like that."

At that, she frowns, turning her head to look at him. "Why?" No time given is for an answer, as she's already shaking her head. "It's—it's fine. It's what I want."

Solana attempts to demonstrate her readiness by once again repositioning them.

Or, herself.

Solana moves to her hands and knees, looking back at her husband to see him continuing to look just as lost and torn as he's been since stepping out the bathroom. "Let's do it," she urges. Solana has completely ignored and bypassed the instant shift of her excitement to something heavier. The way that pit in her stomach deepened, as well as the heaviness in her chest. But, it all comes to a sick boiling point when she redirects her attention to the headboard before her and feels Roman's hand near her hips.

It all comes together, trigger a horrifying, devastating flashback.

A rough set of hands holding her own, much smaller and tinier, up against the headboard. The tips of her fingers bloodied from being dug into the walls she attempted to use as anchors while being dragged. A tremendous amount of pain, a pain she's never experienced coursing through her body, and the loud, heavy panting and groaning accompanying another set of hands on her hips. Clammy, sweaty, nubby nails digging into her flash.

"Please!" She screamed and cried, her throat practically raw from the mental and physical exertion. "Somebody please help me!"

"Solana."

It's like a slow transition. The way Solana is pulled back from such a darker, heavier period of her life. The way Roman's hands, gentle and comforting, are placed on her cheeks. His gaze, concerned and worried, focused solely on her. "Baby, you're safe. It's fine."

Two words.

Safe and fine seem to finalize the return, allowing her full recognition to settle. She's no longer on the bed, instead standing to the side of said, her husband directly in front of her.

What?

How did she....

She breaks away from him, eyes clenched shut, hands on either side of her head. "I'm good."

"Solana-"

"Really," she argues, opening her eyes. "I'm—I'm okay." His contrite gaze never leaves her, even as Solana moves back over to him. "I'm fine now."

"Baby…"

Her hands are on his chest, looking back towards the bed. "We can—"

He places his hands on her wrists, gently lowering her hands. "Solana, you're not fine."

"I am," she asserts. Never mind the tears starting to blur and burn her vision. "I—I can do this."

"Sol—"

"I just needed a minute—"

"Solana." Roman's voice is loud, traveling through the room, effectively cutting through her defenses. "Solana, baby, look at me." It takes a good minute, but she eventually does. His eyes soften instantly. "You're not fine."

Profound, truthful words.

She's, in fact, not fine.

"I'm—I'm sorry." It cracks, shattering to the floor despite the best of her efforts. Her voice is low and heavy. "I thought—I thought I could do it." She shakes her head, attempting to look down. "Why—why can't I do it?"

A loaded question with no simple answer. Just layered reasons.

And, he doesn't offer her one. Just continues to hold her as she cries silently into his chest.

They remain like that for a few, good minutes before he finally breaks the silence.

"Solana, I need you to talk to me. I need to know what's going on." Roman is a man always in control, always one with his head above water. But, even she can't deny how concerned he sounds. Scared, almost. "Are you…."

"No," she responds, pulling back, wiping at her eyes. "It's…it's not that."

Suicidal.

He's asking if she's feeling suicidal.

"I promise," she whispers, taking his hand and leading them back to the bed. Solana sits down, legs crossed, only remembering then that she'd discarded her underwear.

Something Roman didn't forget, as he subtly moves the blanket over her lap to cover her bottom half.

Her heart swells for a different reason.

She loves him so much.

"I—" She starts, playing with the material of her dress. "I went to the Warehouse today, and….and I ran into these two women that you….that you used to sleep with."

Solana looks up and hates to see the flash of guilt in his handsome face. He has nothing to feel guilty about.

"What did they say to you?" His eyes read guilt, but his tone is an expertly managed can of anger. He's angry at whatever was said, and it's obvious he knows something was said, which means she can't deny it.

Can't lie to him.

"Just…." She doesn't necessarily want to verbatim relay what was said. Just a general gist. "How you like to have sex. Your…your preferences."

With that uncomfortable disclosure, she doesn't look over at him. Keeps her head down.

And keeps talking.

"I'm not like that, Roman." Her voice cracks, the tears returning once more. "I don't look like them, and I don't—I don't know how to please you like they can." She sniffles, a single tear spilling over. "I thought—I thought I could, but—I can't."

A heartbreaking realization that even after months of hard, difficult work, some shackles of her past remain locked, forever tethering her to that violated little girl she just can't seem to fully set free.

"Solana." He repeats her name for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. Except, she won't make him wait, won't ignore him like she did the previous times. Solana looks up at him, seeing he's moved closer, close enough to touch her. And, he does.

Roman is gentle with how he cups her cheek, his thumb brushing away her tears. "Solana, I love you." There's something about the way he says it that tugs at her heart. Desperate, almost. Like, he's in need of her to know and understand this.

Because, he is.

"All I see is you, all I think about is you," he continues, displaying a level of vulnerability no one outside of the four walls of their bedroom could ever be privy to. "I love you in a manner that scares me sometimes, because it's something that completely consumes me in a way I'm not used to."

It's the perfect sentiment, because it's exactly how she feels about him. Roman consumes much more of her headspace than probably what's healthy, and Gail has hinted as such in a couple of sessions. Has brought up the term "codependent" once or twice regarding her relationship with Roman. It's not something she can really deny either.

Solana knows she can be very needy with him, that she is in fact dependent on him in many, many ways, but the truth is that she's gone so long feeling unloved, unwanted and even touch deprived that it's hard to see what's so wrong with that.

What's so wrong with loving him to the extent that she does.

With wanting him the way that she does.

It feels….it feels like she deserves it.

Like she deserves to have him.

"And as far as those bitches go." His tone switches to something harsher, a sense of hatred swimming in his eyes only to settle just enough to avoid making her feel like she's on the receiving end of any of that vitriol.

"I fucked them. All I ever did was just fuck them." Solana nearly winces at the disgust imbued in the set of words, 'fuck' and 'fucked.' Not even directed toward her, but it's enough to hurt even her feelings from an empathetic standpoint. And then he's back to being that considerate, tender man who gives her life meaning. "I make love to you. Every single time, because I love you. They meant nothing to me. I felt nothing for them." A vow. "I feel everything all at once for you."

Again, shared sentiments. She feels the same way. The exact same way.

Roman's hand moves down to the strap of her dress. He must have adjusted it at some point, or maybe she did. Somewhere in between her trying to be something she isn't and him yearning to remind her she's fine just the way she is. "And as far as looks…" His finger gently trails down her arm. "None of those bitches even come close to you in that department, Sol. In any department." Her eyes begin to flutter shut as he travels his finger down to under the swell of her heavy breast. "You are the single most beautiful woman I've ever fucking seen." Head lolled back, her breathing is slightly staggered as he starts kissing on her neck, transitioning to gently caressing her breast. "Just thinking about you and this perfect ass body you have drives me fucking insane, makes me hard as fuck…"

One hand moves to his muscular bicep. "Roman…." So breathy and whiny almost, Solana feeling a shift in her emotions and an all too familiar sensation between her legs with the way he's touching her right now.

"Let me make love to you," he implores, holding her by her hips, kissing down her chest. "Let me show you how much I love you."

It's the return of that pleading and desperation. His dire need and eagerness to do away with any and all doubt and insecurity on her end.

A request she won't deny him.

Solana grabs his face, their lips centimeters apart, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes."

A single word is all that's needed. The passion and fervor from earlier is fully returned but with a sense of normalcy and them. It's so them the way Roman manages to carefully guide her on her back, big hand both exploring her body and ridding them both of the irritating clothes that separate them.

It's so them in how he, even with his hardened member brushing against her wet, velvety lips, still stops and asks if she's sure. Always gaining her consent.

The way he receives that consent and gradually fills her, both of them clutching onto one another, moaning and moving in sync. The way he pistons in and out of her, the depth and angle bringing tears to her eyes for a new, much better, pleasurable reason.

The way her nails sink into his back, her mouth open and closing on his shoulder as he buries his face in the crook of her neck.

"Perfect," he breathes into her skin, Solana's ankles locking above his ass, tethering him close to her. "You're fucking perfect, sweetheart."

Continued and whispered words and statements of affirmations, his voice praising and worshiping her the same way his body does. Because there's an almost reverence in the way he makes loves to her, like each carnal thrust of himself into her is an imprint of all his love and devotion.

An unending, bottomless supply.

Solana cries out, her back arching off the bed as he switches angles, hitting and reaching that part of her. "Oh my God…"

"Tell me what you need, baby." His hand moves up and down the fat of her hip and the back of her thigh, his mouth returned to hers. "Tell me what to do, and I'll do it." Her eyes temporarily shut from the overwhelming nature of it all. "I'll do anything for you, Solana."

Words she knows. Sentiments and loyalty she already knows. Roman has done nothing but shown her time and time again how far he'll go for her. Even from the day he decided to take her as his wife, he's protected her. Warning Xavier and Wes not to hurt her.

Even before he ever loved her, he protected her. And that protection has only grown and metamorphosed into something so pure and beautiful.

And, that hasn't changed. Even with everything that's happened. With her attempt. With her regression with her mental health. It hasn't changed. He hasn't changed.

Their love hasn't changed.

Solana moves to push his hand away, her eyes opening and never leaving his as she rolls them over, switching positions so she's on top. A small hiss leaves her parted mouth from the transition. He suddenly feels significantly deeper in the best way possible.

She leans forward, hands moving up his chest as she starts to grind against him.

"You," she finally answers. "All I need is you."

It's all she'll ever need.

Roman's hand moves to her ass, squeezing and evoking a sensual, whiny moan. He tugs her down just enough to connect their lips in a passionate kiss, one that feels like the sealing of an oath and promise.

"You have me." His eyes shut, his forehead pressed against hers. "You'll always have me."

But if you can't look inside you

Find out who am I to

Be in the position

Tto make me feel so

Damn unpretty

----------

Locks and Lashes is one of the most popular salons in the city. A full service stop that provides hair styling and various beauty services. It comes only second on the list of best salons in the state, Bayley's company, Role Models, sitting comfortably in the number one spot for the past decade.

Locks and Lashes, often referred to as L&L, is owned by Chantel Davis and Kiesha Ford, two longtime best friends turned business partners. Known for impeccable taste and only offering the highest quality of services, it's only when getting to know the two of them, and when the camera aren't on, that one becomes privy to the fact that their undeniable outward beauty doesn't extent inward.

Vain, conceited, callous, they're the mean girls one believes get left behind in high school only to be found in the workplace.

But, alas, despite hideous personalities, the women have made names for themselves.

Have done quite well. Even preparing to launch and open their third location in less than 5 years.

Quite well indeed.

Salon bustling with a plethora of customers and many more to come, the day has barely started, the clock shy of striking noon when the bell above the door chimes, signifying the arrival of another guest.

Shyla, a pretty young college student working one of her two jobs, a necessary to afford her heft tuition, looks up with a rehearsed smile only for it to drop.

"What?" Confused and slightly nervous, she sees a man, a boulder of human, dressed in all black. He's with two other men, smaller than him but still formidable looking.

Shyla swallows. "H—Hi. Welcome—" She's cut off when the biggest man says something, finger against his ear before he holds the door open, allowing another patron to enter.

A woman, short in stature, dressed in a bodycon gray dress that hugs her generous curves. Her exposed arms reveal several scars, horizontal and thin, similar to slash marks. A gray Birkin bag is on her arm, along with a stack of Van Cleef, Louis Vuitton, Tiffany and Co, along with other designer brand bracelets on both wrists. Not to be outshined by a stunning wedding ring that's practically blinding.

The woman walks forward, lifting her expensive Gucci glasses off her face. Up close, Shyla can make out the faintest hint of another scar over her right eye, though it's well concealed under her beat face.

Shyla hasn't the slightest clue who this woman is, but easily, she's someone the young Marketing major envies.

Greatly.

"Hi," she introduces, her voice sounding exactly how Shyla anticipated given her small stature. "Are Chantel and Kiesha here?"

It's not until the woman gives an expectant look that Shyla realizes she's staring. An embarrassing thing, for sure. Granted, it's pretty hard not to gawk at this woman who is clearly someone important considering her entire outfit has to easily total at about half a million dollars along with the fact that she's flanked by literal bodyguards.

"Uhhh…." Shyla has to blink and shake her head to reorient herself. "I'm sorry, do—do you have a meeting or…." Shyla can't recall either of the owners mentioning any sort of plans for today. Not to mention, most of their business meetings take place elsewhere.

Never the salon.

The woman slides off her glasses and places them in her bag before answering casually. "I'm here to return a favor."

Shyla frowns.

A favor?

Shyla doesn't have time to consider such a strange response, because next thing she knows the fire alarms are going off. She's half expecting the sprinklers to activate right away as well, but no such thing.

"Fire! Everybody out!" The large man shouts as customers begin to panic, flocking out in droves. Everyone except for the woman and the other two guards, one of which, Shyla realizes, is holding a bat.

"What—"

"Go," the woman orders, placing her bag on the counter while looking past Shyla. "This doesn't concern you."

Turning around, Shyla realizes the woman is looking at Kiesha and Chantel who have come out of their offices in the back of the salon.

"What the hell is going on!" Kiesha shouts at the same time the woman moves forward, blocking their trying to leave or, at least, see what's happening.

"Not you two."

Once again, Shyla is prevented from questioning further when the large man approaches her.

He looks at her, voice surprisingly kind. "Get out of here, kid."

Shyla looks between the stranger, her bosses, and the large men who are either intent on no good—or something worse—and for the first time, in a long time, she chooses herself.

She leaves.

Standing in front of the two women who triggered her in a way she hasn't experienced in a while is a conflicting thing for Solana. She feels a hint of confusion, some satisfaction, and a hell of a lot of anger.

The alarms suddenly stop beeping, the silence briefly interrupted by the sound of the door shutting, signifying the departure of the last innocent.

Good

Solana has no intention on causing any harm to anyone who doesn't deserve it.

Including the kind, unassuming receptionist who couldn't have been older than 22.

Solana makes a note to make sure, after this is all said and done, she's set up with another job.

Maybe Bayley can take her on.

Chantel looks at Solana, recognition dawning. "You're…you're—"

"Exactly," Solana interrupts, moving to walk past them but not out of hearing distance. She looks around, taking in the opulent design. The luxury of it all. One things certain, they have a nice place.

Or, had.

Kiesha, however, seems less shocked and more pissed. "What the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

Solana ignores her, noticing the bar in the middle of the salon, wines stacked and practically full. She walks over, grabbing one, reading Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Grand Cru. Solana makes a face, lifting the bottle, "this looks expensive." And before either can respond, Solana pitches it against the nearest wall, red liquid dripping and staining the white, marble walls.

Both women shout with shock and fury. "You crazy b—"

"Finish that sentence, and I'll make sure the next thing to splatter like that bottle will be the both of you."

A small smile falls on Solana's face as the two women look toward the front door where another has entered.

Roman stands tall, dressed in all black, black shirt, dark jeans, black shoes. Even expensive black shades that he pulls up, revealing an equally dark menacing gaze that would make even her cower. But, she knows better.

Knows why he's so pissed.

Solana walks over to her husband, and the minute she's close enough, he tugs her against his chest, crashing his lips onto hers. For a second, Solana forgets they have an audience. The way he kisses her is all-consuming and captivating, trapping her in a world where it's just the two of them.

A place she loves to be.

A requirement for oxygen is the only reason for them separating, Solana certain her lips are nice and swollen. Roman looks down at her with that look. That look that lets her know exactly what awaits her when they get home.

He chuckles, running his thumb across her bottom lip, one hand planted firmly on her ass. Roman then looks over at the now seething Chantel and Kiesha. "If it was up to me, I'd fuck her right here in front of you and make the both of you bitches watch."

A blush rises up Solana's face. She certainly wasn't expecting him to say that. Just like she most definitely could never get with something like that.

Even this is a bit much for her, though well deserved.

Solana pulls away, taking the bat from one of the guards as she moves over to the register area. One look between it and them, a small smile on her face as she swings it down, breaking it instantly with one effective hit.

"You see," Roman starts as Solana smashes another register. "My wife told me what you said to her, that you upset her." Solana transitions to the shelves filled with hair products, bashing them in. "And when you upset my wife, you upset me." The other two guards, minus Bautista, also starting to destroy and vandalize the salon.

"And, it's never a good fucking idea to upset me." Roman finishes in an eerily calm voice, as Chantel starts stammering and stumbling.

"R—Roman, we didn't—" She's cut off and on the ground, Kiesha gasping to see Solana behind them, having taken the bat to the back of her friend and business partner.

"Only I can call him Roman," Solana asserts, ignoring the sound of Chantel whining and crying on the floor. "You two call him The Tribal Chief."

Kiesha swallows, watching Solana move back over to the wine shelf, throwing, tossing and smashing bottle after bottle.

"Please—" One of them cries, Solana isn't sure who, too caught up in the high and sweet taste of revenge. She's not a vindictive person, not even a violent person, but she is someone who's tired of letting people walk all over her.

Letting people hurt her.

No more.

"This is our life's work," Chantel moans, still on the ground, tears spilling down her face.

"You think I give a shit about that?" Roman sneers, doing his best to maintain his anger, focusing on his pride as his fine ass wife regains her voice and power. "That I ever gave a shit about either of you?"

It's the real issue here. The one Roman is not afraid or uncomfortable with calling out. They're upset they got cut off and are jealous of Solana, thus taking it out on her.

Big mistake.

Kiesha sniffles. "My—my Tribal Chief—"

"Be quiet," Solana mutters, walking past the two women, intentionally shoving Kiesha along the way. Looking around, Solana can't tell where the chaos starts and ends.

The place is all completely destroyed.

"You have two other locations," Solana reminds, tossing the bat to the side. All of that swinging took a lot out of her. She's tired, not to mention her chest is sore. A strange thing but also not considering her breast have been on the sensitive side lately.

Weird.

"They did," Roman corrects. Solana looks over at him, partially confused, but he keeps his gaze on the distraught women, coldly informing, "they're both currently being burned down to the fucking ground."

Chills form up and down Solana's arms. Roman didn't tell her about that part of the plan, though she can't lie and say she feels bad for them.

She doesn't.

Not at all.

Grabbing her purse off the counter, Solana bends down in front of them both, seeing how Chantel attempt to scurry backwards. Head tilted, the wife of the Tribal Chief asks in the calmest voice. "How's that for quiet and passive?"

Not wanting or needing a response, she straightens back up and walks toward Roman who initially takes her hand. The guards are all gathered, Bautista holding the door open. The door that's glass is entirely shattered.

Along with the front windows.

"By the way." Solana pulls out her Cartier sunglasses, sliding them over her eyes. Looking back at them, Roman's hand now placed comfortably on her ass, Solana smirks, "he loves when I'm on top."

[lvlybin]

hii ! i've been feeling a little down lately :( this is a sfw/fluff ask, kinda angst tho idk

could u write something with gunwook or multiple members comforting reader while she is crying from stress about her life please?

cw stressed reader, crying and mental breakdowns, little bit of angst & comfort

✉️ I'm so sorry to hear that nonie :( some days are hard, but you are so loved and things will get better <3 I'm always here if you need to chat with someone

You’d been having a hard week.

It hadn’t even been anything in particular, just little events and an icky feeling that left you feeling drained and in much need of some TLC. But no, instead, you had to finish assignments for your classes, and you had to go to work, and you had to find a good gift for your friend’s birthday, which was in two days. The list seemed never-ending. And it was overwhelming. 

You had been so go, go, go, that in this first moment you’ve gotten to yourself, you instantly break down. 

At least you were in the safety of your room and not somewhere public. You sniffle, sobs wrecking through you as you curl up on your bed. Honestly, it felt good to cry, to let everything out in a way. You just wish that you didn’t have to pull everything together to get back to work after this mental breakdown. And God forbid if anyone saw you right now–

Your phone rings.

You let out another sob, frustrated at the fact that you’re just so busy as you flip the electronic over to see who it is. The word ‘Wookie <3’ stares back up at you as you continue crying. Fuck, you were supposed to see your boyfriend today. Your thumb shakes a little as you answer the call, knowing that he’s going to be able to tell that you’re crying.

“Hello?”

The other side of the line is quiet for a moment. “YN? Baby? Are you okay? You sound like you’re upset.” His concern makes your chest ache with love, and you sniffle softly. 

“I’m just… having a hard day, that’s all. But we can still go on our date, I’ll be fine–”

“I’m already here,” Gunwook interrupts, and in turn, you hear a small, distant knock on your apartment door. You sit up, and a rush of dizziness washes over you from how hard you’d been crying and also probably from dehydration. “Will you let me in?”

“Of course,” you whisper before hanging up the call, getting off your bed to go answer the door. When it swings open and you see him–the epitome of your comfort and happiness, you feel yourself crumble again. It’s like it’s second-nature to fall into his open arms, his soft shushes meeting your ears as one of his large hands rubs up and down your back soothingly. 

“It’s okay… Take a deep breath with me, come on, baby.” He gently guides you back inside your apartment while still keeping his arms around you, and when you’re sitting back on your bed, Gunwook places one of your hands on his chest so you can feel his heartbeat. So you can line up your erratic breathing with his, slowing the air rushing in and out of your lungs and ultimately calming you down. “Now, tell me what’s wrong, okay?”

You nod weakly. “It’s just… I feel like I’ve been overworking myself. I have so many things to do and no time to do it, but it all needs to get done and– I have no time–” You cut yourself off as Gunwook takes a deep breath, subconsciously following his movements. “I’m really stressed,” you finish lamely.

He unwraps his arms from around your trembling frame, opting to hold onto your arms and to rub them softly. “You have all of the time you need. And you’re not going to get anything done if you’re so worried, baby. You need to rest.” He’s right. You know he is, but you didn’t want to rest. Resting was for when everything was done. It’s almost like he can read your thoughts. “You can rest for one night. We’ll do it together, okay? I’ll always be right here for you.”

[solsticehymns]

marauders + favorite tv shows: headcanons

JAMES would be binge watching the great british bake off on a weeknight. any kind of cooking show or other cheesy network show; real estate shows like house hunters or property brothers, TLC shows like my strange addiction? oh my god he's LOCKED IN. james change the channel wtf we are currently watching a girl eat her mattress. he's like i know.... it''s so fascinating.....

SIRIUS would pretend to watch all these deep intellectual dramas, i can see him having a big peaky blinders phase. he would be rly into game of thrones and (not exactly a show but) star wars the franchise. but his real guilty pleasure? any trashy dating show. love island us/uk/aus he's seen them all. too hot to handle, love is blind, 90 day fiance, THE BACHELOR/BACHELORETTE. he has embarrassingly strong opinions about every contestant. "no i just don't think she's there for the right reasons!" "sirius it's been two episodes." "THAT'S ENOUGH"

REMUS would watch a lot of period dramas and like historical shows you don't quite understand. typical boy stuff, some war dramas, some documentaries on the history of the printer, y'know. definitely watched a whole documentary on the sinking of the titanic and then when you made him watch titanic (1997) he smugly pointed out all the inaccuracies. his guilty pleasure? true crime, he's half-convinced he's figured out who jack the ripper was...

REGULUS honestly hates tv and mostly watches things just so you'll stop bugging him about it. he likes the darker, weirder shows more. if you're ever watching criminal minds, one of the rly spooky twisted ones? oh he's paying attention for sure. but if he ever does get bored in his own free time i feel like deep down he would be an anime guy, like the most pretentious unheard of anime. you just don't get it

EVAN would love all the crime-centric shows, i can see him loving money heist, breaking bad and its spinoffs, narcos. anything action packed and fast paced and this man is sat. also sports like duh, but he would sit and watch all the behind the scenes documentaries and after-game footage. his guilty pleasure would 100% be gossip girl or greys anatomy or one of those "girly drama" teen shows. the snippy little comments he'd make during... she's right though, serena's hair does look like trash

and last but not least, BARTY would love the dark, cynical, offbeat shows. black mirror, manifest, the boys. something that leaves you wondering what the hell you just witnessed. also unironically LOVES rick and morty and will go on unprompted rants about how genius it is. the sociopolitical themes bro. late at night when no one else is around, he gets deep into conspiracy theories. dunno, love, the moon landing footage looks a bit shabby to me. yeah, see, the shadows? totally misaligned. fake news.

☀️🌻 masterlist

[red-dye40]

ESSAYEMEMWHY

Newfag buys a cake. With apologies to Carlo's Bakery.

CW: rape, suicide, self harm, emetophobia, sexual coercion / manipulation, murder, gore, necrophilia, foodplay, new jersey landmarks

(A/N HUGE shoutout to @vampiricvisions and his rly good newf art for being the main source of inspo for this fic. thank u for always drawing my perv so perfectly.)

First time outta the house in a while. Gotta go far.

A fucking bus to a train. To another train. Wait in a line. Fuckin’ TLC really blew this joint up.

The bitchy Italian lady behind the counter says she only has small cakes left. He says that's fine, it doesn't have to be that big.

He spells it out, letter by letter, it oozes from his lips like a dirty secret he's sure the bakery is in on. But no one calls the cops because it's not a breach of any legal settlement to buy a cake.

The train ride home is long and painful. The cake on his lap, rubbing threateningly against his crotch. He thinks about sliding into one of the train car bathrooms, rubbing one out real quick just to get him back to Trenton without making a mess. But he restrains himself. He’s patient enough. And he doesn't want to spoil the real thing.

The bus is pretty empty. He sits in the back. He gets a whiff of the cake on the humid air and he wants to rut against the seat. He doesn't, though. He’s normal. He’s a reformed citizen.

Back home, fucking finally. He’d stayed up all night cleaning off the kitchen counter, throwing out all the trash he’d accumulated over the past year, scrubbing the linoleum. The rest of the house was still a fucking mess, a petrified memorial of his current state, but at least his workspace was clear.

He knows it's probably best to refrigerate the cake, at least for an hour or two, especially considering how hot it was out today, especially considering his nearly two hour long commute. The icing’s started to melt, its face sweating in August humidity. The cursive piping bleeds out into a nearly incoherent mess of garish pinks and oranges. He pops off the plastic cover. Takes a whiff. Straight sugar and butter. His dick gets hard immediately.

So he's unzipping his pants, he’s hiking himself up onto the counter like he'd planned for, the cake awaiting him between his knees, sweating and panting and breathing like a virgin on her wedding night. Coquette and demure on satin sheets of buttercream. He reads the cake aloud. Like a prayer. A little dedication. And his eyes do water for a moment, he does want to cry. But he takes that, twists it, gets it nice and throbbing and wet and shoves it in with gusto. 

The inside’s still a bit cold and it's a nice surprise. He moans low, moans her name just like he’s always wanted to. Imagines it's her sweet summer fruit he’s fucking. Her cold, frozen, dead and jelly-like cunt. He thinks about her on the bathroom floor. All those fucking pills. Puke lodged in her throat. He pushes in deeper, that’s her throat he's fucking now, that's her vomit getting his dick wet. It would all be so much easier if she just listened, wasn't such a fucking bitch, did what she was told, didn't lead him on. Oh well. At least he has the cake.

His fingers dig into the sponge, squelch it to paste. It gums up between his knuckles and everything’s simultaneously sticky and slippery. His knees slide on the counter. There’s barely any traction now, can’t really keep pushing from this angle. He lays her down flat, and she splays out raw and ragged, a neat red hole of strawberry gore urging him in. He fucks it hard, straight down into her slit, right into her wound, all her insides forced out so they paint his dick in shimmery pinks, elbows on the counter and shaking, spit hanging from his lips. He curses her out, calls her names, slaps her hard enough that her name goes flying and splatters against the kitchen wall. Squeezes the life out of her; if the pills weren’t enough, he would finish it–he would walk over there himself and knock on the door and cut a slice right out of her side, the knife sat in hot water so it glides right on through, right through her sugary skin and her spongy fat and her sweet red center. He’d never fantasized so deeply about something. She could never dream of making his dick so hard while she was alive. Dead, she’s so much sweeter. So much easier to fuck, to ruin and devour.

He grabs a handful. Smooshes it on his head, down his dick. Tangles it in his pubes, pink rosettes and orange “Happy” on his balls–ruined, ugly, humiliated, stupid fucking bitch. He fucks his fist and the kitchen echoes with wet and sloppy squelching, his teeth bared, drool rolling down his chin and his eyes rolling in his head. Toes curled in a tender yellow sponge. Fingernails greased with butter, grainy with confectioner’s sugar. Teeth stained with red and yellow lakes, his eyes weeping, throat tight but he pushes past it, pushes right on through til his dick hits the counter and it’s like he can hear her last breath, watch her eyes go milky and dead, her chest heaves a final time and then it all stops, she succumbs and at last he does too, he cums hard and angry, his dick twitching against a countertop of cake, jizzing messily over her remains, all of it smeared across a doily and a golden halo of cardboard.

He makes use of the knife, carves a bit of himself off in solidarity but doesn’t feel much anymore, tries to bleed out to match her in death but that doesn’t work, so eventually wraps his wrists in tea towels and rolls off the counter, scoops all the gunk off his dick and all the leftovers back onto the board. Replaces the lid like closing a casket and tosses it in the fridge. 

In a bit he’ll be hungry again anyway.

[therealkaidertrash21]

So, I thought it would be fun to ask some of my friends who haven't read TLC what they thought the ships were, and their answers were... Interesting...

And extremely amusing for me, too.

Also, keep in mind I didn't tell them ANYTHING about the plot or the characters. I didn't even mention the age gaps (oops)

I will be dividing it into different parts cause...it's a lot.

And I'll add my comments to her explanation in purple

First, my friend who sadly I can't tag cause she doesn't have Tumblr

(also I translated this from Spanish and I'm not a translator)

Thorne x Jacin: in my opinion they're together because Thorne looks proud and extroverted (true that), and Jacin is someone who's kind of serious and chill (again, true) . So I feel like they would be a great combination of gays.

Wolf x Scarlet: I like these two quite a lot. Wolf acts like a bad guy but he's actually dumb (adorable) (again, accurate, how does she know?) so 🤓 he fits well with Scarlet because she's brave and with a strong attitude (or at least that's how I imagine her to be like). (Maybe I told her smth cause she did too well...)

Iko x Scarlet: they're like water and fire, ruby and sapphire. They fit together super well. In my opinion, Iko is happy and energetic and Scarlet is more serious but supports her in everything. I think they look great together, and I feel like they'd be a great couple. (New ship unlocked(?)

Iko x Cress: Like I said before Iko is energetic and extroverted, so she fits well with someone who's more shy (in my opinion). I really see them together. I like them. Also, I feel like Iko would make clothes for Cress and they'd be happy. (HOW DID SHE KNOW IKO IS A FASHION GIRLIE??? also, I approve of everything she said about them)

Wolf x Winter: I don't know, I think it fits well. To me, Winter looks wise and Wolf looks a bit dumb (in the good way). They fit well because she would explain everything to him and they'd be happy forever. (Lmao)

Cinder x Kai: My hunch says that Kai is hooked in Cinder, but in the beginning she didn't pay attention to him at all, but then, with the power of love, they get together. (Again. HOW. DID. SHE. KNOW???)

I hope you thought this was fun like I did... The next are definitely a lot more brainrot than this one, so prepare.

[land-of-evergreens-and-dye]

You know what I need more of, it's fics about how Dave Katz lives, and Klaus decides to stay in the 1960's+. Like I remember there were a couple, but I can no longer find them, and I loved them.

The idea that perhaps the remaining Hargreeves siblings stop the apocalypse and realize after a week or a month that they are down a sibling. They finally realize that he's not on a drug bend but is genuinely missing. The search begins, and their happy family that they have been trying to make is broken up again cause they forgot they had a brother out there who's vanished into thin air.

It takes a bit, and they finally find a lead to where he could be, and its literally from Hazel who come back from like his honeymoon with Agnes. It's like a peace offering to Five so the new couple can stay in this time without getting murdered by him. And he's all like 'hey don't know of you know this,but me and cha cha kidnapped your brother a while back, and Agnes keeps asking about him since he never comes by anymore. Did you guys find him after he took out briefcase?'

This leaves Five just furious, not at Hazel per se just at him and his whole dysfunctional family that can't keep track of any of their siblings. So a family meeting is called after finding out that their junkie brother has managed to drop himself into the fucking Vietnam War without anyone noticing. This obviously excludes poor Ben who's been STRESSED about what has happened to Klaus.

So they decide to obviously try to get Klaus back, but unfortunately they do not know exactly when he landed. The briefcases were not 100% accurate with when they dropped you, and Hazel cannot remember the exact date since him and cha cha traveled so much the dates start to run together. So they start scouring the internet for even a glimpse of their brother.

That's when they find the photo from the VFW photo on some wiki page. And they get a rough idea of when to jump to not so much where. That takes almost a month to calculate where Klaus ended up at Texas of all places. It takes another 2 weeks before Five is confident enough to jump with others and not strand them all over time. What he was not anticipating was that some of his siblings did not have the best grip on him when he jumped so all of those calculations went out the window when during the jump they all started falling one by one.

This results in them all landing at different times kinda like season 2, just a lot closer to Klaus' time in Vietnam.

Then the fic should change POV with Klaus now honorably discharged from the service with Dave. They made it to 1969 (😏) and with nowhere else to go, they go to Dave's hometown where, thankfully, Brian passed away while Dave was serving. So all that's left is Dave's mother and like 5 sisters. They are met with open arms and a lot of new niece's and nephew's to meet in person.

None of Dave's sisters care that Dave is gay just that he's happy. And while his mother is not ecstatic that Dave prefers the company of men, she at least loves Klaus. They get on like a house on fire somehow, much to the shock of all the Katz family. They end up moving to some old farmhouse left to the family generations ago that no one really wants since it's so far out of town and needed some real TLC. Klaus finds this perfect since there are way less ghosts on the property.

Together they fix it up and paint it a pale yellow with seafoam green trim on the doors and windows, they have a cow named Daisy, a couple goats that mow the lawn for them, and a herd of aforementioned niece's and nephew's that visit on the regular for free childcare. They visit Mama Katz every other Sunday for family dinners that nearly bring Klaus to tears at the start, witnessing a normal and loving family dynamic.

Klaus is relatively clean he still smokes cigarettes since they are legal and keep his hand ls busy. He knows he's immortal so he's not worried about the affects of smokers lung, but he does do it away and downwind from any and all family members so as to not give them second hand smoke. Since he's sober, he's able to see his fallen brothers from Vietnam and banish all of the crazed and blood thirsty ones to the great beyond.

They are living their best lives they had just painted their bathroom Miami pink with matching tiles and appliances to boot when out of nowhere about a year after discharge on a random Tuesday Ben appears in said bathroom. While Klaus is in the bath, radio blasting, and a glass of wine resting on the edge of the tub. Ben isn't noticed right away since Klaus has his eyes covered with cucumbers and face painted with some avocado mask, not a care in the world to any possible ghost that may catch him unaware. Ben stares for a good while taking in his brother who is a healthy weight and from what he can see has no under eye bags. Klaus is singing along with the radio when the door quietly opens, and this man sneaks in. Ben is worried history is about to repeat itself, and Klaus is about to get kidnapped again, so he just screamed for Klaus to get up. This of course, scares the shit out of Klaus who nearly brains himself trying to get up out of sheer instinct from years of being on the streets high out of his mind knowing that he can only trust his brother whenever he said to get out, to actually get out. Thankfully, after not actually braining himself Klaus is able to collect himself and finally come face to face with Ben, all while Dave is losing his mind over the move that Klaus just pulled. After a couple of minutes of staring, Klaus just makes Ben solid, so he could hug him, and so Dave has some idea about what was happening. Which was a relief cause Dave thought Klaus was having a flashback of some kind and was super worried it was his fault.

So after that touching but awkward hug, Klaus pulls himself together and cleans off and receives the ultimate yelling from Ben. And once he calmed down Klaus gives his side of what had happened, and how happy he is to see Ben after months of not hearing his brothers constant nagging. Ben then explains how he got there and that their oblivious siblings are here to rescue him. To which Klaus responds with that he's not going back but thank you for coming. This throws Ben off he had ran through so many outcomes, but this was not one he ever dreamed of happening, that Klaus would not want to go back with his family. And the more Ben looked around, the more he realized why Klaus wouldn't want to go back to a family who didn't even know he was missing.

For one there are way less ghosts whether that's Klaus' doing, the location, or just the time period he doesn't know but it's probably a big contender for the lack of enthusiasm about going back. Then there is the fact that the walls are covered in framed photos many of Klaus with Dave and the 173rd Airborne Brigade, some with Mama Katz, almost too many of Dave and Klaus, as well as several of the many animals and niece's and nephew's. Each photo depicts a reason to stay with a huge smile plastered on each person's face to really seal the deal. It breaks Ben's heart, but he gets it. Klaus found a place he belongs to, and that's the real kicker. Ben can understand and is starting to agree that maybe Klaus should stay cause the final nail in the Coffin is that Dave keeps looking at Klaus like he hung the stars and moon just for him. It's a look Ben has read about, but has never seen before, at least not on his siblings' faces. And here Klaus is not only on the receiving end of that look, but he too looks at Dave the same way. They match each other's freak it's weird to see, but Ben can't look away. He's honestly relieved that Klaus has found his other half, even if he had to time travel and fight in a war for it.

That was that Ben approved of Dave and agreed he would not try to force Klaus to go back. In fact, as each siblings landed in this timeline, Ben would report back to Klaus and played Lookout, so Klaus didn't have any unplanned run-ins with them. Ben would spend his days either following Klaus around as he tended to the house and farm or following Dave whenever he had to cover a shift at the family hardware store. He found the mundaness of it all quite relaxing, and as time passed, Ben was even introduced to the Katz family.

The years pass, and they settle into life of the early 70s, and then after 4 years of Klaus being in the past, Ben reports that Five has finally landed, the final Hargreeves sibling to arrive. Klaus prepares himself for the upcoming battle that is sure to arise. Cause despite the other's landing well before Five, they are no closer to finding their long-lost brother. It never occurred to them that Klaus may have changed his name. Now officially Klaus Katz he's basically invisible to his estranged family who are at their wits end trying to find the image of Klaus they are hanging on never even considering he'd ever change his ways. They look for him in opium dens and street corners at night, but never find him.

Five lands and is able to track his lost siblings pretty easily since they all have landed in the same alley. They didn't stray far in case another landed there. Now, with their all siblings reunited minus one, they can start searching in earnest. They can cover more ground and get word out that they are looking for their lost brother. It takes a week before Five comes to the conclusion that Klaus has most likely changed his name. For what reason they don't know yet but it makes sense as to why they couldn't find a Klaus Hargreeves, since according to Fives' calculations, Klaus is definitely in Texas so that narrows the search a great deal.

They manage to make flyers with the one photo they have of Klaus they printed from the internet that Five had possession of, and use the information they had to help find him.

This leads one of the younger nieces to see said flyer and to call the number provided, thinking she was helping her uncle find his family. At first, the siblings think the call was some kind of prank until they hear a familiar voice cut the young girl off and hang up the phone. They found Klaus. It was kinda anticlimactic in a way, no life or death fights or big bads finally sending their demands if they ever wish to see their brother alive again. Just a little girl who didn't know any better trying to help her uncle reunite with his family.

They show up to the farm on a Tuesday it's always a Tuesday for some reason. Klaus knows they are coming and has already had Dave drive the kids back, so they are not there to witness the inevitable fight that was to break out. He puts the kettle on in case they want tea if not, there was fresh lemonade in the fridge, and he waited with one of his favorite records on to help lighten the mood.

Klaus felt 10 years old waiting to get yelled at for his poor life decisions and how they affected his siblings again. But he was ready to finally stand his ground and stay where he was actually wanted. It's not long after the kettle whistles that both Klaus and Ben can hear an unfamiliar vehicle pull up to the farm. They both take calming breaths and go to open the door to reveal their siblings, Luther, with a raised fist ready to knock.

Klaus welcomes and ushers them into the house with little fanfare. He doesn't even acknowledge that Ben is visible, just lets the shock set in for his family as he offers refreshments and snacks. He doesn't even wait for replies before he's heading to the kitchen to just grab the pitcher of lemonade and glasses as well as the sliced loaves of banana bread he'd made that morning.

Klaus steadies his shaking hands and tries to reassure the lingering soldiers of the 173rd that he's ok and does not need backup, yet. He sends a small hail Mary for Dave to hurry back to the little girl on her bike and then heads back into the living room where Luther is crushing Dave's reading chair and the rest are on the couch with the most heinous print they found at a rummage sale. He sets the tray down and insists that they try both since the lemons are from his tree out back, and the banana bread was Mama Katz's recipe passed down from generation to generation.

All hell breaks lose as Klaus is the only one to fill a glass and to take a slice, each sibling trying to overpower the other as they loudly exclaim how Klaus missing has affected them. And how could he not try harder to get back to them. It goes on for quite some time so long that by the time they've lost steam, Dave had finally pulled back up into the driveway. And him entering his own house nearly sets off another apocalypse with how on edge Viktor was. But Klaus just shushes them and greets his husband, laws of the time be damned, and starts his introductions. Klaus just plows on not leaving room for his family to start up again he starts offering up options for dinner to a confused Dave and an amused Ben who plays along, offering his own ideas for dinner. Everyone follows Klaus into the kitchen as he starts pulling pots and pans from cupboards and meat and produce from the fridge and starts making a zuppa toscana soup. Dave and Ben fall into rhythm knowing what is needed of them. The siblings just sit at the kitchen table and watch as dinner unfolds before their eyes.

No one says a thing. Ben leaves to flip the record or to change it out, but other than that, no one moves, no one breaths as though a small inhale would break the spell. As though Klaus was still that fragile junkie, who cried if they were out of his favorite donut flavor or who always hid during missions cause they were too much for him to handle. But as they truly looked at the man before them that was not the Klaus they saw, no standing before them was a man who fought in a war and lived, who is with a man in 1970's Texas, a man who was sober and bright eyed laughing at their dead brothers antics while making soup.

Before them stood a man they were not confident they could convince to come back with them. And the more they looked around, the more they were certain they knew their brother was no longer theirs and hadn't been in quite some time.

But the hargreeves were nothing if not stubborn, so they would not lose their brother without a fight. So as dinner is served and they sit cramped at the kitchen table, thrifted from the salvation army, and Klaus would talk about mundane things like the weather or how the animals have been. A sibling would bring up some flaw Klaus had to Dave, like they somehow have been together for years now, and Dave hadn't noticed the drugs or the PTSD from his childhood. And Klaus wouldn't deny or change the subject, just confirmed that Dave knew that and moved onto recent movie releases or what they planned to plant this upcoming spring. This went on for about half an hour before both Dave and Ben finally broke and just demanded that the siblings leave. That if they are gonna talk to Klaus like that then they were not welcome in their home.

The stunned silence was thick they had forgotten that Ben was there. Their brother, who was the quietest, had found his voice after death and was finally able to be heard, so he went off on them. Listed their many faults and how many times they'd failed not just each other but Klaus specifically as children to present day when they didn't even notice he was missing.

Once he was finished, he was heaving despite not having to breathe as he now calmly tells them of the man Klaus has become now, of the family he now has. He explains that he is on Klaus' side to not go back because what is there for him back in 2019? That question seems to cath them off guard, so much so that they are easily led out of the house by the 173rd soldiers while Dave comforts Klaus. The hargreeves put up no fight and just walk out the door to the car. They sit in the drive for a while, thinking about what had just happened.

They accept defeat. Ben had let slip during his rant that Klaus still had the briefcase in working condition in their attic, covered in dust and unused. Had been since the moment Klaus landed here. He'd never once thought about going back he wasn't being rash or confrontational. No, he'd thought it through and decided that staying was what was best for him, and as much as they don't like it, they realized they will just have to live with the fact that their brother was not coming home with them.

They go back to their home base for the last time, all having the same idea of writing a letter addressed to their brother trying to apologize for their past actions and that they wish him well, that hopefully if he is still with them in 2019 he should visit or at least call. The letters are sealed and sent, and then they leave in a flash of blue, not knowing if Ben followed them like he had before, and they arrive in the middle of the hargreeves sitting room only minutes after they had left.

Grace walks in unfazed by the changes that have taken place from one moment to the next and asks if they'd like lasagna for dinner. No one says anything, and Grace decides to make the dish anyway and walks off as the siblings just sit in silence. They remain that way all through dinner. They seperatly go to their rooms afterwards. Having decided that in order to heal their trauma, living together would be beneficial, never even noticing that one room had remained unlived in.

That neglect changed they kept tabs on each other from then on out. They now knew everything about each other. Where and when they work, their hobbies, and dreams. They all eveb got to meet Claire once Allison had gotten the approval from her therapist and court.

No one dared look up if Klaus was still alive or not. None of them prepared for if he wasn't. In fact they continue to send letters to the farm address nothing serious just updates on their lives and photos of accomplishments each one secretly hoping they'd make it on the Katz's wall amongst the many family photos.

The letters always sent and are never returned to sender, so that bodes well with them. It's about a year to the day funnily enough on a Wednesday that during Claire's kindergarten graduation, a couple of old men not looking a day over 60 walk in and take a seat in the back. One dressed quite eccentrically in bright colors, head still full of curls, making the man next to him look quite plain in comparison. It's not till Claire walks the stage that the Hargreeves even notice they've snuck in as they whoop and hollar with the proud parents and uncles. Said family turns to see that now it's two old men and an underdressed teen, wolf whistling and signaling to them that they will talk after.

And talk they do. They end up reconnecting and become a truly odd family, but it works. Claire meets her final uncles and her copious cousins. They are shown that they did infact make the wall of photos along with their letters. Life goes on, and they miraculously live well into their 100's with both their families by their sides. Celebrating not just their lives but their lives together. Then, on a random Tuesday, within minutes of each other, Klaus and Dave Katz pass on peacefully. Following the youngest hargreeves sibling to the great beyond now that the little girl on a bike will begrudgingly let Klaus in. They have a funeral where no one was allowed to wear black unless it shimmered, and partied once again sharing stories and photos. then, at the end they lowered their caskets side by side and buried them, finally at peace.

[traumadumpwriter]

Ache - Eddie Munson

"He knew that she had changed since they were kids, obviously, and he knew that she must've got herself involved in some bad shit to have ran away with Billy Hargrove, but he wasn't expecting such a dark eyed, tiny, slumped, girl to come out of that trailer. He decided in that moment that he was going to work out what had happened to his childhood best friend and that he was going to fix it. Or at least put a smile on her face. He just wanted her to look happy again."

Trigger warning for: mental illness (specifically CPTSD and bpd), Self harm, Drug abuse, Overdose, Explicit sexual assault, Physical and Mental abuse, Mentions of an eating disorder.

I started writing this fic about two years ago maybe even three and I’ve not touched it in a while. Not going to edit it as much as it should be edited as I simply don’t have the time atm so it’s not amazing but perhaps in the future I will give it the TLC it needs. As per its a self insert, angsty vent fic. Hope y’all enjoy lol. Written in the style of multiple POVs.

Authors note from the original upload on Wattpad: This is set just before season 3, the year before the main cast join high school - 1985 I believe. There isn't much mention of the main cast or the upside down for the beginning, it will get into that tho don't worry lol. Also this Eddie isn't necessarily completely canon as in the beginning of s4 it's suggested his character is a bit of a coward but we don't want that we want bad boy Eddie so he's baddd bc it's sexy. The friendship between Robin and Steve isn't canon compliant either as I moved it so that they started working at Scoops and became friends a year earlier than established in the show - meaning Starcourt mall was built a year earlier (I know), but they haven't had their Russian adventure yet. That will happen.

Word Count: 1.1k

Chapter One

Introduction:

The first day back at school was always gut wrenchingly anxious for Lana. This was the worst year yet though.

She thought she'd ditched this place forever. She thought it was all over, she didn't even need to graduate, she could just live on the road with Billy forever.

But things didn't turn out that way.

See, last year she'd impulsively left Hawkins with just a handbag and $30 to her name in the passenger seat of her boyfriend's, now ex's, car, Billy.

Everything had been so fun at first. Constant sex and drugs and travelling and drinking and trouble making. She felt true freedom for the first time in her life in the fleeting beautiful moments those few months offered her.

Billy enjoyed himself too, of course he did, he was the one in control wether Lana knew it or not; he was the man. But two extremely emotionally unstable, drug dependent, young adults, who are running out of cash and around each other 24/7 can only stay sweet for so long.

She had a gut feeling from the beginning that it would all go wrong, as it always did, but she stuck around anyway, she couldn’t help herself. Adrenaline and validation were worth more than safety. She didn't know just how wrong it would go though.

Once the drugs began to run out and the slightest withdrawal kicked in, Billy turned from the handsome saviour to the scary villain. No matter what Lana did now to please him, to make money for them, for him, the act had dropped. The honeymoon phase was over and he was over seeing her as a person. She was his toy now. That was how it always seemed to go with men for the damaged girl.

So when things got too bad, even for her, back to Hawkins she came, feeling more broken than ever.

Her mother was fuming of course. Embarrassed that her daughter had made her look like "such an irresponsible parent" to the whole town. Not concerned by what made her run away in the first place, or what might've happened to her while she was gone.

Of course everyone had eventually found out about Lana's disappearance - or more running away with Billy. Before Mrs Blau even made the police report, people had seen them racing cars, drinking, shouting in the street, being general nuisances and it was a bit of a topic already.

When she arrived home, Lana didn't have the energy to care about the gossip, to even leave her room - she was crushed. He was just another man. Like all the rest. Even if he had made her feel different, even if he was so beautiful at first - they were all the same.

And he was back in town too. Which made it all worse. He came back only a couple days after her.

The thought of seeing him filled her with more dread than this day did. She hadn't even properly processed everything that had happened to her, she didn't understand it and she didn't want to, she just knew that she was very much scared of Billy now.

For the two whole months she'd been back in Hawkins, she rarely left the trailer, only ever doing so to pick up drugs or buy food, not that she was eating much anyway. Her friends, Steve, Robin and even her cousin Jonathan tried talking to her a couple times as soon as they heard she was back, but she didn't have the energy to talk.

She didn't have the energy to do this year of school again.

But she needed to, just to keep her mum off her back, just until she could escape for real this time.

The thought that kept her going now was that feeling of freedom again - the freedom she felt when her and Billy first left Hawkins. She was going to be free again and this time forever, she just didn't know how yet, and finishing high school seemed like a good start. She could get a well paying job and then never look back. Atleast that's what her mum said.

So now here she was, looking at herself in the mirror she hated so much, slowly getting ready to leave the safety of her room.

Sobriety wasn't going to help either. She popped a couple of Xanax and immediately felt herself calm down slightly.

Her clothes were baggy and worn, a pair of dark blue jeans and a black jumper. She clipped her Walkman onto the side of her bag and put her headphones on, playing A Forest by The Cure as she left the home and began to walk towards where the bus would be.

It was a chilly, grey morning and the trailer park was pretty quiet, so far no one had said anything to Lana and that was how she liked it. Until she got to the park bus stop and could see all the kids waiting. As she silently walked over, she saw them all turn to look at her and then quickly turn back to each other and whisper.

All of them except for Eddie Munson that was. The tall, curly haired, repeat senior that she'd once been childhood friends with.

He just stared at her in silence, his mind going “What’s happened to Lana?”

He didn't know her that well, not anymore anyway.

They used to be practically joined at the hip when they were kids. Really little kids. Since then they'd drifted apart; Eddie being loud and somewhat a leader of the nerds, Lana being quiet and content with her own small group. They didn't really talk to each other anymore, maybe a quick hello if they happened to pass by, but nothing more.

Lana never thought much on them drifting apart, or on Eddie at all for that matter, and Eddie never thought much about it either - until he heard about her and Billy Hargrove... and all of the rumours surrounding them.

What was she doing with that son of a bitch? He was only ever up to trouble.

He knew that she had changed since they were kids, obviously, and he knew that she must've got herself involved in some bad shit to have ran away with Billy, but he wasn't expecting such a dark eyed, tiny, slumped, girl to come out of that trailer.

It shocked him, badly.

He decided in that moment that he  was going to work out what happened to Lana. What made her suddenly change the way she did all those years ago? Why weren't they friends anymore? What did Billy do to her?

He decided he was going to get his crazy, funny, beautiful childhood friend back. He just didn't know how yet.

[lookingfts]

If you're in the mood for some fluffy fluff...? Married or dating, or in the enemies to lover phase, tripped ankle or concussion, forced proximity and having to provide TLC?

Also fulfilling another prompt I got a while ago about how Kate would handle Anthony getting into an accident! Enjoy.

Kate’s heart was pounding in her chest as she pulled up to the entrance. Anthony was already standing there with a nurse by his side, his arm in a splint, looking exhausted and a little disheveled. She threw her car into park and stepped out.

“He couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” the nurse said with a smirk. “Here are the care instructions. You can call us if you have any questions.”

Kate took the thick packet, opening the side door and letting the nurse help him into the passenger seat. It was slow going, Anthony wincing at every small movement, but finally he slumped against the seat.

The nurse helped him into his seatbelt, making an apologetic noise as he hissed. “We’ll see you in a few days, Anthony. Take care of yourself.”

He was entirely silent as Kate got back into the car and pulled out onto the road, heading in the direction of his flat. It was almost midnight, no traffic in sight, but Kate drove cautiously anyway, not wanting to risk slamming on the brakes and injuring him further.

“You didn’t call your mum? Or Ben?”

Anthony let out a rough sigh, rubbing his good hand over his face. “I’ll call them tomorrow, I’m just…I’m too tired for it right now. Besides, I’ll need some help and you’ve seen me naked much more recently than they have.”

She might have chuckled at that, if she wasn’t so fucking tense. Kate had been coiled tight since the second he called, and despite her attempts at deep breathing, nothing was quite succeeding in helping her unwind.

It wasn’t an entirely satisfying reason for why he had called her. She was Anthony’s friend on a good day, maybe, but she was more of a situationship than anything. Unbelievable late-night hookups that none of their friends or family knew about – or at least, she didn’t think they knew. Not that there was much to know. Anthony gave her explosive, leg-shaking orgasms and she left in the morning and they didn’t discuss it much beyond that. There was nothing to talk about.

At any rate, she didn’t think they were at picking each other up from the hospital status.

She entered the code to his front door and Anthony seemed to relax a bit at the familiar surroundings of his flat. Kate already had a few clothes and toiletries lying around; it wouldn’t be a hardship to stay the night. In the morning, he would tell his family, and they could suffocate him with their particular brand of care.

Anthony stilled at the bottom of the stairs. His bedroom was on the upper level, along with two guest rooms, so it was a necessary evil. “Sorry,” she said. “I know it’s going to be uncomfortable. I’ve got you.”

Huffing out a breath through his nose, he grabbed the banister and carefully made his way up the stairs. Her heart twisted a little every time he inhaled sharply and shut his eyes, waiting for the wave of pain to pass. Finally, they were at the landing and his shoulders slumped in relief.

Once they were in his room – truly a ridiculous suite, in her opinion, though the bed was spectacular – Kate slowly helped him undress and change into a pair of sweatpants. “How did you break your arm?” she asked finally. He hadn’t said a word about it.

“I tripped down the stairs,” he admitted, gritting his teeth as he stepped into one of the legs, then the other. “I just…wasn’t paying attention, honestly. I looked at my phone and I missed a step and I just…yeah.”

The knot in her chest grew tighter, compressed by something that felt a little like panic. She couldn’t account for why she had been so sour since he called, but maybe it was starting to take shape now. Flashes filled her mind, too quick to process – Anthony with a head injury, Anthony under a sheet. They both knew how one moment could mean life and death. How one moment could break everyone who had loved that person.

Once he was situated, Kate opened the drawer and took out one of her pajama sets. Her hands were trembling, and she felt dizzy. She just couldn’t turn off the awful noise in her head – what if what if what if.

“You should rest,” she said, not missing the furrow of his brows at her terse tone. “I can sleep in the guest room, just call me if you need anything.”

Anthony didn’t respond for a moment, and she turned to leave. “Kate,” he said to her back, sounding so weary. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to pick me up. I clearly overstepped.”

An embarrassing heat pricked at her eyes. She had kept it together, focused on the singular goal of making sure that he was alright. And now that he was…her head was a mess. A confusing jumble of anger and fear and gratitude that he was still there, with her, and she couldn’t articulate any of it. Because she was just some girl he fucked sometimes, so why should she care this much?

“You were so reckless,” she spit. That was easier. To fight and claw and rage like they had always done, months before she was ever in his bed. “You can’t do that shit, Anthony. Your family – did you even think about your family? Your mum? Ben? Hyacinth? Did you even think, for one second, what it would do to them if something serious happened to you?”

There was an excruciating silence. She could hear the tears in her voice, the desperation. Could hear the confession between the lines that she had never meant to give. If Anthony hadn’t suspected anything before, he would be a fool not to know now.

His hand landed gently on her waist, and Anthony tugged her against him, careful to avoid his injured side. He was still probably bruised elsewhere, so Kate went gingerly, burying her face in his neck. “I’m sorry,” Anthony murmured. But it was his heartbeat, calm and steady under her hand, that helped her breathe. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll be more careful.”

“We’re not talking about me,” she said unconvincingly. As if her rebellious tears weren’t landing on his bare shoulder, as if she wasn’t making herself small in his arms and letting him surround her.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. They stood like that for a long time, Anthony’s fingers sliding up her back to stroke her curls. Repetitive motions until the haunting melody in her mind stopped.

He was alive. The moment had come and gone, and he was still there.

Kate lifted her head, wiping her face with the heel of her palm. His hand landed on the side of her neck, half cupping her jaw, his face earnest and concerned.

Anthony swallowed. “If anything happened to you…” he said, raw and aching, like she was pulling some admission from the deepest parts of him. “It would destroy me.”

She blinked at him, the words slowly settling over her. Maybe there was something to talk about, after all.

But not tonight. Anthony was swaying on his feet, and Kate found herself exhausted by the day, too. “Stay with me,” he urged, stroking her cheek. “Please.”

Kate nodded and ushered him to bed, helping him find a comfortable position on the mattress before curling up beside him. Letting his rhythmic breathing and the warmth of his hand around hers lull her to sleep.

Everything else could wait.

[pokipopii]

why are the BFDI contestants getting depressed?

Why are the BFDI contestants getting depressed? When is it time to stop competing?

So, I saw the episode Seasonal Shift and I’m sure you have too. But if you haven’t, that episode is going to be referenced. 

So, in season one, BFDI, these characters seemed like they were just silly guys having a lighthearted competition for a prize. Right? And during this season, that’s all it was. Friendships were being made, alliances, and most importantly, they seemed to be having a good time. Even if they weren’t the ones winning. The problems really started happening when the TLC got involved. The area in which the contestants go when they’re eliminated. 

The failed debuters and the eliminated contestants were placed into the box for the entirety of the season, but during the season they switched to the LOL (locker of losers). But why mention the elimination area? They got fed bread, and they even got a window. But what I’d like to mention is in BFDIA, the second season, pillow, one of the failed debuters and one of the people left in the LOL. In episode “pointy,pointy,pointy” Pillow, the character known for infamously being a murder says the line “enough killing, I would never advocate for that”. But what made the shift between BFDIA and BFB? Well, possibly the change of heart is just mental issues. I mean, she was in the LOL for awhile. 

But if this was caused by going a little bit crazy in the metal box that is the LOL, than it surely couldn’t get any worse. I mean, even in BFDIA the constants still seem happy and eager to compete. Until time goes on. Because sure, in the season there’s been conflict, and fighting, with a tinge of backstabbing. At some points more literal than metaphorical. But nothing compares to the newest episode, “Airplanes in The Night Sky”. Because the competition gets way too serious. The episode started with the lighthearted simple challenge as it usually did. Tennis ball won a token to split up Pin and Coiny. During the episode, Pin jumps at the chance to kill to win, and betray her own friend.

The competition isn’t just a friendly sport anymore. It’s ruining friendships. And this is most clear with FreetSmart. Eliminations and competition are the cause of their slow fallout. Choosing who deserves to stay in the alliance, pressuring each other into situations, and expecting too much from each other. The fallout of FreeSmart, even as I loved the team, was an expected result to their circumstances. The competition even split up the bonds between Firey and Leafy, as well as Match and Pencil. I mean, Match and Pencil both spent time in the LOL and the EXIT. I’d act like Pencil too. 

But that’s the thing. Let’s take the two exitors that got into TPOT for example, Pencil and Liy. They went through the same thing, but have responded to it very differently, but yet have similar responses. Pencil has gone rogue, trying anything and everything to win challenges just to stay in the game and away from eliminations. She’s a nervous wreck and she’s very clearly traumatized from the whole thing. She wants to avoid memories of the EXIT, such as anyone who was there, and Four himself, but Liy has gone about her need not to lose differently. She’s forming bonds, making friends, and being more careful who she stays around. She’s being a supportive team player.

And this makes sense, because people who have had trauma, no matter how similar their stories may be. They respond to their experiences differently. But now we know just how damaging it is for their mental health to be trapped in an elimination area, what can we do? Even Two, the objectively better and kinder host traps people. But I’m pretty sure he’ll at least set them free after. But hey, maybe I’m overreacting to these details.

[slippinninque]

Hi👋🏽 This is my first time ever putting in a fic request. I’m not sure if you take requests and I didn’t see anything on your blog so please feel free to ignore this. I was wondering what Fontaine would do if he saw his girl working so hard to balance school and work that she wasn’t taking care of herself like she should or not spending as much time with him?

💆🏾‍♀️TLC

Fontaine x blackfemreader

Warnings: none, some cursing, mainly fluff. Mentions of feeling overworked and overwhelmed, before-work-post (may have some mistakes lol)

"It was tonight, wasn't it?"

You were standing in the middle of the living room, in the middle of wakefulness and the fugue that has been stubbornly following you for the past three weeks.

He saw you stare out into space as you tried to regain your thoughts. Fontaine froze when you turned wet eyes to him, the rest of your face fixed into flat mask.

Still wearing your hoodie and jeans, your cheek held the imprint of one of your text books. He normally would protest you bringing books to bed but with how thin you were already stretched so thin...

"I missed date night," your voice cracked and your hands came up to your face, "We would have been back by now...I...I really missed it...."

Fontaine was up brought you close and closed his eyes against the feel of your trembling. He gently pried your hands away from your face, seeing how your fingers began to curl into claws nearer your hair.

Fontaine hugged you tight, "Hey, hey, you're good."

Your wide eyes met his but Fontaine knew you were only seeing your thoughts plastered across his face. All the things that demanded your attention, the projects and papers and team meetings and recruiting.

He said nothing as he brought your head to his shoulder. Fontaine didn't want think too much about how you sagged against him. You felt, like a rag doll with weighted feet.

"It wasn't you, baby. You've had a lot on your plate, I didn't feel right waking you up." He admitted, "I thought maybe we could have date night at the crib this time. "

You made a quiet, hurt noise and nuzzled closer, "I'm so sorry..."

"Ah, ain't nothing be sorry fo'. I already ordered some grub, it's gonna be dinner in bed tonight. A'ight?"

"I'm sorry...."

Fontaine hushed you and wished he had more to say. Wish he could erase the nerves he could feel prickling along your skin. There was nothing he could say to you. Not right now, at least.

"The only thing I want you to be is getting in that tub for me." He cupped your face, "Bath is already made. Then we'll take it from there, okay?"

"No, that's too much." You tried to shake him off but Fontaine kept hold, "Date night is supposed to be special for the both of us--

Fontaine spoke over you just a bit, "Hush! You want--"

"Don't you hush me--!"

"-- You wanna to make it up to me?"

You nodded at once. Fontaine nodded back before he stepped back and took your hands in his. He took in the worried bend of your brow, the way you chewed and picked at at the healing spots on your bottom lip.

"I've been waiting on your ass to crash for 'bout two weeks now--ain't plotting on your downfall...just worried."

Fontaine's tone robbed you of your fight. You nodded and sniffled, the knot in your throat loosening. He was right. You couldn't keep going on like this, you were only going to get sloppier.

"Okay, good, c'mon and let me get my hands on you a little bit and you can curse at me later for hushing. Yeah?"

Fontaine tugged gently and you went after him feeling like the worse girlfriend in the world.

-----

When you finally felt like you could stand being in your skin. You washed yourself and did so again, mind humming on low as the water steamed and soothed you. There were mountains of bubbles and you could smell the lavender scented candle from its perch in the dreamy fog of the bathroom.

It was strange to feel so wrung out so soon. With the holiday season swiftly approaching, you were tied on both ends. Midterms papers and collaborations clashing with the growing seasonal demand at your Granny's catering business.

While you weren't charge of the magic of making the food you made sure the 'magicians' had their wands and their doves. Grocery orders, appliance repairs, and even down to scheduling for tastings and deliveries.

You made sure that all the elders had to focus on was doing what they loved and being as much of a mediator between them and youngin's of the staff as you could.

It was a good thing to see your grandmother be so invigorated by the rush but she ran a tight ship that felt more like a sardine can lately with all the passive aggressive wars that often came with family businesses.

You cut that thought off before it could take root. That would always be there. Instead you turned your thoughts on the man who still managed to surprise you.

Fontaine waited up for you when you stayed behind for next-day prep. He met you at the front door with a blunt rolled and the shower steaming. He rubbed your aching feet as you pounded out a essay analysis.

Fontaine, bless his heart, has been nothing but supportive. Also rightfully worried, of you had to be honest.

How could you have forgotten the one night in the week that mattered most? That's what sent you over the edge at the end of it all. Not the 11:59 deadlines and collapsing cake towers--the fact you forgot about your man.

As of drawn by the sound of your spiraling thoughts, Fontaine knocked a little on the door before you saw his free forms peek in.

"I got you all set if you're ready, baby." He came in a bit further as if he hadn't already seen your all, "If you're ready, that is?"

The water sloshed as you rose instead of answering. Fontaine came fully into the bathroom with a towel stretched and waiting for you.

"Bring yo' lil self here."

The towel wrapped you up and you were delighted to feel it was fresh from the dryer. Fontaine hummed knowingly and rocked you a bit before pulling back to dry you off in earnest.

It felt silly at first, you wanted to grab the towel and insist that you had it but....it felt nice to be out of control for once.

You were then led to the bedroom instead of the living room. There you found your nest ready and waiting. There was no textbooks or notebooks to be found, or pens to be stuck by. Only one of Fontaine's hoodies and your well-loved sleeping shorts.

A single touch made you gasp in delight, Fontaine must have tossed everything into the dryer while you were soaking.

Once you were dressed, Fontaine patted your bottom and peeled the covers back. You dove between the covers and was immediately enveloped by lilac and fresh-linen scent.

"Stay put for me and let me go get some shit together, 'kay?"

" 'kay..."

Fontaine smiled at the sound of your crunchy, sniffly voice, "That's it. Find us something good to watch. Imma be back ."

He saw right through you. Though you knew he would be only a few paces away, somewhere in the house, it still felt too far at the moment. His reassurance that he'd come back had you melting into the blankets.

By the time you settled on Antique's Roadshow, Fontaine returns balancing two styrofoam containers, cups, and a 2 liter of your favorite Faygo.

The logo on the bag with the condiments let you know he ordered from the Mediterranean spot you've been hankering for. This man could have very well unlocked mind reading in hopes of getting you to take care....

You made room for him to settle beside you but Fontaine slid in and was nearly behind you. Emotion locked your throat as you watched Fontaine settle in.

"Thank you, Fontaine. For all of this."

Fontaine took the remote and lowered the volume when the nice lady from Vegas whooped about a found white gold watch.

"You're buried, right now. Gettin' pulled in all sorts of directions. I would have seen it by now had you not told me to be ready for it. That's something we've talked about happening when you started going back to school. What we also talked about is showing up. Remember that?"

It was one evening on the back porch days ago. You were frustrated with your progress with things. Of school, of family, of life. In feeling over overwhelmed by things to do, you strangely end up feel like you aren't doing much.

Fontaine looked into your wary eyes, "We've been making it work. We make time when we can. I let you sleep in because, baby, you needed it."

"You need me too. I need you...I have to be more-more mindful. You're what really matters to me. I should do more..."

Fontaine shook his head and took your hand again, looking at where you fingers laced quickly with his before putting them both against his chest.

"What you said to me when I asked? 'Showing up is doing something. Anything you can.' That goes both ways. Understand?"

You took in the earnest look on his face and couldn't resist kissing it. You probably tasted like stale gum but Fontaine surged forward all the same.

"Mhn, nope--no..." Fontaine pulled back and narrowed an eye at you, "Behave, missy. Food first--something that ain't no damn trail mix or whatever you be snacking on..."

Before you opened your tray, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Can you help me do something first?"

Fontaine was reaching over to pull one of your bonnets out of the nightstand as he answered, "Of course, baby. What do you need?"

"Moral support...."

Fontaine held you as you typed out an email to your professor and your cousin.

First asking for a two-day extension to polish and submit your paper. To your cousin, you apologized but insisted you needed the rest of the week off to get some rest and refocus yourself.

Though you doubted you would take the whole week, Fontaine correct to point out that a little wiggle room couldn't hurt just in case you did need it.

While you were going to have your phone on, all that they would need to get through the week would be ready for pick up and payment.

Before your stomach could sour after you hit send, your phone vibrated where it still was in your hand.

[Girl, fuck these oldies! Get some sleep and let them learn a lesson without you for once! 💜💕💞]

Your eyes welled as the pressure in your stomach eased away. Fontaine saw the way your shoulders sagged and took the hand still holding your phone, kissing the laxing knuckles.

"See? Handled that shit like a fuckin' boss." His other hand went behind your head, strong fingers massaging the base of your neck much to your pleasure.

You released an exhale as your eyes slipped close, unaware of the shadow of a smile on your face.

Fontaine shifted closer to get both hands on you, going for your temples and the knot of thoughts at the base of your skull as he murmured, "Mm. That's sexy as hell--do it again."

"Hm? What, breathe?"

Fontaine purred when you gave a more exaggerated puff of air and a laugh danced a laugh out of you. Between Fontaine's attention and the soft comforts surrounding you, it felt like you were going to be fine.

Fontaine's voice was at you ear, "That feel good? You like when I rub your big, pretty brain like this? Hm?"

Of course you did and of course he already knew. The tension in your neck was no match for the most dexterous fingers in all the Glenn.

"Hmm...dunno. I may need a few more minutes to decide for sure."

"You ain't got to tell me twice, let me get up in that kitchen..."

Luckily for you Fontaine didn't ease up at all. Careful of your dinner, he pulled until you were back to chest and set to work massaging your neck and temples.

All you could feel was his warmness, the give of your bed. All you could hear was the soft shift of styrofoam and an explanation of the popularity of faux gold in the 70's from the TV.

All you could think of, blissfully, was how much you wished you had the HP to jump 'Taine's bones...

Your stomach growled loudly and indignantly. Fontaine chuckled when you shushed it and brought his retreating hands back to your scalp.

"A little while longer and then I want to see you go through at least half that plate." Fontaine pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before popping your bonnet over your hair

"Then I'll rub you however much you'd like..."

With a little chirp of agreement, you flopped back against your man and let him do what he did best.

Take care of you.

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

💜ending notes💜: a long time coming and I'm so sorry anon, I hope you see this and know to please please please feel free to submit again! This ask saved me like no other🥹💞💜💕 thank you to those who were so kind during my burn out, slow and steady definitely wins the race lol! 🙏🏾✨💕

✨taglist✨: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful

@8ttached @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile

@ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93 @sageispunk @hunnishive

@notapradagurl7 @mcondance

@miyuhpapayuh @mogul93 @kindofaintrovert @blowmymbackout @kindofanenigma

@ellethespaceunicorn @soft-persephone

[usmsgutterson]

Nothing Feels As Good As Going Home - S.R

Okay!! My ao3 did see this one first (I had edited it late last night and honestly?? I was too lazy to post it on both platforms because I edited it on ao3 and was too lazy to copy, paste, and then write an authors note lmao) and I'm pretty unsure about this as a whole because I'm only eight seasons in and I haven't written for Spencer before, but I'm conquering my fears tonight.

Despite my bio (which will be changed at least fifteen minutes after this has been posted--I have two accounts and I want to do some maintenance for this one because it needs a little TLC I fear) my requests are currently open!! They're wide open to Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan and Aaron Hotchner, even though I'd also likely be willing to write for another criminal minds character if you asked.

Fic type - this one is tooth rotting fluff because I couldn't resist

Warnings - spencer might be a tad ooc because this is the first time I've written for him. This is also set either in or around season eight as, when I wrote this, I was about halfway through that season and I'm currently close to 2/3rds of the way done with it. Cats are also in this one, if you aren't a cat person.

Spencer used to hate going home. He felt like he’d never really know what would be going on the minute he opened the front door and stepped inside, and after his father left, that fear intensified bit by bit.  

After his father left, he never knew what it would mean, going home, so he stalled. He’d go to a local park and sit on a bench and read a few books in an hour, maybe two, in order to escape the fear he felt at the idea of going home when he had no idea what would be going on in that house, whether his mother was okay that day or not.  

When he went to college and was living in the dorms, he hated going back because it meant more isolation. More loneliness, more of the same, really. Only his books to keep him company and just about nobody else, unless Ethan called, which he usually did two or three times a week. Ethans calls were one of the only things that really helped him when he wasn’t looking after his mother whenever he was on break, typically around the winter and during the summer.  

After having his mother institutionalised, he feared going home because it meant that she wasn’t there, and the guilt that came with having her taken into a facility when it wasn’t something she wanted weighed down on him very heavily.  

In those last two years pre-FBI, he hated going home because it meant more of the same. More loneliness, more of the same nature documentaries he'd seen a thousand times before if he wasn't putting on the news, and more books that he’d already read several times before haunting him from wherever it was that they sat on his bookshelves, which had been scattered throughout most rooms in his apartment.  

But he joined the FBI at twenty-one and managed to meet you somewhere along that year, found out that you’d just started working with the Marshals and had lived only twenty five minutes out from Arlington, which put you about fifteen from Quantico as a whole, and he started hating going home a lot less after you guys had been together for four months.  

After four months of dates and getting to know each other, getting home usually meant going on another date or Spencer finally getting the opportunity to call you and stay on the phone for longer than fifteen minutes.  

Spencer is very careful about your relationship, though—very secretive, though he doesn’t really mean to be, to avoid teasing from Derek and, four or so years down the line, Emily and JJ, though even Rossi joined in on occasion.

It’s not until he’s on the jet, Alex sitting to his left, JJ across him and Derek diagonally so, that he has to spill the beans.  

He gets a text from you and it’s the way that he smiles that gives it away.  

Hey, Spence! I cleaned up the house a little bit and went to grab your favourite coffee beans from the bodega we both like. Also: meet Megatron. Her name deceives.  

Attached is a photo of a kitten that can’t be more than four or five weeks old, dark brown everywhere except for her paws and chin, which are white.  

“Who’s the lucky one, boy genius?” Derek asks.  

“Huh?” Spencer looks up, eyes widened slightly. “It’s nobody.”  

JJs head tilts. “You wouldn’t smile like that for a nobody,” she says. “Who is it?”  

“Is it the one with the dark blue Prius--” Alex starts before she pauses, realizing where she's fumbled. That gets Rossi and Hotch interested, both of whom come to sit in the seats across from the four.  

Alex is the only one on the team who knows about you apart from Penelope, which is pure happenstance—his car had broken down once when both she and Spencer had worked a late night, and so you’d offered to pick him up from work so that the two of you could go back to the house you shared and indulge in a shark documentary and some pizza.  

“It is,” Spencer nods. “Their name is Y/N.”  

“How long have you had a Y/N?” Derek asks.  

“Since I was twenty-one,” Spencer admits. “About a decade now.”  

“You kept a romantic partner hidden for a decade ?” Derek asks. “How? Does--”  

“Penelope knows about them because they’re in the group she goes to on Tuesdays,” Spencer says. “The one for knitting and crocheting—Y/N does the latter, mostly, but they did knit the cardigan I was wearing last week.”  

“And how did Penelope figure out about the thing you two have had going on?”  

“It’s more than a thing , Derek,” Alex says. “If it’s been going for a decade, it’s more than a thing.”  

“We’d gotten done with a case early, and Penelope had left pretty much as soon as we were on the jet so that she could make it to the aforementioned group. I asked them where they were and picked them up with their favourite tea as a surprise. Penelope saw me there, watched us hug, and just about lost her mind. Have I satisfied your thirst for knowledge yet?”  

He turns to Alex briefly, nods a bit to answer her earlier remark. “I just proposed last weekend, so you’re right. It’s more than just a thing I would say.”  

Derek and JJs eyes widen until their shock is clearly conveyed, and Spencer laughs.  

“You have a fiancee, and you just—didn't think to fucking tell anybody?” Derek laughs. “Were you ever going to tell us?”  

“I was—we've been busy with work, and it didn’t occur to me.”  

“Okay,” JJ nods like she believes it, and that’s good enough for Spencer because he’s telling the truth anyway. “What was the text about?”  

Spencer shrugs, paraphrases.  

“They wrote me to tell me they’d cleaned up the house and picked up a stray, I think,” Spencer answers. “I mean, the stray part wasn't explicitly stated but—the kitten doesn’t look more than four weeks old, so the assumption was immediate, but they know I can’t say no to cats. They’ve been hoping that they’d find a stray while I was on a case since we first moved into a condo together. We bought our house six months ago now, and they’ve joked, every single time before I’ve left for a case, that it’s the perfect time.”  

“What’d they name it?” Rossi asks. “Assuming they didn’t ask for your input. I wouldn’t--I’d have a kitten named Einstein who could never live up to that.”  

Spencer can’t help the loving laugh that bubbles up from his throat as his fingers absently locate the chain around his neck, with an engagement ring of his own weighing the chain down just slightly so that the ring sits comfortably at the middle of his collarbone.  

“They named her Megatron,” he says nonchalantly. “Smallest cat I’ve ever seen, and still, she’s got big shoes to fill. Massive ones, actually.”  

That is enough to get Hotch to crack a smile. For a second, Spencer feels like he’s winning even though a game isn’t even being played.  

“Okay, so—how did you do it?” JJ asks. “I mean—ten years and a recent engagement? With only two people on our team discovering through that entire time? How?”  

“Penelope figured it out three years in,” Spencer answers. “Alex only figured it out recently, which is kind of surprising because I’ve never exactly hidden their existence. I just haven't talked about them because nobody has ever really asked but—I don’t know, either. We kept it low key because we both work law enforcement and it was just easier that way for the first little while, and then we both decided we liked the quiet so we kept things that way.”  

“They work in law enforcement?” Derek asks, his eyes narrowing. “Are they FBI?”  

“They’re a Deputy US Marshal, actually,” Spencer corrects. “They work in the Virginia office, which is 45 minutes outside of Quantico, up in Arlington. It’s why I have a twenty five minute commute—we both like our jobs a lot, and twenty-five minutes for me one way is only eighteen minutes for them the other, but I like driving so I don’t mind. They’re in talks for a promotion right now, and they were meant to hear about it today but so far their texts haven’t indicated anything about that.”  

It’s the most Spencer has told anyone except his mother about you since you’d gotten together, and while you both normally like to keep things quiet, bragging about you to the people he routinely trusts with his life is a very nice feeling.  

“US Marshal?” JJ asks. “They pretty commonly hire ex-military,” she says.  

“They’ve never been anywhere near the military,” Spencer laughs. “They did a two year degree at a community college, went to Glynco for training, and were employed by the US Marshals by twenty-one, around the same time I joined the FBI. We met each other at a coffee shop when they were off of work and their local one was closed, so our meeting was kismet.”  

Spencers phone buzzes again, and he ignores it that time. 

Alex grins at him, while Derek tuts and JJs eyes go to his phone as it buzzes once, then twice more, the fourth buzz coming four and a half seconds after the first, second, and third.  

“Check it,” she urges. “The jet is going to land in fifteen minutes, Spencer, so if it’s good news, you might as well.”  

SPENCER!! 

I have really really REALLY good news 

Please tell me your jet is landing soon or the very minute it’s landed call me please because you work twenty five minutes away and that means I can call and order from Antonios and by the time you’re home, you’ll only have to wait five minutes for pizza.  

Also, Megatrons full name is Megatron Ichabod Reid. Just so you know. I love you so much you stupid smart handsome tall man.  

Spencer doesn’t even try to fight his laugh as he reads.

“Good news?” Derek asks.  

“I think they got promoted, but I won’t know for sure til I’m home,” Spencer answers. “Also--Megatrons full name is apparently Megatron Ichabod Reid—their texts read like they’re hyper.”  

“I’d be pretty hyper if I got news of a promotion,” Rossi says. “Let us know if they did, though, kid. I’m hosting a dinner to celebrate your engagement regardless, but if they got promoted, it’s another thing to celebrate on the roster, and all the more of an excuse to meet the person you’ve kept hidden from the likes of us for a decade.”  

“You guys ordering Antonios?” Alex asks. “You mentioned getting Antonios for dinner the day after I saw you two together. I’m assuming it’s their favourite pizza spot—you don’t really seem like the pizza type. More like a pasta guy.”  

“We both love it,” Spencer answers. “There’s no pizza like Antonios—not where we live, anyway. It’s the middle ground between Quantico and Arlington, so there’s not a whole lot to do unless you drive either way.”  

“Antonios makes a good pizza,” Rossi nods.  

“Their pasta is better,” Hotch interjects. Spencer shakes his head, tries to go back to the book that’s sitting on the table in front of him but fails miserably, waits for the fifteen minutes til the jet lands to be done whilst the rest of the team talks amongst themselves.  

The second the jet lands, as he’s walking out of it, he dials your number and you pick up on the first ring.  

“Spencer Walter Reid, light of my life and giver of astoundingly lovely forehead kisses, please tell me you’ve landed,”  

Spencer laughs. “Just did,” he says. “The team knows about us now, by the way—I smiled when you texted and that lead to Derek questioning me, so there’s that. Also, if the good news is what I think it is, Rossi wants to hold a celebration dinner as an excuse to meet you. He fronted it with our engagement first, but I think he’s just shocked we’ve kept each other under wraps that long.”  

“You like Megatrons name?” You ask, giggling a bit, seemingly in spite of yourself. “I’m sorry, Spence—I'm hyper as hell, bouncing off the walls type. I’m going to open a bottle of wine, see if it calms me down a little. Get home as fast as you can, though! I miss your handsome face!”  

“Just gotta finish a file or two and then I’ll be home,” he says. “If you order the pizza now, I’ll only be like, five minutes late—the pizza won’t be scalding, like it usually is because of their ridiculously well-working warmer bags.”  

“I love you, Spence,” you say, tone turning a little serious. “Get home safe, please.”  

“I will,” Spencer nods. “You okay?”  

“Hyper but yearning,” you laugh. “I just miss you, ‘s all.”  

“I miss you too,” he says. “I’ll be home in forty minutes, tops. I promise.”  

The phone call ends, and he doesn’t miss the knowing smiles that are on Derek and Rossis faces. JJ is looking at him mildly confused as the tone of the conversation changed near it’s end, but he doesn’t want to explain, and so he chooses not to say anything.  

He goes back into the office, completes what remains of the files he has to work on, and after he submits the paperwork in to Hotch, he just about speed walks out of the office, toward the elevators.  

Derek is leaving at the same time as he is. “Goin’ home to Megatron and the singular person who’s managed to keep up with you for the past decade?” He asks teasingly as the doors close.    

“Yeah,” Spencer laughs. “I know you guys will tease me about it til the end of my time here, but—yeah. I get to go home to a stray cat the love of my life probably found in the parking lot of a Joanns, and the love of my life themself.”  

“I’m all done with my teasing, for now,” Derek says. “I’m just a little confused—why'd you keep them from us for this long?”  

“I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “When we’d first started dating, they’d just started out with the Marshals and they were scared having a partner in the FBI would get them special treatment, and then, when the stuff with Tobias Hankel happened and I got into Dialudid, I was scared that I’d make an enemy and then they’d find out about Y/N and use them to hurt me, and it just—we’re the quiet type, so we had reasons til we stopped needing them. I was going to tell you guys before we got engaged, but stuff has just kept happening so quickly in these past couple of years, and it’s kept slipping my mind.”  

Derek shrugs, but smiles understandingly. “I get it,” he says. “Lookin’ forward to that dinner Rossi is planning, though. I can’t wait to meet the singular person who probably would let you talk their ear off because they find you handsome or like your voice or something else that’s really sweet. You have a good night, Spence.”  

The elevator dings and the doors open, and the two leave separately. Spencer drives a little above the speed limit in the interest of getting home, which isn’t something he’d ever thought he’d do but is doing that night because it’s been a week since you’d last seen each other and he misses you like mad.  

When he inserts his key into the lock, unlocks the door and steps inside, he’s not filled with dread or fear or anxiety or loneliness or anything like that—instead, it feels like exactly what it’s supposed to.  

As he steps out of his shoes, hangs his bag on the coat rack and hears the sound of your laugh, he registers just how much the place he calls home feels like the word used to describe it.  

As he greets you with a hug and a few kisses to the forehead, it feels so much like home that it almost causes an ache in his chest. As you tell him about your promotion from Deputy to Chief Deputy and he hears Megatron the cat meow for the first time, happiness swells within him. Home, for the first time in his life, truly feels like a home. A place where he can unwind and be with those he truly loves, a place in which happiness is practically never-ending.  

Going home has never felt so good as going home to you, and Spencer is unsure anything will ever beat it.