#but damn it’s a lot easier said than done

[rosicheeks]

Sending strength and love and good vibes your way honey. You can do this!

I really really hope you’re right 🤞

[mars-ipan]

just realized how fucking weird zoomer flirting is. nobody asks you for your phone number

[lacydollette]

CASUAL , TWO ⸻ dean winchester

content / dean winchester x fem!reader, unrequited love, fwb, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, praise, explicit language, angst, arguing, dean being a scared lil bitch, nsfw, 18+

summary / when dean calls you up one night for the usual comfort, neither of you expected it to end that way. torn between desire and the pain of unrequited love, you finally confront the truth: you deserve more than being his escape

Dean knew he was asking for a lot the moment he hit the call button. He leaned against the creaky wall of the random, rundown motel room he had booked. His mind was racing, though he wasn't really sure why. He just needed a distraction, something to pull him out of the mess inside his head, and you—well, you always knew how to make him feel better.

He'd heard that you were on a case nearby, and now, here he was. Again. Calling you like it was nothing, like your last time together didn't feel... different.

While on the other end you had stared at your phone for what felt like an eternity, your thumb hovering over Dean's name. You knew what he wanted. You always did. It wasn't a mystery why Dean was calling you up out of the blue at 1am.

Your first instinct was to ignore him. You didn't need this—didn't need to be his go-to when he needed an escape. Lately, every time you thought of him, it felt like your heart cracked a little more. And despite his emotional distance you couldn’t help yourself.

"Dean?" You voice crackled through the phone as you picked up the call.

"Hey, uh... You still in the area?" he asked, trying to sound casual. You sighed on the other end, and Dean could already feel your hesitation. "Yeah, I'm around.”

"Good. There's this motel a few miles off the highway. Thought maybe you could, I don't know, come ‘round?"

"I don't think I can," you said, your voice softer now, but firm. "I'm busy."

Dean frowned, pushing off the wall and pacing. "C'mon, y/n. Just a couple of hours. It's not like we haven't done this before."

A sarcastic chuckle left your lips, sounding almost bitter. "Exactly, Dean. We've done this before. Too many times."

"Yeah, but—" Dean started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to say to that. It wasn't like he could argue with you. You both knew what the deal was. Casual, no strings, no messy emotions.

But still, he found himself pushing. "I just need you, okay? For tonight. Just to get out of my head." Dean could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage.

It wasn't supposed to be that complicated.

You wanted to say no. You should say no. You knew that you’d leave feeling emptier than when you came, like you always did, yet the thought of not seeing him at all—that was even worse. You hated it. Hated yourself for it. It was ridiculous, really, how you kept giving in, knowing how things would end.

"Fine," you finally said. "I'll be there."

When you arrived at the motel, the familiar sight of Dean's black Impala parked outside brought a lump to your throat. You’d convinced yourself on the way over that you’d keep your guard up this time, that you wouldn't let him get under your skin. But the moment you walked into that damn room and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, all your defenses began to crumble.

He stood up, giving you that same tired smile you’d seen a hundred times before. "Hey."

"Hi," you echoed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying not to let your frustration show. You weren’t here to fight—not yet, anyway. But the weight of everything unsaid was suffocating you.

But Dean wasted no time, stepping toward you and pulling you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both urgent and needy. You wanted to push him away, tell him this wasn't what you wanted anymore, but damn it, your body betrayed you. You kissed him back, letting yourself get lost in him for a moment, because it was easier than dealing with the truth.

You two fell back onto the bed, lost in each other like you had countless times before. For a little while, you could forget. You could pretend that this wasn't just about the physical, that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between the two of you. But deep down, you knew better.

Dean’s body pressed more firmly against yours, his chest solid and warm as it met yours, adjusting himself just enough so that he was hovering above you. His tongue pushed gently against your lower lip before slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You moaned quietly, hands finding his hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck as his hands traveled down your sides, leaving goosebumps all over your body.

You could feel his growing erection pressing against you, slowly grinding himself back and forth on your core. The urgency in his movements made you feel wanted, desired, but at the same time you felt empty, just wanting it to be over.

Dean tugged at the waistband of your jeans, pulling them off within a matter of seconds before he freed himself from his own clothes, leaving you both bare.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He mumbled, the words leaving his lips almost unconsciously. Of course he thought that you were stunning, but maybe it meant a lot more to you than he realized.

You inhaled sharply as you felt Dean’s finger teasing your entrance, smirking as he felt how wet you’ve gotten over the course of a few seconds. You surely couldn’t deny the fact that he turned you on.

“Soaked already?” He chuckled, making you nod hastily.

Grabbing your hips he secured you onto the mattress, pressing you down gently before he pushed his aching tip past your entrance, a loud moan escaping your lips. Your walls clenched around him almost immediately, making him groan.

“Fuck sweetheart, that tight cunt ‘s sucking me right in.”

You let out another moan, eyes fluttering shut as you felt his cock filling you up to the brim, a perfect fit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he almost pulled himself out completely before slamming right back in, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Hngh..shit—“ you hissed, your nails digging into his back, skin slapping against skin echoing through the motel room.

Dean's hand moved to cup your ass, his fingers digging in slightly as he pulled you closer with each thrust, craving every single inch of your body. As he continued to fuck you at a steady pace you felt yourself getting closer, clenching around his thick cock.

Dean was quick to redirect his hand in between your bodys, finding your clit, and circling the sensitive nub to drive you completely over the edge. You could feel your body tensing up, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level.

“Dean, I’m gonna—“ you whined out before the band in your stomach snapped, cumming hard all over his cock.

"That's it, baby.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, not even noticing the little petname that had slipped past his lips.

He gave you a few more hard thrusts before letting out a loud groan himself, feeling his dick twitch as he came deep inside of you, painting your walls white with his cum, and leaving both of you breathless.

Dean fell down beside you in the quiet aftermath, the soft glow from the motel's flickering light casting shadows on the walls, staring up at the ceiling like he always did. It was so routine by now that you could almost predict his every move.

But tonight, something felt different. The silence between you was heavier than usual, and you felt a knot forming in your chest. You waited for him to say something, anything, but when he finally spoke, his words cut through you like a knife.

"You’re so good at this stuff. It’s like you were made for it.”

You froze. Made for it? Your heart sank. The casualness of his words, the thoughtless way he dismissed whatever connection you two had, made you feel sick. You sat up quickly, eyes burning with anger and hurt. "That's all I am to you? A fucking hooker?”

Dean turned to you, clearly confused. "What? That’s not- Why are you suddenly acting like this?"

Your anger was burning up, but so was your pain. It wasn't just this moment; it was all of it. Everything you’d been holding back for so long, everything you’d swallowed down, was bubbling to the surface. "Why wouldn't I act like this, Dean? Last time we met, we literally had dinner with your brother, and you fucked me in the bathroom like some random slut who’s hopping on anyone’s dick. And now you wonder why I'm bitter?"

Dean blinked, caught off guard. "That was just... it wasn’t—You know how it is with us."

"No, Dean," you shot back, voice shaking. "I thought I knew how it was. But apparently, I've been fooling myself this whole time. I hate that I let this drag on so long, and now, I hate myself for it."

Dean sat up, running a hand through his hair. This was exactly what he was afraid of. "I thought we were on the same page here, y/n.”

This was just how things were, right? Casual. No complications.

"I'm not just someone you can call when you're bored or need to get out of your head," you continued, voice breaking. "I deserve more than that, and the fact that I've let this go on for so long—it kills me. Because I hate that I've let myself care about someone who clearly doesn't care about me."

Dean's heart sank at your words. He'd always known you were more than just a quick fix for his demons, but hearing it laid out like that? It stung. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't know how to fix this.

"y/n...I-" Dean began, his voice soft, almost pleading. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I didn't—"

You cut him off, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes. "It doesn't matter, Dean. What's done is done. I just... I can't keep doing this. Not like this."

The room fell silent again, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Dean stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. He wanted to say something, anything to make it right, but the truth was, he didn't know how.

But what he knew was that the thing between you two wasn’t as casual as he pretended it to be, and that scared the shit out of him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

You stood up, heart pounding in your chest as you began putting on your clothes. You couldn't stay here—not when everything felt so raw, so exposed. Dean watched you, the guilt etched on his face, but he didn't say anything to stop you.

"I need to go," you said quietly, pulling on your jacket and heading for the door. You could feel his eyes on you.

"y/n.." Dean called after you, his voice almost too faint to hear.

You paused at the door, your hand resting on the knob, and for a brief second, you thought about turning back, thought about giving him one more chance. But you didn't. Instead, you opened the door and walked out, leaving Dean alone in that empty motel room.

He sat there, staring at the door long after it had closed, the weight of everything he hadn't said pressing down on him like heavy rain. He had no idea if you’d come back. And for the first time, he wasn't sure if he wanted you to. Because you deserved better than what he had to offer.

coming from first hand experience 😁 anyways..

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @beausling @angelicjackles @deansbite @figthoughts @deansenvy @chevroletdean @rubyvhs @sugardean @figurantedefilme @cosmicanakin @sammyluvr @nuemanfilms @titsout4nicholas

[kamiversee]

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

9 | four stupid letters?

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, heavy sexual tension, a tinge of angst (?), a needy Choso, etc.

❧ Word Count | 4.8k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Given that you weren’t the biggest fan of lying to Gojo about your sexual encounters with Choso, you took that one conversation you had with him as a sign. Under no circumstances would you let Choso have his way with you again. Hell, after that conversation, you’re not sure if you even wanted Choso to touch you again.

Now that’s a lot easier said than done but you eventually manage. And by eventually, it’s meant that all it took was a single night of rest for you to wake up the next day and come to your senses.

It was Saturday, which meant that later that night, the Halloween party you’d been invited to would be taking place and you’d be going with Gojo. As such, you woke up rather early and assumed the entire day would go by rather smoothly with little to no surprises.

Unfortunately for you, the day was full of surprises. 

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

After you prepared yourself for the day, the first thing you did was head to your shared kitchen like always. Since it was so early, you weren’t surprised to find the kitchen empty and the space void of a particularly tattooed man.

The kitchen was relatively clean, safe for the sink full of used glasses and utensils that you noticed as you rounded the island in the middle of the space. Which was just perfect seeing as the only thing you came into the kitchen for was to fix yourself a glass of cold water. Releasing a long sigh as you contemplated washing one cup, you end up scoffing to yourself at the used glasses in the sink and turning for the cabinet.

Now, the kitchen is quiet and still, the only sounds coming from your footsteps as you move around and the shift in the air as you swing the upper cabinet open in search of an unused cup. A yawn leaves your lips while your eyes lazily scan the cabinet space, finding that the only glasses available to you are the ones your stupidly tall roommate decided to place all the way on the highest shelf.

Now you were left with two small decisions; turn back and wash a glass, or strain yourself trying to reach a new one. Seeing as the latter takes less labor, you end up pushing up on your toes and extending your arm up, placing your free hand on the counter to balance yourself as you reach for the glass on the top shelf and closest to the edge.

You take a deep breath as your fingertips graze the cold glass, a sigh escaping your lips at the amount of effort this small task is taking, up until your middle finger grazes the side more firmly and you’re almost sure you’re able to maneuver the glass down. Struggling with that for about a minute longer, you’re soon startled by a very warm presence right behind you.

You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, a waft of mind-numbing cologne wrapping around your stretched frame and sneaking into your nose, and a firm body pressing into your backside as a larger arm reaches past yours and swiftly swipes that targeted glass up from the top shelf. 

You don’t even get the chance to turn your head back and say anything because the glass you’d been reaching for is making its way down and you’re feeling someone’s warm breath at the crown of your ear.

“Mornin’,” Is all Choso purrs in that groggy rich voice of his, tone dripping with a deepness that immediately gives you butterflies and makes your back stiffen up.

Then there’s a hand at your waist and you finally flinch at his presence. It’d been so damn tranquil in the kitchen just moments ago, the room cold and calm before Choso miraculously appeared behind you, making all the lack of warmth in the air null and void as your body went rigid and your heart rate spiked.

“M-Morning Cho,” You end up stammering, letting out a long exhale as you ease down off of your toes, your backside pressing back against Choso a bit more now. 

A small hum of acknowledgment leaves his throat and you swear all thoughts of distancing yourself from this man fly entirely out the window at that very moment. Choso brings the glass down completely and places it to the side, leaving space on the counter in front of you. Your eyes simply watch the movement of his hand, unconsciously studying the way his fingers curl around the glass, admiring those scuffs and scratches decorating his skin, and-

“You alright?” Choso rasps beside your ear, making you flinch yet again, “You’re staring at my hands.” He points out bluntly.

Your lashes bat and you shake yourself out of your stupor, turning your head slightly so that you can look him in the eyes. His gaze is low-lidded and met with yours rather quickly, long dark hair loosely framing his face as you take in his naturally sleepy expression.

You gulp, “I’m fine, sorry. You jus’ scared me, that’s all.”

Choso merely tips his head further to the side, eyes narrowing at you before they openly drop down to your lips, “My bad,” He hums rather softly. Then, you catch the way the corner of his lips begins to lift, “I was actually watchin’ you for a minute or two, y’know. I wasn’t gonna come help you at first.”

“What made you change your mind?” You scoff as you raise a brow at the man.

Both of his hands suddenly find their place on your waist and you drop your gaze down immediately, “The thought of me behind you like this,” Choso whispers, bringing his lower lip into his mouth for a moment as he gently pulls your body back to be flush against his. 

Your ass is quickly met with his cock straining slightly against the fabric of his sweatpants. You gasp, “Cho-”

“Fuck,” He curses under his breath, lips brushing over yours with how close your face was to his, “You torture me, y’know..” Choso suddenly tells you.

His hips draw back slightly and just as you go to respond, he rolls them forward against you softly, “No, I d-don’t,” You utter breathily, caught off guard by the way he suddenly rubs against you as if he were in heat or something.

Your best friend then cracks a lazy smile, “Yeah ya’ do, you can feel what you do t’me,” He explains while pushing his hips forward firmly, causing you to press against the counter as your body is sandwiched between it and his hips. 

After that, the two of you are quiet for a moment and you can feel yourself getting worked up. Choso stares at your lips hungrily like every second without his atop them is killing him on the inside, all as he rocks his hips forward against your ass a few times, leaving you a bit breathy while you keep your eyes on him.

Then, Choso’s lifting a hand up to your throat and tilting his head further, “Look at you,” He hushes out, “You want it jus’ as badly as I do.”

That seems to break you out of your little daze, “Choso, I told you before… I-I don’t wanna have sex with you again.”

He groans and you swear you hear the faintest whine slipping past his lips at the sound of your rejection, “I know what you told me,” He huffs out, “But, are you sure?” As those words leave his lips, his crotch is flush with your rear again and you can feel every inch of him twitching for you. 

A sliver of chills slip up your spine and your voice is contrastingly needy, “I’m positive, Cho.”

Choso scoffs, “You don’t sound positive.”

And this is exactly why stopping whatever it is you started with Choso is damn there impossible. Ever since you had sex with him, he’s always like this with you. The unfortunate thing for you is how damn smooth he is with it, it’s not like he makes his intentions painstakingly obvious at first, he just eases into things and it makes your mind go blank every single time.

It always ends up like this with him. Even a few days ago, you went from watching some show with him like you always do to being pinned down on the couch beneath him, panting into his mouth as he ground his aching cock down against you between the layers of your clothes. It didn’t go any farther than that since you knew how to wiggle your way out of those kinds of situations but you can hardly even explain how you ended up in those positions in the first place.

Just like now for example, where Choso’s eagerly rubbing himself against you, whispering to you about how badly he wants you up until the cold sound of your voice makes him freeze against you.

“Choso,” You eventually say, “Stop,” The moment that word leaves your lips, he freezes without question, “How many times do I have to tell you this, huh? I’m not sleeping with you again.”

He’s completely motionless for a moment, letting your words sink into his brain and allowing his disappointment to run throughout his body. Then, he lets out a long sigh and moves his hands. Though, he doesn’t remove his hands from you, no. Instead, your best friend wraps his arms around your waist and his face drops into the crook of your neck, making you jump in slight surprise as he hugs you from behind.

Choso is still very warm behind you but you’ll take this needy hug of his over him humping you like some dog in heat any day because-

“You don’t get it, do you?” Choso whispers against your skin. His lips are slow to glide along your neck, a firm hum of your name leaving his mouth as his voice seems to break with every syllable that leaves him, “I want you so bad.”

Again, you’re left freezing to both his words and his touch, your heart feeling heavy as it sinks a bit within your chest. 

Choso kisses all up and down your neck, “All of you,” He continues gently in a low tone while his fingers slip under your shirt, “I don’t know what the hell you did to me but…” He slides over to kiss your shoulder, “I really need to feel you again.”

You let out a shaky little chuckle, trying to make light of his lustful confession, “Looks like I’ve got you whipped, huh?” You tease.

He grins against your skin, “Oh fuck you.”

Smiling, you suppress another laugh, “You really really want to, don’t you?”

Your best friend sighs heavily and you feel his hands begin to slide up. They stop right under your breasts and you notice he seems to be waiting for you to protest. When you do nothing but let out another soft breath of air, he licks a long stipe along your neck and his hands cup your chest fully.

Then he’s in your ear again, “Yeah,” Choso grunts, lightly fondling your breasts in a way that makes you sigh again, “Yeah, I do. I thought I made that clear, no? What part of ‘I want all of you’ didn’t you get, hm?” His fingers shift and he gives your nipples a slight pinch, pressing his lips further against your ear, “Do I need to be more direct than that? Would you rather me to tell you how I want to bend you over this countertop and fuck you til’ you can’t think of anything or anyone else but me? Huh?”

For a second, a really quick second, you almost considered throwing all of your morals out the window and letting him do exactly that. He already had his erection pressed against your ass, his hands were massaging your tits in a way that made you pure putty in his hold, and that stupidly deep voice of his in your ear did not fail to make you shamefully aroused.

“Choso…” You mumble, to which his touch grows softer and he lightly nips at your ear, “We can’t.” Your voice is firmer than it was before and you think he finally gets the hint.

You’re quickly proven wrong when Choso shamelessly whines, “But why? Hm? I’ll stop, y’know I will but, jus’ tell me why.”

Your head tips back against him and your eyes lift to the ceiling as his fingers curve against your breasts and continue to massage each mound in his hand, “You know why… I just can’t, okay?” You sigh.

At that, he seems to finally get it. Although, even if he didn’t, he would’ve stopped either way. His touch is slow to slip off of you and you feel a gush of cold air wrap around your body as he pulls himself away from you entirely, turning to further himself into the kitchen. 

You move to fix your shirt a bit, taking a deep breath to collect yourself and then glancing over to him as he makes his way toward the fridge.

Choso lets out a dramatic groan as he swings the refrigerator open and you watch him bring a hand up to scratch the back of his head, “Y’know, you’re awfully loyal to someone you’re not even in a relationship with,” He points out casually.

Your eyes roll at that and you scoff, “Letting you touch me and kiss me does not make me loyal to him.”

Since his back is facing you, you’re unable to see the way your words make him crack an irritated little grin, “Riight, but that’s as far as we can go because that’s so much better than us havin’ sex,” He utters sarcastically, not even giving you a moment to respond to that before he’s speaking again, “But, hey, I’m not gonna force you to do anything with me. Jus’ doesn’t make much sense, y’know? It’s like… what’s he got that I don’t?”

Okay, maybe you’re perceiving things wrong but, if you didn’t know any better—it almost sounded like Choso was… jealous?

Which throws you all the way off because, Choso, jealous? Of what? Gojo? It sounded bizarre just to think about. Hell, so bizarre that it almost made you laugh. 

Your moment of processing his question makes the man impatient, to which he glances back over his shoulder at you and cocks an eyebrow, “Hm?”

You snap away from your thoughts and shrug, “He actually likes me as a person and not just for my body.”

Choso deadpans at that statement. You could not be serious right now. “What?” Choso scoffs, his face twisting up into a slight scowl, “I’m sorry, did I miss a few chapters? Since when has our friendship been based or built on me yearning for your body?”

Your words seem to have flown entirely over his head, “That’s not what I’m saying Choso.”

“Then what are you sayin’? Cause’ last time I checked,” He suddenly shuts the fridge and turns around to face you, “Gojo’s been trying to do nothing but fuck you lately.”

His statement makes you frown, “No he hasn’t…”

“Yeah? He hasn’t?” Choso scoffs at your obliviousness, “You think he’ll still wanna be around you after he gets what he wants?”

“Of course he will! Satoru’s not like that-,” As soon as those words leave your lips, you’re receiving a phone call from the man in question, “See? Look, he’s even calling me right now.”

It’s like Choso is rendered paralyzed at the sight of you pulling your phone out of your pocket to answer that incoming call. He’s stuck in a trance watching the way you answer and bringing the phone to your ear, flashing a smile at whatever Gojo had said to you already. 

Just like that, all your attention was stripped away from him and he couldn’t believe it. Whatever you were saying went entirely through one ear and out the other because before Choso even realized it, his feet were moving on their own and he was making his way back over to you. Once he stood right in front of you again, you still kept that same smile on your face as you listened to Gojo on the other end but your gaze traveled up to Choso.

Though, your eyes didn’t need to travel too far up because Choso was leaning down to you. Luckily Gojo was doing that thing where he rambles on and on about something without expecting anyone to reply until he’s finished so, the way you go quiet isn’t noticed. Choso leans in close and tilts his head opposite of yours, taking your jaw into his hand and tipping your head up firmly.

He doesn’t do anything but stare at you for a second, to which you soon realize he’s actually trying to hear what Gojo’s saying to you.

“—and then Suguru was telling me about the last party that was hosted by her, the one I didn’t go to, and apparently-,” The sound of Gojo’s storytelling is scoffed at by the man all too close to you right now. A scoff that could’ve even been heard by Gojo if he’d shut up for just a second.

Then Choso focuses back onto you and you could tell by the way his eyes lowered onto yours. “I wonder…” Choso whispers very softly, warm breath fanning over your lips. “I wonder how he’d feel knowing you let me do stuff like this to you,” As his statement comes to an end, his lips are steady to melt onto yours.

And so there you are—on the phone with Gojo Satoru as your best friend Choso Kamo kisses you. The bad thing about this wasn’t even the kiss itself or the fact that Gojo was on the line. It’s the way you let it happen, the way you continue it, the way you kiss back that makes this all so very wrong. 

Choso’s gentle against your lips, intentionally moving slowly so that his mouth makes no noise sliding over yours. Gojo’s clueless as he talks and talks (practically to himself at this point) and your best friend tightens his grip on your jaw. You cannot explain why exactly you let Choso kiss you or why you’re even kissing him back right now but either way, one could argue that you actually like this.

You like having these two men want you. This rush of adrenaline that spikes throughout your body as Choso slips his tongue past your welcoming lips almost makes you dizzy. You push against Choso with need and he quickly smiles into the kiss, holding back a laugh at how easy you make things for him.

When his lips detach from yours with a very faint but wet smack, he’s staring deeply into your eyes. Again with a hushed tone so that his voice isn’t picked up by your phone, “Did it mean anything to you?” Choso mumbles.

Your brows twist up and Gojo’s voice is steadily fading out your ears as your attention shifts.

Your best friend pecks your lips again, “That night we had together… Did it mean anything to ya’?” He murmurs, lips moving to say something further but his tone is so soft that you hardly hear what he says. “Do I mean anything to you anymore? Or am I jus’ your friend now?”

You can feel the way your heart churns at that. Your lashes bat and you open your mouth to say something but what comes out makes Choso roll his eyes. “Satoru,” You utter surprisingly, causing the man on the phone to stop mid-sentence with a hum. “Give me uh, one second-“

Choso sees the way you’re only about to mute the phone and out of spite, or maybe jealousy, or some sort of dislike for the guy, he swipes your phone out of your hand and ends the call. Your eyes go all wide and you want to yell at him for that but he doesn’t give you a chance. Your phone is tossed onto the counter behind you and within a second, you’re being lifted up onto that same space.

“Cho-“ You just barely gasp before he’s crashing his lips into yours yet again.

He’s a bit more aggressive now, kissing you like his life depends on it and like he won’t get an opportunity like this again. Then he’s dropping his hands to your thighs and tugging your body to be flush with his, letting you feel the way he’s still hard after all this time, if not harder.

Choso nibbles on your lower lip, tugs at it, sucks on it, shoves his tongue back into your mouth—anything you can think of, he was doing at the moment. You could hear your phone buzzing behind you but when you tried to messily reach back and grab it, Choso moved a hand to yours and pinned your fingers down against the counter. You let out a whine against him and his mind just blanks at that.

His cock was twitching like crazy against your cunt and you were losing your breath by the second. Gasping, “Choso please-,” in between kisses only to be ignored until he feels like prying himself away for longer than one second.

Choso’s panting by that point and the look in his eyes is simply starved. “Answer me,” He huffs out in a demanding tone.

You’ve got this unintentional pout on your face that makes him want to kiss you all over again but he ignores it for the sake of his sanity. “A-Answer what?” You breathe back.

“My question, princess,” He whispers against your lips, “Did that night mean anything to you or not?”

All dazed and confused, your lips are lagging behind in voicing how you feel right now. “I…” Your brows twist up a little, “I don’t know Cho… I just-“

His eyes are so possessive that you can feel yourself shrinking beneath that gaze of his, “Do you not feel that?” He asks.

You blink, “Feel what??”

“This,” Choso purrs with a slow grind of his hips forward. Then he’s dropping his head to the crook of your neck and breathing hotly against you, “Can’t you see you’re driving me insane? If that night didn’t mean anything to you, that’s fine, I don’t give a shit. But come on now, it can’t be just me.”

You’re quiet for a moment after that, allowing his words to soak up into the tensed atmosphere. The only sound is the mixed panting from you two and the continuous buzz of your phone. There’s a beat of silence once your phone goes still and you let out a long sigh.

You couldn’t wrap your mind around what the hell is up with Choso today even if you tried, “What do you mean?”

“I can’t get you outta my fuckin’ head,” He hums, “All I think about is you, you, you, you. It’s killing me.”

It’s almost comical to you at this point—trying to imagine Choso being this clingy after one night with you is rather difficult. So, you roll your eyes and your words leave you softly, “You’re just… saying that.”

“This ain’t proof enough?” He continues, leaving a trail of mushy little kisses down the side of your neck, “What other way do I have to say this—I want you.”

“No, you wanna fuck me,” You correct, “There’s a difference-“

Choso shrugs, “I don’t see why there has to be.”

“Because-“

You’re cut off by your phone starting back up with its buzzing. 

“Because what? Ignore that guy for ten fuckin’ seconds, please. Just give me your attention,” Choso pleads as he lifts his head and flashes you with these desperate puppy-dog-like eyes. “Only me. Think about only me for jus’ a second, that’s all I ask.”

You gulp at this sudden change in demeanor, “Choso what’s wrong with you? I know we had sex but c’mon, you’re acting crazy.”

“I’m acting crazy? You kiss me back while you’re on the phone with your ‘crush’ but I’m the one actin’ crazy?” His questions almost come off as harsh but his tone is nothing but tender, “You let me do all this to you but I’m the crazy one??”

A huff slips past you, “Yes! Do you not hear yourself right now?”

He scoffs, “I do. But do you not see yourself right now? Do you not realize the things you do? You say you don’t want me and that you want this to stop but then you do the exact fucking opposite. You glare at me like you hate me and then kiss me like you love me so, tell me, which is it?”

Yet another beat of silence passes as you just gape at him with this dumbfounded look. It’s so odd with Choso, one moment you’re making out with him and then the next it’s whatever the hell this is right now.

All you’re left to react with is a lost mumble of, “What?”

“…Y'know what, fuck it.” Choso lets out yet another scoff and shakes his head. “I don’t even care anymore,” He claims while his hands lift into the air as if he were admitting defeat.

By this point, it’s not even clear whether or not you’re the one being complicated or him. Well, maybe it is clear, just not to you at this moment…

“Choso..” You start off again as you reach a hand out to pull him back toward you.

He avoids your touch entirely and takes a step back, “What?”

“I don’t know what I want,” You explain, “I… I know I like Satoru but-,”

“Yeah, that’s pretty fuckin obvious.” He utters under his breath.

You take that snarky comment of his lightly, “But… I don’t know about you..”

He shrugs, “I mean at this point, what about me? I’m jus’ your best friend that you run to for dick whenever he doesn’t give you any, right?”

Perplexity takes over your features, “W-What? No, I-“

“It’s okay, really,” Anyone with ears could hear from his tone alone that things were far from okay. “I told you I don’t care anymore,” He repeats before shrugging it all off again.

The only thing you can manage to respond with is another, “Choso, please.”

He nods his chin toward your phone, “Call your boyfriend back before he shows up here unannounced again.” Then, he turns away and makes his way out of the kitchen.

“Wait-“

“Oh,” Pausing once he’s just out of the area, “You texted me last night about askin’ me something, what was it?”

“Don’t just change the subject Cho,” You plead with a look of sympathy, “I’m trying to say that-“

“I don’t care,” He cuts off crisply, almost meanly. “What were you gonna ask me?”

You hate it when he does this. It irks you on an entirely deeper level than what you’re showcasing at the moment but, you’ve been down similar roads like this with Choso before and no matter how much you push the subject—once he’s dropped it or moved on, you can forget getting any sort of response from him about it.

So, you slowly look away from him and mumble out that question of yours. “…Do you wanna come to Hori’s Halloween party tomorrow...?”

“Oh, that? She texted me about that a few days ago, but uh..” He moves a hand to scratch the back of his neck in thought, “You know I don’t do parties so, why’re you askin’?”

The air feels slightly lighter now. “She seemed to really like you and asked me to convince you to come so… y’know,” You shrug.

Choso nods, “Oh. Well, I’ll go if you want me to.”

Your eyes carefully dance back over to him and you think about that for a second. You and Choso don’t go to parties together often, you two don’t exactly have the best history with partying together but… Hori seemed like a sweet girl so getting Choso to come would be nice of you, right? Even if that requires making him go for you.

“I do,” You tell him, watching the way his face lights up ever so slightly.

Then, he narrows his eyes skeptically, “You… do?”

“Mhm.”

Choso looks at you for a few seconds longer before nodding in agreement. “Alright then,” He says, turning to head toward his room, “Jus’ remember that.”

“Remember what?” You ask.

Looking back over his shoulder, “I’m only going for you.” Is the last thing he says to you before finally making his full exit off into his bedroom.

mlist | last chapter | next chapter |

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[cherry-pop-elf]

New Chapter

Anya x Reader

Can be read as platonic because we all want the best for her

SUM: Anya gets an abortion so you and the rest of the crew wait for her. You were the first one, however, to see her after surgery. Also because fuck you, abortion rights

Warnings: Abortion, sexual assault, jimmy, medical situations, abortion rights, domestic happy family

“How long is it gonna take?” Daisuke asked, as he was worried but also excited. Excited for Anya to feel better. Worried for well….Not like he’s had the best reactions to medical situations. Example A being Curly in the wheelchair next to him.

Curly was doing so much better now that he was actually on the planet again. The doctors were still jaw dropped that Anya was able to keep him alive with so little. Was not only a testimony to how she refused for him to die, but him refusing to leave his crew behind as well. It’s still a long journey ahead, but he was in clean bandages and clothes at least. Was even able to talk again. Sorta. Rather raspy but he will get there.

Jeez where to start on how you all got here to begin with.

“She’s going to be fine. Abortion is way less invasive than you think. It really depends on how far along, but luckily she isn’t too far for it to be to extreme. Not sure what type she went for, but whatever she chose she chooses. Just grateful we were able to return home before she reached to far along.” You would admit, as you would check up on Curly’s IV bag for him. Taking over Anya’s roll until she could return.

“Ya know….My wife had an abortion.” Swansea said, and it made all of you look over to him in pure surprise.

“What’s the funny look for? Ya think I’m a freak that would refuse my wife that? She needed it! The kid just….It ain’t my place, but the kid just wasn’t gonna survive. Either she carried it to term and die with em, or she just skips the heart ache. Not like it was her fault. We got two healthy girls at the end of the day. We got em because she got rid of that fucked up one.” He explained, as Daisuke seemed wide eyed in respect.

Explains why he snapped more clearly.

Anya had explained to Swansea what had happened, and before you pre Daisuke knew it Jimmy’s head was sliced off and rolling across the kitchen floor. Poor Suke threw up all over you from the sight, and shock. Then threw up again when he learned why he did such a thing. Lots of puking and crying. Fitting.

“Glad that damn company is dead. Whose wise idea was it to have a single woman surrounded by men. No offense you two-“ Curly would wheeze, before you would help him take his medication. Sure is easier to take pills when you actually give him water and take it slow. No choking or crying.

“Thats a can of worms I don’t want us to talk about.” Swansea would scoff. As a father to two girls he had a lot of things to say. Daisuke would be willing to listen, sure, but honestly you all had enough emotional fatigue to last multiple life times.

Thank god Curly was so high up on the food chain at the company. They knew they would get into more hot water if their, once, top captain suddenly vanished. Wouldn’t make their bankruptcy any smoother. For once they did the right thing and sent Simeon to save them.

Funny. A capitalist corporate organization took responsibility for their actions. For the right reasons? No. But they still took it. Strange. Isn’t it?

“Is she done yet?” Daisuke would whine, as you laughed at his childish nature. As if waiting on a sister to get out of the dentists office. You found it rather endearing honestly. That despite it all he was still having a heart full of love and excitement.

“Go play on your toy.” Swansea would grumble, as Suke whined. Regardless he would pull out his game boy. A nice excuse to play video games with out any guilt on wasting his time. Enjoying life shouldn’t be a burden.

“Need anything, Curly?” You would ask him, since you planned on going to the bathroom. Yeah Swansea and Daisuke could handle him, but you still wanted to be polite. Maybe you could grab him something from the vending machines. Maybe a soda. Some sugar in his system would do him good. Anya said that sugary bubble water of some kind, like sprite, can help quite a lot with indigestion.

“I should be fine. Thank you for asking though. Sorry you have to…” He would admit, as he looked himself over. His missing limbs now properly covered up with fabric to keep them clean, and allow him some kind of independence. The fabric on the stumps were padded. With enough practice and effort he would certainly be able to roll himself around.

Then again this was a world of space travel. He was going to get cyborged eventually, but you need to be healed first before such an intense operation. Can’t rush something like this.

“Hey. I do it because I can. Not because I have to. You are our captain. Let me be a good solider.” You teased him, and even in his broken face you could see a smile.

Swansea have you a head nod to indicate he would ‘take care of the boys’ and you were off to use the restroom.

Once done with that you would grab a soda from the vending machine for Curly, a bag of candy for Daisuke, and some pretzels for Swansea. As you were making your way back a nurse would motion you over.

“Miss Anya was asking for you. She has finished her operation, and wanted you to see her.”

You were surprised at that. You expected Curly to be her first guest. Did something go wrong? Oh you couldn’t help but freak out.

You followed after the nurse quickly, and all you were shown was Anya resting in her hospital bed. Tired, but relieved. Mostly. You saw that familiar stress in her eyes. That same stress she had when asking you if she made the right choice in asking Jimmy for help with medicating Curly.

That worry of if I did the right thing.

The nurse would leave you to alone, and you would quickly set the snacks aside. Now you were sitting next to her, in a chair, and holding her hand. Ready to be the shoulder she needed.

“Hey there Doc. How you doing?” You asked her, as you carefully stroked the back of her hand. Made sure to be mindful of all the tubes and wires.

“Well….It went far smoother than I expected. It was just so quick. They didn’t even need to put me under. The IV is more so for the issues I already had because of being stranded on the ship for so long. It was just so quick. So painless. Was just like pulling a thorn out of an arm. It was….Simple.” She would try and explain to you. Needing to make sure to stop herself before using doctor jargon.

“Too easy?” You puzzled.

“Yes. It was just….I expected pain. Pain and anxiety and horror. Suppose even a nurse can come to learn a thing or two…..”

She was hiding something, and you had an educated guess on what.

“You expected Jimmy to break down the door. Weren’t you?”

There was silence, but it told you everything.

“Scoot over. Move it sister-“ You were now crawling into the medical bed with her, moving the wires around, and soon snuggled into her side. Hugging her close, and especially with your arm over her stomach.

“You did the right thing. It’s your body at the end of it all. You took responsibility of taking care of yourself. You wouldn’t have been able to live a proper life. You went to med school. You don’t need me to tell you the horrors of pregnancy and birth. That alone is terrifying. But also you simply not wanting to be pregnant is enough. Ain’t no Jimmy’s gonna storm in and say otherwise.” You huffed, as she smiled. Her head leaning into yours.

“Yeah….No more Jimmy’s. Pretty sure Swansea will make sure of that.” She did her best to joke, and you were proud of her for it. This whole ordeal was hell. Hell none of you will ever truly walk away from. But that’s ok. You all had each other to lean on.

“I think I’m ready for everyone now.” Anya would whisper, as you gave her hand a squeeze. You were so proud of her. This was all such a nightmare, but she’s taking it in stride.

“Hell yeah.” You agreed, before climbing out of the bed. You made sure to grab the snacks, and exited the hospital room.

“Come on guys-! Anya is waiting on you-!” You shameless shouted outside of the room. She couldn’t help her face palm. Daisuke sure was an influence on you.

“I wanna push Curly!”

“Like hell you are-!”

They would bicker away, before Curly said ‘fuck it’ and did his best to roll himself over. He sure was a stubborn one. Made it half way before you figured that was enough work out for one person.

“Pretty far! Getting better at it-!” You encouraged, as the two men realized how far Curly rolled off on before finally following you two into Anya’s room.

“HAPPY NO BIRTH-DAY!” Daisuke would cheer, as Anya shook her head at such a joke.

“God dammit kid-“ Swansea side, before he came over to Anya. Giving her head a kiss. Just comforting her much like a father would.

“How many of us need to be in medical beds?” Curly would give a raspy snort, as Anya reached her hand out. He would lean his head over, and she would give it a stroke. As if all his hair never burned off. A means of holding his hand, in a way, compared to just grasping a limb.

She didn’t need children.

She had all of you.

What else could a woman want?

Since you were willing to read through this story to the end, and get a nice in depth look on the importance of such why not donate to some organizations? : D

Planned Parenthood

Nation Network For Abortion Funds

National Abortion Federation

The Bridge Alliance

The Satanic Temple

ActBlue

No worry on donating. Spreading awareness and signing petitions still help! The more people learn and understand the better! Could also like reblog with other organizations or petitions!

Abortion is healthcare!

[sp0o0kylights]

Whole thing on A03

It didn't matter how much Steve explained. Not one member of the Party was going to get it. 

Tommy and Carol would, but then, they were no longer on speaking terms. A fact that hurt even if it was for the best--particularly in times like these, because they got it. 

They understood how he had been ensnared with the very same wealth people mocked him for. What it meant when his parents demanded Steve drop everything and go on vacation, his own plans be damned. 

They knew, because their families had done much the same, and so the lives they led also were tethered to leashes made of their parents' design. 

Dustin, whose mother bent over backwards to try and better her kid’s life, didn’t even have a frame of reference for this kind of thing, let alone sympathy. 

"Do they not understand you have a job?" Dustin asked incredulously, and Steve didn't have the emotional bandwidth to explain that his parents didn't consider working at Family Video to be a real job. 

As far as they were concerned, Steve could quit if he had to, and then go find another job when they were done using him to play the nice, All-American family. 

Likely for business purposes.

"They aren't the type to care." Steve said instead. 

It was easier than getting into it.

(Easier than explaining the BMW wasn't in his name, but his parents. 

How his money went into a bank account they had access to. 

That practically everything he owned was actually owned by Richard and Stella Harrington, and both were quick to remind him of that fact the second they felt Steve was acting out of line. 

And boy, had he been acting out of line. 

 Getting into fights. 

Turning their punishment of working a job they picked specifically for the humiliating outfit, into the far worse public embarrassment of being involved in a mall fire--an embarrassment because Steve had "lost" the keys to the BMW, had "put himself in danger" playing hero instead of letting the perfectly capable firefighters do it, then “paraded around” with bruises all over his face, racking up medical bills. 

Truly a sin for someone who hadn’t made it into college.) 

So no, this vacation they demanded Steve drop everything for  was not anything close to a reward, or even something they were doing to spend time together. There was a reason they needed Steve, and as far as they were concerned, Steve was at their beck and call until he shaped up and got his life back on track. 

His own plans be damned. 

"That's not fair though!" Dustin burst out and Steve sighed in relief, because here at least, he knew what to do to distract his younger friend.

 “We planned our trip months ago!” Dustin continued, looking two seconds away from giving in and stomping his foot. 

The kid might have been smarter than Steve--smarter than most people really--by a hell of a lot, but he was still fourteen. 

Smarts, Steve knew, didn't exactly equate to emotional intelligence, and it definitely didn't stop rampaging hormones.

Ice cream on the other hand, was a great aid in both areas. 

"You better be making this up to us." Dustin threatened thirty minutes later, spoon wedged deep into a sundae. “We can’t do, like, half the stuff we were going to do without you!” 

“I'm sure you guys didn’t need me to play ghost runners or whatever.” Steve said, but was quick to back down when Dustin nearly threw his spoon at him. 

Rather than antagonizing him more, Steve dutifully raised his hand to put over his heart. "I swear on your mom that I’ll make it up to you.”  

Dustin rolled his eyes, but otherwise, finally, let the whole thing go. 

Stupidly, Steve thought this meant the worst was over.

He was wrong. 

xXx 

Mike hadn’t cared. 

El and Will hadn’t really either, though both expressed some sadness that Steve wouldn’t be participating in the camping trip that the Party as a whole had been looking forward to for the past few months. 

Erica had simply snapped at him, making him promise much the same as Dustin had that he would be making it up to her sometime in the future. Likewise, she had been bought off by ice cream (even if she insisted it didn’t count because Steve owed her ice cream anyways.) 

Max was the surprising emotional standout. 

"You can't tell them no?" She demanded, arms crossed over her chest. 

Lucas was hovering awkwardly at her shoulder, shooting "what can you do?" vibes as hard as he could at Steve as his (currently on-again) girlfriend outright dressed the elder boy down; her shoulders creeping up higher and higher until she seemed to realize she was visually giving away her upset and forcibly relaxed them. 

Unlike Dustin and Erica, her tirade was very out of character and Steve was growing more concerned by the second that something was wrong the more she spat at him. 

“I mean for fucks sake, didn’t you tell them you had plans!?” She finished, eyes narrowed in rage. 

Which was rich coming from someone whose stepdad had Billy Hargrove running all over town before he’d run off after the guy’s death, but then, Steve knew better than to bring all that up.

(The image of Max, unresponsive in the hospital with casts on almost every limb, was still too fresh. 

Even now he didn’t like to push her, even if the Party as a whole did their best to take notice when one of them was isolating themselves again. 

Max, though she was down to one crutch, was still inclined to use it as a weapon and very much enjoyed practicing her swings on people’s ankles.) 

“I did indeed. They don’t care and they’re not giving me a choice, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” Steve tried to keep his voice even and out of angry-shrieking range, and vaguely prayed it was working. “I swear, I will make it up to you guys, even if we have to go on a second camping trip.” 

This was clearly not the correct thing to say.

Though judging by the murderous rage being aimed his way, Steve was pretty sure nothing short of “You know what you’re right, let me go tell my parents to fuck off!” would make Max happy. 

“So you’re seriously just going to drop everything, all our plans, your job, us,” She took a very threatening step forward and despite her being a full foot shorter than him, Steve had to fight not to take a responding step back. “So you can go play rich boy in the Bahamas?” 

“We’re not going to the Bahamas--” Steve tried, but was interrupted with a loud “ugh!” of disapproval. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Steven.” Max spat, and then turned on her heel, storming off towards the rest of the Party (who had taken one look at Max’s face and fled into the arcade so she and Steve could “talk.”) “I’m sorry us peasants weren’t good enough to hang around!”  

“Sorry man.” Lucas apologized quietly, on his way to run after Max. 

Steve just scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. 

xXx 

“The kids are mad at you.” Nancy announced, appearing across the Family Video counter like a phantom. 

Steve swore, nearly dropping his stack of VHS’s, while Robin (who had clearly seen Nancy approach) cackled at his fumble. 

“Yeah, I did get that memo.” Steve said, after he stabilized his stack, safely moving them from his arms to the counter. 

Nancy peered around them, her face giving away nothing. “It is kind of shitty to cancel at the last minute like that. We were relying on you to drive.”

An old fury shook itself awake in Steve’s chest, taking an interest in the conversation the second Steve realized what Nancy was here to do. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed it down, back into the box he’d slammed it in all those years ago. 

“I’d leave the keys to Robin here, but unfortunately, someone failed their drivers test.” Steve said instead, jamming his finger over his shoulder and blatantly attempting to pass the buck. 

Robin, who absolutely knew that was what he was doing, faked a gasp and kicked at his ankles. 

“That crotchety asshole failed me on purpose!” She protested, spinning to face Nancy. “He made like, three misogynistic comments before we even got in the car!” 

“Pointing out that he knew the car wasn’t yours wasn’t misogynistic, he was just surprised to see me letting you use the Beemer.” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes. “I don’t exactly let a lot of people drive it.” 

Unspoken was that Steve’s BMW was one of the town’s more unique cars, and thus easily identifiable by the locals at large. 

“How is that better!?” Robin returned, but Nancy cleared her throat before they could successfully get the Steve-and-Robin show on the road. 

“The point is that we--but really, the kids, were counting on you.” Nancy said, dipping into her patented “I’m upset with you” tone. 

A year ago it would have cut Steve to the bone, even if he didn’t show it. 

Now he just stared tiredly at her back. 

“I’m sorry, Nance, but it is what it is.” He said simply, hoping the apology (even if he knew it wasn’t so much a real apology as it was something he said to keep the rage from breaking out and wrecking havoc via his mouth) would soften his ex. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Given the abrupt narrowing of her eyes, it very much did not help his case. 

“For someone who was so vocal about trying to change I have to say this is pretty disappointing.” Nancy said simply, but with just enough of a tone that Steve had to close his eyes for a second. 

Feel the way that old anger, the one that had powered King Steve, hit the bars of its cage.

Robin stilled immediately next to him, her head ping-ponging between Steve and Nancy both as she too, clocked that Nancy was pissed, and here to chew Steve out about it. 

“Um.” She said, voice going high in discomfort. 

Steve grit his teeth. “I don’t exactly get a say in these things, Nancy. You know that.” 

He had to work to keep his voice even, fighting against the ice that wanted to sharpen his own tone. 

It was just---Nancy did know. 

Steve had told her all those years ago, in the safety of her arms, about his parents' expectations. Their predetermined path, the way they dictated large swathes of his life. 

How they’d allowed him to pick which sports he played, but required that he play a sport no matter the time of year. 

That the pool they had installed wasn’t for him, he just got to use it as much as he did in part because he’d joined the swim team, and the kind of mental mind games he and his parents played about things like that. 

Apparently either Nancy had forgotten, or simply hadn’t taken it in to begin with because she wasn’t backing down. 

(Not that Steve had ever seen Nancy Wheeler back down.) 

“I know you have trouble juggling your parents' plans with your own.” Nancy said, and her tone was absolutely icy now. “I certainly remember waiting for a date that never happened.” 

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, knowing immediately what Nancy was referring to. 

“I told you they came home unexpectedly.” He said, arms now crossed against his chest, nails digging into his arms as a way to help himself stay grounded. “They wouldn’t let me use the phone until the next day and I apologized.”

“And I recall having a lovely conversation with your mother where she said otherwise.” Nancy said, her words punctuated by another high pitched “Uhhhh.” from Robin. 

“Funny how you believe my mom over me.” Steve said and whoops, yup, he definitely sounded mad now. 

So much for all the effort he’d put in to staying calm. 

“Because I look at actions, Steve. Patterns. The same ones you kept repeating.” Nancy was clearly about to escalate, and Robin, bless her, had had enough. 

“He-eeey.” She said, wedging herself in between Steve and the counter Nancy was starting to lean over. “I totally get it, you’re both upset, but this maybe isn’t the venue to fight about it? There are customers in the store and--sorry Nancy--but I do kinda need Steve for work, so…” 

She trailed off, glancing nervously between the two of them. 

Nancy took a breath, blasting it out of her mouth like an academically inclined dragon. “You’re right. I’m sorry Robin.”

She then turned on her heel, making her way to the doors. She paused before them, and Steve prepared himself because he knew whatever she was going to say next, it was going to hurt. 

“I wouldn’t care if it was just me, Steve, but the kids don’t deserve you pulling this shit. Not after all they’ve been through.” With that, Nancy pushed through the door, head held high as she stormed to her car. 

As was typical for Nancy’s aim, she scored a direct hit. 

Steve, somehow, resisted throwing things. 

“Can you believe her!?” He said, the second the doors were closed and Nancy safely out of eyeshot. “Coming in here like that!?” 

He ran his hand through his hair, once, twice. 

A third time for good measure. 

“Yeah, that was seriously public for her.” Robin agreed, sliding up next to him. “Like really public.” 

Steve shrugged, because well. Not really. 

Not anymore. 

But Robin didn’t know that, just like Robin wasn’t entirely familiar with the depths Steve’s parents went to save face. They hadn’t exactly had time to really dig into it all, given how fast the Vecna situation had hit after Starcourt and the sheer PTSD both incidents had caused. 

Most nights they spent together was spent trying to avoid reliving nightmares, not discussing ones they were currently still living in. 

A fact that Steve was more than happy to bring her up to speed on, but to do so involved a lot of backstory, and backstory involved Nancy, and God, he was fucking pissed at Nancy. 

Soon it was an hour into his rant and he hadn’t actually gotten around to the sheer level of shit his parents would pull, too busy with Nancy and old echoes of ‘bullshit.’ 

 He only stopped when Robin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly. 

“Dingus. You know I love you, and I know you’ve changed, but you do gotta admit, canceling at the last minute is kinda shitty and I get why they’re upset.” 

It was like the carpet had been pulled right out from under Steve, yanked so quickly he’d have to pinwheel to keep his feet. 

“What?” He said, eyes round in sheer surprise. 

“I just mean like, I get your parents are dicks but,” Robin’s face screwed up, looking like she’d sucked a lemon. It was her “I’m going to say something you don’t like face” and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut. 

“Our shift’s almost over and no offense, you’ve started to repeat yourself about Nance, and I get it! I do, memory shit is hard!” Robin’s hands moved as she talked, her bracelets jingling as if punctuating her point. 

“But I also think admitting you double booked yourself on accident and just taking responsibility for it would help smooth things over. Middle ground, you know?” Robin waggled her hands in a gesture that, for the first time in a long time, Steve didn’t understand. 

He found himself suddenly struggling to breathe. 

“Are you--are you saying you think I didn’t tell them I had a trip already planned?” 

Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to get it out. Wasn’t sure how he was doing anything, given the heat that was shooting through him, a hot mix of confusion and betrayal as Robin fidgeted to his left. 

“No! Okay well,” The lemon face got worse for a second. “I’m just saying you did kinda forget to pick me up that one time, and you do kinda blame your parents when stuff like that happens.” She bit a nail, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.  

“I don’t--” Steve said, completely knocked adrift. “I…”

Robin didn’t believe him.

His Robin. 

Who wasn’t--wasn’t exactly siding with Nancy, but wasn’t saying she was wrong either, or that she understood that this shit was out of his control, and in fact, was kind of implying that Nancy was right more so than Steve was and---and--

There was a ringing in Steve’s ears he wasn’t sure actually existed. 

“I’m sure a lot of it is your brain injury. The doctors said your short term memory can take a while to fully come back and I totally get why you don’t wanna say that, I just, I think it would be better if--Steve?” Robin jumped back as Steve finally found his footing, swiping his jacket and punching out before she could catch how badly his hands were shaking. 

“I’m leaving.” Steve told her, his own words a million miles away, entirely uncaring if Keith fired him. 

Keith was likely going to fire him anyway, given Steve was about to ask for a week-long vacation not even four months after the whole Vecna ordeal. 

“Wait, Steve, hey--Dingus! I wasn’t done, I mean, I had more to say I, dammit Steve--!” Robin called after him frantically as Steve bolted for the door. 

Steve ignored her, aiming for the Beemer and swinging himself numbly into the driver's seat when he got it open. 

Put the car in park and avoided Robin’s face entirely as he backed it out, punching the gas far harder than he needed to. 

The Beemer roared in response, nose rising as it shot forward. 

Robin was his best friend. His fucking--platonic soulmate, as she kept calling him. The very idea that she agreed with Nancy in general was a blow but in this?

Against his parents? 

Nausea rolled angrily in Steve’s stomach, matching the sudden wetness that coated his eyes. 

Angry and needing an outlet, Steve stomped hard on the gas, taking the next corner far too sharp and making the beemer fishtail, tires squealing . 

He didn’t know where he was going.

He figured he’d find out when he got there. 

xXx 

Given what Steve knew about the universe at large, (nevermind Hawkins) it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to hang around the Quarry at night.

But then, summer was in full swing. Kids were home from college and itching to find a place to party without parental overhead. 

Deep to the left side of the water, around a few bends and tucked oh so neatly out of sight, was a place where one could do just that. 

Party.

This stretch had long been claimed by the college kids of Hawkins, and guarded zealously for it. 

With the sheer number of drunk people whooping and hollering around the bonfires below the ridge where everyone parked their cars, Steve figured he was safe enough. 

Even if he was up with said cars, sitting alone. 

Not like it mattered. If a demodog or demogorgan or demo-fucking-dragon decided to come along, Steve had half a mind to just let it have him. 

It felt easier than trying to fix the current mess his life was in. 

So he sat up here, blowing through the alcohol he’d purchased from the one gas station that never carded, drinking his problems away. 

(That also wasn’t the best course of action but with his parents home to spring the whole “vacation” ordeal on him, it wasn’t like Steve had a choice.) 

He hadn’t grabbed a lot--had been so damn upset and struggling to hide it that he’d picked up a four pack of wine coolers instead of the intended beer he’d wanted. It was all he had though, and so he chugged the last bottle with a wince and wished he was a hell of a lot drunker than he felt.

Then promptly caught sight of the person walking towards him, and wondered vaguely if he was drunker than he felt. 

Of all the people to come and offer him a can of beer, Steve would have never expected Tommy Hagan. 

He eyed it and his old friend both, before slowly reaching out and taking the can. 

“Heard you and your parents are doing CoHo this year.” Tommy said casually, leaning up against the front of the Beemer like it was old times. 

“Yup.” Steve replied, drawing the word out. 

“Angie Tideman’s parents are going, they’re bringing her ith .” Tommy said it casually, and had the good graces not to grin when Steve audibly groaned.

“Oh god.”

Tommy sucked on a lip, nodding absently. “Yeah.” 

Then; “It gets worse.” 

Steve, who now knew what this conversation was about, instantly began tearing into the beer can. “How can it get worse? You know what Angie’s like.”

Angie, whose full name was Angelina, lived a few towns over. Born to wealthy parents who doted on their beloved only child, Angie had more in common with your average shark than she did her fellow humans. 

A comparison that, frankly, was unkind to sharks.

She was without a doubt the most selfish person Steve had ever had the misfortune of encountering, and the mere idea of being trapped in a room with her made his skin crawl. 

Their parents were business buddies though, and god forbid he ever insult a business buddies kid, 

“She goes to Purdue, you know, with me and Carol.” Tommy said, instead of answering directly. “We cross paths a lot, party wise.” 

Steve stayed silent. 

Knew how Tommy talked, how his stories meandered. Especially the juicy ones. 

“She’s been talking a lot recently. Given you don’t look all that informed, I’m gonna assume the one person she hasn’t talked to is you.” 

Steve gripped the can of beer, a sudden, sick fear blooming in his gut. 

“Tommy.” He said mildly, not loud enough to really interrupt, but with enough force to let his former friend know to get to the point, now. 

“Got all super fancy right before we left for summer break. Hair done, whole new wardrobe, nails, you know.” Tommy waggled his fingers playfully, but dropped them when Steve just stared. “Went full whore on us. I swear she was making out with any guy who even looked at her--” 

“Tommy.” He repeated, this time a hell of a lot firmer. 

Done pushing, Tommy let go of the proverbial bombshell. “Apparently you’re planning on proposing to her this summer. She’s gonna return next year as an engaged woman, with you in tow, because apparently, you got into Purdue. Congrats by the way.” 

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, right as Steve’s mouth went dry. 

For the second time that day, he found himself fighting the burning heat of embarrassment and fury as it rolled through him. 

“I’m proposing.” Steve said, as if saying it out loud would scare the very idea away. “To Angie.” 

“Yeah we kinda figured you didn’t know.” Tommy said with a snide little grin. To the average outsider it was mocking, but Steve knew better.

Tommy was uncomfortable, because Tommy had understood what Steve’s parents had done. 

“What I’d like to know is just how much Angie’s parents paid to get you into Purdue. That’s gotta be a minimum fifty thousand dollar donation at least.” Tommy removed his hand, to instead lean his shoulder against Steve’s. Like this was the old times, before they’d fought. “ I didn’t think they had that kind of money to throw around.”  

A past conversation with his father struck Steve, running through the front of his mind like a bad horror movie. 

“They sold the estate.” Steve said vacantly, the implications not quite hitting. “The one they’ve been trying to get rid of forever, over in Cape Cod.” 

“Oh shit.” Tommy said, blinking as he too, recalled what was likely his father telling him the very same news. 

“They sold the place on Cape Cod, and they used part of the funds to fucking buy me like a toy.” And yeah, saying it out loud, it definitely sounded bad. “I didn’t think Angie even liked me.”

“Does Angie like anyone?” Tommy asked, incredulously, but nudged Steve’s shoulder again when his joke didn’t net him the laugh he wanted.. “I mean, you had to know your old man had plans to straighten you out. He keeps getting mad at my dad, because the ass won't stop making jokes that I’m going to take over the company instead of you.” 

“And this is it. Attaching me to Angie.” Steve said vacantly. “Because they know if I get married…” 

He’d put his wife first. His family, first. 

The one he’d wanted, dreamed of, since he first realized he didn’t have one. 

He’d been playing checkers the entire time, too busy fighting fucking monsters and Russians to realize his parents had upgraded to chess. 

In a dizzying array of mental connect-the-dots, Steve replayed the last years worth of conversations. All the odd little things they’d said. All the dumb things Steve had just ignored. 

 They’d warned him. 

Had told him he better shape up, or they’d be forced to do something drastic. 

That his parents hadn’t wasted all this time, effort, money on him, for him to throw away his life like he was. 

“You better start acting right and figuring out how to get your life back on track, because you won’t like what happens if I have to fix it for you. You get a month Steven, and after that? Well. Just remember you forced my hand, Steven.” 

They knew. They knew him, and what made him tick.

“I think the real question is what Angie’s parents see in you.” Tommy teased, but then they both knew the answer to that puzzle. 

For all that Steve’s mom complained about her husband, the guy was a shrewd and calculating businessman. Those weekends, then weekdays, then more and more time away hadn’t just been so he could go screw his secretary. 

Richard Harrington had fast tracked his business to the point where it was now getting attention. The business journal, ‘Top 50 Companies to Watch’ kind. 

Even if Steve fucked up entirely, he was set to inherit a fortune and a business that would continue adding to it, for some time to come. 

Provided he did what his parents wanted.

Such as marrying Angie. 

Thing was, if his parents did what they always did, and held their wealth (his car, his home, his life and all the little things in it) against him like a gun to his head, if Angie got that ring around her finger? 

 Steve would bow to their whims. 

 Because they could fluster him into proposing so he didn’t embarrass Angie, and her parents and anyone else who’d undoubtedly be watching. They’d make a spectacle of it. 

Because once he did propose, they wouldn’t let him back out, burying him under guilt trips and veiled threats until he was marched down the aisle in a groomsman suite and told to stand. 

Because against all common sense, Steve wanted a family who loved him so desperately he’d chase it like a dog if he was presented with the opportunity and told to make it work. 

It didn’t matter that Angie was selfish. 

Steve would try anyway. 

His parents were maneuvering him as easily as they had back when he was a kid, using love as a tool to get him to do what they wanted and even seeing the nose hanging from the rafters, they knew just the right words to get him to place it around his neck. 

“Thought you’d wanna know.” Tommy finished, pushing himself off Steve’s car. “Before your parents sprung it on you.” 

“Sonofabitch.” Steve hissed angrily, a million thoughts racing through his head, the heat of being caught in a trap blasting down his spine. 

“Yeah.” Tommy added, rather unhelpfully. “But hey, given that you’re about to go on vacation to propose, why don’t we consider this,” here Tommy swept his hand, gesturing to the party below, “your proposal party?” 

It was a downright horrible idea.

But then, Steve didn’t exactly have a better one. 

Not  when the world itself seemed against him, grinding its heel into his back and laughing about it. 

He knew the drill. If he went down there, arm in arm with Tommy, then it wouldn’t matter that half those kids were from a few towns over, driven in by new college buddies.  

They’d see him as a reason to get wild, absolutely uncaring that they didn’t know who the hell he was. 

Steve needed that.

People who weren’t mad at him, buying into the easy lies his parents wove, or who didn't understand the games played against him. 

“Fuck it.” He announced, standing up from the hood of his car as Tommy’s grin morphed into something he used to see in the days of old, back when they were sneaking drinks from their parents' alcohol cabinets. “This way at least I get a party.”

Not like his parents were going to let him have an engagement party. Or a bachelor party, or likely let his ass back into Hawkins. 

No matter how long the engagement. 

Tommy cheered, raising his arms to the sky and Steve grinned wildly with him. 

He’d figure out how to get out of all this later--but for now, he wanted just a few damn hours where he didn’t have to think. 

Not about his parents, or Angie, or possible attempts to force him into marriage, like this was the yee olden days and Steve was a Victorian maiden who needed to be brought to heel. 

Likewise he didn’t want to think about the Party, or Russian torture, or how Nancy could be so damn smart in some things and downright stupid in others. 

He absolutely didn't want to think about Robin. 

“Hey boys and girls, look who I drug up!” Tommy yelled as they approached and soon, word had spread.

This was Steve’s proposal party, and he was here to get absolutely smashed (while encouraging everyone else to do the exact same, in his honor.) 

Which would be how Eddie found him a few hours later.

Still at the quarry, crossfaded off his ass, a forty in one hand and a lawn dart in the other. 

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Eddie grit out, desperately trying to wrestle the lawn dart out of his hand. “You’re fucking partying with Tommy Hagan!?” 

Steve blinked at him a few times, finally catching on that Eddie was in fact, actually there. 

“When did you show up?” He asked, though given the wince on Eddie’s face and just how hard it had been to move his lips, Steve correctly assumed he’d slurred the shit out of the question. 

Somehow, Eddie understood him anyway. 

“Robin called me a while ago, gave me a list of places you might be. Almost skipped this one until I stepped out of my van to take a piss and heard the party.” Eddie explained, and somehow while doing so, he’d successfully gotten a hold of the dart. 

He was now working on removing the 40 ounce. 

Steve frowned, using his newly freed hand to grip it closer to his chest. 

“Harrington.” Eddie warned, and oh, wow, they were back to last names huh?

Well why not, it wasn't like his night could get worse. 

“This is mine, Munson.” Steve fired back, putting as much vitriol into Eddie’s last name as he could.

This did not detour the metalhead. 

“Come on man, give me the bottle.” Eddie said firmly. 

Steve shook his head stubbornly, enjoying the way his hair whipped at his face. “No.”

Another man stumbled over, a guy Steve absolutely did not know. He frowned, looking between Eddie and Steve. 

For two seconds, Steve thought they might have trouble, and given the way Eddie was tensing, he clearly thought so too. 

Instead, New Guy just kind of rocked on his heels. “Hey, shove off it, buddy. It’s this guy's bachelor party, let the man drink!” 

Eddie’s face did something complicated then, pulling the sort of expressive looks only he could manage.

It was both adorable and hilarious, and if Steve hadn’t just been reminded of the very reason he was drinking, he’d have told Eddie so. 

“Yeah!” He said instead, raising his hand in the air, toasting his bottle of forty against the other guy’s red solo cup. “It’s my proposalengagmentbachelor party!” 

Given the second, adorable-slash-hilarious look on Eddie’s face, Steve assumed those words hadn’t come out right either. 

“Okay.” Eddie said hands on his hips in a stance Steve was pretty sure Eddie had gotten from him. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to put the bottle away. Then you’re going to give me your car keys, and then the two of us are going to my house to sleep whatever is happening here, off.” 

At least, that's what Steve thought he heard. It was a pretty un-Eddie like speech, and Steve maybe, might have been the one to say it, because he maybe, might have been mocking what Eddie had actually said.

Maybe.

It was hard to know, given that Steve’s thoughts were a thick soup on a bit of a time delay, and he was having a hard time figuring up from down, let alone what Eddie had been actually saying. 

Speaking of; 

 “When did I get into your car?” Steve asked, blinking as the van’s passenger seat appeared before him.

“Just now.” Eddie said, helping him in.

“Huh.” Said Steve, and then he maybe passed out a bit, because once again, he found himself awake and alert at a place that wasn’t where he’d just been. 

“Come on.” Eddie said gently, one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder as Steve leaned heavily into him, guiding the jock up the stairs and into the small house he and Wayne now called a home. 

The guy might have muttered a few things about bachelor parties along the way, but Steve was too focused on walking straight to really take notice. 

Part Two

[purplecoffee13]

“Say you’re sorry.”*

Hey guys! I’ve been writing different parts of different series (new and current ones) but I’m still in the middle of all of them, so I wanted to upload this blurb in the meantime. I usually don’t add pictures to blurbs but this one was too perfect not to add, like… look at him. Anyways, hope you like it!!! xxx

Wc: 1.3k

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, lowkey exhibitionism, daddy kink, spanking (only once but still)

General Masterlist

Blurbs Masterlist

************************************************

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, huh? Disobeying me, hanging up on me, driving me fucking crazy? Thought I'd taught you well... why are you being such a brat tonight?"

"Just wanted to have fun with my friends..." you protest, letting Harry drag you to his car. Your stomach bubbles in excitement, curious to see what he is going to do to you.

Tonight you had had a girls night with your two best friends, to celebrate the fact that you were all engaged or married. You had been friends since college and couldn't believe you had all come so far. However, a few hours and a bottle of wine later, you all realized: you hadn't gone out in a damn hot minute.

Naturally, the idea of going clubbing came to mind. You texted Harry, telling him you were spontaneously going clubbing, but wouldn't be home later than two (you two were flying to your mom the next day, so you didn’t want to be extremely unrested). He texted you back to go to Mercy—the club which he owned—because he had arranged VIP and a limitless tab for you there, and also reminded you to text him if you'd be home later than three so he wouldn't worry.

You agreed, and so you and your friends went to the club. However, time flew by and before you knew it was 3:30am and you were still dancing the night away. It wasn't long after that Harry showed up.

Your friends had agreed when he said he was going to take you home and let her rest a bit before getting on the flight tomorrow, and asked if they wanted to make use of the Uber he reserved for them. Since they both lived on the other side of town, he figured that would be most efficient.

It didn't take long before your friends were safely in the car paid for by Harry. Then, it was only the two of you, and your fiancé wasn't wasting any time.

"You told me you'd be home two hours ago. We have to be somewhere tomorrow." He tells you once he has escorted you back to the dark parking lot where his BMW stood between a bunch of other cars. He pulls you in between his car and another, and pushes you against the vehicle. His free hand slips under your dress and past your panties. You sigh when his fingers come in contact with your clit and start to rub.

"I lost track of time!" You whine, shutting your eyes at the pleasure of Harry's touch. A shriek leaves your mouth when Harry slaps your clit.

"I called you five fucking times, and you ignored me. You're a spoiled fucking brat." He growls in your ear, stimulating your clit further. You bite your lip, looking around to check if there is no one here. Your eyes land on a bouncer, standing in front of the back exit Harry just carried you out of. You gasp, worried that he sees you and maybe thinks the wrong thing. Harry is quick to catch on to your worries.

"Don't worry baby, he works for me, he won't think anything of it. I own that club, remember?" He says confidently, and you let out a moan. The tone of his voice has you hot and bothered for him. Your boyfriend can be so cocky, and it's so fucking hot.

"Shit… Oh my god!” you whine as your eyes roll into the back of your head. His assertiveness and stern tone had done something to you, and being a bit tipsy always made it easier for you to come, but this was extremely fast.

“You gonna come for me already? How pathetic…” Harry teases you, only increasing the speed of his fingers and positively letting you descend into heaven or wherever it is that these euphoric orgasms always seem to send you.

"Say you're sorry, baby. Say you're sorry and I'll let you come." He orders. You bite your lip, jaw slacked as you try to contain the amount of noises that threaten to leave your mouth.

"Sorry— oh f–fuck!" You squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling of his fingers rubbing harsher, interrupting your apology. "I'm sorry, daddy."

There was a part of Harry that wanted to snatch his fingers away from you and make you cry for an orgasm until your eyes were all puffy and red, and then fuck you for the rest of the night. But he knew that the flight of tomorrow was going to kill you if you didn't have at least a bit of sleep, so he cut you some slack this time.

"Alright, come on baby, come all over my fingers." His rough voice orders, and he has to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle the squeal that escapes you as your orgasm takes over your body.

There isn't much time to come down from anything, as Harry is quick to take away his hand and open the car door. You watch as he steps inside and backs up his seat, giving you enough space for what you know he wants to do. As expected, he pulls you into the car, and you climb on top of him as he closes the car door. With the car seat leaned further down, he lays down and silently observes you. The cocky raise of a brow that says 'go on' makes your cunt ache for him again, and you are quick to follow his silent orders.

You unbutton his pants and whip out his cock, mesmerized by it as always. Harry smirks at you, still delighted by how starry eyed you get over him. You line yourself up with your fiancé's cock and push him into you. A sigh of relief leaves Harry's mouth and it makes you even wetter than you thought you could be.

Nothing but heavy pants and the squelching sounds of you bouncing up and down in Harry's cock fill the car.

"Oh, daddy! You feel so good!" You whimper, attempting to increase your speed. Harry moans out at the impact with which you are impaling yourself on his dick, and his hands travel to your tits.

"Look at you, crying for my cock, like the little slut you are." He notes tauntingly. "Don't know how to apologize in any other way than bouncing yourself dumb on my cock, do you?"

"N– ah! Fuck!" You try to respond to him, but Harry thrusts up into you, and the feeling of him so deep inside of you renders you unable to speak. Tears flow down your cheeks at the intensity of his thrusts and you aren't sure how long you'll be able to hold yourself up.

"Aw, is it too much for you baby?" He asks, following his words with an extra hard thrust. You hold on to the seat beside you in order not to fall forward, moaning uncontrollably at Harry's devilishly dirty antics.

"S– so much daddy..." you manage to croak out, and a mean laugh escapes Harry's throat. Your shut eyes open for a second, knowing you will want to see the beast you've unleashed with disobeying Harry tonight.

"Well that's too bad baby, because I don't give a fuck. I'm gonna fuck you until I've had enough, and you're going to shut up and take it, understood?" He orders, and when you don't immediately respond with words, he slaps your ass.

"Fuck! Yes, yes, daddy! Anything, please, I'm sorry. I'll be so good for you..." you start blabbering, and the sound of Harry's low chuckle vibrates all the way to your core.

"Yes you will. Now, bounce on my cock sweetheart, I never told you to stop…”

[fellthemarvelous]

Do you ever really think about what happened in The Resurrectionists?

Aziraphale spent that entire time trying to save Elspeth's soul from being damned to Hell.

Every questionable choice he made was done so because he was trying to help Elspeth and also trying to find new ways to decrease human suffering.

He was working really fucking hard to do his job, but he made mistakes along the way because he is constantly struggling with the knowledge that the rules become a lot more convoluted as life becomes more complicated.

Digging up bodies is wrong, but Elspeth was poor and acting in desperation to take care of herself and Wee Morag so they wouldn't have to continue living on the streets.

He is the one who encouraged her to dig up another body because he realized that Mister Dalrymple was trying to help teach those learning to become doctors so they could do better to decrease human suffering when it was their turn to help others.

He wasn't able to save Wee Morag after she was shot by a grave gun, and watched in dismay as Elspeth sold her body to Mister Dalrymple so she could get off the streets.

And when that didn't work the way she'd hoped, she decided that her life meant nothing anymore and decided she was better off dead.

Aziraphale had been spending that entire minisode trying to save Elspeth's soul from Hell, but he ultimately realizes that he made things worse even though he was trying so hard to do the right thing.

Heaven didn't care that he failed. Heaven has already said "we're the good guys, we're just not doing anything to stop the bad guys". Aziraphale was doing the job given to him by God. He made a mistake, but he thought he was doing the right thing because he cares about human souls. He still wants to protect humanity from Hell. That's literally his job.

Crowley saw someone digging up a body in the graveyard and immediately realized he didn't need to do anything.

Instead he watches.

He listens to Elspeth and finds it easier to sympathize with her plight because he's in the same boat in many ways. It doesn't matter what he does because he won't be able to climb his way out of Hell.

He listens to Aziraphale and he challenges the angel when he disagrees with some of the things he's saying.

He doesn't interfere with Elspeth or Aziraphale though.

The discussion that he and Aziraphale have with Mister Dalrymple teaches Crowley something just as much as it teaches Aziraphale.

Before he learns the reason that Mister Dalrymple cuts open dead bodies in the first place, he's cheering to the idea of more murder.

That tumor that Aziraphale hugs to his chest is just as much of a learning moment for Crowley. He hadn't considered why someone might have a good reason to cut up dead bodies, but Crowley and Aziraphale both love children and they both just learned that a child died with a tumor inside of him.

Crowley didn't realize anymore than Aziraphale did just how much danger Wee Morag and Elspeth were in from digging up bodies of rich people.

It was when Crowley saw that Elspeth was about to kill herself that he realized he could no longer sit back and do nothing.

As a demon, it should have been easier for Crowley to accept that Hell was winning another soul, but the truth is that the entire time Aziraphale was working so hard to save Elspeth's soul, Crowley was able to act as a spectator because she was already headed down the path towards Hell.

Crowley had just watched Aziraphale work so hard to save this human soul, this soul who had just lost the woman she loved who was wanting to end her own life so she could see Wee Morag again, and he realized he couldn't sit back and watch anymore. He knew Elspeth wouldn't see Wee Morag again if she killed herself because Hell cares just as little about how complicated human life is as Heaven does.

He used Aziraphale's money to bribe Elspeth into being properly good so she could go to Heaven. He saved her knowing that he was offering the win to Heaven just so she could see Wee Morag again.

It's important to remember that neither Heaven nor Hell give a single solitary fuck about humanity or the complications that arise as life becomes more problematic. Humanity exists within all shades of grey.

Heaven does nothing to stop Hell. Hell spends eternity torturing humans and other demons. Neither side is good. Neither side is ideal.

And in the end, Crowley did what he did because Aziraphale was doing the right thing by trying to save Elspeth's soul from eternal torment, something she doesn't deserve because she was simply trying to survive in a system that has always put poor people at a disadvantage. Aziraphale learned this too. He learned that there is no inherent virtue behind poverty.

To shades of grey.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

So Special - Lando Norris

<word count - 5350> |part 1 - Nerd|part 2 - Rumours|

The weekend had gone by, and you and Lando had spent your time doing very different things. He had been productive, spending his two days in the garage with his dad, perfecting your DT project. He couldn't care less that you had told him not to finish it.

He had said he would do it, and now he was damned sure that it would be the best one in the class. Lando and his dad had come up with some genius ideas, even if it was only meant to be a simple little wood-work task. 

It would probably be quite obvious that you hadn't done it in the workshop, but Lando had a feeling that you wouldn't care. Also with the help of his dad, Lando had gotten his homework rattled out within an hour. 

It wasn't quite the same as having you there to help him through it, since your way of teaching him was a lot better than his dad's, but it was better than nothing, that was for sure. 

You, on the other hand, had spent your weekend holed up in your bedroom, not wanting to come out for anyone or anything. Your parents had offered to take you out to any restaurant of your choosing, go somewhere with your friends, anything. 

But, you had declined all of their suggestions. You simply didn't feel like going anywhere. All you could think about was how much you were dreading going to school on Monday, how much you didn't want to see anyone in any of your classes.

It genuinely seemed like your worst nightmare at the moment, but you still had to go in. The minutes ticked by slowly over the weekend, every single one heightening the anxiety of being back in school. 

The most likely scenario was that people would have forgotten it by now and moved onto something else, but the feeling that that wasn't the case was overwhelming, crippling and soul-destroying. 

Even doing your maths homework felt near on impossible. A task that would normally only take you a few minutes took you nearly 2 hours, since trying to work with the numbers made nervousness swirl in your stomach. 

The ever present thought was Lando. If anything, you figured he had it the worst out of all of this. His friends mocked and ridiculed him at any chance they got, he couldn't even get the bus anymore without throwing in the towel and getting off early, and you didn't want to be around him anymore. 

Guilt mixed into the cesspool of emotions that you were feeling, but the pure fear of being in school and getting the mick taken out of you overshadowed that. You just wanted to get your education and run as far away from that damned place as you could. 

Once Monday morning had rolled around, you reluctantly got onto the bus, not wanting to walk in the frosty weather. Lando's mum would've given you a ride, but you didn't want to be seen getting out of his car. Now that would be pure social suicide. 

On the bus, you saw that Lando wasn't there, which made things easier. But, you sure as hell weren't sitting at the back near his friends. You shuffled onto a seat next to some random kids in a year below you, but you'd much rather do that than be subjected to Lando's friends.

School was relatively empty when you got there, most people going to sit in the canteen before the bell went for their first lessons. You made a beeline to the lockers, hoping that no one would be there.

Thankfully, there wasn't a soul in sight as you quickly punched the code into Lando's locker. You knew the code since you'd had to leave his homework in there a few times in the past. You pulled his jumper out of your bag and stuffed it in. On the top, you placed a small note of gratitude, before closing the locker back up and going over to yours to put in some of your textbooks.

To your surprise, your locker wasn't empty like you thought it would be. Inside was a small, plastic bag. Just like you had put on Lando's jumper, whoever had been in your locker had put a note on top of it. 'I promised I'd get this finished, and I am a man of my word'. 

You knew that handwriting off by heart, since it was one you often plagiarised. Opening the bag, you saw your fully finished, absolutely faultless DT woodwork project. You were baffled by how clean the cuts and joints were, and it was surely going to get you the best mark you had ever gotten in DT. 

The first genuine smile that you had cracked in days grew across your face, truly touched by the gesture. You had told him not to bother, that you'd do it yourself, even if you really didn't want to. "I did it right, yeah?" a voice suddenly broke you out of your small bout of happiness.

Lando was leant against his locker, hands in his pockets as he looked at you. His face was tired, it didn't have the life to it as it used to. His eyes were equally as lethargic, no longer holding that cheeky spark that they always had. It was like the colour had dulled out, leaving them more greyed over than blue. 

"Yeah, you did. It's great, thanks," you mustered up a small smile, barely even a fraction of the one you had earlier. For some reason, your brain still couldn't make you look him in the eyes as you talked to him.

"Anytime," he replied, his gaze fixed on your side profile. He was thinking the same about your appearance too, your face had sunken and your eyes weren't as bright as he remembered them being. 

"I don't think anyone's going to say anything, you know..." he mumbled, half hoping you'd heard him, half hoping you hadn't. The words sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, since he wanted to believe that they were true. 

He didn't want to see you upset anymore, he didn't want to have to distance himself from you, he didn't want to have to change his entire routine. All he wanted was his life right back to the way it was. 

The life when you two were friends, where he'd get to spend time with you. The life where he got to be Lando Norris, the cocky little shit to the rest of the year, but a softie for you. The life where everything was perfect again. 

"I don't think it's that easy, Lando," you said, your eyes still glued to your feet as you avoided eye contact with him. Even the sound of his name on your lips made his heart flutter uncontrollably. He wanted to hear more of it, he wanted to hear it every goddamn day of his life if you'd let him.

"Please? Can we just... just try to ignore it and still be friends? I just want to be your friend again, I mi-" he started to plead, the desperation evident in his tone. His face fell as he was cut off, knowing that both of you were in deep shit before the day had even started. 

"You what, Lando? Bit of trouble in paradise for our most prolific love birds?" some random guy in your year interrupted him, standing beside Lando. He had never seen fear in a person's features like he did on yours in that very moment.

You didn't think you could handle hearing another word of it, so you dashed past the both of them and down the hall, trying not to let the tears fall down your cheeks. He hadn't even said anything overly hurtful, but the panic of what he could have said had set in.

"Not gonna run after your girlfriend, Lando?" he further teased, and Lando could feel his fists clenching at his sides, his knuckles turning white due to how hard he was holding them. He knew that a comment like that wouldn't have normally set you off, but it just showed how bad the situation had gotten. 

"Go fuck yourself," he spat, walking to the canteen and sitting down on a table away from his friends. They had seen him come in, but he didn't care. They were the last people he wanted to talk to. 

For the first time in his life, he was desperate to get to lessons and have some much wanted distraction from everything that was going on. As soon as the bell had gone, he jumped out of his seat and took the shortest route that he could think of to the science labs for biology. 

Not to his shock, you were already sat in your seat, hunched over your textbook and exercise book. Lando took his seat, a few down from yours on the long, wooden benches. The start of the lesson was silent to begin with, before you were all assigned to do some questions with the people sat around you.

Lando tried to keep focused on the questions, but he couldn't help but hear his own name coming from your side of the table. As he discretely watched from the side, he saw as your head snapped up to the girl next to you. Lilly. 

Goddamnit, of course it had to be Lilly. The one girl who Lando was for sure certain was desperate for him. "Sorry?" you said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You hadn't been listening to a word she was saying, so you had to do a double take now that she was suddenly talking about Lando. 

"You spent the weekend with Lando, no? Since he's your boyfriend and all, I assumed what I heard was true," she said, her voice laced with a sickly sweet venom. The jealousy she felt was obvious, and it did give you a slightly masochistic sense of satisfaction. 

"No," you curtly answered with a small shake of the head, before returning to answering the questions by yourself. Lando couldn't see Lilly's face since she was looking at you, with her blinding mop of bleached blonde hair being the only thing he could see. 

"What? So it's not true?" she pressed, clearly looking for a reaction that you weren't willing to give her. 

"No, no it's not," you declined again, your leg bouncing up and down nervously. Lando grinned to himself, proud of you for sticking up for yourself and not giving in. He just hoped you had the willpower to carry on being as strong as you were, since he knew how sensitive you were at the minute.

"So the two of you didn't spend this weekend, practically locked in his parent's house by the lake while the bed was creaking-" 

"Right that's enough." you said, your voice firm and leaving no room for disagreement. Lilly looked a tiny bit shook by your defiance, but Lando was sat there, wide-eyed. He never told anyone about the house by the lake apart from Max, and the likelihood of him telling Lilly of all people was slim to none. 

But he was more taken aback and impressed by your steadfastness. He had expected you to be in tears by this point, but it was a more than pleasant surprise. He still couldn't see Lilly's face, but he could imagine the annoying pout as her lips were pursed together.

"I don't know who you heard that from, but that is complete and utter bullshit. I spent my weekend at home. As for Lando? I couldn't really give a shit, but he wasn't with me. Much to your dismay, he wasn't with you either,"  you carried on, and your conversation had pricked up some of your class' listening ears. 

Lilly looked like you had just slapped her, her mouth agape and eyes wide as she looked at you. "I... you..." she stuttered, unsure of how to respond. As much as Lando was glad that you were sticking up for yourself, he was also feeling a slight stabbing pain in his chest. 

You 'couldn't really give a shit'. The worst part was that he couldn't tell if you meant it or not. He doubted that you did, but there was always the small question of what if? What if you had meant it?

If he was being honest, the thought of you not caring scared the life out of him. It wasn't something that he wanted to believe, not at all. He knew that the two of you weren't on the best terms, not by either of your faults but you still weren't friends, yet that didn't warrant you not caring at all, right?

The one person whose opinion he idolised, the one person who he wanted to see everyday, the one person who he could be himself around didn't care. It simply didn't register in his mind that that was even possible. 

By the time Lando had snapped out of his thoughts, the teacher had resumed his lesson and you and Lilly were sat in silence, a scowl still plastered on her face. The rest of the lesson wasn't focused on biology, at least not for Lando. 

Both of you left as quickly as you could and went to your favourite respective places to spend your break times. Lando didn't know where you'd be this time, since you moved just about every five minutes. 

He knew that your little outburst would get back to his friends by the end of the break, and he didn't want to be there when they inevitably found out. He couldn't figure out what they'd say to him or how they'd react, but he knew there would be more teasing. 

He was upset enough as it was, and he didn't need them to make it worse. Lando stayed away from the canteen, just aimlessly wandering through the near-empty halls. As he approached the lockers on his third lap of the school, his ears picked up the sounds of a familiar voice. 

"You think you're so special, don't you?" she said, and he could have sworn that all he could see was red. Lilly. And there was no doubts in his mind over who she was talking to.

"I bet you're loving all of this attention, aren't you? You probably started these rumours yourself, didn't you?" Lilly carried on, Lando staying behind the wall while he listened to her onslaught. He hadn't seen you, but he could picture the look on your face. 

"Why the hell would I make up such awful things about myself? I'm not an attention seeker like you, I don't want this happening," you retorted, a smirk growing on Lando's face as he heard you. He was glad you weren't running off and crying anymore, but he assumed you were bottling it all up as a way of coping. 

"Please, you're just annoyed that Lando would never actually date you, aren't you?" she said, and you were both gobsmacked. You knew that that was why she was getting pissy with you, but you didn't think she'd spell it out point blank. 

"What, like he'd date you either?" you shot back, stunning Lilly into silence. Initially, she was right to assume that her saying all of these things would reduce you to tears, but today you had built a shell around you - one that almost seemed impenetrable. 

But, hidden beneath the tough exterior and firm words, Lando could hear the faintest of a wobble in your voice. Lilly wouldn't pick up on it, but he had. Maybe it was just because he knew you so well already, or maybe it was just because he liked you so damn much that he noticed all of the tiniest little things about you. 

"Please, I think anyone would rather date me over you," she said after a few moments, the come back taking longer for her to think up than she would have liked.  You nearly laughed in her face, nearly told her what a massive bitch she was and how most people would rather be dead than date her. 

However, someone swooped in. "I know I wouldn't."

"Oh, hey Lando, we were just talking about you," Lilly instantly stepped in, her voice suddenly turning nauseatingly sacchariferous. She stepped closer to him, batting her false eyelashes at him as if it would put him under her spell. 

"Yeah, I heard." he said, his voice betraying none of his emotions. Lilly could tell that something was up with him, but she chose to ignore it and carry on trying to woo him. 

"I was just saying how-"

"I heard it. And I don't think you have any right to say any of that about Y/N. She is a much better person than you, and you're stupid to think she'd make those rumours about us. That's something you'd do. Also, I'll reiterate. I would rather date her than you any day of the week." he said, not missing a beat between sentences.

Lilly stayed quiet, that familiar scowl finding its place back on her face. "Fine, yeah, whatever," she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she stormed away from you. 

You let out a breath that you hadn't realised you had been holding, finally feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. You had done so well to keep it all bottled up as you stood up for yourself, but now it felt like the adrenaline had worn off and your resolve was crumbling. 

Once she had gone, Lando turned to you and saw the tears in your eyes. "Hey, no, don't..." he softly said, approaching you. He was unsure whether he was allowed to hug you or touch you or if he was supposed to just leave you alone to cry. 

He contemplated it, but he couldn't force himself to walk away. You had let all of the fear and the upset of the weekend and the past couple of hours to build up, and now it was finally too heavy for you to hold up. 

"Can I... can I please just..." he started, not knowing how to ask the question. He didn't want to outright ask if he could hold you, but he didn't know what else to say. Instead, he hovered his arms awkwardly around you as if he was gesturing at hugging you. 

"Mhm," you hummed, your arms going around his neck as his wrapped around your waist. It was nice to be close to you again, to have you again. He also felt a rush of affection. He didn't know how long to hold the hug, how tightly to hold you, where to put his head. 

Did he rest it on top of yours? Bury it in the crook of your neck? Just... keep it there? 

Despite his inner turmoil, his instincts took his hand up the the back of your head, fingers tangling in the strands of hair. "Please don't cry, c'mon, it's OK," he mumbled, hating the way you shook with silent sobs in his arms. 

He knew you had kept your emotions all bundled up inside all day, but he couldn't handle you being so upset. "I'm sorry..." you mumbled, but he couldn't make out the words as they were muffled by his chest. 

"Hm? What did you say?" he gently asked, looking down at you as you looked up at him. It had just dawned on him how close you were, and how easy it would be just to lean down and kiss you like he- no, no. Not the time. Not yet, at least. 

"I said I'm sorry," you repeated, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for... avoiding you, not being your friend, being a complete and utter bitch to you, and-" you started to ramble, more tears falling from your eyes. 

"Hey, no, no, I won't hear it. None of this is your fault, absolutely none of it. OK?" he reassured you, needing you to know that you hadn't done anything wrong. All you did was nod, before hugging him tighter and resting your head back on his chest. 

His white button up was slightly see through with tears, but he'd be able to hide it with his blazer no problem. "Shh, please don't cry," he carried on trying to soothe you, his mind going through thousands of other things he wanted to say.

'You're too pretty to cry...' was the first thing that came to the forefront of his brain, but that was too much too soon. He felt your shudders against him stilling as you opted to just stand there in his embrace. He wasn't complaining, he would stay like that for as long as you'd let him.   

From down the hall, he could hear the faint pattering of footsteps. Lando didn't want to say anything, he just wanted to let them walk by and they'd likely ignore the two of you. Once you heard it too, you pushed back from him so that there was a sizeable gap between you both. 

He was disappointed, to say the least, but he understood your trepidation. It was a good job that you had stepped away, since the person that walked by was one of Lilly's friends. She was probably already floating around, spreading as many lies as her single-celled brain could muster. 

"I'll... see you later, yeah?" you weakly smiled, checking the time and seeing that it was nearly time for your next class. 

"Yeah, course. You getting the bus or do you need a ride?" he asked, confident that his mum would happily pick you up down the road and take you home. 

"A ride would be nice," you nodded, and he was slightly taken aback by the fact that you hadn't argued with him. You were as stubborn as the day was long, but he was happy you had relented  quickly on this occasion. 

"You just start walking home and we'll find you somewhere along the road," he told you and you nodded. 

"Sounds good," you lightly chuckled, the sound welcome to his ears. He hadn't heard any semblance of a laugh from you in nearly a week, and he was unbelievably grateful that he had gotten to hear it again. 

"See ya," he smiled as you walked away, a wave of contentedness washing over him. Even if it has come as a result of some of the toughest days of both your life and his, he had gotten to hug you. To actually hug you, to touch you more than your fingers just brushing together when you handed something to each other. 

It was what he had wanted, and he had finally gotten it. The price was hefty, but he had gotten it nonetheless. Now, he was counting down the seconds until he'd get to drive you home, spend more time with you, talk to you again.      

The rest of the day wasn't actually too bad. Just the odd comment or two, but it was nothing compared to what the pair of you had been getting over the past few days. Lando actually found a few of them quite funny, when he thought about it. 

"Hey Norris, your girlfriend is feisty, eh? Bet that makes her fun for you," one of the boys in your year said, as if it was meant to hurt or upset him. Instead he just laughed, shaking his head. 

"Feisty? Very," was all he could get out before walking away to get to his next lesson. Lando had never been so prudent with getting to his lessons, but he found that it was the best way to spend his time. 

Hour after hour went by, and before he knew it, Lando was practically running out of the front doors of the school and towards his mum's car. She was parked in the same spot that she always was, and he hopped in the back in preparation for you to get in too. 

"Why are you sitting back there?" she asked, looking at him in the rear view mirror. 

"We're picking Y/N up down the road," he said, leaning over the center console to turn on the heated seats on your side, as well as leaving his jumper from the day on your seat. He had found the one that you had returned to him in his locker, but he wanted you to have the one he had already worn.

There was something strangely intimate about you wearing his jumpers as a source of warmth and comfort, but he wasn't opposed to it. He knew that a lot of girls stole their boyfriend's hoodies, but this wasn't quite that scenario.

He wanted it to be, there was no doubt about that, but this made him feel like you two were a few steps closer to that. You were always happy to wear his jumpers, but he sometimes wished you wouldn't return then just so that he could ask for them back. Not that he wanted them back. If you wanted them, they were all yours. 

"Oh are we now?" she smirked, finding her son's actions towards you as endearing as hell. He was shaping up to be the boy she wanted to raise, and she was so proud of him. She could tell his crush on you was definitely developing, and the distance between you clearly made him want you more. 

"Yeah, we are," he said, leaving no room for her to say no. Well, she wouldn't have said no since it was cold and she didn't want you walking such a distance in such cold temperatures. 

"Does she know we're taking her home or have you just decided?"

"I asked if she wanted a ride and she said yes, so we're picking her up," he reiterated, plugging his seat belt into the socket and getting comfortable against the leather of the seats. 

"OK, OK," she chuckled, shaking her head. Igniting the engine, Lando's mum pulled away from her parking spot and started driving down the road, looking out for you. As she glanced at the rear-view mirror, she could see Lando's eyes glued to the window, searching for you on the pavement. 

She knew he had seen him by the way his eyes lit up and a small smile crept its way across his lips. Pulling up on the pavement, she rolled the passenger side window down as she called out to you. "Your chauffeur awaits," 

Clambering in the passenger side, you saw Lando's jumper on your chair, instantly taking your blazer off and replacing it with the garment. It was so much warmer than your coat, and you felt so much more comfortable in it too. 

You didn't fail to notice the heat that emanated from the seat as well, the added care making butterflies spark in your stomach. "You really don't have to go to the effort of picking me up, you know." you said, feeling slightly bad that she was going out of her way to take you home. 

"Well it was Lando's idea. He just told me we were picking you up and here we are," she told you, and you could sense the blush that coated Lando's cheeks. 

"Mum c'mon, don't..." he mumbled, crossing his arms and avoiding her gaze in the mirror. He had a slight pout on his face, and it reminded her of when he didn't get what he wanted when he was little. He was always adorable. 

You just giggled at him, and it was music to his ears. Seeing you warm and cozy in his hoodie was definitely something he wanted more of, and he wasn't sure how much more waiting he could do before he cracked and acted on his impulses. 

Yet, he didn't know what he'd do if you rejected him, or said you just wanted to be friends. He never wanted to be just friends with you, he wanted it all with you. He wanted you to be his first real girlfriend, the one you can never really forget. 

And he could only hope that you wanted the same from him. His gut feeling told him that it was obvious that you were feeling the same. Why else would you hug him, accept a ride home from him, wear his jumpers?   

He didn't care, all he did care about was the fact that his heart was dead set on the notion that you did like him back, but his head was throwing doubts at him. 

After a short drive and light conversation, you pulled up outside of your house. Instead of his mum this time, Lando wanted to be the one who walked you to your door. Getting out of his seat and taking a few steps forward to your door, he opened it forward and stood to the side. 

Grabbing your bag out of the footwell, Lando carried it to your front door as you walked together. "Do you think we could go to the library tomorrow at second break? I tried to use the textbook to do the biology, but I really couldn't understand. Plus, I think my knowledge of female anatomy could really be helped out by you," he joked, and it was refreshing to see a bit of Lando's regular cheek coming to the fore. 

If someone else had made the comment, you would've been pissed off, maybe a little upset. But not when it was Lando. His usual sense of humor was coming back, and it was like things were slowly returning back to normal. 

"I think the textbook is a better help on that subject than I am," you countered, and Lando just smirked at you. 

"Probably, but I'm much more of a hands-on learner. I'd like to have the real thing in front of me, you know?" he quipped, and you couldn't help but laugh at him. Now this was how things were meant to be. Just you two, laughing and enjoying being in each other's company. 

"Sure," you agreed. Well, not to the hands on learning, just to teaching him the stuff he didn't understand. Your way of explaining things was good for Lando, it made him understand it a lot better than the teachers could. 

"Can I get a hug before I go?" he tentatively asked, his brain working overtime to try and think of a joke to play it off in case you said no.

"Course you can," you said, your arms finding their place back around his neck as you leant into him. Just the feeling of you in his arms was enough to get his heart racing, and he felt the ever similar urge to just lean down and kiss you. 

A soft smile found its way onto his mum's face - who was watching on from the car. Seeing the both of you so miserable was dreadful, so now seeing you making up and going back to the ordinary was more than enough for her. 

There was no missing the fond, soft look in her son's eyes. It was nothing but pure affection and admiration, and it was clear how much he cared for you. She had never seen such adoration from him, and she should have guessed that it'd be you. 

From the first time your name had ever slipped past his lips, she should've known just by the way he spoke about you. And now, there you were. The two of you, as you were meant to be. 

You and Lando bade each other farewell, and he waited until you were safely inside the confines of your own home before walking back to his mum's car and getting in the passenger seat. "You two seem to have made up," she said, a slightly teasing tone to her voice. 

"Yeah, something like that," he agreed, knowing it was more than that. Or so he hoped. If only he knew that things weren't that simple, that the rose tinted glasses would be ripped from his face just as quickly as they had been put there. 

A/N - Hello lovely people! Chipping away at all the stuff I have half finished, which is part 2 to Hotel Girl, the requested part 2 of Ceilings, a little old Charlos thing, a Lando thing and Max's birthday special! I have to do one for old Maxie since we have the same birthday so we can roll our birthday specials into one. Have a great night, love y'all! 💖

tag list: @oh-austin @avni-sarai @cheriladycl01 @mariedeyes223 @daemyraforever56 @toriiez @robotchickenmerp

|masterlist|

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝(𝐬)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader (Pre-Established Relationship)

Summary: Every so often, Miguel would simply disappear without a trace, getting lost in his own head. This time around you were determined to not let him be alone. Not on a day like today. (Hurt/Comfort)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of loss. A lil angsty but soft (you know me :3)

“Hey, where’s Miguel?” you ask Jess as you walk into the dining hall. “I haven’t seen him all day, I need to go over mission reports with him but he wasn’t even in the monitoring room.”

Jess only shrugs, grabbing a bottle of water.

“Haven’t seen him either, he does that sometimes you know. Just disappears for a little while, he’s never told me why,” she replies. “It’d do you good to leave him alone, he’s been on edge all week.”

You cringe slightly as you think back to Monday when he hurled a mission folder at the wall after a new recruit had messed up, he refused to talk to anyone but Lyla that day.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say with a small smile, but Jess only looks at you knowingly.

“No you won’t,” she eyes you up and down.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you reply, walking off. “See you later, Jess!”

~

As you walk through the halls, you begin to wonder what could be up with the leader of the Spider Society. While the two of you weren’t the closest, he trusted you more than he did most people here. Granted a lot of them were new, hell, the society itself had only been created a few months ago so it made sense.

But still.

Pulling out your phone, you glance at the date; ‘June 11th’. All of a sudden your face falls as you recognize the significance of today.

When Miguel had first talked to you about the Spiderverse, and his mission to protect each and every multiverse and its canon events he had shown you the consequences of not ensuring everything progressed as it needed.

He had gotten so mad at you that day because you refused to follow his cause simply because he had told you to. It just didn’t make sense to you how a single event, a single choice could cause the elimination of an entire universe.

That’s when he showed you himself the consequences of those minute choices. You watched in horror as Lyla projected the downfall of the universe he had travelled to. How all those people simply…disappeared without a trace.

At the corner of the screen, a single date; 06/11/2020.

You had to find him.

~

Finding him was much easier said than done. Clearly, he wasn’t anywhere at HQ so you start looking around his universe, places he mentioned in passing, places you thought he might like. For a few hours you search to no avail, and before long the sun was beginning to set.

The tiredness was starting to settle into your bones. Maybe this was the universe telling you to back off, for your own good.

That was until out of the corner of your eye you see a single blue speck on the edge of the tallest building in Nueva York. Call it intuition, or maybe your spidey sense but the moment you spot it you knew it was him.

Immediately you begin making your way over, slinging across the city, building to building. You never got sick of this feeling; you couldn’t place a finger on what it was. Freedom? Maybe. All you knew was that as the wind whipped by, cities and skylines in your view, that was when you were at your happiest.

But before long you begin to falter.

What would you even say to him? What could you say? ‘Oh hey, sorry about your old universe. Wanna talk about it?’ Miguel wasn’t one to just talk, especially about something as vulnerable as how he was feeling.

But…he also didn’t deserve to be alone either.

Reaching the top of the building, you huff slightly as you try to catch your breath (superhuman powers be damned, you try scaling a building).

There at the top, you see his broad shoulders hunched over, curled in on himself as his legs dangle off the side of the ledge. Then his back straightens as he senses you, whirling around with an irritated expression on his face.

“What are you doing here,” he says sharply, eyes narrowed in your direction. You have to fight the urge to shrink down in your spot under his gaze. “The whole point of someone disappearing without a word is usually because they want to be alone.”

“Or they just don’t know how to ask for help, so instead they wallow in their pain and force themselves to be alone because they think they can’t depend on anyone else but themselves,” you counter.

He only scoffs, turning away from you.

“I didn’t ask for a psychoanalysis, go be a therapist to someone who actually wants one,” he says, but you both knew the truth; he would rather die than depend on anyone but himself.

“I’m just saying,” you mutter, sitting down by his side much to his dismay. “I mean, I would know.” And it was true, you did. Always a listener to everyone else’s problems, the last thing you wanted to be was a burden. So before you could be, you slinked away to hide in the comfort of yourself.

He doesn’t say anything to that, opting to continue looking down at the city below. Softly, you sigh.

“I…I think I know why you’re here,” you say hesitantly, and immediately he visibly tenses before glaring at you.

“You don’t know anything,” he says lowly, daring you to say anything more, and despite everything in you screaming to turn away, to stop now, you continued.

“We’ve all gone through loss here, Miguel…” you whisper. “I understand.”

“You have no idea what loss is,” he says sharply, talons digging into the edge of the roof. “To watch as an entire world, an entire universe fall apart in the palm of your hand.” His voice cracks almost imperceptibly at that, but you notice. You always do.

“You have no idea what it’s like to see the ones you love most disintegrate because of your own actions, so you don’t get to say anything,” he seethes, his blood-red eyes darkened.

“You know damn fucking well we’ve all lost people Miguel, some more than others but the pain of loss accompanies all of us,” you say, feeling the anger rise in you as he blatantly brushes off everything you and the rest of the Spider Society of gone through. What everyone had to go to, to follow the canon he valued so greatly. But you don’t let it reach the edge, instead, you take a deep breath.

“Look, what I’ve been trying to say is that it's difficult to carry the weight of the world, let alone the weight of millions upon millions of multiverses. All I’m saying is that you don’t always have to do it alone,” you finish softly.

Hesitantly, you reach out for his hand with your own, but pull it back at the last second when he glances down at it.

Letting out a sigh, you continue.

“You don’t always have to keep it to yourself y’know,” you urge gently. “I may not have the power to bring them back, or the solutions to your problems, but I am always here to listen. As to whether you are willing to share, well, that’s up to you.”

For a moment he doesn’t say anything, instead only watching the sun as it sets on the horizon. Then, he seems to contemplate something for a split second before he leans his head on yours.

“I know,” he says quietly, and you feel your heart skip a beat, growing steadily in rhythm as something unfamiliar blooms in you.

“…thank you,” he says, pausing as though he was going to say something more but decides against it. Instead, he only looks into your eyes for a moment as you look into his.

What you find are the unsaid words that someday, he might be able to say.

“Let’s get back to base.”

~

A/N: Hi! Back again, sorry this is so different from my past two Miguel works, but I came up with this idea at work (oops) and had to get it down on paper. Hope you enjoyed~ (And don't worry, more fluff is coming soon :3)

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Lunch First

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

|| Warnings; reader speaks multiple languages, not a whole lot of dialogue, brief swearing and mentions of feeling nauseous/death but nobody dies, hints at smut at the end but nothing actually said

|| Summary; when taking a trip to New York, reader gets to show off her language skills! The girls are pretty damn impressed.

Started; December 12th

Finished; December 12th

Anon Request; Poly!plastics x fem!reader- r is polyglot (fluent in several languages) but the girls never knew until one day while they were all in the city R is approached by someone not speaking English, looking for directions, and they girls are confused, but r jumps straight into helping them. Then when the girls go out to lunch Gina wanted to go to an authentic Italian restaurant, and the restaurant owners are a family-friend to r, so r breaks out into her Italian when greeting the owners and when ordering. And the girls becoming shocked slightly turned on, because r knows yet another language. And then when the girls go shopping at whatever luxury clothing store they go to, r brings out another language. So they ask how many she knows, so r list all of the languages she’s fluent in, one of them being Hindi, and Karen’s like “So that’s why you’re my parents favorite” ~🌱

Author Note; appreciate the patience, 🌱 Anon! I know this one took a while to get out. Hope you like it 🫶 Accidentally posted it by mistake before it was done, whoopsie 😬

~~~

The plastics had taken you out to the big city for a little fun, the trip paid for by Regina. The four of you walked around New York together. Gretchen and Karen had their arms linked while you held Regina's hand. Worried about getting lost in the large crowds. You knew this city could get busy, even on their sidewalks. But clearly you'd underestimated just how busy. The movies never do it justice. You'd been here before too and every time it still shocked you.

That's when someone approached the four of you. Looking a little nervous, lost even. They were asking you for directions in a language that clearly confused your girlfriends but rolled effortlessly off your tongue. You told them where to go, helping them through the map they held. They thanked you before heading off in the direction you'd given. Your girls stared at you. What language even was that? Heck if they knew but damn. It sounded hot coming out of you. Regina instinctively pulled you a little closer to her. A possessive need to her touch. One that didn't go unnoticed by you.

The girls decided to leave their questions for now, after all the four of you were getting pretty hungry. So, you worked together to come up with some idea of a place you could go for lunch. Finding that to be more important. Besides, it wasn't unusual for someone to know more than one language. The plastics knew at least one other themselves.

"What about an authentic Italian restaurant?" Regina suggested, glancing at her phone to look at the places New York had to offer. Your shoulders relaxed at that one, you had family friends here who owned a restaurant like that. Part of the reason you'd been to New York before this trip was to visit them.

"That's perfect! I know a place," and now you were the one leading the way. It actually wasn't too far from where you were anyways, luckily enough. So, you went by foot.

Gretchen and Karen exchanged a glance with grins, both excited for this. They'd get to go to a fancy restaurant? Sign them up.

"Ooo, I bet it just looks the cutest!" Gretchen smiled, Karen giggled and nodded in agreement.

"I bet it will have plants!" Karen replied, both girls continued talking about their ideas of what the restaurant will look like. Regina occasionally throwing in her own idea. If only to amuse Gretchen and Karen, because you were focused on getting them there. Regina wasn't going to distract you. Not yet, anyway.

Getting there was easier than you'd thought it would be. You were glad you remembered the direction your parents had gone with you in. The doors opened with that familiar bell, being greeted by the host. Who was the son of the owner and one of your friends. He smiled when he recognized you. The two of you talking excitedly in Italian. He was surprised to see you, but happy nonetheless. Your girls found themselves shocked again. You knew Italian, too? At this point, what language didn't you know? They'd have to find a chance to ask you about it. Curiosity winning the battle against them. Lunch first, though.

When lunch was done, you and the girls took some photos. You made sure to have a long catch up conversation with your family friends. All of them happy to see you and meet the plastics. Having heard quite a bit about them before.

It wasn't long until you and your girlfriends were onto the next thing. Shopping! A personal favourite to your girls. This time Regina led the way. She knew where all the fancy spots were in New York. She was going to hit as many as she could before nightfall.

Regina led them everywhere. By this point, your feet were honestly starting to kill you. You weren't even in heels, unlike Regina and Gretchen. Seriously. You didn't know how they did it. You'd be dead if that were you.

"We have to go to this one!" Regina pointed to a store that's name was written in French. You wondered if it would be French owned. Regina dragged the three of you inside. The shop was stunning. Way out of your own pay grade, that's for damn sure. Some of the prices in here made you feel nauseated at the thought. Regina, however, seemed to be in perfect bliss. Rich people. You shook your head at the thought, though it was a little amusing.

"Baby, come here! This would look stunning on you!" Regina called you over with an impatient hand wave. You followed her over, looking at the outfit she picked out for you. Your mouth went dry at the price. Jesus, fuck.

"Ah! Celui-ci fait partie de notre collection vintage! Aimez-vous?" The employee asked with a smile, you looked to her with a nod.

Translation; This one is part of our vintage collection! Do you like it?

"C'est bluffant!" You chatted with the employee, her telling you everything about the outfit. Answering the questions you had for her. Speaking in fluent French. Regina stood next to you, wide eyed. She could only catch a few words here and there. French was never her strong subject, that's for sure.

Translation; it's stunning!

When you were done talking with the employee, you looked to Regina. Who was eyeing you with more interest than usual. Even Gretchen and Karen had popped their heads around the corner when they heard your voice speak yet another language.

"Okay, this is just getting stupid. How many languages do you know?" Regina asked.

You had to actually think about it before you gave them a pretty big list," oh. And I speak Hindi too," you finished.

Karen seemed to come to an understanding at that last bit," so that's why you're my parents favourite."

You shrugged, feeling a little proud at all the languages you could speak. Especially with the bedroom eyes it earned you from Regina.

"I think we can go back to the hotel now." Regina stated, Gretchen nodded in agreement. You were able to read between the lines of that and your cheeks flushed. Feeling that familiar heat.

[therealcocoshady]

Lilly and Marshall go out in a public setting and paparazzi start taking lots of pictures and this has never happened to Lilly before so she’s flipping out and Marshall goes into protective dad mode

Author’s Note : thank you for your request ❤️. I always have fun writing about Marshall & Lily ✨. Here is the fic, I hope you enjoy it !

Protective DILF

Being pregnant with twins wasn’t going to be easy, especially when it’s a « geriatric pregnancy ». That’s what the doctors explained when they told Y/N and Marshall that they were expecting not one, but two babies. And as the pregnancy progressed, it turned out to be true : it was exhausting carrying twins and dealing with the symptoms. Marshall’s wife was told to rest as much as possible, even though it was definitely easier said than done with Lily, who was demanding a lot of attention. They’d been told it was normal, but ever since she learned that she was going to be a big sister, she tended to be less independent, seeking her parents’ help and attention for most things. Thankfully, Marshall kept true to his word to be there for every step of the pregnancy and he was as present as necessary for everyone. Since Y/N was put on bedrest, he was the one dealing with taking Lily to school, picking her, taking her to her various activities, as well as managing the entire household. Thank God Lily was an easy child with a good temper, because he had a lot on his plate. And he definitely didn’t need the drama that was about to take place.

Lily had been pestering him about going to Chuck E. Cheese. It was one of her favorite places and, usually, Y/N went with her, but she didn’t have the energy. Plus, their little one was really into the trampoline section and it was definitely not ideal for an expecting mother. So it now fell upon him and it did take some convincing from his wife and older daughters but he ended up taking her. At first, he considered paying to have the place closed and avoid attention, but Y/N reminded him that the purpose of such a place was for their little girl to socialize with other children. He ended up reviewing logistics with his security team, picking a day of the week where the place would not be busy and agreeing that two guards would be waiting in a car outside, ready to intervene at any moment should anyone discover that he was there. Y/N questioned the need for security altogether but he insisted. Call it a gut feeling, parental instinct or straight up paranoia, but he felt more at ease having security around. He usually didn’t bother being escorted when it came to everyday life, but it wasn’t the usual errands in their neighborhood where everyone knew them, so it actually made sense to him. If it were just him, he wouldn’t care, but he wouldn’t take any risk regarding Lily.

His baby girl had a blast at Chuck E. Cheese, jumping around and playing games. He was happy to see her all giddy and smiling, cherishing the last moments with her as the baby of the household. Him and Y/N would never neglect her for the benefit of the babies, but he knew they would have their hands full and that moments like these would be more rare. Lily was jumping on the trampoline with a few other kids while he was sipping on some Diet Coke, texting Y/N that everything was going great when a Mom came to him.

- Hi, she said with a bright smile. Is the little girl over there yours ?

- Hi, he replied, looking up from his phone. Yeah, actually. Did something happen ? Did she fall ?

- No, relax, she said with a laugh. She’s actually super cute. She’s playing with my son over there.

- Oh, ok, he said.

- I’m Sandy, she said as she extended her hand. Marshall, is it ?

- Indeed, he said politely.

- It’s so nice to meet you, she continued. I’ve been a fan for years. Mind if I take a selfie of us ?

She already had her phone in hand, ready to take the damn selfie before he could even refuse. She was nice and rather polite and, usually, he would oblige, but he was in a Chuck E. Cheese, with his daughter nearby and now was definitely not the time to take selfies with fans, regardless of how nice they were. He immediately stopped her with a move of his hand.

- I appreciate it, Sandy, but I’d rather not take selfies now, he said as he tried to keep his composure. It’s a family place, I’m with my kid, I’m sure you understand.

- Right, she said. Sorry. I didn’t know you had a younger one. Or that you’re married…

She was looking intently at his wedding band. When he made public appearances, he made sure to take it off (in fact, his team had an explicit order to remind him) but, other than that, he wore it all the time. He immediately put his hand in his pocket.

- Well… Privacy, he simply said. That has nothing to do with hip-hop, you know ?

- Your wife is lucky, she said with a seductive grin. It’s a shame that…

- DADDY ! Lily called him, saving him from the interaction that was growing unpleasant.

- Excuse me, he said politely.

He immediately walked over to his little one, thankful that she called him when she did. She wanted to go to the tube and tunnels area with him and he happily obliged. He focused his undivided attention on Lily and soon forget about Sandy. So much so that he didn’t notice her snapping a picture of him, waiting for Lily to go down the slide. About thirty minutes later, one member of his security team came to see him.

- Mr Mathers ?

- Yeah, John ? He asked. What are you doing inside ? What’s wrong ?

- There’s an… issue, the guard said. Someone tipped off the media, there’s about ten reporters out front. We need to leave.

- Fuck, Marshall sighed. Alright. Lily, come here baby, we’re going home.

- No, Daddy, I want to stay here a little longer, the little one said with pleading eyes. We’re having fun.

- I know bug, but we’ve been here for a while now, he said. Time to go.

He tried not to communicate his anxiety to his daughter. He could see the place’s staff at the entrance, no doubt talking about the reporters. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene. He just wanted to avoid Lily’s picture being taken.

- What do we do ? He asked the guard.

- I took the liberty to call for a couple more colleagues, just in case, John explained. They’ll be here in ten minutes. Once they arrive, I’ll walk you to the car. I think we should ask the manager if we can use the back exit.

- Good, Marshall said. Lily, put on your shoes, ok ?

- What’s wrong, Daddy ? She asked, sensing that he was nervous.

- There’s a couple of reporters outside, he calmly explained. Remember when I told you about people possibly bugging us ? We’re going to go to the car in a few minutes, and I’m going to need you to listen to me, baby. You do as I say, alright ?

His daughter nodded, nervously glancing at the door. There was a crowd, starting to gather, causing panic among the staff, and it was starting to be noisy. He took off his hoodie and his hat and put them on her. He wanted to hide her face as much as possible.

- I can’t see, Daddy, she complained.

- Just keep these on until we’re in the car, baby, he directed.

When John told him they could go, he carried Lily and they attempted to take the emergency exit, though some reporters were there as well. They retreated inside, the situation starting to get on his nerves. John offered to take Lily with him while Marshall walked to the car with another guard but the little one protested. The noise was starting to freak her out and, as soon as Marshall tried to hand her to John, she started crying.

- Daddy, no, come back ! She almost screamed.

- Baby, it’s just for two minutes, I’ll meet you in the car, he said as reassuringly as he could.

- Don’t leave, she cried. Daddy !

She was starting to sniffle and panic and he knew he couldn’t leave her like this. He held her close and tried to soothe her, tracing circles on her back.

- I’m scared, she whispered.

- I know, he said. It’s scary. But I’m taking care of it, ok ?

His team brought the car as close as they could to the exit and he sent one of them to ask the press not to swarm them. They seemed to reach an agreement, saying they just wanted pictures of him and that they would leave his child alone. He hated the idea of being photographed anyway, but this seemed like a decent deal : at least, Lily’s face wouldn’t be out there. He would allow them to take a pic of him once Lily was in the car. They finally managed to step outside as he was holding Lily who was hidden in his hat and hoodie, face buried in his neck. The reporters were asking questions about her, who she was, if he had her with Kim, but at least, they didn’t snap any pictures. He stayed silent, though, refusing to comment. He was strapping Lily in her carseat when he heard a flash. He immediately slammed the car door shut and turned, only to see a paparazzi holding a lens way too close. He instantly grabbed the camera and dropped it on the ground. The man protested, complaining about the price of his equipment but he couldn’t care less.

- I hope you have good dental insurance, Marshall warned.

- You’re not hitting me, the man taunted. We already have pics of your kid, we’ll publish them anyw-

- LEAK ONE PIC OF HER AND I’LL FUCKING DESTROY YOU, he threatened as he grabbed him by the collar. NOW YOU LEAVE US THE FUCK ALONE !

The conflict started to escalade and his bodyguards had to intervene, to protect both him and the paparazzi. He was ready to throw some fists and almost forgot that Lily was able to see the whole scene from the car. John talked some sense into him and he got in the backseat, sitting next to his freaked out daughter, letting his security drive. He helped her take his hat off, examining her tear-stained face.

- It’s alright, babygirl, he said softly. We’re safe.

- You scared me, Daddy ! She said. You screamed real, real loud.

- I know, baby, I’m sorry, he said apologetically. But I’m not letting anyone taking your picture. Because I don’t want anyone bugging you.

She nodded and he held her hand for the rest of the drive, trying to manage his own anger. If Lily had not been with him, he probably would have made a u-turn and broken a few noses. Thankfully, his team was handling everything. When they got home, he let Lily watch some TV while he went to find Y/N, who was resting in their bedroom. He wasn’t too sure how to break the news to her that, nearly four years after he adopted Lily, the press knew he had another kid. However, it seemed like he didn’t need to. She was looking at him with an annoyed look on her face.

- You already know ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. News travels fast…

- I have nothing better to do than scroll on my phone all day, she sighed. Of course I know. How is Lily ?

- Scared but ok, I guess, he said. Managed to calm her down in the car. She’s watching TV now.

- Ok, she said with a reassured expression. And you ?

He didn’t reply, simply shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure how he was feeling. Pissed off, for sure, but also nervous and disappointed. He wasn’t quite sure how much the pictures showed, and where to go from here. How would the public react to him being married, having a secret kid and two more on the way ? Paul would probably advise him to put out a statement so he should think of what to say… he would have wanted to keep his family life a secret longer. The last four years with Y/N and Lily by his side had been so enjoyable and he wanted nothing more but to shield them from his fame. And the thought of the public knowing about his unborn babies made him terrified of the potential attention they would get, too. Honestly, the thought of living his little family to another country didn’t seem so bad. He sighed and sat next to her on the bed, before eventually laying his head on her lap. Y/N gently ran her fingers in his hair, gently scratching his scalp and he closed his eyes for a minute.

- I’m sorry, he muttered.

- Whatever for ? She asked. You’re not the one who tipped the media…

- I failed to protect you guys, he sighed. I failed to protect Lily… you should have seen her, babe… you should have seen them. Hovering like vultures, screaming, scaring her.

- We always knew it might happen, she said. I’m gutted, don’t get me wrong, but we managed to protect her for five years. Married four without people knowing. In hindsight, it’s a miracle people didn’t find out sooner.

- I guess, he shrugged. Still, I’m mad at myself… I scared Lily.

- What did you do ?! She asked, suddenly alarmed.

- I… lost it with a guy, he explained. He tried to take a pic of Lily ! I grabbed him and gave him a piece of my mind.

- So you basically assaulted a man in front of our daughter ?! Y/N asked, starting to get worked up.

- Look, I’m not proud of myself, he groaned. But I wasn’t about to let him get away with that. I simply grabbed him, I didn’t break his nose. No matter how badly he would have deserved it…

- Marshall…, she scolded.

- I know, he simply said. It fucking sucks. I just wanted Lily to have a good time. Now, I’m going to have to call Paul and my publicist… fuck.

- I’m sorry, my love, Y/N said as she kept on stroking his head.

They stayed like this for a moment, enjoying each other’s comforting presence, and Y/N finally went downstairs to check on Lily. She was fine, though she did mention the whole thing was scary. Marshall stayed upstairs for a moment, gathering his thoughts and trying to pace himself before calling Paul back. His manager had tried to reach him ten times in the past hour, leaving various voice messages, urging him to call back. There were good and bad news. The good news was that Lily’s face didn’t appear anywhere, concealed thanks to Marshall’s hoodie and hat. The only thing the media saw of her were her jeans and sneakers. The bad news, however, was that the whole thing had been filmed and that images of an angry Marshall smashing the reporter’s camera were being shared on social media at the speed of light. The response was overall positive and people tended to support him instead of the reporter, who was clearly at fault. However, there was a lot of speculation and even people who claimed to have insider information, making false allegations. They had no choice but to put out a statement. They had a conference call with their publicist, who suggested only giving the necessary information. After quickly consulting with Y/N, he decided not to give any details on Lily, not giving away her name nor her age, as well as avoiding mentioning the pregnancy. The statement would only acknowledge the day’s events, as well as confirm that Lily was, indeed, his daughter and that he was married. To him, that was enough.

« As the result of the publication on social media of a picture taken without consent, today’s events have caused a lot of speculation regarding Mr Mathers’(professionally known as Eminem) family life. Mr Mathers expresses his regret for how the situation unfolded, the altercation with the press having caused distress not only for him but also for the other people present at the location. Mr and Mrs Mathers formally oppose the publication of any media depicting their child and ask for the respect of the privacy of their family life. They also express their intention to sue any individual trying to sell pictures of their daughter, as well as any media outlet who might publish them. »

In the evening, a couple of hours later, the internet was in a frenzy over the whole thing and the confirmation that Marshall was, indeed, married and had a younger daughter. A lot of people were also swooning over the pictures of him holding Lily, obsessing over his strong arms and stern look.

- The internet seems to be obsessing over you again, Y/N mentioned while he was preparing dinner.

- Well I’d rather have them forget all about me, he groaned. I swear, I’m going to retire, just to get some peace. Or move us to the edge of the earth…

- It’s not so bad, she commented. They appreciate how protective you are. Also, calling you the ultimate DILF. I don’t disagree…

- DILF, huh ? He asked with a sudden smirk.

- Look who’s suddenly in a good mood, she grinned.

- I like that you agree with them, he said with a smile. Maybe you could show me how much, later ?

- Gladly, she said as she pecked him on the cheek.

He turned his face and kissed her lovingly. They were interrupted by Lily.

- Mommy what’s that word ? She asked with a raised eyebrow.

- What word, baby ? Y/N asked.

- The one you said. DILF.

- Oh… hum… it’s a word people use when a Dad is very attractive, Y/N explained as she tried to contain her laughter. Like, when they want to talk to him and flirt…

- Like with Daddy and the lady today ? Lily asked innocently.

- Yes, like Daddy and- wait what ? What lady ?

Marshall said nothing and focused on the vegetables he was chopping for dinner, conveniently ignoring the conversation.

- There was a lady who talked to Daddy today at Chuck E. Cheese, Lily explained. She was smiling a lot.

- Interesting, Y/N said with a raised eyebrow. Looks like someone doesn’t need my appreciation…

- Come on, babe. It happens, Marshall hummed.

- Does it, now ?

- All the time, Lily said. All the mommies at my school-

- Lily, baby, how about you go and watch some cartoons before dinner, mmh ? Marshall suggested to cut the conversation short.

- Ok, the little one said with a shrug.

Y/N was leaning against the kitchen island, visibly upset and pouting. He sighed and went to hug her but she turned her head.

- Thought you agreed with the DILF thing ? He asked with a smile.

- They’re allowed to think it, not to act on it…, she groaned.

- No one’s doing anything, he chuckled. Just a couple of smiling, very friendly ladies. What’s up ? You’re usually not as upset when it comes to groupies or fans…

- I know, she said. But this is real life. Now that you’re the one going places with Lily and taking her to school… I hate thinking about all of them making eyes at you. Especially while I’m bored, at home, getting fat.

- You’re not getting fat, he chuckled. I mean, you are, you’re huge, but-

- MARSHALL !!!

- It’s because you’re growing two beautiful babies, he continued. Our babies. No one holds a candle to you. I might be a DILF but you’re the ultimate MILF.

- You think ? She asked with a pout.

- No one ever made pregnancy look so hot, he said lovingly. If you weren’t supposed to rest so much, I would gladly show my appreciation all day, everyday…

- I love you, she chuckled. But im glad that everyone knows we’re married, though.

- Territorial much, Mrs Mathers ? He asked.

- Yes, she giggled. Very.

- I like it, he chuckled.

- You have to protect what’s yours, right ?

- Right. And believe me, I’m going to do everything I can to protect what’s mine, he replied as he put a hand on her round belly.

She cooed and placed a hand over his, when they felt a little kick. They immediately looked at each other and smiled. It was the first time they felt one of the babies move. Y/N’s eyes immediately filled with happy tears and Marshall kneeled to place a kiss on his wife’s stomach.

- That’s right, guys, he said with an emotional smile. I’m always going to protect you.

[anantaru]

do you think wanderer would like a clingy and affectionate reader or is he clingy himself 👀

cw. a lil kissing, gn! reader

scaramouche likes to think of himself as someone who is neither inordinately clingy nor requires much craved affection from his partner— yet, little does he realize himself that he‘s, when all is said and done, fooling not a single soul in teyvat, not even himself for that matter.

it definitely takes a long time for him to rightly warm up to this entire 'relationship mindset', as he likes to refer to it all the time.

speaking of that particular set, it‘s not just the physical part that needs graven patience in the beginning, it might even be easier to him to slow into the physical notions much earlier on than any of the emotional, affection parts.

openly talking to each other, undying trust, continuing care and the lasting, flowing love that would emerge from within, clearly, it‘s heavily bound on fear for someone who has never encountered any love, tenderness nor intimacy in this world, from anybody ever. but the man has decided to change, contorting and bending, breaking to fit places he knew he had outgrown. not entirely that‘s for sure, but he doesn‘t brush away the certain possibility and opportunity to learn and experience new things in his long life.

when it comes to his own partner, scaramouche honestly doesn't have a preference, but likes someone who preciously shows him love and endearment a lot more evidently and he certainly doesn‘t mind having a significant other who‘s considered as clingy— it‘s flattering if anything, he can feel the way his chest rises up, warm and flowing with butterflies when you suddenly slide your arms around his body in the middle of the night to spoon him, or when you meet up and you kiss his lips like it‘s the most normal thing in the entire world, as if that‘s how it should be for him all the time.

not allowing time to rest, slow deep kisses under the moonlight sky, he begins to romanticize those aspects, ignoring the negatives, ignoring the past, ignoring the certainties that call him from within, tell him to go back to where he came from. yet he could never, not when it feels so damn good to kiss you, over and over, until his lips would slowly turn numb.

scaramouche as a conclusion finds ever growing solace in your love, in being in love with you and giving out love to each other— yet, only to you, again, to keep it short, he doesn‘t think anybody else deserves his golden attention and time besides his sweet and cute significant other and the man can be a little, let‘s say— jealous too, if you know, especially when someone dares to give you a little bit too much of their attention.

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, translate any of my work

[unforth]

Alright not to like liveblog my breakdown on main but yesterday was a really bad day after a really bad, like, 4 months, and I've hit a bit of a breaking point and one of the only things in my life that can give is running @mdzsartreblogs , @tgcfartreblogs , @svsssartreblogs , @erhaartreblogs , @tykartreblogs , and @cnovelartreblogs , so that is what has to give. It's been a 99-out-of-100 days thankless job. A small number of people do say thank you and yall I appreciate you so much (HUGE shout-out to the artist I met at Flamecon who gifted me a zine when I said I ran these blogs, @bonesblubs you rock) but I have never done an act of fandom labor simultaneously this labor intensive yet this invisible before and, uh. It sucks. I spend an hour or more a day on this every day, if it's under 2k hours since I started the first of these in September 2020 I'd be shocked. And I do it because I love it but doing it means I don't have time or energy to do other things I love. And I really don't want to just quit, but I can't keep this up.

In a last-ditch effort to try not to just give up, I'm making the following changes:

1. Only watching one tag per fandom for the MXTX fandoms. I am going to check *only* #tgcf, #svsss, and #mdzs. Artwork posted to any other tag, I will not see unless a mutual reblogs it.

2. Reduced tagging (even more). I'm only going to tag characters and maybe overarching au type (eg, "modern au," "fantasy au"). I'll no longer tag creatures. I will continue to tag the same common trigger warnings I already tag.

3. If a work's appearance doesn't make it obvious what it is AND the tags aren't clear, I'm not going to reblog. I can't keep spending 5 minutes or more trying to figure out what I'm even looking at, scared that if I guess wrong the artist will get mad at me for mistagging their work. If I do reblog, I'll tag only the artist name and/or whatever else I can identify for sure.

4. I am no longer going to follow #link click. The fandom is just too big. I've started dreading checking it. If I was more into it and less busy I would make another spin off just for it but neither of those is true. (The art is so good, I hate to do this, but. If you love link click, highly recommend the main tag, lots of great stuff there.)

5. I will no longer tag any non-cnovel content in the art/post. Like, if someone draws, idek, Xie Lian and Marinette from Ladybug, I'm not gonna put any tags for Marinette, just for Xie Lian.

6. Basically if I run into something hard to tag or confusing or unclear, my new policy is I'm not gonna fricken bother.

I think those are everything but idefk, I cried for 3 hours last night and got 4 hours of sleep so I'm mostly fueled by exhaustion and desperation right now and my memory is even more fried than usual.

How artists can help. This is obviously all optional. You do you. But since some people might want to know what would make my life easier, I'm sharing. I'm not claiming I feel entitled to dictate how people fandom or anything like that.

1. Put the tags for the character(s) and ship(s) early in the tag list.

2. If you make art for a fandom that isn't one of the big ones (right now the only big danmei fandoms on tumblr as far as I can tell are the MXTX fandoms and maybe 2ha) I am begging you to use my tracked tag #cnovelartreblogs

3. Do mdzs art? Tag #mdzs. Do tgcf art? Tag #tgcf. Do svsss art? Tag #svsss.

4. Not only artists, but everyone, *please* stop tagging fandoms not discussed and/or depicted in your post. It's gotten to be stupid common for people to blanket the danmei fandom tags with posts only about one fandon (like, svsss-only works also being tagged mdzs and tgcf and 2ha for some damn reason). This isn't about just my sideblogs tbh this is just fandom etiquette that seems to have been forgotten or never learned by many. Tagging unrelated fandoms isn't "reach," it's annoying. People go into the #mdzs tag to see mdzs, not whatever not-mdzs stuff people have decided to tag for ~reach~, and seeing the same post in 8 tags, none of which it's related to, is so damn irritating, and makes scrolling the tags looking for content that IS relevant take that much longer. Knock it off.

Okay. I think that's as much as I'm prepared to meltdown where everyone can see. Thanks in advance everyone for your understanding, and apologies to everyone about to see this 8 times as I reblog it to each sideblog.

At least I'm not tagging it to everywhere. 🤣🤣🤣

[morganwrites12672]

How Hard Can It Be to Burn Some Bones?

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She was just supposed to keep the spirit busy. It wasn't supposed to have taken Dean so long to burn the bones. He should have been back minutes ago. She can't hold off the vengeful spirit from taking her life too for much longer.

Rating: PG-13

A/N: Enjoy! I had so much fun writing this.

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Her head felt like lead. As she gingerly brushed her fingers against the wound, they came back red and sticky. The spirit would be back in a few seconds. Her hand wrapped around the iron knife she had. It was small and wouldn't do anything unless she got close. Close enough to get hurt.

Dean should be done by now. It was a simple salt and burn. Maybe the bones were taking him longer to dig up than she had anticipated.

She got back to her feet, desperately clutching her small blade. It was the only thing that would do anything against the vengeful spirit. She was out of salt and the rock salt shot gun had went with Dean in case he ran into anything. She had her own shot gun like that, at her car. She had forgotten it.

Looking through the few supplies left in her duffel bag, she was screwed.

The lights began to flicker again. Her breath came out white. She looked around, trying to find the spirit that was hellbent on killing her. Dean couldn't take much longer. And if he did. . . she didn't want to think about that.

"Come on, come out and fight me!" She yelled. It would be easier if it rushed at her from the front. She needed it to make an appearance already.

She heard a horrible shriek and looked behind her. There the woman stood. Pale blue dress ripped to shreds and covered in blood. The bloodied blade that she was trying to avoid. The sunken and wrinkled face that would haunt her nightmares. This was one hideous ghost.

She swung her blade, hitting the spirit. It shrieked again before disappearing. It would come back in only a few seconds though. As the spirit came back, and attacked again. The blade sliced her shoulder and she let out a hiss of pain.

She backed away, hoping to buy some time. The spirit was advancing on her and fast. Right before the hideous ghost could bury it's blade in her chest, it began shrieking and burning. She sighed, thank God. Dean had finally been able to burn the bones.

She slumped to the ground, pressing a hand against the wound on her shoulder. It was the deepest cut. Other than that, and the head injury, it was all bruises and shallow cuts. She wouldn't die. Probably.

Dean walked through the door, "Next time, you can dig up the grave. That was a-" his words stopped as he noticed her slumped on the ground, holding a bleeding shoulder. "Shit, shit."

"It's not that deep," She half mumbled.

"Damn, that's a lot of blood," Dean said as he knelt down next to her.

Dean took in all of her injuries. Head wounds always look worse than they are. He gently grabbed her uninjured arm, helping her stand up. She didn't even bother protesting his help. Her head was pounding and every part of her body was sore from getting thrown around like a ragdoll by a pissed off spirit.

As Dean helped her into the car, she began speaking. "How hard can it be to salt and burn some bones?" She grumbled. "You took hours!"

"i didn't even take an hour!" Dean retorted. Well, at least she was arguing with him just like normal. He let out a small sigh of relief. Once they got back to the motel, he could patch her up.

"I could have done it faster," She mumbled, making sure to keep pressure on her shoulder. A trickle of blood still slipped past the cloth. It wasn't a horrible wound but it would require stitches.

Dean was more relaxed with her bantering like normal. It was almost like normal, expect for the fact that she was bleeding. He looked over at her again, she would be fine. It wasn't a serious injury.

She kept her eyes out the window, watching the trees fly by. It was a nice night. The moon was shining, the air was brisk. A faint smile played on her lips as she watched the scenery. Despite the pain in her body, she was happy. Driving back to the motel with Dean after hunts was relaxing. The two were usually quiet for most of the drive, just enjoying each other's company after probably almost dying.

As he parked the Impala at the motel, he was already out of the car and helping her stand before she even realized they were there. Her head was fuzzy. Everything sounded like she was underwater.

"Hey, hey, no. Don't fall asleep on me," Dean's voice was faint and muffled.

She could faintly tell that she was no longer walking. She felt Dean's arms wrapped around her body. She rested her head on his chest. He would take care of her. She didn't need to keep fighting to keep her eyes open. She was with Dean, she would be okay.

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When she woke up, her head was pounding. She sat up with a groan. Looking around the motel room, she saw Dean. He hadn't realized she was awake. He continued packing up the motel room. Most of his things were in a duffel bag, sitting on the other bed.

She looked down at herself, pushing the blanket off. She lifted her shirt up. She grimaced as she saw how many deep purple bruises coated her abdomen. Dean had taken care of everything. She was out of her old clothes, and she wasn't covered in blood in dirt.

"Oh thank God," She heard a deep voice say. She looked up, seeing Dean.

"Did I take a shower?" She mumbled. Everything that had happened after the spirit had been burned was a blur.

"Yeah, you insisted. Don't worry, I made sure she didn't slip and crack your head open."

"Oh, anything to see me naked," She teased with a small smile. She noticed the bandages on her shoulder and remembered. That was probably why she had passed out. Well, that or the concussion.

Dean laughed and sat down on the bed.

Everything was okay. The hunt had been successful. Neither one of them had sustained any injuries that wouldn't heal up within a few weeks. They would be long gone from this town within a few hours. On to the next hunt. That was the life they lived.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to reblog and/or comment!

[abiteofhoney]

something i see a lot on here, that i have come to hate, is self deprecation. and i don’t mean the “im a little loser guy” type of posts. i mean straight out saying “im not a good writer/no one likes my work/everything i make sucks”

STOP IT!! stop it right now. it’s not cute. it’s not endearing. and at some point, people stop feeling bad for you.

if you constantly say you’re not a good writer, you never will be. if you always say that you can’t write anything good, you never will. if you keep saying that people don’t want to read your work, they won’t.

imagine you’re set up in a booth at a bookstore, trying to sell your book, but to everyone that passes or shows interest, you go “oh this isn’t good. you won’t want to read this” so they won’t. they won’t read it because you told them that it sucks.

you have to be your own fan first. you have to like your own work if you expect anyone else to. i know it’s hard. i know it’s easier said than done. but we have to stop being so mean to ourselves. we’re writers, and we’re damn good ones. act like it.