#but i can see how it would be concerning if you didn’t know

[willowsnook]

Concerned (LN)

lando norris x neighbor!reader

Another late night working and you were exhausted. You’d been on PTO the week before, so now you were playing catch-up and drowning. Trudging back to you apartment, you rounded the corner and ran right into someone else.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” your neighbor said at the same time you started to apologize. You had met him a couple of times, but he was gone a lot, so it was a pretty standard friendly neighbor relationship.

“You look horrible.” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, and a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His face was haggard, dark circles under his eyes and a weary expression that spoke of sleepless nights. The lines on his forehead deepened as he tried to hide his fatigue, but you couldn't help but notice how drained he looked.

“I’ve had trouble sleeping,” he admitted, and you tilted your head, looking for more, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Okay, come on,” you said, heading towards your apartment. With a moment's hesitation, he followed behind you into your apartment. The first thing that caught his eye was the unique decor - the walls adorned with scattered pieces of art, each telling its own story. The colors and textures clashed and complemented each other in a chaotic symphony, creating an atmosphere that felt both whimsical and intimate. He couldn't help but feel drawn in, wanting to explore every inch of this quirky space that was a reflection of you.

You sat him down on a barstool in the kitchen before opening a cabinet filled with various powders and ingredients. He watched as you contemplated a bit before picking a couple down and placing them on the counter. Filling the kettle and putting it on the stove, you turned back to him and tried to figure him out.

“You have a lot of ingredients for tea,” he said, not knowing what to say.

“Yeah, I read this book earlier this year about a woman who owned a tea shop and then became fixated on making perfect tea,” you said and he smiled. He felt himself starting to relax around you, appreciative that you hadn’t pushed on why he looked so tired even though he knew you probably had a good idea.

The comfortable silence lasted a couple of more minutes before being interrupted by the high scream of the kettle, and you carefully poured it into a cup that would turn it into your favorite tea invention.

“Let it cool for a couple of minutes,” you told him, and he nodded, picked it up, and moved to the couch. You unpacked your bag from work, looking up occasionally to see him sipping and staring out of your grand windows. Deciding he was probably fine by himself, you went to take a shower and change into your pajamas.

As you emerged from the bedroom 20 minutes later, you spotted the familiar mug sitting on the coffee table, and him sprawled out, fast asleep on the couch. A small smile tugged at your lips as you quietly made your way over to him, careful not to wake him. The soft light filtering through the window cast a gentle glow on his sleeping face. You reached for a nearby blanket and draped it over his body, making sure he was warm and comfortable before retreating back to your room.

The next morning you slept in a little later before coming back out into the kitchen. Lando was still snoring softly on the couch and you kept quiet as you made coffee and pulled out eggs for breakfast. You heard him stir and looked over your shoulder to see him sitting up, yawning. He slipped off the couch and made his way towards you.

“I owe you one,” he said and you waved him off. “You are my favorite neighbor.”

“What an honor,” you joked and he smiled.

“What can I do to repay you?”

You stood thinking for a second before smirking, “Well I’d love it if you could get me Carlos’ autograph; he’s my favorite driver.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together disapprovingly, causing deep lines to form on his forehead. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh at his reaction before turning back to the skillet of sizzling eggs.

“I’m going to head out now, but again, thank you for last night. I really needed it,” he said, and you turned, surprising him as you hugged him. His embrace was tight but not suffocating, and his arms felt strong and sturdy around you. When he pulled back, you could feel the weight of his exhaustion in the way his body slumped slightly.

“You need to take care of yourself,” you said.

“It’s hard,” he replied and you pulled back to see his sad eyes looking back at you. Giving him one last smile, he left you to make breakfast, retreating back to his own place.

———————————————————————

The rest of your weekend went by quickly and you enjoyed the relaxation of not having to think about work. Sunday afternoon, you were deep cleaning your apartment, casually paying attention to the football games you had in the background. After scrubbing your kitchen, you took a break, pulling out your phone and scrolling through Twitter.

Now, you weren’t a big F1 fan; you just tuned in every once in a while mainly because you thought it was cool that you knew a driver, but you’d see tweets on your timeline every once in a while. One caught your attention, and you opened the thread to see some account commenting on a recent stream that Lando had been on with his friends. You watched the video of his friends making fun of him for eating expired food and giggled as they ragged on him.

Thinking back to the other night, you started to actually be concerned about him eating expired food. First of all, it was gross as fuck. Secondly, it could easily make him sick. Having an idea, you grabbed your keys before heading off to the grocery store.

A couple of hours later you were outside Lando’s door, having just knocked on it. He was surprised to see you standing there when he swung open the door.

“I have something for you,” you said, and his eyes flickered down to the bag in your hand before letting you in. Setting it down on the counter, you began pulling out all the Tupperware filled with several different things.

“This should last you until you have to leave again to race,” you said nonchalantly, turning to look at you. He looked at you wide-eyed, taking in what you did for him.

“You made me food?” He asked slowly and you nodded.

“I heard that you were eating expired food, which is disgusting,” you said, and a small smile crossed his face. “That could also kill you, and it would be really irritating to have a bunch of police and noise here to deal with it.”

“Mmmhmm,” he said smirking. “So you did it because you didn’t want to be inconvenienced if I poisoned myself?”

“Exactly,” you told him. “If you were my favorite driver, I would say I was doing it because I care about you and want to make sure you are okay.”

“But I’m not your favorite,” he said and you nodded. “Correct.”

He smiled to himself as you bid him goodbye before heading back.

Later that night he hopped on to stream with Max who instantly asked him what he had for dinner.

“A burrito bowl,” he replied and Max perked up.

“Did you order it?” He asked and Lando shook his head.

“No, my neighbor heard that I was eating expired food so she made me a bunch of meal prepped things to last a couple of weeks.”

“Was it your hot neighbor?” Max asked with a smirk and Lando blushed.

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“Just so everyone in the chat knows, Lando has been simping over one of his neighbors for almost a year now, and instead of just talking to her like a normal person, he just stalks her on social media and turns into a lovesick school boy anytime he sees her.”

“That’s not true,” he complained and Max laughed.

"Remember when you saw her at the little coffee shop by your place? She chatted with you for what, five minutes? You couldn't stop talking about it for weeks," he teased, savoring the memory of his friend's flustered excitement.

“Shut up mate,” Lando muttered with a slight grin. Little did he know that you had been tuned into the stream, listening to all of this.

pt 2

[demonic0angel]

OWO, you take prompts? How about this?

Danny was born a premature and with a heart defect. The Fenton's try to make a clone so they can get his heart transplanted without fear of organ rejection. But they end up making a full on baby and don't have it in them to kill another version of their son just to save their original boy. Danny ends up pulling through and the clone gets filed as a twin that no one noticed was still in when Maddie was in the hospital. So Maddie "had him at home" and went back so he could be medically examined. The new parents feel ashamed of what they initially were going to do and give the child to a cousin who couldn't conceive.

Tim Drake doesn't know he's adopted until a DNA test reveals that the 'Meta' running around Gotham is his 'twin brother'. And the babies he has, that he does babysitting gigs with, are his twin's 'children'.

(I don’t exactly take prompts, but I don’t mind if you send them. Also, I’m going to assume that the twin’s “children” are Dan and Dani, since that seems to be what people prefer.)

“… are you serious?” Tim asked through the phone.

“Yep,” Dick said, sounding like a mixture of amusement and concern, “How do you feel about it?”

Tim thought about it and then responded, “I guess it makes sense why my parents neglected me so much, since I’m adopted.”

“Awww, baby bird…”

“I’m fine, Dick,” Tim said. He picked Dante and set him on a baby chair. Said child stared at him with electric blue eyes, scowling with his pudgy cheeks as if he wanted to tear Tim apart with his nonexistent teeth. Tim rubbed his chubby cheek with a finger before moving away, still holding the phone to his ear as he picked up the other baby.

Dick continued, “Yeah… also, Bruce says that he’s sorry that he checked your blood without telling you.”

Tim snorted, “No, he didn’t.” Bruce was never sorry for that kind of stuff.

Dick sighed. “Yeah, I lied. Sorry. But he did look guilty! He didn’t want to tell you at first, but Jason convinced him so I’m the one telling you right now.”

Tim hummed, picking up little Ella, who was stubbornly holding onto a small cardboard box. Tim let her hold it and placed her onto the baby chair next to her brother, who immediately reached out for her. It was kinda funny seeing how clingy he was compared to his sister.

“We have more information too. We tracked down the new meta and we’ve been looking into his routes. We suspect that he’s living around here, in Bristol,” Dick said. “We think he’s living in an apartment, at XXX on XXXX street, possibly with a roommate named Jazz.”

Tim paused, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was in the same building, babysitting a bunch of kids on the same street, who also lived with another woman named Jazz. “Uhh. What else?”

“We think he lives on the third floor and possibly also works at a pizza delivery place? Or maybe a fast food restaurant? He’s been flying back and forth between two places besides the apartment.”

Tim began to sweat. “Uh… anything else?”

“There’s a high chance that his name is Danny Nightingale, and Jasmine Nightingale is in on the fact that he’s a meta.”

Fuck.

Tim looked at his niece and nephew with a new light, eyes wide. Ella beamed at him, giggling while Dante just glared.

Welp. At least Bruce would be happy to be a grandfather now. Even if it was to Tim’s secret meta twin brother.

[starkeyslibrary]

FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 3

pairing: you x drew starkey

The night Drew came back from his so-called “night out with the boys”, the tension was thick in the apartment. The sound of the front door creaking open felt like a bomb going off. You had been sitting on the couch for the last hour, alternatives between staring at your phone and looking out the window, hoping that something – anything – would make the ache in your chest fade. But the pain only deepened, and as the door clicked closed behind him, your stomach churned in a mix for dread and anger.

Drew walked in, his usual confident stride slowing when he saw you sitting there. There was a slight hesitation in his step, a quiet sign that he knew something was off. His eyes immediately darted to you, a mix of concern and something else that you couldn’t quite read. But the moment he stepped further into the room, your frustration broke free.

You didn’t even give him a chance to greet you, the words spilling out before he could say a word. “You’re late,” you said, your voice flat but filled with an edge he hadn’t heard in a long time.

Drew stopped in his tracks, glancing at his watch. “I told you, it was just a night out with the guys. Nothing big.” He said, his tone light, almost too casual. But you saw right through it. His words didn’t feel genuine anymore. You had heard the excuses before, and they were getting old.

You stood up, not wanting to be so passive about it anymore. “A night out with the guys? Really? That’s what you’re going with?” The bitterness in your voice caught you off guard, but there was no going back now.

Drew looked taken aback by the sharpness in your voice. “What’s going on, y/n?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “You’ve been acting strange ever since you saw those photos.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unable to contain the words that had been bubbling up inside for days. “Yeah, I saw the photos, Drew. You and Odessa. Out in public again. Walking around like everything is fine. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He opened his mouth to explain, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“No. Don’t you dare try to explain it away. I’m not stupid. I can see exactly what’s going on.” You could feel the anger rising in your chest, a mix of hurt and frustration that you couldn’t keep bottled up any longer. “You’re out with her, looking all cozy, like she’s the one you want. Not me. And I just … I don’t get it. You told me it was all fake, just for the cameras, but I can’t keep pretending that I believe you.”

Drew’s face hardened, and the disappointment in his eyes stung more than anything. He took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his cool, but you saw the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re making something out of nothing. It’s just part of the job, I swear. She’s just a co-star, and this is all for publicity. You know that. I thought you understood that.”

“Understand?” you laughed bitterly, but the sound came out more like a sob. “You think I understand? You think I’m supposed to just sit here and watch you with her while pretending like everything is fine? No, Drew. I can’t do that. I can’t keep pretending that this isn’t hurting me. That I’m not losing you, piece by piece.”

Drew stepped closer to you, his expression softening as if trying to reach you, but you were too far gone. Too far past the point of no return.

“I’m trying okay?” His voice cracked slightly, and for a moment, you thought he was being honest, but it didn’t change anything. “I’m trying to make this work, but this whole thing is a mess. I never wanted it to be like this.”

You shook your head, feeling the sting of his words like a slap across your face. “Make it work? How do you expect me to trust you when I see you out there with her, smiling like nothing’s wrong? How do you expect me to keep believing you when I know that every word you’ve said about us was just...  just a lie?”

Drew’s face darkened at your accusation, his voice rising as the frustration that had been simmering inside him for days boiled over. “I’m not lying to you, Y/N! I never wanted this to happen either, but this is the way things are right now. I’m doing what I have to do, for both of us.”

“For both of us?” you scoffed, the tears that had been building in your eyes finally breaking free. “This is for you, Drew. It’s always been for you. For your career, for your image. And I’m just supposed to sit here and be okay with it? You’re asking me to pretend like I’m okay with being second to her, to everything you’re doing for the cameras. You know what, Drew? I can’t do that anymore. I’m done pretending.”

There was a long, tense silence between you, both of you staring at each other as if trying to make sense of the chaos you had created. Drew ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained but you were beyond caring. You had tried so hard to hold on, to believe him and in what you had, but every day felt like a betrayal.

You stepped back, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t trust you anymore, Drew. Not after everything. You’ve lied to me over and over, and I don’t even know who you are anymore. I’m not going to keep living in this lie, this lie that both of you have created for the world.”

Drew looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he just closed his eyes, the weight of your words crashing over him. He didn’t speak for a long moment, and for the first time, you realized he was just as lost as you were. But that didn’t change the fact it was too late.

Without another word, you grabbed your jacket, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know where you were going, but you couldn’t stay in that apartment with him. Not like this. You needed space, you needed to breathe.

You walked the streets aimlessly, tears still wet on your cheeks as the cold air bit at your skin. Every step felt like a weight, each one dragging you further from the man you thought you knew. The city lights flickered in the distance, but they did nothing to brighten the darkness in your heart.

You didn’t even know how far you had walked until you found yourself standing in front of a quiet park by the water. The silence felt both comforting and unbearable, as if the world around you had completely disappeared. You collapsed onto a bench, hugging your arms to your chest to stave off the cold, but it did little to ease the storm inside of you.

The moments from earlier replayed in your mind – the fight, Drew’s words, your own pain – and all you could do was sit there and feel the weight of it all.

That’s when the flash of camera lights caught your attention.

At first, you didn’t react, too numb to care about the photographers who had followed you. But then, the flashes intensified. You wiped your face quickly, but it didn’t stop them. The tears you had tried to hide were now on full display, and you felt like your privacy, your pain was being exposed to the world.

“Y/N! Over here! A little smile for us!” A photographer called out, but you couldn’t. You didn’t have the strength to smile, not when everything felt so broken.

Your heart thudded in your chest as more flashes went off, capturing the raw emotion on your face – the hurt, the betrayal, the confusion. You could hear their voices, the jarring sound of camera clicks, as they shouted for you to look at the camera. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to perform for them. Not anymore.

You turned away, trying to escape their prying eyes, but you knew it was futile. The pictures will be everywhere tomorrow. The world would see you in this vulnerable state, and it felt like another punch to the gut.

You couldn’t stop the tears now. You couldn’t stop the feeling of being exposed, of being broke, of being so utterly alone in a world that seemed to move on without you.

A/N: please don’t hate me LOL😭

TAGLIST: @princesspeach124 @idiotussupremus @eitaababe @13tter @drewsephrry @drewstarkeyzwhore @cooper8224 @maybankslover @elyseesarchive @ietss @esquivelbianca @josephandrewstarkey @willowpains @wtfdudesblog @purplerose291

[pickingupmymercedes]

Ageless wonder - Lewis Hamilton

warnings: mentions of alcohol, Toto being an ass (himself)

genre: fluff and teasy Lewis

wordcount: +1k

a/n: I had to, 'shelf life' my ass

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Waking up with a hangover wasn’t new to me, Lewis was the one non-alcoholic Tequila master in the relationship after all. But waking up feeling like my skull is auditioning for the lead role in Crash: The Musical, though? That’s special.

My tongue feels like I licked an old battery, my hair probably looks like I got electrocuted, and the sun streaming through the window is public enemy number one.

And still somewhere through the haze of pain, I catch a whiff of something heavenly: Lewis’s cologne.

Thank God. Home.

There’s a low chuckle near me, and the bed dips slightly. “Morning, superstar.”

I pry one eye open. Lewis is sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a grin that’s somewhere between amusement and concern, though he’s annoyingly chipper, like he hasn’t just watched me drag myself through hell disguised as a bottle of – real – tequila.

“Why are you so loud?” I croak, turning over to bury my face in the pillow.

“I’m not loud; you’re sensitive” he shoots back, that stupid chuckle rumbling again. “Rough night”

I flip him off without looking, which only makes him laugh harder. “Rough week actually.”

And it has been rough.

Toto, king of ominous sound bites, had suggested, in the newly launched Mercedes book, that Lewis might’ve been near his “shelf life.”

As if Lewis wasn’t out there fighting the excuse of a car they couldn’t understand how to work around, pulling phenomenal races from P10, setting twelve fastest laps, lapping four-tenths faster than his own teammate at some points.

And if there’d been more laps? Well, Toto might’ve had to eat his words on a very public stage.

I’d been at the race, of course. Watching from the garage, headphones clamped tight over my ears, my hands clasped together until they ached. I’d barely breathed until he crossed the line in P2, the garage erupting around me.

The relief was immediate, but it didn’t last.

I caught the frustration in his shoulders as he climbed out of the car, the way it clung to him during the cooldown drive to the podium interview and those mandatory interviews.

He’d wanted more.

He hadn’t said anything directly to me, of course—he never does when the sting is fresh. But I know the weight when I see it.

It’s in the way he’s still tense even as he waves to the fans, in the measured, overly polite answers he gives in interviews.

Watching him absorb the quiet digs, I wanted to storm the press room and defend him, consequences be damned. But what good would it do? Still, the knot in my chest wouldn’t loosen until I saw him smile again.

And then Toto had gone and made it worse. Of course. Lewis’s teammate was “from another planet,” while Lewis was just working with a “super strong car.”

I’d had to sit there and smile politely, even though every part of me wanted to grab Toto by the collar and shake him.

It wasn’t my fight, though—not really. It was Lewis’s. And Lewis, being Lewis, handled it like a pro. Calm. Measured.

Acknowledging his own faults while subtly calling out the micro-aggressions of all sorts he’s dealt with his whole career.

That’s my man. Too classy for this world.

But let’s be real: the post-race party in Vegas? That was for me. Not that I’d ever admit outside of our bedroom, but seeing him relaxed, smiling, surrounded by people who adore him? That was the real victory.

And the price for that? Me, nursing the world’s worst hangover and Lewis, laughing at my expense. Classic.

His voice broke through my thoughts. “You really went for it last night. Celebrating like you won something.”

“I did win something,” I mumble into the pillow.

“Oh yeah?” His tone is teasing, and I can feel his grin without even looking.

I finally roll onto my back, squinting at him like he’s the sun itself. “Bragging rights,” I said. “Because you…” I pointed vaguely in his direction, “…are a goddamn force of nature. And because everyone who said otherwise is a dumbass.”

He shakes his head, amused, but there’s a softness in his eyes now.

“And,” I add, smirking despite the pounding in my head, “I won tequila shots with Miles. That’s also worth celebrating.”

“Clearly.” He gestures vaguely at my disheveled state, and I kick at him weakly with one foot.

He dodges easily, then leans back, holding his phone up with a sly smile.

“Pot, meet kettle,” I muttered, rolling onto my stomach and burying my face in the pillow. Except that pillow smelled like him, which was entirely too distracting.

“What’s got you so chirpy this morning anyway?” I mumbled into the pillowcase, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

He had an uncanny ability to bounce back after days like these, his body apparently immune to exhaustion. I would’ve hated him for it if I didn’t love him so much.

“Just enjoying the comments on your last post,” he said nonchalantly.

That got my attention. I lifted my head to look at him. “What post?”

Lewis didn’t answer. Instead, he smirked and held up his phone, just out of my reach.

“Oh, come on,” I groaned, dragging myself upright. My head protested the movement, but curiosity outweighed the pain. “What did I do?”

“You don’t remember?” His grin widened. “It’s good. Really good.”

“Lewis.” I reached for his phone, but he leaned back, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“I think it’s fair to say the caption was… pointed,” he said, drawing the word out.

“Pointed at what?” My patience was wearing thin, and my curiosity was spiraling into mild panic.

He finally handed me the phone, and the moment I saw the screen, the haze of my hangover lifted just enough to make room for a new emotion: horror.

The photo was innocent enough—just me and Lewis at some ridiculous Vegas afterparty, his arm slung around my shoulders, both of us grinning like idiots. But the caption. Oh, the caption.

“All in on ageless wonder”

And my jaw drops. “Oh my God.”

Lewis is laughing now, low and warm and entirely too entertained. “You went all in, babe.”

I scroll through the comments, and my stomach flips. Hundreds of thousands of likes. Thousands of comments. Most are supportive—#GoatHamilton is trending, apparently—but a few are... less so.

I can’t help it but laugh. “Drunk me is bold.”

“Drunk you is sincere” he corrects, taking the phone back and locking the screen.

“Toto kinda deserves it.” I sit up, wincing as the motion sends my head spinning. “How long can I leave it up before PR calls me personally to tell me I’m banned from every Mercedes garage on Earth?”

Lewis checked his watch like he was genuinely considering it. “I’d say we’ve got a couple hours before the panic sets in. Maybe three if I keep ignoring my phone.”

I grin at him. “Reckless. I like it.”

He grins back, and for a moment, it’s just us. No hangovers, no drama, no shelf-life bullshit. Just Lewis and me, in sync as always.

He kissed me then, and for a moment, the lingering fog of tequila and regret melted away. All that mattered was him—his warmth, his steadiness, his love that he didn’t have to put into words because it was always there, in everything he did.

Lewis always had a way of grounding me, of silencing the noise in my head with something as simple as a kiss. It wasn’t just the feel of his lips—it was the way his hands cupped my face, anchoring me to him, the unspoken reassurance in the way he held me.

He didn’t need words to remind me that we were a team, that no matter how loud the world got, we’d always have this.

And I knew—I’d burn through a thousand hangovers just to feel this peace

“How much trouble are you when Toto sees that post?” I ask after a few moments of us studying each other.

He smirks. “Don’t worry.”

“Remind me to confiscate my phone next time I drink.” I lean back against the headboard, closing my eyes again.

“Not a chance,” he says, and there’s so much affection in his voice it makes my chest ache.

I peek at him through one eye. “You like chaos too much.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, still grinning. “Or maybe I just like you.”

Damn him.

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling now, the pain in my head fading to the background. Lewis has that effect on me. He always has.

And as much as I want to give him hell for waking me up, for teasing me, for letting me post that caption in the first place, I can’t bring myself to care.

Because at the end of the day, Lewis is Lewis. And he doesn’t need anyone to tell him who he is.

Although I’ll keep on shouting it from the rooftops if I have to.

Shelf life, my ass.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend @unlikelystay

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[mayghosts]

Snow Angel: Squalls (3) Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: Whay happened before Halloween (reader tweaks out)

(Toc) (last)

Warnings: religion/religous trauma, homophobia and internal homophobia, Catholicism, alcohol and improper alchohol use

AN: guys I'm so sorry for this its a bit intense but I love angst and am religiously traumatised myself soooooo…

October 29, 2022

The processional music rang out over the aged speakers in the church as the priest made his way down the center aisle. The inscence made your eyes water and the smell of the old rotting carpet consumed your senses. You stared straight ahead, squeezing your eyes shut. Waiting for the confessional.

Pushing the curtain open, you stepped into the dark box and kneeled on the thinly padded cushion.

“Bless my father for I have sinned..”

The same thing every week. You glanced up through the mesh screen at the shadowed face in the other side.

He said the same thing every time.

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors you stepped out into the cold October air. You felt your chest tighten as you looked down at the notifications from Paige.

Shoving your phone in your pocket you started the walk back to her dorm.

October 30, 2022:

You sighed at the sight of her. Long blonde hair cascading down her back, tiny shirt, big pants. You didn't even know what she was dressed up as, you didn't care. Fuck I need a drink.

You knew it was okay. It's okay to be gay and like girls. Paige liked girls and that's fine. You really had no issue with other people living their lives how they wanted to because it wasn’t you business. But you couldn't ignore the crawling feeling that chewed at your stomach when you saw a pretty girl when you saw Paige. The guilt that would slowly consume you, make you feel sick to your stomach. Worst of all you could never just admit it to yourself, you liked Paige more than a friend, and it was eating you alive.

You quickly tore your gaze away from the blonde, making you way over to Nika who was nursing a bottle of tequila. Withing the hour, the churning in your stomach had melted away, and when you looked at Paige, instead of hearing the priests voice you heard her sweet calming tone.

October 31, 2022

7 AM mass is usually reserved for old people from nursing homes and early morning commuters—and you. Sliding into a row in the back, you kneeled, letting your forehead rest against the pew in front of you. You didn’t move the whole mass.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned…”

He says the same thing every time. And when you leave, the same consuming, heavy, feeling occupies your chest. You blame the tears on the incents and walk out of the church with you head low.

—

Paiges dorm was full of people and you had been nursing a bottle of pink whitney since you got home from mass. “Paigeeeee, are you ready to go?” you giggled, stumbling into her dorm living room and wrapping your arms around her neck. “Jesus Nika what did you give her?” You could hear the concern laced in Paiges voice as she stabilized your hips and unwound your hands from her neck. You melted under her touch, god she was pretty.

You gently held onto her hands, running your fingers over her knuckles and holding them up to your face. “What did she give you? Hmm?” you looked up at her big blue eyes, laced with concern. Can you feel the sin? Can you see it written in my eyes? Do I feel dirty to her too? You giggled slightly slumping into her chest. “Nothingggg~ look I'm fine!” You attempted to sober yourself up, standing up straight, trying not to sway on your feet.

“Sure thing babe.” You felt your stomach churn at the pet name. You hummed back at her, you watched her eyes search your face before she gave up and turned back to her conversation with Aaliyah.

—

You stumbled out of the bar. This is bad, so so bad. You knew you were beyond drunk. Messy. The only good thing about this situation was Paige, gently guiding you into the back of an uber and closing the door behind you both.

She had never looked prettier. Ever. “I like your hair.” She grinned at you “Thanks, I do too.” “its very pretty” you reached up, running your fingers through her hair. “Whats it like…?” your sentence faded our as you glanced out the window, your hand still fiddling with her hair. “Hmm?” She looked back at you. You dropped her hair looking back into her eyes. You felt like you were being swallowed. The uber pulled into your parking lot before you could finish your sentence.

“Come on, lets go.” Paiges voice was gentle, coaxing you out of the backseat, looping an arm around you and guiding you in through the door. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as she leaned in a bit to put the key in the door. “Paige.”

“Yea? What is it?”

“I love you” she smilled at you and you felt your vision blur. “Awwe I love you too, don't cry!” You desperately palmed at the tears rolling down your cheeks. She gently placed you on the bathroom counter. “Whats wrong?” grabbing a cotton pad she began scrubbing at the makeup on your face. You sniffled and shook your head.

“C’mon you can tell me anything. Whats up?” she stopped her gentle scrubbing to crouch to your level. “I’m so scared, Paige you're killing me.” you could feel the tears burning in your eyes, yor chest felt tight as you gripped her hands. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling her straighten up infront of you. She paused for a moment, unsure about whether or not to dissect this. “Lets go to bed, okay. I know you're probably tired.” You could feel her gently guide you off the counter, your eyes still squeezed shut.

“Maybe walking would be a bit easier if you opened your eyes?” you shook your head. “I'm not supposed to see you anymore.” You stumbled into her back as paused again, obviously confused. “I can’t go to Heaven anymore Paige this is all I have now.”

The silence was heavy, the only sound coming from the silent crys you let out. She kept moving slowly through your messy room. You yanked on her hand, pulling her to face you. “Its your fault! Why don't you care!” she gently guided you to sit on the edge of the bed. In the dark light you could make out the tears waiting in her eyes. You really ruined it this time. You pushed at her shoulders, repetitively hitting her with weak jabs and punches. “You’re ruining me Paige! You're ruining me! I don't stand a chance I- how do you live with…it?!” You both knew what you meant. You had done this before, a long time ago.

Tears streamed down your face, dripping into your lap. Paige was silent as she moved to take your shoes off and pull the cover up. “Sleep on your side, don't roll over.” Her voice was flat, monotone, but you could see the hurt still in her eyes. As she stood up to walk to the door you grabbed at her arm. “No, no, no please Paige don't leave me! Please I'm sorry, I love you, please. I really do, I'll live with it, ill live with it for you. Just for you you're all I need I-” You watched her cry, her back turned to you. Broad shoulders shaking as she rubbed her eyes. Silently she left the room, the door softly clicking behind her.

In the darkness of the room, you swore you could smell the old carpet and the inscense.

November 15, 2022

As you walked out of the church, head still pounding from last night, you glanced down at your screen to a text from an unknown number.

"Hey! I don't know if you remeber me, but my name is Maggie we met last night! If you don't remeber we talked a bit last night and I helped you get home."

another text came through as you stared at the screen.

"Anyways, I just wanted to make sure you were okay and see if you wanted to get coffee or something today?"

You unlocked your phone and opened the chat, responding immediately.

"Yea sure! what are you doing for lunch?"

(see how our dialoge changes colors 😗😗😗)

TAGLIST: @smiths-fan--13 @yannasuniverse @stydiaownsmyheart @hellokittyfeenie @justareadernotawriter1

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Hi, I am slipping into your Kinktober requests again, if that's okay with you! I'd love to request something for Hugh Jackman this time, as I keep seeing more and more of him, and I'm happy to drool over that fantastic man with your stories! 👀

Kissing down every inch of your body they possibly can, showing how much they love you. + "Don't be shy baby, I love the way you moan my name.

I'm preparing to melt into a permanent puddle of goo here as I'm happily waiting to see what you'll come up with here. Again, thank you for everything you share with us, and I'm looking forward to reading it all! 🤍

Kiss away your insecurities

A/N: Thank you for requesting this, my darling! Hope you like it :) Special thanks to @stark-ironman for helping me with this idea 💛

Pairing: Hugh Jackman x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut themes, angst, floof. Body image issues, self-doubt and negative talk.

.

You were still out of breath.

Heart pounding wildly against your ribcage thanks to the activities you and your boyfriend were up to ever since he got home. Even though the shared sounds of passion had died down, they were now replaced with your louder insecurities, forcing you to curl away from the man and head to the bathroom to clean up.

Hugh frowned as the door slammed shut with a little more force than usual. Concerned, he knocked on it asking if you were okay.

“Uh, yeah. Fine.” You responded, blinking back tears that began rapidly gathering. Your inner thoughts screamed you didn’t deserve all of this.

“Mind if I join you for a quick shower, darling?” Hugh called again after hearing the water running. Something you had a habit of doing every time you were overwhelmed with emotions.

“Actually I’m going to be right out. You know I have the—the thing early morning.”

Cursing yourself to have to lie, you scrubbed your body forcefully, glad the tears streamed down with the hot water and your shaky voice was somewhat covered.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, you were met with a concerned Hugh, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No! Why would you think that?” You faked a laugh, going around him to get dressed for bed. Knowing fully well you weren’t fooling your boyfriend.

“Because you’re avoiding me.”

Giving him your most reassuring smile that you could muster, you shook your head as you slipped into one of his well worn t-shirts, getting onto your side of the bed.

“No it’s just, I have to wake up early tomorrow and I wanted to get a quick shower in. I’m fine. Really.”

He was silent for a while as he joined you in bed, watching you fluff the pillows before you turned away from the man to switch off the bedside lamp.

“You can tell that to someone who believes your lies, darling. Tell me what’s wrong. Please?” He tried again, switching the lamp back on and reaching out for your hand.

“Would you just drop it, Hugh?” You snapped, hating yourself for it as you turned the lights out again, pulling the blanket over and hiding yourself in its fluffy depths, hoping it would somehow cover your imperfections.

Your mind was still flooded with all sorts of thoughts about the way you looked, and how any day your little daydream would end and Hugh would realise what a mistake dating you was.

What was he even with you? You were far from perfect. You had curves that no matter what you did wouldn’t go away. You got trapped in your own head quite a bit, you were moody, and ten thousand other things that would push you away from the ‘ideal girlfriend’ title.

You lived in constant fear that he’d wake up one day and decide he was done with you. Then what would you ever do?

.

The next morning you woke up before Hugh did and went for a run, hoping it would clear your head.

It worked until you got a few heads turning in your direction, it wasn’t uncommon considering who you were dating; it was still overwhelming sometimes. You heard giggles and judgemental scoffs, possibly they were commenting on the way you looked.

It made you want to disappear. A sense of your deepest fears winning made you rush home, discard your jacket and ready to retreat into your room for the rest of the day. That was until your eyes fell on the breakfast spread that lay waiting on the table to your right.

“Morning sunshine! I thought I’d whip up your favourite breakfast today since you—hey, what’s wrong?”

You didn’t realise you had teared up again until Hugh rushed to your side with worry.

“Why are you with me?”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“I mean why are you with me? I don’t deserve any of this. You could be with anyone you want, I don’t understand why—”

He stepped in your line of vision, silencing your little ramble before gently wiping your tears away and leading you to sit on an armchair.

Wordlessly holding your hand against his chest, he took a deep breath in, gently coaxing you to follow. When you did, you could feel your erratic breaths returning to a normal slowly but surely. Just his presence on difficult days like these was calming.

“Talk to me?” he nudged, hands still clasped reassuringly.

“I just feel like you could do so much better than this…than me. You’re so—I mean, I am—”

Struggling to complete the sentence, you couldn’t help the crack in your voice as you avoided his gaze, shifting nervously on the chair.

“Beautiful? Kind? The best thing to have happened to me?” Hugh tilted your face to meet your eyes again, his own shining with all the love and adoration reserved just for you.

You wanted to believe him, so badly, yet the voices in your head got loud enough to make you doubt every single thing.

“I won’t allow you to talk much less think such lies about my amazing girlfriend, you know. She’s lucky her boyfriend immensely enjoys demonstrating just how much she means to him.”

You smiled at that, much to Hugh's relief, shaking your head.

"If you'll allow me to show you, my love."

With that he picked you up, leaving no room for any further protests from your side. Kicking the bedroom door shut with his foot, his lips descending onto yours in a kiss that effectively quieted down your fears and filled you with a renewed sense of assurance.

As the kiss deepened, your anxieties melted away, giving way for all the love that you held for this man, who by a miracle from the universe, was all yours. When you eventually broke the kiss after what felt like hours, he continued demonstrating all that he'd promised, making sure to whisper words that held such honesty, you wholeheartedly believed them.

This was nothing like you'd ever experienced before. This was more than just sex, it was worshiping, cherishing and much more. He held you close, accepting every curve, every scar, every last freckle as his own, showering you with all his love. You hadn't felt so loved, so respected, so seen, ever before in your life.

When you were filled to the hilt with his manhood, a moan that you trying so hard to suppress, escaped. Quickly covered your mouth with a hand, you quieted down, embarrassed.

"Don't be shy baby, I love the way you moan my name."

"I'm afraid I'm too loud." you whispered.

Hugh tutted, interlacing your fingers and firmly locking your hands over your head, securing them in their rightful place as he began moving in your sopping heat.

"Not loud enough. Let 'em hear. Let 'em hear who's making you feel good, sweetheart."

Hot and breathy against your ear, his honeyed voice was enough to turn your insides to mush, encouraging you to not hold back anymore.

Soon, the walls of the house echoed with your shared sounds of passion, the intensity of them evident as you reached your highs together. Bodies trembling with wanton need as you drew the most sinful moans out of each other, fully alive in the moment.

As your climax crashed over you, it seemed to wash away any lingering negativity and uncertainty you had previously felt, making you sure of your dreams being actualized.

[lloydskywalkers]

drywall

went to go work on raising hell and ended up missing Skylor, so!! I will always have so many emotions about s8/9 and the aftermath of it, here's another gallon of them.

Two months after they’ve taken back the city and the street lights are finally starting to work again, Lloyd shows up at the restaurant an hour past closing time, sporting a spectacularly bruise and enough blood across his gi to make the Ninjago City Blood Drive team’s day. 

“Hi, Sky.” Lloyd waltzes — or attempts to, it’s more of a stumbling collapse — right in as if nothing’s amiss in the slightest. “Sorry, I’m, uh. Was in the neighborhood and I wasn’ sure…where else t’ go.”

Skylor, still frozen over a stained tabletop with her dishtowel in hand, stares at him. 

All things considered, she should be fully prepared for something like this. It should practically be in her restaurant’s training manual, that at some point you’ll end up confronted with a bloody, half-dead ninja in your door. But given how slow the past few weeks have been, coupled with the sheer exhaustion of dealing with the lunch rush and the dinner rush and the late-night somewhat-inebriated people rush, her guard is apparently down enough to leave her reacting with a simple, useless, “Oh god.”

“Tha’s my grandfather,” Lloyd says. There’s blood at the corner of his mouth — coupled with the bruising, Skylor thinks (hopes) it’s simply from split skin or a bitten cheek, instead of crippling internal bleeding. 

Crippling internal bleeding is enough of a concern to finally spur her into action, dropping her towel and rushing over to help Lloyd finish stumbling through the door. She spares a moment of thanks, that there’s even a door at all — repairs in the city have been slow, since Harumi’s brief reign of terror, and the insurance provider is still holding out on her. 

But the door was a good thing to prioritize, she thinks, bolting it firmly behind them. 

“Sorry, again,” Lloyd murmurs. His jaw is working in the tight way it does when he’s biting back pain, his bottom lip bruised and bleeding. Skylor’s stomach twists. 

You’d think, after all she’s been through, she’d be more accustomed to seeing the people she cares about in pain. That she’d be desensitized enough, to fight back the aching nausea and the gnawing desire to look away. 

Or maybe she’s just a coward. That would track, she thinks. 

“Shush,” she says instead, maneuvering Lloyd further into one of the nicer booths, careful of the blood that’s…everywhere. “What did you do to yourself this time, huh?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd grumbles, his voice steadier now that he’s sitting down. Unfortunately, he’s only paler under the yellowy restaurant lights, and the blood looks about ten times worse. “I just…slipped. A bit.”

Slipped. Skylor could smack him, if he wasn’t already hurt. 

“Lemme see, then.” She bends down to where she can tug the folds of his gi back, trying to trace the blood to a source. She finally finds it — an ugly wound in his left shoulder, several long gashes across his forearm. A knife, maybe. Possibly a sword, but it looks close-up and quick. It’d need to have been quick, for whoever was wielding it to land this many hits. 

Or Lloyd would have to be sloppy. 

Lloyd gives a stifled, shuddery exhale, a dangerous preamble to tears. Skylor pauses, just for a moment, and deliberates. 

She’s got Nya’s number, carefully keyed into her phone ever since she and Kai started visiting the noodle house. There’s no doubt in her mind that she’d want to know about this — and there’s less doubt that Kai would want to know. if anything, she’s surprised he hasn’t burst through the restaurant doors already, summoned by whatever sixth sense he has that goes off when Lloyd’s in danger. 

But Skylor also knows there’s got to be a reason that Lloyd came here, despite his claims. Just as there’s probably a reason he didn’t call Kai or Nya, or any of the others. 

And perhaps she feels just a little proud, that Lloyd’s chosen her to come to. 

It’s quickly lost in the blood that coats her hands as she begins patching the wound in his shoulder, but the feeling’s there nonetheless. 

It’s a nice feeling, being relied on. Being trusted. 

“Who got you this bad?”

She speaks up mostly to break the quiet. Lloyd isn’t quite like Kai, who likes talking simply to fill a space, but she knows he isn’t fond of silence, either. It’s one of the things they share in common. 

“No one.” Lloyd sucks in a breath as she draws the bandage tight across his shoulder, wrapping it beneath his arm and back over. His eyes close briefly as she ties it off, forehead scrunching up, before he lets out another shuddery exhale. “Some guy, uh — guy on the way home, near the subway. I had answered a call earlier, and I guess — ow, hey—” 

“Sorry,” Skylor winces, as she finishes dumping antiseptic across the slashes on his arm. “It hurts less if you aren’t expecting it.”

“That’s a lie,” Lloyd says, pointedly. 

She shrugs. “So, random subway mugger?”

Lloyd looks away, his cheeks darkening. It’s a relief, to see any color in his face at all. “Sort of.”

He leaves it at that, lapsing back into silence. Skylor looks down, focusing on the butterfly stitches she’s placing across his arm. Were it anyone else, she’d have panicked for actual stitches, but Lloyd heals with an uncanny quickness. She remembers Nya complaining about it, back during the Resistance — how Lloyd threw a fit when his skin healed over the stitches, and they’d had to cut him open all over again. 

She’d probably throw a fit of her own, to be fair. 

“Well, if you see him,” she says, reaching for the roll of bandages. “Point him out. I could use a punching bag.”

Lloyd’s lips quirk, a ghost of a smile. 

“Thank you.”

It’s quiet enough she might’ve missed it, if they were any further apart. Skylor doesn’t miss the meaning, either. She simply shakes her head, wrapping another layer around his arm. 

“I’m just glad you came to someone,” she says. “Instead of half-assing it yourself.”

Lloyd’s fingers twitch. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh-huh.”

She can’t pretend she doesn’t understand. Her childhood is filled with fun little memories of patching herself together, hiding wounds from Clouse or her father in an attempt to convince them she was better than she was.

Not that the people Lloyd is hiding from are anything remotely like her father, of course, but there’s an overlap between people you fear and people you love, and trying to convince them you’re stronger than you are. 

“That should do it,” she nods to herself, surveying her work. She feels unusually proud of herself — Skylor’s never really stayed with a team long enough to have many chances to patch people up. It’s rarer that people are so open to her touching them, once they’ve learned what her power is. The ninja are an exceedingly kind exception, but it still makes her feel warm, being given this kind of trust. 

She glances up, eyeing her patient. Lloyd’s still pale, but it’s far better than the ashy color from earlier anymore. “Anywhere else?”

“No.” Lloyd stares at the strip of bandages across his arms, shoulders hunched over on himself.

“I have Nya on speed dial, you know—”

“Its just a few scrapes,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Skylor sighs. “Lemme see.”

Lloyd grumbles, but he lets her grab his arm again, wincing as she dabs antiseptic over the smaller cuts. There’s nothing serious — just a few nicks and scratches, the kind you get from eating the ground mid-fight. He’s got one uglier scrape, but it’s about as nasty as a skinned knee, and easily eclipsed by the scar it bleeds through. 

Her fingers falter. She knows this scar — she was there when Kai struggled to patch the wound it once was, back on her father’s island. It’s an ugly, jagged scar, a testament to how Kai’s hands had shook as he’d tried to be gentle. 

In hindsight, it had been a terrible moment. Kai wasn’t sure if Lloyd had picked up the wound from the underground tunnels, Chen’s cultists, or his own brief slip into the madness of the staff. Lloyd wouldn’t say where it was from, even if either of them had been much for talking. And Skylor had been an awkward, purple-scaled fixture next to them, holding the medical kit while the others planned how to kill her father. 

And yet, it was the lightest she’d ever felt. 

Skylor bites her lip. 

She’s never told Lloyd, what exactly he’d meant to her. He likely has no idea, what he’d represented when she’d first met him. 

The son of one of Ninjago’s greatest villains — and people loved him. 

Kai loved him. 

If Lloyd could overcome the hurdle of his parentage and choose to live the way he wanted, if people could look past the dark stain of his legacy and love him anyways, then maybe—

He’d been hope, when she needed it most. And Kai had lived up to that hope, taking Skylor’s half-formed, frail dream and fueling it into a blaze.

Her eyes close, briefly, and she shivers. 

“Are you okay?”

Blinking her eyes back open, she comes face to face with Lloyd’s concerned expression. She shakes her head, looking away. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Embarrassment pulls at her. “Just a bit of…aftershocks. You know.”

Lloyd frowns, clearly not knowing. “Aftershocks,” he repeats. “From…”

His eyes go wide, only for his expression to immediately crumple. “Oh.”

Skylor waves her hands. “It’s not bad,” she reassures him. “I can barely feel him — his power — anymore. Just pins and needles in my hands sometimes, that’s all. Totally…totally normal.”

She hopes. Garmadon’s power had burned, in the way bitter cold feels against your skin, so a bit of numbness is pretty decent tradeoff, if she says so herself. 

Lloyd looks down, expression shadowed and hidden. Skylor could curse herself — she knows better, than to bring up—

“Here.” Lloyd’s suddenly holding his hand out, looking at her earnestly. It’s an almost childish expression of sincerity, one that makes him look much younger — a little more like the Lloyd she met on her father’s island, who beamed when his father ruffled his hair. 

Her chest aches fiercely, and Skylor holds out her hand before she can hesitate. Lloyd takes it carefully in his own, and she watches in fascination as the low shimmer of green engulfs her fingers. Lloyd’s power is as gentle as he is — nothing like the ravaging purple storm that was his father’s. 

“Oh,” she says. “That’s nice.”

Lloyd makes a humming noise. “I’ve been practicing. H-his power doesn’t get along with mine, that much. So it kinda…makes room. For whoever’s stronger, at the moment.”

Skylor fights back a shudder. Realistically, she knows she shouldn’t feel ashamed, that Garmadon overpowered her — he’s Garmadon. The reminder of how his power felt still stings, though. 

It’s a reassurance, that Lloyd’s power is stronger now. His element, if you can even call it that, is probably the one she’s the least familiar with — she’s never tried to copy Lloyd’s power. She isn’t entirely sure if she could, or if she should. Dipping into Garmadon’s power was dangerous enough. Skylor isn’t stupid enough to pretend she has the willpower to meddle with the power of the FSM’s family much more than that. 

“It feels like cheating, kinda,” she finally says. “That fighting fuels his power. How are you supposed to fight back?”

Lloyd shrugs, letting her hand go. “You don’t. You get really good at dodging.”

Skylor leans forward, propping her chin up in her palms. “That’s stupid.”

“Well,” Lloyd’s lips twitch, just the slightest bit. “That’s Garmadon, so.”

His expression immediately fractures, and Skylor can spot the battle in his eyes as he tries to grasp for composure. Her teeth worry at her lip.

She should really call Nya, now. Or try to track down Kai’s number. Or anyone else — it’s nearly two hours past closing, the kitchen’s still a mess, and Lloyd’s blood is all over her dishrags. Lloyd himself is hardly in better shape, the ghostly pale of his skin reminding her horribly of when she first saved them from the Sons of Garmadon, and Skylor is—

Not enough. 

She ought to know that, by now.

But the fact still stands, that Lloyd came to her. A part of her clings to that, and another selfish, awful part of her, the part that festered on her father’s island for so many years, the part that still flinches beneath the weight of her last name — well. 

Misery loves company, is probably the best way to put it. 

“I should…I should probably get going,” Lloyd says, uncertainly. He doesn’t make any move to get up, though, still small and weary where he’s hunched up in her booth. 

Skylor stares at him, and thinks of sitting for hours on the edge of her father’s island, staring at the sun on the water until her eyes ached. 

“Hey,” she says, a bit breathless, twisting her fingers together. “Wanna go skip rocks?”

Quite fairly, Lloyd stares at her like she’s lost her mind. 

They end up on the rickety end of one of Ninjago City’s abandoned docks anyways, a mismatched selection of somewhat flat rocks spilling out of a Chen’s to-go bag. Lloyd’s left arm is tied up in a mangled sort of sling they fashioned from Skylor’s old sweatshirt, leaving him to turn a rock over in his right hand awkwardly. 

“So, funny thing,” he says. “I don’t, uh. I’m not very good at this.”

“That’s okay,” Skylor says, sifting through the rocks they’ve gathered. “I’m not, either.”

“Yeah?” Lloyd sounds hopeful. “I mean, you at least know the trick to it, right?”

“I don’t,” she shrugs. “I’ve never…I’ve never skipped rocks before.”

Lloyd stares at her. 

“It’s not that weird,” she huffs, fighting back the urge to hide. “I mean, I never really had the chance, but I aways thought — I grew up near the ocean, and all these lakes, so I always thought it’d be fun to, y’know, skip rocks, since I didn’t really have…anyone else, to…”

The rest of the sentence is about to turn even more humiliating, so it’s a relief when Lloyd interrupts her. 

“I haven’t either.” 

He immediately flushes. “That’s why I’m not good at it.’Cause I’ve never actually skipped rocks.” 

“Oh.” Skylor looks at their bag, then back up at him. “Well, cool. We’ll both suck, then.”

“How hard can it be, anyways?” Lloyd says, sorting through their rocks. “You just find a flat one, right?”

“Yeah,” Skylor says. “Then you sort of just, frisbee it. I think.”

“Hm.”

“You haven’t thrown a frisbee either, have you.”

“Oh, like you have.”

Skylor presses her lips together, snorting. “Was wondering when your snark was gonna show back up.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Do you not remember half the stuff that came out of your mouth, back at the tournament?”

“You would’ve been out of your mind too, if you had to herd the guys around then — also, bold words coming from you, ooh, how dare you call me a traitor, even though it’s totally dead-on—”

“That wasn’t even close to what I said, and also—” Skylor snatches a smooth rock before Lloyd can, hefting it up. “It’s not like I was gonna admit to you all I was a traitor. That defeats the whole purpose of betraying. Lying my way out of a corner was the smart choice.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lloyd mutters, as Skylor flings her rock across the water.

They both watch as it splashes sadly, sinking instantly like, well. A rock. 

“Okay,” Skylor cringes. “That was a warm-up.”

Several warm-ups later, neither of them have made any progress whatsoever, save to torment whatever fish are hanging out on this side of Ninjago City’s harbor with relentless rock barrages. 

“This is ridiculous,” Lloyd huffs, watching as his rock all but torpedoes into the water. “What’s wrong with us, that we can’t get one stupid rock to skip?”

“Maybe it’s in the wrist?” Skylor flexes her hand, angling it one way then another. She winds ups, throws the rock out, and — nope. 

“I think we’re getting worse,” Lloyd remarks as Skylor sputters, wiping the seawater that splashed up from her face. 

She can’t help but agree. They’re down to a few rocks left, and neither of them have made any progress, much less skipped a single rock. At some point, they give up altogether, seeing who can throw their rock out the furthest instead. 

“This one’s going…” Lloyd raises his arm, closing one eye and squinting as he angles higher. He finally pauses with his hand pointing upwards toward Ninjago City. “Right through that weird oval thing on Borg Tower.” 

“Don’t hit it too hard,” Skylor says. “They just got it back up last week.”

“I’m not hitting it, it’s going through it, weren’t you listening?”

“To you? Nah. I’ve heard you suck at public speaking.”

“Wow, after you forced me into the live broadcast and everything—”

As if to emphasize his distress, Lloyd takes a running start, hurling the rock forward. They watch as it arcs across the skyline, before plummeting somewhere in the harbor. 

“So close,” Skylor murmurs. 

Lloyd flops on the ground with a dull thump, legs sprawling in front of him as he leans back on his elbows. Skylor’s makeshift sling isn’t doing much at all anymore, though it looks like he doesn’t need it to.

That, or he’s hiding pain stupidly well. Which wouldn’t be surprising, if disappointing. 

“Defeated,” he mourns. “Overthrown by rocks.”

Skylor dusts gingerly at the ground before sitting next to him. “They sure got the best of us, this time.”

“Maybe it’s a learning curve,” he says. “That or we missed, like, the optimal rock-skipping development time.”

“Mmh. Maybe we need to recruit a teacher who actually had a decent childhood.”

“If you find someone, lemme know.”

They both laugh, breathless and hollow, because they’re not much else they can say, to that. 

Lloyd sits up suddenly, pulling his knees to his chest. His arms wrap tightly around them, eyes glued forward. Instead of asking, Skylor follows his gaze to the skyline of Ninjago City, the darkened scars left behind by Garmadon and Harumi painfully pronounced this late at night. 

It couldn’t have been longer than two weeks, could it? Their rule over the city?

It feels like years.

She can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for the others — can’t imagine what it was like, ending it. 

It pains her, but Skylor doesn’t remember much of Garmadon’s defeat. She’d thrown everything she had into controlling his power, and when it had snapped back on her, ravaging through her like a cloying poison, everything had gone dark and hazy. 

It kind of sucks, because she’d done all that just to miss the most important parts, but…it is what it is.

What she does remember, besides Nya’s steady voice and Dareth’s panicked yelling, is the blazing warmth that was Lloyd carrying her.

That and his painfully bony shoulder digging into her stomach. 

“I was trying not to get us crushed,” Lloyd mutters, cheeks turning pink. “Sorry my shoulder wasn’t up to cushion-y standards.”

“And I’m trying to say thank you,” Skylor sighs. “But seriously. Put something on those bones.”

“Meh meh meh,” Lloyd mocks. There’s a lack of his usual energy in the action, the dullness to his eyes only made worse by the bruise-like circles beneath them. But it’s still very Lloyd — a flash of the friend she knows. 

“I really do mean it,” she says. “Thank you. For carrying me out of there. For saving me.”

Lloyd stares at her with dark eyes. Not as dark as they were, back when he’d lost his power, but the glow is almost entirely absent.

“You shouldn’t—” he bites off, frustrated. He tosses the rock he’s holding, up and down. “It was never a question.”

He glances at her. “Besides,” and there’s the closest she’s seen to a real smile. “You saved us first.”

Not nearly soon enough, she thinks. 

She should’ve told him, should have asked — should have let him know how it felt to watch her father fall deeper into madness, told him what it felt like to lose hope — what it meant, to move on. 

To cut ties, before they strangled you. 

“How are you,” she says, as gently as she can. Then, because gentle doesn’t always get you through the walls they build— “For real. Not how people want to hear you’re doing, or the answer you think they want. How are you.” 

Lloyd stiffens. There’s a flicker of fear in his expression, his mouth moving on instinct. 

“I’m doing okay.”

Tremors lace through his hand where he holds the rock, shuddering fingers tracing over the rough surface. 

“Okay as I can be.” He looks down, the rock slipping from his fingers as his arms wrap around himself. “I know that isn’t the answer you want, but I don’t…”

He looks back up, the lights of Ninjago City misty in his eyes.  

“I don’t know what people want me to say,” he whispers. 

Skylor wishes he’d screamed it. Wishes he’d snap, wishes he’d find the anger where it simmers inside him and turn it outwards against the world, rather than violently projecting it inwards like a masochistic missile all the time. Anything at all, instead of this hollow brokenness. 

It reminds Skylor a bit too much of—

Well. 

“I know I — things are—” Lloyd swallows. He pauses, raising his hand to scrub at an already-bloodshot eye. “Everything happened so fast. It was like — like getting hit with a bus, then another bus, then she — put the bus in reverse and ran me back over, and I never really had the chance to…to…”

“To get back up?”

Lloyd nods. He picks absently at a bloodstained patch on the leg of his gi. “And I know that’s just a stupid metaphor, but getting back up is…it’s really—”

Lloyd’s pulling threads loose now, tugging hard enough that he’s likely to start unraveling holes in his gi. 

“Can I tell you something? Something that’s not…not so good.”

“Hey, you know me.” Skylor elbows him. “I’m an expert at not-good.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a little too knowing. “You’re really not.”

And she’d turn a mirror on him, if she could. “What is it, then?”

Lloyd looks away, one unusually-sharp tooth gnawing at his lip. 

“I know my dad — my dad I used to have — he loved me. I know he did.” Lloyd sounds, rather devastatingly, like he’s trying to convince himself. “But now that he’s…now that he’s like this, and after everything that happened, I almost wish — I almost—”

He cuts off, covering his face with his hands. “Never mind.”

Skylor stays still, her gaze fixed ahead on a dark spot in the city skyline. If it were her, she’d want—

Lloyd’s voice is a muffled whisper. “I wish he’d never loved me at all.”

Skylor lets out a long, shaky breath. 

Lloyd gives a dry, horrible kind of laugh. “That’s terrible, isn’t it? It’s so selfish, it’s — I’m a horrible person, for thinking that way. But it — it hurts now, to think that — that maybe, now that I’m different — and her — that even my dad—” 

“It hurts,” she murmurs. “To lose it. To think that it’s your fault.”

Lloyd brings his arms over his head, the bandages on his left arm a stark white in the dimness as he buries his face in his knees. Curling up, as if he can make himself small enough the world will finally forget he exists. 

Skylor’s…familiar. 

But then again, is she? 

She swallows. Her father was one thing, but if — if he came back now, after she’s worked so hard to move on — at the height of his madness, what would she do? 

She’s out of her depth, as she’s always been.

But there was a reason she answered the call so fervently, a reason she followed Lloyd without hesitation. Skylor doesn’t put much stock in the Green Ninja, doesn’t put much in any kind of prophecy. But she does care, very much, about Lloyd, and she thinks that’ll take her a bit farther.

“You know.” She looks down, running her finger over their last rock. “You were one of the first people that gave me any hope that I could change. That, uh, someone could love me.”

Lloyd startles, emerging just enough that she can see the green of an eye. “Huh? Me?”

She nods. “Back on my father’s island, during the tournament. I was convinced that…that after everything I’d done, with who I was, there wasn’t a chance I’d find someone who loved me.”

Lloyd frowns, lowering his arms so he can look at her fully. “But I didn’t — Kai was the one who reached out to you. He was the one that saw you. I didn’t…I didn’t really do anything.”

“Yeah. He did. But he reached out to you, first.”

Lloyd stares at her, eyes wide. Skylor smiles at him. “You were good. No matter how bad your family had been. And it…it had been okay, for you.” 

The mistiness returns to Lloyd’s eyes as he looks back to the skyline, his lip caught tightly between his teeth. 

“We’re doing okay, right?” Skylor pulls her own knees up to her chest. “You and me. I mean, we helped, a lot. We fought back for the city. You did a lot more than me, obviously, but—”

“Don’t say that,” Lloyd sounds pained. “Don’t compare it, like I’m — I do a lot more harm than good, sometimes.”

“You don’t say that,” Skylor snaps. 

Lloyd flinches. She bows her head, staring down at her feet. 

“We’re good,” she says, hating the way her voice wobbles. “We’re different.”

It’s occurring to her, how cold it is out here on the water. She hopes Lloyd doesn’t get home with a cold, on top of everything else. 

“We’re different,” Lloyd echoes.

“Yeah.” Skylor swallows. “That has to count for something, right?”

Lloyd makes a small noise, but it isn’t one of disagreement. There’s a rustling as he reaches for the bag, then holds out their final, sad rock. 

“Wanna give it the last try?” He gives her a crooked, half smile. “Make it count?”

Her fingers close over the rough surface, cold against the warmth of his hand. 

The brightness of the sun against water on her father’s island in her eyes, Skylor flings the rock as hard as she can, far enough that it’s swallowed entirely by the harbor darkness. 

If she tries, she can imagine it skipping, just once, across the freezing waters. 

She tells herself, it counts anyways.

[daisymbin]

Hi belle can I request 22. "you were my first love—you still are." Of second chance romance with Joshua. I feel like reading second chances are like a tales that always end in a happy ending ❤️.

hi lovely!!! of course you can! & yes... but honestly I think I'm addicted to thrill at the start of a second chance romance because its always exhilarating yet terrifying 😬

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // shua's m.list

second chance prompt #22: "you were my first love—you still are."

it was supposed to be a fun night. a few drinks, some dinner, the three of you just laughing and letting loose. chan, mingyu, and you had been out for a while now, but as the night wore on, the fun started to fade.

you hadn’t realized how much you were drinking at first, but as the alcohol hit you, it blurred your thoughts and made your heart ache.

your mind wouldn’t stop going back to joshua—joshua, joshua, joshua. the love you had for him. the love you still had for him.

the way he smiled at you. the way he’d look at you like you were the only one in the room.

you missed him.

“hey, you okay?” mingyu asked, his voice cutting through the fog in your head.

you blinked at him, not quite able to focus. your eyes were heavy, your chest tight. “i miss him,” you whispered, more to yourself than to anyone.

chan and mingyu exchanged a worried glance, both of them knowing exactly who you were talking about. they had been trying to keep you distracted all night, but it was clear you were spiraling.

“come on,” chan said softly, trying to get your attention. “let’s get you home, okay?”

but you just shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “no… i can’t go home. not without him.”

mingyu, despite his large frame, was surprisingly gentle. he leaned down to help you up, but you flinched away from him, your body swaying.

“come on,” mingyu coaxed, his deep voice comforting. “we need to get you home.”

but you weren’t having it. you shook your head stubbornly. “no, i need him,” you slurred, clutching at your chest as if it would ease the ache there. “only joshua.”

chan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “this isn’t going anywhere. i’m calling him.”

the moment chan dialed joshua’s number, you stiffened, your gaze sharpening, even though you were beyond tipsy.

“joshua…” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding.

it didn’t take long for joshua to pick up.

“hello?” his voice came through, the usual warmth in his tone immediately replaced by concern when he heard the situation.

“hyung, can you come?” mingyu said, his voice surprisingly tense for someone usually so laid-back. “(y/n)’s a mess. she won’t let us take her home.”

there was a long pause on the other end of the line. “what happened?”

“she’s drunk off her ass and crying over you,” chan explained. “we can’t get her to leave until she sees you. we’re at that bar near the corner. please, hurry.”

joshua didn’t waste another second. “i’m on my way.”

when joshua arrived, he found you, a sobbing mess, crumpled against the bar counter. mingyu and chan had both tried to console you, but you were inconsolable.

the moment you saw joshua walk through the door, your eyes widened. for a second, it felt like a dream.

your face, already flushed from crying, broke into a small, relieved smile. “shua…” you whispered, your voice raw and barely audible over the sounds of the bar.

you wobbled to your feet, and despite your blurry vision, you flung yourself into his arms.

joshua caught you instantly, his arms wrapping around you tightly, feeling the weight of your sadness. his heart broke as he felt how fragile you were in his embrace, how lost you looked.

“you’re finally here,” you mumbled, barely coherent, your voice trembling as you clung to him. “i waited for you…”

joshua’s heart ached at your words. you didn’t mean for him to hear, but he did. and it tore him apart.

“hey, hey, i’m here now,” joshua whispered, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, his hands soft against your skin. “it’s okay. i’m here, sweetheart.”

but before he could say anything else, your body went limp, your eyes fluttering shut as you passed out in his arms.

“sweetheart?” joshua called softly, but you were already passed out.

“oh boy,” mingyu muttered under his breath.

joshua face set with determination, “get the car ready. i’ll carry her.”

as he carefully scooped you up in his arms, joshua couldn’t help but scold chan and mingyu. “i can’t believe you two let her drink this much. she’s been sobbing all night, and you didn’t stop her?”

mingyu looked guilty, rubbing the back of his neck. “we tried, but—”

“don’t,” joshua cut him off, shaking his head. “just get the car.”

when joshua reached your apartment, he carried you inside, his heart still heavy with everything you had said. he laid you gently on your bed, tucking you under the covers.

but you stirred, a soft, drowsy whimper escaping you as you reached for him. you clung to his sweatshirt, your fingers weak but desperate.

“shua,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

"you can let go sweetheart, you're home now." he says as he patted your head softly.

“if i let go… you’ll leave me, right? forever?”

joshua felt a tightness in his chest as he watched you, your tear-streaked face filled with so much pain, so much fear of losing him.

he sat down next to you, gently brushing your hair away from your face. “i’m not going anywhere. i’m not leaving you,” he whispered, his voice filled with so much tenderness.

“promise?” you asked, your eyes barely open, looking up at him with hope.

joshua’s heart broke at how vulnerable you were, how badly you needed reassurance. how badly you needed his reassurance.

he didn’t say “yes.” instead, he spoke the words he had been holding back for so long.

“you were my first love,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “you still are. i would do anything for you.”

your breath hitched at his words, and for the first time that night, you finally felt a weight lift from your chest.

joshua stayed by your side, his hand gently stroking your hair as you drifted into a peaceful sleep. and now you're finally home, you're safe. he is here, and he isn't going anywhere.

[dissapointu]

can you do arcane characters with an s/o with POTS?

Of course! Here’s how the Arcane characters would react to having an S/O with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS). This condition, with its symptoms like dizziness, fatigue, and fainting, requires understanding and patience, and each character would approach it in their own unique way, ensuring you feel cared for and supported. Let’s dive in:

Jinx

Jinx would take a chaotic-but-loving approach to supporting you.

• When she first sees you get dizzy or faint, she’d panic a bit. “What the heck is happening? Are you dying? You better not be dying!”

• Once you explain POTS, she’d be full of questions, trying to understand what triggers your symptoms. “Wait, so standing up too fast is your kryptonite? Wild.”

• She’d create chaotic little solutions, like strapping a water bottle to your hip or designing a buzzer to remind you to hydrate.

• On bad days, she’d do everything in her power to distract you, pulling you into her projects or telling weird jokes. “If you’re sitting down, I’m sitting down. Team Couch Potato!”

Vi

Vi would be protective and proactive about your condition.

• The first time you feel faint, she’d catch you in her arms and gently guide you to sit. “Whoa, hey, you okay? Talk to me.”

• Once you explain POTS, she’d take it seriously, making a mental list of things you need: water, salty snacks, breaks. “Alright. We’ve got this.”

• She’d encourage you to pace yourself and wouldn’t let you push too hard. “Don’t be a hero, babe. Rest now, kick ass later.”

• Vi would carry a water bottle for you everywhere, and if anyone made fun of you or didn’t take your condition seriously, she’d step in immediately. “You wanna say that again?”

Sevika

Sevika would handle your POTS like the calm, dependable partner she is.

• When you first explain your condition, she’d listen carefully and nod. “Got it. Just tell me what you need.”

• She’d always make sure you have somewhere to sit, and if you get lightheaded, she wouldn’t hesitate to scoop you up and carry you. “Don’t fight me on this. It’s easier for both of us.”

• Sevika would keep a close eye on you, making subtle adjustments to her pace or plans to match your energy levels.

• On tougher days, she’d be quietly reassuring. “You’re strong, but you don’t have to do this alone. I’ve got you.”

Silco

Silco would take a practical, almost clinical approach to supporting you.

• The first time you get dizzy or faint, he’d calmly sit you down and say, “Explain to me what just happened.”

• Once you explain POTS, he’d immediately start ensuring his office and your shared spaces are optimized for your comfort—plenty of chairs, cool drinks, and opportunities to rest.

• He wouldn’t hover but would always observe you closely, stepping in if he notices you struggling. “There’s no shame in taking a moment to recover.”

• Silco would admire your resilience, occasionally reminding you, “Strength isn’t just enduring. It’s knowing when to rest.”

Vander

Vander would go full caretaker mode the moment he learns about your POTS.

• When you feel faint, he’d catch you with his strong arms and guide you to sit. “Alright, take it easy. What do you need?”

• After learning about your condition, he’d make sure you’re always hydrated and eating enough salt, even gently teasing you about it. “Here, drink this. Doctor’s orders.”

• Vander would subtly keep an eye on you in busy or stressful situations, stepping in if he notices you overexerting yourself.

• On bad days, he’d be your steady rock, holding your hand and saying, “You don’t have to do this alone, love. We’ll get through it together.”

Ekko

Ekko would be thoughtful and creative in helping you manage your POTS.

• The first time he sees you struggle, he’d be concerned but calm, helping you sit down and asking questions. “What’s goin’ on? How can I help?”

• After learning about your condition, he’d brainstorm clever solutions, like designing a portable cooling device or a collapsible stool for you to carry. “If it’s hard, let’s make it easier.”

• He’d encourage you to take breaks, framing it as part of your teamwork. “I’ll slow down if you slow down. Deal?”

• Ekko would never let your condition define you, constantly reminding you how strong and capable you are. “POTS or not, you’re still a total badass.”

Jayce

Jayce would take an enthusiastic, problem-solving approach to your condition.

• When he first sees you get dizzy, he’d panic a little but quickly focus on helping. “Whoa, are you okay? Sit down—here, take some water.”

• After you explain POTS, he’d immediately research everything he can about it, making sure he understands how to support you.

• Jayce would probably invent a gadget to help, like a hydration monitor or a fan-powered jacket to keep you cool. “Check this out—it’s practical AND stylish!”

• He’d always be there to encourage you, saying things like, “You’re amazing, even on the tough days. Don’t forget that.”

Viktor

Viktor would be quietly attentive and empathetic about your POTS.

• The first time you feel faint, he’d gently guide you to sit and ask, “What’s wrong? You look unwell.”

• Once you explain, he’d listen intently and start noticing patterns in your symptoms, subtly adjusting plans to accommodate your needs.

• Viktor would always make sure you’re comfortable, offering his arm for support when walking or reminding you to rest. “Lean on me. I don’t mind.”

• He’d admire your determination, often telling you, “You manage so much with such grace. It’s remarkable.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would take your POTS seriously and approach it with calm efficiency.

• The first time you feel faint, she’d gently help you sit down, her concern clear in her eyes. “Take your time. There’s no rush.”

• After learning about your condition, she’d discreetly carry essentials like water and snacks, always ready to help when needed.

• Caitlyn would plan activities with your needs in mind, ensuring plenty of breaks and opportunities to rest.

• On tougher days, she’d be your anchor, holding your hand and reminding you, “You’re stronger than this. And I’ll always be here to help.”

Mel Medarda

Mel would approach your condition with grace and thoughtfulness.

• When you first explain POTS, she’d listen intently and ask thoughtful questions. “What can I do to make things easier for you?”

• She’d adjust her lifestyle to ensure your comfort, whether that’s slowing down during outings or keeping water and snacks nearby.

• Mel would gently encourage you to rest when needed, always framing it as a way to preserve your strength. “There’s power in knowing your limits, darling.”

• She’d admire your resilience, often telling you, “You handle this with such poise. It’s inspiring.”

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa would respect your strength while taking charge of supporting you.

• The first time you feel faint, she’d catch you effortlessly and say, “Sit. Breathe. What do you need?”

• After learning about your condition, she’d make it her mission to ensure your safety and comfort, often taking charge of situations to avoid overexertion. “We’ll move at your pace. No arguments.”

• She’d admire your determination but wouldn’t hesitate to remind you to take care of yourself. “Strength isn’t about pushing through—it’s about knowing when to rest.”

Maddie Nolen

Maddie would be endlessly compassionate and supportive.

• The first time you get dizzy, she’d hold your arm and guide you to sit, her voice soft and reassuring. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

• After learning about POTS, she’d quietly learn everything she can to help, always making sure you feel supported.

• Maddie would be patient and understanding on bad days, offering comfort without making you feel like a burden. “We’ll get through this together. I promise.”

• She’d always remind you of your worth, saying, “You’re incredible, even when things feel hard.”

Lest

Lest would be gentle and caring, always attuned to your needs.

• The first time you feel faint, she’d guide you to sit, her voice calm and soothing. “It’s alright. Let’s take a moment.”

• After learning about POTS, she’d always stay close, subtly adjusting her pace to match yours. *“We’ll take it slow. No need to rush it..”

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 8

When John opens his eyes it is to a ceiling. That is his first indicator that something had truly changed.

He remembered bits of his last few weeks. His men had found him and pulled him from a gulag, an outdoor prison in northern Siberia. He had lost a lot of weight to simply keep warm enough to move breath. Turning his head with aching slowness he found the other side of your bed rumpled and still releasing heat.

“I’ve got him. I’m sorry I didn’t see your calls last night. John was at the door knocking and once I got him settled I couldn’t spare a thought for my phone.” Your voice shifts as if you are pacing in the hall. “Can you bring by some clothes and his toiletries?”

John rolls enough to rest his head where your smell remains the strongest, listening to you and his muppets plan on how to care for him while he heals. John knew he would need time to heal from this.

“When you get here can you stay long enough to help me get him washed up? I know he will feel more human with a little care.” A pause as you listen to whoever is on the other side of the line. “Yeah, I will ask him. See you soon.”

He would smile if his cheeks could contract with his face on the mattress. John had decided in Siberia that if you would have him he would marry you the moment he could stand for longer than ten minutes without needing a rest. You had mumbled to him in your sleep when your eyes could no longer stay open last night. Resting on your chest he felt the most tethered to his body and this planet he had since he had been taken.

The door opens on silent hinges. You find him instantly with his face pressed into the mattress. He hears you moving but doesn’t shift yet, waiting to see how you would react. Two fingers touched his pinky. As that had not been what he expected John pushed up with one arm to look at you.

Kneeling by the bed, chin resting on the edge you watched him.

When he caught your gaze you smiled at him so gently he felt a knot of emotion loosen ever so slightly in his chest.

“Hi, John. Can you stand?”

“Yes.” His voice sounded damaged even to his ears.

“Alright, let’s go brush your teeth then and get you some breakfast. One of your guys will be coming over soon with clothes and to help you in the shower. I have just two questions for you about all of this okay?”

John braces for a question that will turn over pain, memories wriggling like worms in the warmer soil of home.

“First question, do you want eggs, bacon, and toast or oatmeal for breakfast?”

He blinked at you. The words should have all made sense in that order but they didn’t. You wanted to know what he wanted to eat?

“Oatmeal,” he creaked.

“Wonderful, I have fresh fruit and jams and syrups. Now second question.”

He braced again.

“Your Lieutenants would like to know how you got off base. Can you tell me?” You look at him with such concern, as if you were worried he did something that might hurt him further.

The broken laugh hurt his throat. It caused his chest to ache with unshed tears as well. You rubbed a hand over his wild hair as his laughs morphed into tears. When he had cried himself out, a wet spot on your bed and your eyes glistening as well he told you.

“I got to my desk, pulled out my emergency cash, and walked out.”

“You just walked out?” The incredulous look you give him warms him. Even frostbitten and thin you stare at him as if he could hang the stars for you.

“Yeah, waved by to the guards as I passed and waited for my cab.”

You stood on your knees pressing your forehead to his.

“I’m so glad you made it back to me,” you whispered, a single tear falling to his wet spot on the sheets.

“I fought,” he whispered back.

“And you made it. Now I won’t kiss you until you have clean teeth.” You send him a big, bright smile. “Up you pop. If you’re stable on your feet I will leave you in the bathroom and get our oatmeal started.”

To his chagrin, John was stable on his feet. He didn’t trust himself to not actually fall over if he faked it so he let you lead him to the closed lid of the toilet seat, hand him a new toothbrush, and slid from his view. The comforting sounds from the kitchen slid through the space. With his mouth clean he did feel more human like you said he would. Keeping a hand on a wall John made his way into your eat-in kitchen, the bright space warmed him from the inside out with bright colors and thriving plants on the counter.

The instant you heard him you turned and pulled him into your arms. You feel like home. He holds you until the oatmeal begins to bubble. Twisting in his arms you turn off the stove and try to move to get some bowls.

“John. You need a shower, one of your guys will be here soon to help you wash. You are already shaking. Go and sit down.”

He takes the command, getting a small thrill of you telling him what to do. You serve him up as much as he will eat and by the time Roach arrives, John is falling asleep at the table. He gives John a gentle hand and helps him in and out of the tub leaving John feeling cleaner than even the time his grandmother had washed him and stripped a layer of skin from him. Roach settles him into bed with only a pair of boxers, John’s preference of sleeping wear when given the chance and John is asleep before he is fully covered with the blankets.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

That’s how your relationship officially starts with John you think, with him sinking into your bed in the middle of the night after escaping unspeakable horrors. He recovers day by day. His men visit and often spend the night on the couch. They loved him and wanted to see for themselves that he had put on weight and started smiling again.

The day he went back to work again he came home early to take you on a proper date. He wore his Christmas suit and you wore your New Year’s dress. John told you he had informed all of his muppets to stay away tonight, and that he would shoot anyone who tried to crash your date.

You weren’t worried. You were almost positive that he wouldn’t shoot to kill. But you had also gone ahead and texted the guys that if any of them appeared at your flat tonight then you would personally take in all of their pants a centimeter at a time until they busted through seams like the Kool-Aid man through a wall. They had all gotten the message.

Seamstress Masterlist | Masterlist

[mivalyn]

꒷꒦ Steamy relief ꒦꒷

18+, mdni!

Ghost x fem!reader

Cw: unprotected sex, smut

!Requests are open!

Word count: 1,177

It was raining heavily outside, when you finally stumbled through the door after a grueling shift at the hospital. The cold rain had seeped through every layer of clothing, clinging to your skin and sending chills down your spine. Your hair stuck to your face in damp tendrils, and your shoes squished uncomfortably with each step. The warm glow of your home felt like an oasis, but nothing compared to the sight of your boyfriend, Ghost, rushing toward you from the kitchen the moment he heard the door open.

“Hey,” you greeted him softly, your voice a little shaky as your teeth chattered. Water dripped from the hem of your coat onto the floor, forming a small puddle at your feet.

Ghost’s eyes immediately softened with concern as he took in your soaked state. Without a word, he grabbed a towel that had been casually thrown over the back of the sofa and wrapped it snugly around your shoulders. His large hands rubbed your arms gently through the towel, trying to coax some warmth back into you.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “Come on, honey, let’s get these wet clothes off you. Would you like to take a warm shower right now?”

“Yes, that would be great,” you replied, your voice quivering slightly from the chill that had settled into your bones. “I’m freezing.”

Then, with a hopeful tilt of your head and the softest, most pleading eyes you could muster, you added, “Will you shower with me?”

Ghost’s lips curved into a smile, the kind that made your heart flutter no matter how many times you saw it. “Of course,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. He could never resist your puppy-dog eyes, and you both knew it. “I’ll just finish up dinner real quick. You go ahead, undress, and wait for me in the bathroom. I’ll be right there.”

Before heading back to the kitchen, he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered for just a moment, his presence grounding you after the whirlwind of your shift and the chaos of the storm outside.

You shuffled to the bathroom, your fingers fumbling as you peeled off your rain-soaked clothes. Each article hit the floor with a damp thud, and you couldn’t help but sigh in relief as you stood naked in the warm, steamy air of the bathroom. The thought of Ghost joining you made your heart beat a little faster, a flicker of anticipation warming you from the inside out.

It wasn’t long before the door creaked open behind you. You turned to see him stepping in, his expression softening further as his gaze swept over you. He didn’t say a word, just began unbuttoning his shirt, his movements slow and deliberate. His body, sculpted by years of training and hard work, was a sight you never tired of. His broad shoulders, defined chest, and rippling abs were enough to make your mouth water.

You bit your lip, unable to hide the way your eyes lingered on him. He noticed, of course - he always did. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he teased, “You must like what you see.”

“Oh, I do,” you replied with a playful glint in your eye. “But I know it gets even better. I love your broad thighs... and that big, uncut cock of yours the most.”

His chuckle was low and rich, sending a thrill down your spine. “Good to know,” he murmured, kicking off the last of his clothes. “Come on, let’s get in the shower. You need to warm up... and I think I can help with that.”

The heat in his voice was unmistakable, and it made your pulse quicken. He guided you under the shower’s warm spray, his hands steadying you as the water cascaded over your chilled skin. The warmth was instant relief, but it was nothing compared to the way his touch felt as he reached for the soap and a washcloth.

Ghost moved with purpose, his hands gentle yet firm as he lathered the soap and began washing you. His fingers brushed over your shoulders, your arms, and your back with care, but when he moved lower, his pace slowed. When his hands found your pussy, his touch became deliberate, his fingers teasing your folds while his thumb pressed lightly against your clit.

“You’re so ready for me, baby,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He lifted you effortlessly, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he pulled you against him. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he instructed, his deep voice sending shivers through you.

You did as he said, your arms wrapping around his neck as you felt the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Slowly, he pushed inside, stretching you inch by inch until he was fully seated within you. The sensation was overwhelming, your body arching as you gasped his name.

Ghost began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending sparks of pleasure through you. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he poured all his love and passion into the moment. He shifted his angle slightly, and the next thrust had you crying out as he hit your g-spot perfectly.

Your moans grew louder, echoing off the tiled walls as he quickened his pace. The pressure building inside you was unbearable, and you clung to him desperately, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you chased your release.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with need.

And you did. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling in his arms. Ghost followed moments later, his pace faltering as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing as he spilled into you.

He held you close as you both came down from your highs, his hands stroking your back soothingly as he kissed your temple. After a few moments, he gently pulled out, his cum dripping from you in a way that made you blush. Ever the caretaker, he cleaned you up, his touch tender as he made sure you were comfortable.

He carried you out of the shower, drying you off with the same care before dressing you in soft, warm clothes. His own towel hung loosely around his hips as he led you to the kitchen, where dinner was waiting.

As the two of you sat at the table, eating the meal he’d prepared, you couldn’t help but smirk. “We should shower together more often,” you said, your tone light and teasing as you winked at him.

Ghost chuckled, his lips quirking into that familiar smile that made your heart flutter. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice warm and sincere. “We definitely should.”

You both laughed softly before returning to your meal, the unspoken bond between you stronger than ever. It was just another moment in your life together, filled with love, intimacy, and quiet joy.

[salparadiselost]

Christmas, Kansas

“Yello” said Jason, elbows deep into the Batmobile because while the Bats away the Robins will play and all of that shit. Really, it was Bruce’s fault for giving Jason a pair of keys back into the Manor. What was the man expecting? For Jason to not take advantage of Bruce’s corporate trip to LA and pass up the opportunity to give the Batmobile a few “upgrades”?

“Jason? Oh, thank god, you have to come get me.”

Jason hummed. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jason remembered some vague discussion about Bruce being gone and Dick starting to get concerned about it. 

“And why would I do that?”

“I’m trapped,” Bruce’s voice was starting to get a bit frantic. “Look I don’t know how much time I have left on this pay phone, but you need to get your siblings and come get me. I’m in a town called Christmas, Kansas. It’s at approximately 39 degrees north by 101–”

“Wait, the town is called Christmas?”

“Yes,” Bruce growled this word out with so much disdain that Jason was reminded about how the man talked about the Joker. “The town is trapped in Christmas. It’s trying to get me to feel the Christmas Spirit.”

Jason’s eyebrows crinkled together. “But you're Jewish?”

“That’s what I said! But no, apparently, anyone can feel the Christmas spirit, and I’m trapped here until I feel it, too. But I don’t feel shit except for the cold, because did I tell you, but it snows all the time here. It’s May! Jason, it’s May! And we have had three winter storms that have trapped us inside to force us to bake cookies and decorate trees and I’m going insane, Jason. I’m going insane! This might be what breaks me! I’m not singing Fa La La La La in fucking May, Jason!”

Jason had frozen, eyes widening as Bruce’s tirade ended, and all he could hear was his dad heavily panting into the phone. 

“Holy shit,” Jason whispered. He had heard Bruce at some of his worst and it was rare to hear Bruce sound so miserably exhausted. He was more used to Bruce sounding like he had a fair amount of control on things, but this man… this sounded like a man breaking. 

“Please come get me,” Bruce was practically pleading now. “I called Clark, but he’s been taken by this town’s delusion and apparently enjoys being here.”

Jason huffed a ragged laugh. “Of course he would, that man bleeds small-town Americana. He’s probably trying to get you to do all the Christmas traditions with him.”

“Yes,” Bruce said so miserably that it actually made Jason feel a bit bad for the guy. 

“Give me a few hours,” said Jason, sighing internally as he signed himself up for getting into more of this family’s bullshit. “I’ll have Tim trace the call, and we will come find you. In the meantime, go enjoy a cup of cheer.”

“I think if I drink another hot cocoa I’m going to have a sugar induced heart attack.”

“Cocoa? Who the fuck was talking about cocoa? I mean whiskey, Bruce. Or vodka. Or anything else strong and alcoholic that will tide you over until we get there.”

Bruce gave a grumbly, stilted laugh into the phone that definitely didn’t mess with Jason’s heart a bit and made him feel like he was twelve again. 

“Alright, Jay, I’ll see you soon.”

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 13

It's a race to the finish line as we are nearing the end. I am quite proud of this little story. I started posting the weekend the Olympics ended and continued until almost Thanksgiving!

The final two chapters will come out tomorrow and Friday.

In this we have Steve learning progress is not a straight line, Dr. Hughes is brilliant, and Eddie's dreams come true.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

~

The year just flew by, with Steve and Eddie working in the off season. Andy and Haley called them crazy.

“You’ll only burn him out,” Haley said, “then he won’t make it to the trials, let alone the Olympics, Steve.”

“I know you think this gung ho approach is going to do the job,” Andy agreed, “but it’s just not sustainable. You’ll wear him out before it’s competition time again.”

Steve looked back and forth between them in open mouthed shock. “You guys honestly think I would take advice from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Fuck off.”

They were flabbergasted that he would speak to them that way, as if they hadn’t spent the last year mocking both Eddie and Steve’s progress in the pool.

Steve just shook his head and walked away. He was doing much better now. He could get in the pool up to his waist and duck under the lane divisions, but he couldn’t put his head under the water. He had even tried kneeling into it, but he had jumped out of the water so fast, he left a huge wake behind him.

It took him two more weeks after that to even put his toe in the water again.

He had never been so disappointed in himself. Not for him. Oh no. But for the look of pity on Eddie’s face when he turned around after having booked it to the lifeguard tower.

Dr. Hughes had admonished Steve for feeling that way. “Your recovery is not predicated on how Eddie feels about it. And I highly doubt it was pity, Steve. You know Eddie better than that. He was concerned for you. As I’m sure Robin was too.”

Steve was forced to acknowledge that he just wanted Eddie to be proud of his progress.

“Steve,” Dr. Hughes said gently, “we’re all proud of your progress. You can go into the water all the way up to your chest. That is a long way from freaking out over putting your foot in the water.”

He took a deep breath and let the words of encouragement slide over him like waves in the ocean. Oh how he wished the pool was just the ocean. Dark, fathomless and deep. Unknowable and therefore conquerable.

He explained the feeling to Dr. Hughes.

“The ocean doesn’t bother you?” he asked tilting his head to the side.

Steve frowned for a moment and then shook his head. “It’s not clear like pool water. I can’t see the bottom and know how far it is for me to drown.”

“Oh.”

A smile spread over Dr. Hughes face. “I’ve got the best idea.”

~

“What are these?” Steve said pulling out the weird goggles.

“They’re for tanning booths,” Eddie explained with a grin. “They’re so you can’t see.”

Steve frowned at them for a moment. “What am I not supposed to see?”

Eddie just continued to grin without saying a word. He put them over Steve’s eyes and led him through the halls. As they did, Steve started to hear waves crashing and the sound of gentle breeze.

“What the hell?” he asked, but Eddie continued to lead him on without a word.

He led Steve to the edge of something and that’s when he spoke.

“Just dive in,” he murmured. “It’s okay, we’re here for you.”

Steve was about to ask who else was there, but it didn’t matter. He trusted Eddie not have anyone there that would make fun of him. So he dived into the water and just swam. It felt so good to just let himself go. To just swim properly for the first time since the accident.

Then he touched a wall. He let his body sink and hit solid floor. The water only came up to his chest. But there was no way they would have let him dive in the endless pool or the kiddie pool.

He tore off the goggles and looked around. He was on the other side of the pool from the door.

“What the–”

On the side of the pool were Robin, Eddie, and surprisingly Dr. Hughes. Dr. Hughes was sitting in one of the folding chairs Steve often sat in during staff swims, Robin was standing next to him with her phone held out, and Eddie was crouched by the edge in case Steve panicked and needed to pulled out of the pool quickly.

He let out a startled laugh, pushing his hair out of his face. “That was amazing!”

“You did it, pretty boy!” Eddie shouted. “You swam in the big pool.”

The sound of the waves and wind cut out and Robin put away her phone with a grin.

He waded over to the edge of the pool to where Eddie was crouched. “So I did. Was this your idea, Dr. Hughes?” he asked, looking around Eddie to the seated man.

He smiled fondly. “It was. We’ll slowly build you up to not needing the sound, then not needing the goggles. The brain for all its complexities can be easily tricked.”

Steve laughed out right. “That’s brilliant!” His smile turned into a grin as he looked up at Eddie.

“Uh oh...”

But before he could get out of arms reach, Steve grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the water. Laughing and splashing around.

Robin turned to Dr. Hughes and murmured, “Thank you. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Dr. Hughes said. “He really wants to get better. To overcome his fears and that makes him...hmm...I’m not sure easier would be the right word. More teachable, perhaps.”

“Despite all his dad’s faults and trust me he had many,” Robin said solemnly watching her best friend, “Clint could tell Steve loved the water. Like really loved the water and he did everything he could to make that happen for Steve. It’s just too bad the bastard got so wrapped up in winning he forgot that.”

Dr. Hughes nodded. Steve was happiest in the water and if he could help him get that back even just a little, then Dr. Hughes considered it a success.

~

The Olympic trials had finally arrived and Steve was nervous as hell. Not only because Eddie was going against Jason Carver to be on the team and Billy being there, but because Bob Newby. He was one of the best and he was worried Eddie wouldn’t live up to his exacting standards.

Thankfully Bob came over right before the meet started to chat.

“I’ve been hearing some really good things about your boy, Eddie,” Bob said after they exchanged pleasantries.

Steve grinned. “He’s good, Bob. Like proper talented, good.”

“I can’t wait to see him,” he replied with a nod. “I was hoping to see another name on this roster, was a little sad you weren’t on it.”

Steve blushed. “If I felt better about that damn pool behind you, I probably would have. But I just can’t. Not right now.”

Bob gave his elbow a squeeze. “I feel that. I’m just glad that they offered the coach position to me first. Their second choice was Billy fucking Hargrove.”

Steve leaned his head forward in surprise and disgust. “Are you kidding me? He barely medalled, why would they want him?”

“I don’t know,” Bob said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Bribery. That would be the only reason for it. Straight up Olympic bribery, like fucking Salt Lake City didn’t blow the cover on that particular can of worms.

“Well, it’s good to see you again,” Steve said. “I’ve got go get my boy ready.”

“We’ll talk more after the meet,” Bob said.

Robin walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Eddie is going to do just fine.”

Jason, who had been walking by, scoffed. “Your boy is throwing up chunks in the locker rooms.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Like your beloved coach wasn’t doing the same thing at the last Olympic trials and he still made it. So fuck off.” He waved his hands at Jason, who stomped off with a scowl.

Robin smirked. “He was throwing up because someone told him one of the other athletes was gay.”

Steve smirked back. “I’ll just go check in on Eddie. I’ll be right back.”

He walked into the looker room and everyone started pointing out the direction of the hurling. They knew who Steve was and they sure as hell knew who he was coaching this year.

“Eds?” Steve murmured walking up to the stall.

“Fuck man,” Eddie murmured. “Me and my band play to actual fucking crowds and I’ve never been this nervous before.”

“That’s because you’ve never had the chance to be seen on the world stage before,” Steve said soothingly. “I think you’d be throwing up before a performance if you were told that there was a talent scout in the audience who if they liked your stuff would be giving you a contract.”

Eddie stopped to consider that. “Oh yeah. Okay. I see your point.” He stood up and opened the door to the stall. “You gotta level with me coach, am I good enough?”

Steve took his head in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. “You are. You are one of the best swimmers I’ve ever seen and you have got this in the bag.”

Eddie gripped Steve’s wrists and nodded. “I’ve got this.”

He opened his eyes and saw how close they were. It would take absolutely nothing to press their lips together. Just tilt his head up.

Then a locker door slammed Steve jumped back, dropping his hands from Eddie’s face. His own face was burning.

“Steve...” Eddie murmured, holding out his hand to him. “It’s okay.”

“I want to so bad,” Steve muttered back. “But I’m coach, I can’t.”

Eddie smiled. “If I make it to the Olympics, you won’t be. Bob will. So just think about that for a moment.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “You’re a menace, Eddie Munson.”

“You love it,” Eddie said, leaning into his space.

Steve playfully pushed him off. “Go blow away all the judges, rockstar.”

Eddie saluted and led the way out of the locker rooms, out to the pool, a fond Steve following behind.

~

The stands were stacked to the gills of all their friends and family. Max wasn’t trying out for the Olympics this year, opting to wait until she was older before she tried out. Steve and Susan were very proud of her making that decision for herself. She would be sixteen next time and they, and Robin thought it would the best for her.

It was going to be a crazy week. Having over a thousand athletes all vying for the same fifty spots. And a lot of those spots would be filled by the same people across the board.

Steve wasn’t sure what was worse: for first and watching everyone else beat your time or go last and be forced to watch all the amazing athletes go before you. Well Eddie was about to find out.

He was in the first heat on the first day for his first event and most of his heats were also on day one. Which thankfully, Jason was not. Jason was in the middle of the week and had been complaining about it to everyone who would listen longer than five minutes.

Chrissy Cunningham was at the end of the week. The first heat on the last day.

Steve gave Eddie’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Show the country who’s the best, Eddie,” he murmured. His hand slid down Eddie’s arm and he gave his hand a squeeze too.

Eddie smiled brightly and then tucked his hair under his cap. He padded over to his podium and started warming up his limbs. The whistle blew and he pulled down his goggles and got up on the podium. He crouched on it backward, still as can be, waiting for that shot.

BANG!

And Eddie arced into the pool backward, the strong lines of his body sending butterflies to the base of his rib cage and his heart rate rabbited.

Eddie was beautiful. There was no denying that. The last two years had taken him from a scrawny teen to a whipcord strength. His tattoos were beautifully on display and Steve let out a shuddering breath.

Robin took his hand and they watched as Eddie cut threw the water like a hot knife through butter. He was exquisite.

It was nerve-wracking every time he went into the water, but every time Eddie emerged from the water in the top three if not the top spot.

They watched and waited the whole week as others did the same.

When the results were tallied up at the end of the week, Eddie, Jason, and Chrissy were all going to the Olympics in London.

Eddie came bounding up to Steve. “Better get packing for London, pretty boy. I’m going to the Olympics!”

Steve laughed as he spun them around. “All right, all right!” he cried, laughing. “I’ll come watch you compete!”

“Yay!”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. He wasn’t sure if he could handle going to the Olympics and watching other people live his dream. But he’d do it. He’d do it for Eddie.

He’d do anything for Eddie.

~

Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @eriquin

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

[hypnoneghoul]

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 13

WC: 1,5k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Pregnancy, Mild Dysphoria, Fluff

“Do you know what ‘seahorse dad’ means?”

Notes: Tysm to @jimothybarnes for beta reading :3

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 13 under the cut or on AO3.

It has always been rare for Swiss to feel dysphoric, and even though he’s been experiencing it more since he started showing, it still doesn’t happen that much.

It’s only sometimes that he’ll catch a glimpse of his reflection somewhere and fall down an ugly spiral that he has to be fished out of by his mate.

By the time Christmas comes around, Swiss is five months pregnant and he is huge.

Being ghouls, they don’t really celebrate Christmas, but everyone loves the atmosphere and the fun of it, so every year they simply…skip the christian parts. Most of the Abbey does; it’s a big thing and the name of the festivities is up to everyone’s personal preference—Christmas, Yule, Winter Solstice, or nothing at all.

One of Swiss and Mountain’s favorite parts about that time are sweaters. They love getting matching Christmas sweaters that half the world’s population would cringe at; they have so many stuffed in the back of their closet—waiting for their time to shine year after year.

Unfortunately, this year they have not accounted for Swiss’ current size. It’s been so busy, neither of them thought about the sweaters until they saw someone else wearing them and remembered about their little custom.

The multi ghoul tries. He looks for the most stretchy sweater there is and gets Mountain’s, instead of his own. They are a little oversized, anyway, it should work.

More or less…

“It’s okay if it doesn’t fit, darling, we don’t have to wear them this year,” Mountain assures him, but he knows Swiss won’t budge—and it’s not only about the damn sweater. It’s about tradition, but also about how his body is changing. He doesn’t particularly like it.

Swiss grunts as he wiggles into the sweater—refusing his mate’s offer of help—and eventually he does get it stretched over his baby bump, but the knitwear is holding on for dear life.

Mountain sighs, looking down at a strangely distorted reindeer. He looks up at the multi ghoul’s face when he hears him sniffle, though, and his heart breaks a little.

“Oh, my darling…” he coos, coming up to Swiss to hug him. “It’s okay, we can find you a different one that doesn’t squeeze you so much. Maybe Aether or Omega have something.”

“It’s not–not about the sweater,” the multi ghoul cries, whining into Mountain’s neck.

“What is it then, my heart?” he asks gently as he rubs Swiss’ back.

“I look like a sack of potatoes! How can you even look at me, I’m all swollen, and then there’s these–these fucking stretchmarks, and–and…” he sobs, but the last part seems to get stuck in his throat.

Mountain wants to know what he’s working with before he addresses every single concern of his mate. He also knows that it’s going to make everything worse if Swiss keeps some part of it in, so he prods gently, “What’s the ‘and’ about?”

The multi ghoul sighs before shoving his face further into the other’s neck to mumble out something incomprehensible.

“My heart, you know I didn’t catch that.” Swiss groans, but moves his face.

“I look like a woman…” he mutters; still quietly, but understandably now.

“My darling,” Mountain starts, pulling back to look into his mate’s eyes when he speaks, “my beloved mate, light of my life, I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He waits for Swiss to nod before carrying on, “You’ve grown because you are carrying our children inside you. Our kits, our babies; you’re going to give them life, bring them into this world! I can only imagine how it feels, and I wish I could take all the hardships of it away from you, but it truly is a wonderful thing and I couldn’t be more proud of you. You do not look like a sack of potatoes, or a woman. You look absolutely beautiful, my handsome man, and I know you can see in my eyes that I mean every single word. Can you not?”

“I can…” the multi ghoul replies quietly—as if ashamed that he’s even dared to doubt his mate. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my heart,” Mountain smiles and brings Swiss close again for a tight—albeit careful—hug. It lasts a good couple minutes before the earth ghoul notices that his mate starts to shift his feet in discomfort; even though he doesn’t say anything. The earth ghoul pulls away. 

“Do you know what ‘seahorse dad’ means?” he asks, suddenly having remembered something that Rain had mentioned to him a couple weeks ago.

“I don’t think so…” Swiss admits.

“When seahorses make babies, it’s the males that carry them,” Mountain explains. “Apparently trans men that get pregnant are called seahorse dads because of that.”

Swiss stares at him with his mouth slightly agape for a moment. It turns into a smile before he bursts into tears again. The hormones have really turned him into a mess.

“That’s so cuteee,” he all but wails, his crying now cuteness-induced, instead of…the other kind of crying. Mountain considers it a win.

“It is,” he chuckles, wiping Swiss’ tears away, “let’s lay down and I’ll show you some pictures, hm?”

“Okay,” he sniffles and follows his mate to the bed. He cringes at the tight sweater he’s still trapped in, though. “Ough, help me out of this damn contraption.”

Mountain laughs, but helps free him, indeed.

“I’ll text the group chat and get you a sweater for this year, my heart,” he promises, and Swiss doesn’t doubt it. He knows that if Mountain didn’t manage to find one to borrow, he’d make one from scratch overnight—just so his mate wouldn’t be upset. That’s how much he loves him.

The earth ghoul lays down first and Swiss joins him right away. He snuggles himself into Mountain’s side, resting his stomach against his mate’s hip and his face in the crook of his neck. Swiss inhales deeply, trilling at that familiar scent he loves so much; the smell of the first days of summer.

As promised, Mountain gets out his phone and sends out the ‘sweater wanted’ text first, then moving onto TikTok to find some seahorse dads for Swiss—both the actual fish and pregnant trans men. The former makes the multi ghoul shed some more cuteness-tears, and the latter succeeds in boosting his confidence and chasing the dysphoria away.

They stay in bed for a little while—as they’ve been doing most of their time for the last couple weeks. Swiss needs all the rest he can get and Mountain doesn’t want to step away from him for even a second. He doesn’t have anything better to do, anyways; all his outside work is paused for the winter after he and the other earth ghouls have secured everything against the cold.

So Swiss and Mountain keep snuggling—the earth ghoul caressing the other’s stomach as he purrs—until a phone buzzes somewhere. It got lost in the sheets, but once it’s recovered, the multi ghoul chirps happily at the message.

It’s from Omega, he sent Mountain a couple photos of the sweaters he has and could not only borrow, but give away. Apparently, every time they were on tour in the winter, Terzo had gotten the older quintessence ghoul a silly Christmas sweater, so he’s got plenty.

“I can go get them right now,” Mountain offers, “got any favorites, darling?”

“Hm…” Swiss stares at the pictures, zooming in and out and thoroughly analyzing every sweater offered. The earth ghoul gives him time and after a moment he makes his decision. “This one!”

Mountain smiles, kisses Swiss on the forehead and jumps out of bed to go grab it. Omega’s only downstairs, so it’s only a moment. The multi ghoul uses that time to go to the bathroom—it’s not a quick business nowadays.

When his mate returns with the sweater, Swiss is ecstatic. He’s buzzing with excitement and if he weren’t pregnant, he’d be jumping up and down. Mountain laughs as he helps him wiggle into the sweater and while it’s clear that it wasn’t made with pregnant people in mind, it fits nearly perfectly.

The earth ghoul could just about cry, seeing his mate so happy over something so…basic and small. He brings him in for a hug.

“Merry Christmas,” Swiss purrs, nuzzling the side of his face against his mate’s.

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Mountain whispers before kissing him—deeply, but softly. When they pull away for breath, the earth ghoul winks and gets down on his knees before Swiss.

At first he thinks he’s about to get a naughty early gift, but instead of pulling down his pants, Mountain pulls up the bottom of his—not that long ago Omega’s—sweater. Swiss looks down at him with his brows furrowed in confusion as his mate kisses his bump.

“Merry Christmas to you, too, little ones,” Mountain mumbles and Swiss tears up once again.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox @karmicbias @wine-irytatus @ghoultrifle (if anyone from here wants to be removed lmk, and also if anyone else wants to be added)

[insidekatmind]

Meet my sister P.4-Jude Bellingham

Part.1,Part.2,Part.3

plot: Federico Valverde wants to introduce his younger sister to Jude, his teammate. He hoped that something romantic would be born between them seeing that their characters were perfect together but things take a different turn

The following day, Federico had arranged a special lunch with Jude, Kylian, Vinicius, and, of course, his sister Y/N. Despite the palpable tension between Jude and Y/N, Federico hoped the situation wouldn’t escalate and that everything would go smoothly. He knew how complicated both of their personalities were, and he didn’t want his lunch to end with another argument between them.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Y/N was already there, sitting at the table with a radiant smile, completely unaware of Federico’s concerns. She wore an elegant dress that seemed to fit her style perfectly, her brown hair falling softly around her shoulders. There was something in her demeanor that immediately caught attention, but today she seemed calmer than usual, as if she had decided to take a step back.

Federico approached Jude before he sat down.

"Please, Jude," he said in a serious tone, "try not to argue with Y/N today. I know you two don’t like each other, but let’s try not to ruin everything. It’s important to me that you both behave civilly, at least today."

Jude looked at him, his eyes showing slight irritation. "Don’t worry, I’m not here to fight," he replied sharply. "I’ll try to hold my tongue." But there was no promise in his gaze, only a silent challenge, as if the thought of Y/N was always there, ready to make him react.

Kylian and Vinicius sat down at the table, both smiling, aware of the tense atmosphere but ready to have fun despite it all. The tension between Jude and Y/N didn’t go unnoticed, but Federico hoped that with time things might improve, at least during lunch.

Y/N gestured for you to sit next to her, her curious gaze watching you as you took your seat. A faint smile spread across her face, but there was nothing hostile about it. "I hope you’ve eaten, Jude," she said, her tone sarcastic as always. "I wouldn’t want you to get upset if my order is better than yours."

Jude, who had now taken his seat, slowly turned toward her, trying to keep control. "I’m not going to get upset over something like that," he replied with a sly smile, "but I hope you don’t actually believe your order is better than mine."

Federico sighed, looking between the two of them. The atmosphere seemed charged with almost palpable tension. But, maybe, a little irony and a teasing smile would manage to keep things at least somewhat calm.

---

The lunch continued with an atmosphere charged with tension, but also a certain electricity hanging between you and Jude. Both of you challenged each other with your looks, almost as if it were a game, but while he seemed more serious, you were visibly more entertained by the situation. You couldn't help teasing him, enjoying how he reacted to each of your moves.

When Vinicius started making some jokes, you, without thinking too much, leaned toward him, responding with a light laugh and flirting a bit with his natural charm. "You know, Vinicius," you said with a mischievous smile, "I'd love to see how you move on the dance floor. I see you're good at making girls' heads turn."

Vinicius, always smiling, seemed to appreciate your playful attitude. "Well, Y/N, if you'd like, we can go for a spin once we're done here," he replied, giving you a look that left little room for interpretation.

Jude, who had been watching from a distance, couldn't help but clench his teeth and shoot you a dirty look filled with annoyance and jealousy. Every word that came out of your mouth seemed like a little provocation towards him. There was no doubt you were enjoying making him angry. His expression became harder, but you kept smiling, enjoying the moment.

"I thought you'd be more interested in what's on your plate, Jude," you said, giving him a mischievous glance. "But I see you're distracted." Your voice almost sounded like a challenge, as if you really wanted to test him and see how far he'd go.

Jude stared at you, his look now completely different, darker, and more determined. The annoyance he felt mixed with something deeper, but he would never admit that he found you intriguing. "I don’t get how you manage to do all this without losing control," he muttered, his voice sharp.

Meanwhile, Vinicius, who didn't seem to want to miss the chance to keep the atmosphere light, laughed heartily and got involved in the conversation. "I think Y/N knows how to have fun," he said, looking at you with a knowing smile.

But Jude didn’t seem amused at all; in fact, his face had grown serious. He continued staring at you with a look that, despite trying to appear indifferent, betrayed a hint of frustration.

Federico, sitting next to you, quickly glanced between the two of you, hoping the situation wouldn’t get out of hand. But it was clear now: the challenge between you and Jude was just beginning, and the tension was only going to grow.

---

The tension between you and Jude continued to grow visibly, and soon, the words began to get harsher. While Vinicius and Kylian spoke to each other, trying to lighten the mood with jokes and laughter, you and Jude couldn't hide the irritation you felt for one another any longer.

"What's wrong with you?" Jude suddenly snapped, his tone full of frustration. "Every time I open my mouth, it seems like you have something to say back, don’t you realize how annoying that is?"

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his reaction, but without stopping to keep it intimate and provocative. "Oh, really?" you replied, pretending to be surprised. "It doesn’t seem like you’re suffering that much. In fact, it seems like you kind of like it, considering you can’t stop looking at me."

Jude gritted his teeth, his gaze now burning with anger. He couldn’t understand how you could drive him crazy so easily, but a part of him couldn’t look away from you, despite everything. "You like testing me, don’t you? You thought I’d let some kind words slip out, maybe?" he retorted, his sarcasm sharp.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I do," you responded with a mocking smile. "I enjoy seeing how you react. It's almost funny, if you think about it."

Federico, who had been trying to stay calm until then, looked around and saw that things were getting out of hand. "Hey, enough!" he intervened, trying to lower the tension. "Please, don’t start fighting now. I’m trying to keep this a civil dinner."

But you didn’t stop. Your provocative spirit was too strong, and his behavior annoyed you even more. "But you don’t really want to listen, do you?" you shot back at Jude. "Because if you don’t like me making you lose your patience, maybe you should look for someone who stays quiet. And I don’t think that’s me."

Jude slammed his fist on the table, his face darker than ever. "You have no idea how badly you’re making me want to completely ignore you," he said, his voice trembling with repressed anger. "But I know that's exactly what you want, right? You want to drive me crazy. Don’t think you’ll win with me."

"We’re already in the game, Jude," you replied, your voice deeper and sharper. "And I can see you like playing, at least a little."

Federico ran a hand over his forehead, feeling his heart race. He didn’t want everything to end like this, but it was clear that your battle with Jude had just begun. What was supposed to be a calm dinner was turning into a real battleground.

---

When they left the restaurant, the atmosphere was still tense, and despite Federico's attempts to keep the peace, the argument between you and Jude had left its mark. The guys parted ways, heading to their cars to go to training, but the heavy silence that followed was yet another sign that the tension hadn't subsided.

Federico, who could no longer stand the constant hostility between you and Jude, finally exploded. He approached Jude with determined steps, stopping him before he could get into the car. "I can't take it anymore, watching how you behave with her!" Federico burst out, his voice full of frustration. "Every time you two cross paths, it's the same story! I'm asking you to calm down, to stop fighting with her, and all you do is provoke her!"

Jude, who until that moment had tried to keep a facade of indifference, couldn't help but react. "It's not like you think, Federico," he replied, trying to sound calm, but his voice betrayed a defensive tone. "I don't want to argue with her, it's just that... she's unbearable! Every time I open my mouth, she answers like she's trying to challenge me, and you don’t understand how hard it is to stay calm with someone like her."

Federico looked at him, his eyes full of disappointment. "You don't get her, Jude. She's just a bit... different. She's an exuberant person, always ready to throw out a challenge, but that doesn't mean you should treat her like an enemy. I know her well, and I assure you, beneath all that attitude, there's just a strong personality. She's not trying to wage war on you."

Jude sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, trying to contain the anger that continued to burn inside him. "She's driving me crazy, Federico," he admitted, looking at his friend with frustrated eyes. "I don't know what to do. Every time I see her, I feel like I have to be careful with every word I say because I know anything could seem offensive to her, even if it's not. It's like she's always ready to throw her fight at me."

Federico took a step back, trying to think of how to explain things better. "She's not challenging you, Jude. She's not trying to provoke you on purpose. She just has a way of doing things that might seem hard to handle, but I'm telling you honestly: she's just testing you. And as much as you want to deny it, I know something attracts you to her, even if you don't want to admit it."

Jude looked at him for a moment, in silence, as if he were trying to figure out if what Federico was saying made any sense. "I don't know, Federico…" he finally replied, his tone softer. "But I can't deny that something about her drives me crazy. But I don't even know how to deal with her. She's not the type of girl I’d expect to meet."

Federico smiled wryly. "Yeah, but maybe that's exactly why you should stop acting tough and try to understand what's behind that facade. She's not just a game, Jude. She's a complex person, and if you really want to have any chance with her, you need to stop treating her like a challenge and start seeing her for who she really is."

Jude remained silent, thinking over those words, but deep inside, he knew that the battle with you was just beginning. A cocky smile slipped out, but there was also a hidden unease. "We’ll see, Federico. We’ll see."

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 22

Chapter 22 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Buck is completely blindsided by Eddie’s sudden request to divorce. In an attempt to talk about it, they end up fighting, which makes the possibility of a divorce only more looming.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (slow burn)

Warnings: referenced emotionally abusive parents, insecurity

~~~

Chapter 22: Till Divorce Do Us Part

Buck nearly drops the glass he’s washing at Eddie’s words. Scrambling for a moment, before he squeaks out: “What?”

“I think we should get divorced,” Eddie repeats those horrible words, staring down intently at the dishes he’s drying instead of Buck.

“Uhm, why- wha- what brought this on?” Buck stutters, trying to be casual and failing. He can’t show how much this crushes him, can’t let Eddie know how much he wants him to stay.

Internally he is quickly combing through the past few weeks to see if he can come up with the answer himself. To see if he should have seen this coming.

With Carla in the picture things have been going better, but he didn’t realize it was ‘Buck can be replaced’-going-better. Eddie never said anything to indicate that would be the case.

Besides, financially it would be difficult to maintain Chris’s new school – which he loves – and Carla, not to mention their mortgage. So that doesn’t make sense. Though it is possible, a treacherous voice in the back of his head tells him.

He missed the school tour and Halloween, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Eddie personally tried to get him off for Halloween, he knew it hadn’t been on Buck. Is that he thinks that if he can do that alone, he can do it all alone?

It would make sense, but Eddie involved him, right? He helped prep for Buck’s tour, hell, Buck toured the school. He is registered there. Is Eddie immediately going to change that now that Chris is in? Was it just to present a more stable life to the school to get Chris in?

No, that doesn’t feel like Eddie. Eddie is kind and good, even if he’s a bitch sometimes. He pep talked Buck about getting to be there for Chris. That can’t be it. He understood.

Oh god, he must have met someone. They’d always said they would just divorce once other people got into the picture, it has always been nothing more than a marriage of convenience, not a lifelong commitment. The reminder leaves a foul taste in his mouth and he can’t help the jealousy at whatever mystery woman Eddie met. One he didn’t share anything about, he might add, even if he’s now divorcing him over her.

Not wanting Eddie to break it to him, he quickly continues talking before Eddie can. “Oh, of course, my bad. Why didn’t you say? What’s her name?”

“Maddie.”

Wait what?

“Excuse me,” Buck coughs, choking on his own spit.

Next to him Eddie flushes a brilliant shade of red, which Buck would have been able to appreciate more, were he not in the middle of getting his heart broken. Even though he really shouldn’t. Eddie has never been into him, he always knew that, but it truly felt like they were in this together, like this was a commitment on both their parts. Yet here he is.

Though, he never thought it would be Maddie. Maybe this girl Eddie met just happens to share the name or something?

He gets distracted by Eddie’s strong hand slapping him on the back until he stops coughing. His face concerned, though turns back into something horridly, awkwardly uncomfortable once Buck starts breathing normally again. It would be funny, if the circumstances were different.

“Not like that,” Eddie says and Buck can’t help but be relieved, because while he knows jealousy isn’t cool, he knows he will be insanely jealous of the woman that will quite literally snatch his husband away from him.

To cover for his relief, he hides the happy note in his voice by joking: “Good, cause otherwise Chim might kick you.”

“Shut up,” Eddie groans, still very much embarrassed, but at least not as tense anymore. “I’m trying to be nice.”

“By suddenly ambushing me with a divorce?” Buck counters, cringing when it sounds a little too raw, too accusatorial.

Eddie doesn’t meet his eyes. He hasn’t really for the entire conversation. He just stares at the drying rack and picks up a plate, angrily drying it in silence. Buck desperately wants to fill the silence like he so often does, chattering for the sake of chattering. Eddie likes it when he babbles, said so himself when he came home after touring the school.

Home… like he soon might not have anymore, because of Maddie? Because Eddie thinks divorcing him is being nice? He’s so confused and a little hurt. It’s enough to give him the patience to wait Eddie out.

Sure enough, a minute or so later, Eddie breaks. “I just don’t want you to miss out on time with your family because of me.”

The failed attempt to tell Maddie three days prior comes back to him, but he never guessed that this is what Eddie would take from it. That now that Maddie is here, Buck would rather want to spend with her than with Eddie and Chris. That he has real family to spend time with now, because this was never his family to begin with, no matter how much house they played.

“Is this about Christmas?” he asks. “I can still try and see if Maddie wants to spend it with me, so you can enjoy it with Chris and tía Pepa.”

“What?” Eddie frowns.

“If you don’t want me at Christmas so you can have one with only family, you can just say that. I get it,” he says, feeling the bile in his throat.

Eddie whips around so fast he startles Buck a little. For the first time he looks at him, eyes burning fiercely. “What the fuck are you on about, Buck? It won’t be only family without you there.”

Despite the bit of warmth bubbling up in his chest, he can’t help but feel like Eddie is merely saying it because he has too. An obligatory inclusion only done out of guilt. Now it’s his turn to look away, as he quietly says: “We’re a marriage of convenience based on very convoluted circumstances. It’s okay to not want to include me.”

“No. Just no. Fuck that, Buck. You raised Chris, practically more than me. We do our taxes together, we do chores together, Abuela gives you secret family recipes. You’ve been here through more shit than anyone else, of course you’re family,” Eddie explodes.

“Well, divorcing me isn’t really sending that message,” Buck yells back, knowing it is too much, but unable to keep the hurt to himself.

“I’m trying to help you,” Eddie argues.

“It’s not working, Eddie,” Buck retorts, more desperate than angry.

“Maybe it would if you weren’t so incredibly stubborn, Evan,” Eddie says, the words hitting Buck harder than any punch would have.

Eddie might be used to people who argue back; Shannon, his parents, tía Pepa. But Buck isn’t an arguing person, not really. He can get angry and argue, but he rarely does. Prefers not to. However, the ‘Evan’ is too much. It doesn’t sound like how Eddie used to say it, he sounds like Buck’s parents.

He can feel himself shutting down and he puts the sponge on the counter before he says: “No. I am not doing this. I’m not fighting with you and you’re not calling me Evan.”

His voice is calm, but it’s not because he’s no longer upset, it’s just that his emotions have taken a vacation, because that is the only way he’s getting through this situation. With one last look at Eddie’s face – who looks devastated, a fact that would probably do something to Buck were he not feeling the way he is – he turns on his heel and walks out of the kitchen and to his room.

The door closes behind him with a definitive click and Buck just stands in his room for a moment. Today has not been what he expected when he climbed into bed this morning after his shift. His bed is still unmade, civvies still littering the floor. His room looks lived in. Loved. He can’t imagine not waking up here with the Diazes down the hall.

Mechanically he makes his bed and puts the clothes on the chair or in the laundry respectively, his body slowly becoming his own again.

Meanwhile in the kitchen Eddie is staring at the door through which Buck just disappeared, dishtowel still in his hand. He can’t believe he just did that.

He is trying so hard to make life easier for Buck and all he did was cause more problems. It’s seemingly the only thing he’s good at. Buck deserves so much better than his bullshit, but he can’t even give the guy his freedom back without fucking it all up.

Eddie should have known better. Buck never argues, doesn’t like fighting with people. He doesn’t even like it when others fight around him. The only times Eddie truly seen him angry and act on it, is with Eddie’s parents and that is only when they truly pushed too far. So to fight with him? To throw his name in his face like that after all he knows about him? That’s practically unforgivable.

He has to make this right.

Making the bed and putting his clothes away makes Buck feel better. He has settled down back in himself and calmed down enough to replay the conversation. What Eddie said didn’t make him feel great and he hates the idea of getting divorced, but it’s what they always said they’d do. He can’t not hear Eddie out, because he doesn’t want it to happen. That’s not fair on Eddie.

Still, he wonders what sort of divorce Eddie will suggest. If Buck will get to help with Chris as much as Eddie always promised or if Eddie’s solo success will make it that Buck will get a smaller role in Chris’s life.

Buck really doesn’t want to hear it. But he has to. He tries to comfort himself with the fact that Eddie seems to genuinely think it’s in his best interest. It’s not malicious, he should maybe hear Eddie out. If he isn’t still angry.

As if summoned, there is a soft knock on his door. Immediately his nerves start up again, but his resolve also hardens. He doesn’t want Chris to come home in a house where he’s fighting, he never wants that for Chris. So he calls out: “Yeah?”

“Uhm, ‘m sorry,” Eddie says, the words a little muffled. He’s never been great at them when it isn’t his female relatives, so the fact that he’s saying those words to him at all is kind of touching. “Can- Can I come in?”

“Are you going to yell at me again?” Buck asks, not in the mood to be yelled at more in his room, because that means he can’t run to his room. He might be too forgiving sometimes, but he’s not completely stupid.

“No, no, I shouldn’t have yelled at all,” Eddie answers embarrassed.

“Then you can come in.”

The door is opened carefully and Eddie pokes his head in first, scanning the room and Buck to see if anything is out of place. If there is a threat. It’s a little heartbreaking and a little sweet at the same time.

“Wanna sit?” Buck asks, gesturing to his bed and very much trying to stop his brain from playing connect the dots between Eddie on his bed and other things that can be done on a bed.

Eddie nods, sitting down and looking around Buck’s room. Buck sits next to him, but Eddie doesn’t look at him. He’s used to the quirk and doesn’t take offense, instead waiting Eddie out again. It is clear he has something to say, he just doesn’t know how or is too uncomfortable to say it yet.

“Sorry,” Eddie finally says after a long silence. Two sorries, practically a record out of Eddie.

“It’s okay,” Buck says with a small smile, knocking their shoulders together.

“No, it’s not,” Eddie says, the indigence on Buck’s behalf apparently enough to help him over his discomfort. “I was a dick and you didn’t deserve that. You shouldn’t just forgive me like that.”

“Eddie, what good will it do to stay mad?” Buck states, sternly yet gentle, leveling a look at Eddie as he does.

“I don’t know? Boundaries or something?”

“God, you’re so clueless it’s sad,” Buck snorts, earning a glare. To clarify, he adds: “I can stay mad at you, but then we’ll just be fighting. Us fighting makes me sad. You’re obviously sorry and you didn’t mean it, I don’t need more than that. I’d rather just hear what you wanted to say, before it became a fight.”

“I was telling you that you’re family,” Eddie reminds him, suddenly keen to jump on the change in topic. “I thought you knew you were.”

Buck thinks the sad, kicked puppy vibe Eddie has going on now is worse than when he was mad at him. He can feel his own cheeks darken anyway, because Eddie is including him in family. Under no uncertain terms no less. It’s more than he ever dares to hope for, even if he dreams of so much more.

Timidly he confesses: “I mean, I did. I do. You- you just told me to enjoy time with family, as if I don’t do that every day. It got to me.” He looks Eddie in the eye when he says that and can see the guilt in them as the realization dawns on him.

“That’s not what I meant, at all.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just- I- ugh,” Eddie groans in frustration. “You’re always doing things for me. Always helping me, us.”

“I like helping out and it’s more just doing my part, we’re partners, remember?” Maybe it’s good to remind him of that, maybe that will make it so he’ll soften the blow.

“You shouldn’t have to lie to your sister.”

“And divorcing her will solve that problem how?” Buck asks, now more confused than anything. It is clear that Eddie feels guilty about something, but Buck can’t imagine what. He’s always happily been here, Eddie knows that, right?

At least that might mean he isn’t trying to get rid of Buck now that he can do it solo? Maybe he feels bad that Buck doesn’t have the support of family like he has and wants to try and fix that for him.

Not that Buck calls what Eddie’s family does support (except for Pepa and Abuela). I mean, his parents outright hate all his choices and his sisters aren’t involved in his life enough to have much of an opinion and most of the extended family is either purposefully left in the dark or a little shitty about it too.

Still, it’s sweet that he’s trying, makes Buck feel better about the whole divorce thing, but he doesn’t get how that will help.

Eddie actually perks up slightly as he gets prompted to explain his thought process. It would be kind of adorable, except he is going to explain why divorce is a good option. Now, Buck always knew this marriage would end in divorce, but he’s still going to cling to it, cling to this life he has. It is mildly pathetic, but he doesn’t care. If Eddie can be reasoned out of it, Buck is going to reason to all hell.

“Well, if we get divorced, we won’t be married anymore, thus not breaking any rules. We can say we were already in the process when I started that’s why we didn’t tell anyone. They’ll probably understand and then you can tell Maddie without worrying about her having to keep it from Chimney or us having to worry about her telling him.”

Buck isn’t sure if it’s because he wants this marriage to work for as long as possible or if Eddie just didn’t have time to think it all through, but he can’t help but immediately poke holes in it.

“How will that change anything? We’ll still be written up by HR for not saying, probably separated over it and that is if we don’t lose our jobs. We still lied, Eddie And we’d probably still be a risk, because we’d be raising Chris together. I’d have to check, but it won’t surprise me. Then were will we be at?”

Eddie is quiet, frowning slightly.

When he doesn’t say something, Buck answers his own question: “If we lose our jobs, we won’t be able to afford Carla, we might have to sell the house, and Chris will have to stop at Durand when he just found his place there. Let’s face it, we’re in too deep to ever tell the 118, if I want to tell Maddie, she has to keep it from people.”

At his words Eddie’s frown only deepens and Buck realizes he just told Eddie he’s stuck in this marriage. As much as he wants to be with him, he doesn’t want it because Eddie feels trapped, because Buck wormed his way into a life that was never his to begin with and did what he always did: make himself necessary, so he wouldn’t be abandoned.

“Look,” he starts again, this time more gentle, “if you find someone or you don’t want to do this anymore, we can get divorced behind the scenes. We’ll figure out custody and a schedule so Chris won’t lose a parent again, I promise. But divorce won’t change this thing with Maddie.”

It’s quiet and this time Buck lets it be quiet. Eddie is processing his words and figuring out what he feels about it, that’s no easy task.

After some time, Eddie throws up his hands and – dare he say it – pouts: “It just feels unfair.”

“What does?” Buck asks, a little amused by Eddie’s reaction. And because said reaction makes it seem like Eddie is seeing his side and not divorcing him. Big win for Buck.

“I get to talk about Chris at work, get to take time off to spend it with him, I get to tell family and not worry, and you don’t. It’s unfair,” Eddie exclaims, once again angry on Buck’s behalf, but not directing said anger at Buck. That makes it funny and touching, instead of hurtful. A world of difference.

“It does kind of suck,” Buck admits, because it does. He loves Chris to death, loves his family, he would love nothing more than to brag about it.

But maybe it is for the best, because he’s pretty sure everyone will realize he’s madly in love with Eddie the second he gets to take the mask off and that will mean Eddie will find out about it, because the 118 is horrible at staying out of each other’s business, and then Eddie will run far away from him and break his heart, because Buck isn’t meant to be in love with him. This is a platonic marriage. Platonic.

“See!” Eddie says, vindicated. “We should fix that.”

“As much as I am usually pro-fixing things, this isn’t something that needs to be fixed,” Buck says quickly, before Eddie can take it and run with it.

“It isn’t?” Eddie doesn’t believe it for a second.

“I mean, it would be nice, but it’s not the end of the world. I still get to be Chris’s papi and trust me when I say I brag in those pick up lines at school. Besides, the school interview was an off day, I’m usually better at charming my way into a shift swap. I won’t miss everything. Plus, I am so going to kick you off the science fair team, that’ll be my show.”

Eddie can’t believe how unreal this man is. That he’ll turn anything into a positive, that he sees helping Chris with a science fair project as something fun, instead of a chore. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Buck asks, confused.

“For just being here.”

“Of course I’ll be here,” Buck smiles and it sounds like a promise.

Eddie desperately wants to cling to it, because despite asking for a divorce like an hour ago, he doesn’t want Buck to leave. His own papi always left, his mom turned against him, Shannon left, Abuela was forced to move, army buddies slipped through his fingers. He’s always been on his own, but Buck never left, never made Eddie feel like he wouldn’t be in his corner. He doesn’t want to lose that.

“Me too,” is what he ends up saying, because anything else feels too much like rolling over and showing the soft underside of his belly. He hates doing that.

Still when Buck smiles, it feels like it’s enough. Buck always makes him feel like he’s doing enough.

Buck is over the moon with the promise, the promise that Eddie won’t just leave him like everyone else always seems to do. However, he needs to make sure they’re actually on the same page, so he bumps their shoulders together and asks: “So, are we good? Or do I need to find a lawyer?”

“Nah, we’re good,” Eddie says. Then he clears his throat, obviously done with the emotional talks for today as he asks: “We still have some time before pick up, wanna play some video games?”

“Hell yeah, I’ll kick your ass any day,” Buck grins.

“Bold words for a man, who always loses.”

“You let us play Rainbow Road and we’ll see if you still say that,” Buck bickers, as they get up and make their way to the living room.

Slowly the normal atmosphere returns again and you’d never think they’d just got close to a divorce or that they’d even argued.

Chris is happily oblivious as they pick him up together, just excited they’re getting ice cream and not asking why. Both watch him smear his face with chocolate ice cream fondly. He’s gotten his love for chocolate ice cream from Buck, who is licking his own cone, while Eddie eats his rum and raisin scoop. His actual favorite is citrus, but he never gets it. Buck knows though, he buys it ‘for himself’ sometimes and pretends he doesn’t see the scoops that go missing.

They both know it’s apology ice cream for Chris, who will never know how close they got to turning his life upside down an hour or two ago. It had been Eddie’s idea, the ice cream, and Buck wonders how long he’s going to do the silent guilty thing, where he doesn’t say anything, but tries to make up for something anyway. It always makes Buck feel a little weird.

Fortunately, he needn’t have worried, because after a week of Eddie cleaning obsessively and refilling his coffee like he’s a waiter trying to get a tip, they go back to normal.

It happens when they’re at work, Bobby makes a delicious casserole. Buck is enjoying it when he feels a nudge against his foot. He looks over to Eddie, who looks down at his plate, then at Buck with imploring eyes.

Fondness explodes inside his chest and he gives an indulgent eye roll, even if his insides feel gooey at the silent request, before he asks: “Hey, Bobby, can I get the recipe for this?” getting a triumphant grin from Eddie as he does.

Bobby explains the recipe, while Buck lets the casserole be, so Eddie can go in for seconds. The whole interaction settles something in his chest, finally letting himself believe that Eddie meant what he said during that day.

In a way, it’s been good for them. A kind of check in to see where they stand. They both have an out and both have assured the other they don’t want it.

Buck is still waiting for the day Eddie does, for the day he’ll come home from a date and know that this is the one. He knows his heart will break when he signs those divorce papers, but the knowledge that Eddie won’t just leave him, soothes the sting of that future.

Eddie, on the other hand, has been assured that Buck still wants to be here, that he doesn’t just want to run and isn’t waiting for the day Eddie will be able to do it by himself. They’re partners. A team. He doesn’t have to do it alone, Buck doesn’t expect him to. It’s not a chore to him.

So, they move on, both more secure in themselves as they work together as they’ve always done, while Christmas slowly approaches.

~~

A/N:

This is more communication Eddie has done than in all his years of life combined, but by god, Buck will have normal conversations with people and Eddie’s crush on Buck will make him do wild shit to get Buck to stay (even if he doesn’t know that’s why he’s doing it) ((I am manifesting this energy for Eddie in 8x09))

And yes, last chapter was a bit of a fake out, I fully enjoyed all the comments and felt very evil, made my week, thank you so much <3

Also shout out to Eddie for the giant brick wall he built his a brain and just doesn’t allow him to examine his feelings for Buck too deeply, like I know repression is one hell of a drug, but seriously? This is getting out of hand and I’m writing you!