#i swear to god... if these two were real then i would keep the alcohol so far away from them SOLELY for this reason. like you can't just do

[anthromimicry]

you know, i never thought i would say this, but i think misao and one of my other characters (barton) actually DO have something in common. and that is that they are the kind of person to do something extremely risky, like chase painkillers with alcohol, but whenever someone else tries to do it especially if they are one of their loved ones, then they are basically the embodiment of this meme:

and then they immediately try to STOP them like they didn't just do the same exact thing that was on the borderline of being almost self-injurious with how reckless it was. like, UMMM idk whether to just be genuinely concerned for these two or to reacquaint them with the reasoning behind why doing that is SUCH a bad idea 😭

[chvoswxtch]

Court baby i've waiting for this moment! I have this idea for a fic living rent free in my head. Its Frank x fem!reader. They were in a very cozy and confy moment when the snap happened and reader was blipped! You could write how Frank deald with those five years and with reader coming back. With a lot of angst moments and flufly and maybe spicy after she comes back. I would love if you accept this request! Thank you, I love you ❤️

i'm not gonna lie to you, the blip is my least favorite marvel storyline, but I love you so I put myself and frank through it just for you 🖤

I would say sorry that i'm about to emotionally wreck you but in my defense, you did ask for this so...enjoy or don't

warning: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, guns, & alcohol, heavy angst, very brief allusion to suicide (blink and you miss it) word count: 4.1k

the blip.

A split second. That’s how quickly Frank lost you. He turned his back for a second to refill his mug of coffee, and when he turned back around, you had vanished seemingly into thin air. At first he thought maybe you had gone back into the bedroom to grab a sweater or something. It had been a bit chilly in the kitchen, and you were always cold. But then a few seconds turned into a few minutes, and Frank didn’t hear any shuffling or soft footsteps. He didn’t hear anything at all. The crisp silence had an icy sense of dread trickling down his spine, and when he didn’t hear your sweet voice responding to his cautious calls of your name, he went into a full blown panic.

You were gone.

Year One.

This wasn’t happening again. It couldn’t be. There was no way he had survived losing Maria and the kids just to find you, to let your endless patience and irrevocable empathy fill the gaping void in his chest, only to lose you too. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. Frank didn’t consider himself a good man; he was well aware of and acquainted with his demons. But he didn’t deserve this.

Did he?

It was forty-eight hours before anyone even knew what happened. One giant asshole snapped his fingers, and half the universe’s population ceased to exist. Frank had stopped believing in God a lifetime ago, and he certainly didn’t believe in aliens or otherworldly creatures. He had seen first hand during his time in the Marines that mankind was the real monster. But it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in it, because it happened, and not even the fucking Avengers could stop it. Hell, half of them were gone too.

Two weeks after the snap, news broke that Thanos had been killed, and that the Infinity Stones were destroyed, but the remaining members of the Avengers were trying to come up with a way to bring everyone back. For months Frank was glued to every news outlet, frantically waiting for even the smallest of updates. Anything was something. He refused to believe that the snap was permanent. The Avengers were going to find a way to bring everyone back. They had to. 

Your pillowcase had stopped smelling like your shampoo, and Frank found himself using it and your body wash just to keep your scent on the sheets. He burned your favorite candles and read your favorite books. He wouldn’t stay gone longer than fifteen minutes in case you finally came home. He wanted to be there when you did. Frank kept himself busy with little projects around the house, things that you had mentioned changing or updating that he had promised he would get around to and never did. Frank swore to himself when you came home, things would be different. 

He would take that trip you wanted to go on. He’d take you to the shelter to pick out a dog like you had been talking about. Maybe you two would finally start a family. Whatever you wanted, he’d give you. He’d find a way to give you the goddamn moon and every single star in the sky if you wanted them. 

As soon as you came home.

But then a year went by, and nothing had changed. The anniversary of the snap came and went, and everyone seemed to give up hope on bringing everyone back, or they just decided to move on and accept that no one was coming back.

But Frank couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He refused to believe you were really gone.

Year Two.

The worst part about the snap was that Frank couldn’t collect his vengeance in blood like he had with his family. The one who took you from him was already dead, and even if he hadn’t been, Frank had no way of reaching him. Thanos was a Titan, someone who was revered as a God to those that followed him, and Frank was just a man. A man poisoned with rage and an insatiable thirst for revenge. So, he did what he was good at. He punished. Even though half the universe’s population was gone, that didn’t mean there weren’t still monsters left on Earth.

Frank killed without mercy or prejudice. There was no sin too harmless for his wrath. His fists collided with skin and bone until there was nothing left but ivory fragments tainted crimson and torn flesh. He didn’t stop, not even when his destructive blows caused his own knuckles to crack. It had gotten to the point where he hardly reached for a gun anymore unless he absolutely had to. He preferred to use his hands or serrated steel. He wanted to inflict every ounce of pain that he felt inside on whoever was stupid enough to get in his way.

It was like he wasn’t even mentally present anymore. His conscience had been shut off somehow, and all that was left was a relentless killing machine. Whenever he ran out of targets in the city, he moved on to hunt in the next one, and the next one, and the next one. He lived primarily out of his van, or whatever dingy motel he came across on the road. He hadn’t stepped foot in your home in almost a year. He couldn’t. It was haunted by your memory, and he couldn’t desecrate the home you two had made together with what he had become.

You would be ashamed of him. You would be disgusted and horrified by the things he had done. That thought echoed in his head as he watched the water continue to run red while he stood under the weak spray of the shower head. He didn’t know what town or even what state he was in. He didn’t know what day of the week it was, or what month it was. He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were gone, and he had nothing left.

Nothing left but the white hot fury that infected his veins and had him seeking out blood like water in the desert.

Year Three.

Frank couldn’t visit you, not like he could Maria and the kids. He couldn’t even have the closure of burying you, because there wasn’t a body. There was no final resting place for you, and he didn’t think that was fucking fair. Today was your birthday, and Frank had been drowning himself in whiskey trying to dilute the painful memories that played in his head like a haunting home movie. 

The angelic sound of your voice as you read him whatever book your nose was buried in that week, your fingers slipping through his dark tresses while he laid his head on your chest and listened in pure content. The feeling of your soft lips on his heated skin and delicate noises of pleasure as your bodies connected like they were made for each other. Your melodic laughter, the silkiness of your skin, slow dancing in the living room with the moon acting as a spotlight. 

All the words he never said. All the promises he didn’t get to keep. All the dreams that wouldn’t come true.

Somehow Frank found himself in a church. He couldn’t remember the last time he stepped foot in one. Maybe it was Sunday school back when his parents still forced him to go. He had stumbled in, his heavy boots thudding along the aisle, the only other sound coming from the amber liquid sloshing around in the half empty bottle in his hand. He stopped when he got to the front, looking up at the stained glass depictions of angels, until his weary eyes landed on the savior that was nailed to the giant cross.

Frank glared at him for several minutes before hurling the half empty bottle right at the head of the statue, causing a firework explosion of shimmering shards of glass to rain over the altar and various candles that had been lit for loved ones that had passed on. His rough voice boomed throughout the empty space.

“You son of a bitch! Why didn’t you take me, huh? Why not me? She ain’t never done a goddamn thing wrong. I’m the one you want. I’m the one that deserves it. I’m the goddamn killer here, huh? I’m the fuckin’ Punisher. So you bring her back, and you take me!”

Frank started grabbing bibles from the pews and hurling them at the statue with all his strength. In his inebriated state, some of them flew right past the statue and knocked over other small figurines and candlesticks. He let out a guttural war cry every time he threw a new one, and by the time he ran out of steam, he was panting heavily, and tears had formed in his eyes.

Dropping to his knees, he looked up at the melancholic face of the statue that matched his own, and he did something he hadn’t done in years. 

He prayed.

“Please. Please, just bring her back. I’ll take her place…I won’t fight…just…just bring her back. I’m beggin’ you…I’ll do whatever it takes, alright? Just…you can’t…you can’t do this to me again. You can’t. I may deserve it, but she don’t…okay so just…just…”

Frank was tired. Three years without you was too long. He hadn’t been able to find the peace that he had found after Maria and the kids. He spent a year waging war on everyone, and it did nothing. He spent the last few months drowning himself in booze, and it didn’t help. Nothing helped, and there was nothing to keep him going. You were gone, and you weren’t coming back, so what the hell was he still getting out of bed every morning for?

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Frank pulled out a revolver and stared down at it. There was only one bullet in the chamber, and it wasn’t meant for anyone but him. If God wouldn’t bring you back, then he would go to you.

As soon as he cocked the hammer, a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“You don’t wanna do that, Frank.”

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Frank squinted his blurry eyes before turning back around, shaking his head with a dry laugh.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Half the goddamn universe gets wiped out, and I get stuck with the fuckin’ altar boy.”

“Frank-”

“Mind your fuckin’ business, Red. Just cause there’s only one bullet in this chamber don’t mean I won’t handle your ass.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few cautious steps towards where Frank was on his knees in front of the altar.

“You’re drunk-”

“And you’re fuckin’ relentless. Go home.”

“Look, whoever you lost-”

“Whoever I lost? I lost everyone, Red!”

Matt didn’t flinch when Frank suddenly rose from his knees and stormed over towards him, his loud voice booming in the silence as they stood barely an inch apart. Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, his lips pursed as he grit his teeth.

“You think you’re the only one that’s lost everyone you’ve ever cared about, Frank?”

“Then what the hell are you waitin’ on, huh? You too much of a fuckin’ pussy to do it yourself, huh? That it? You need me to do it for you?”

Matt carefully reached out to place his hand on Frank’s arm, lowering the gun that was in his hand while he spoke in a calm voice.

“I don’t want to die, Frank. And I don’t think you want to either. You just want the pain to stop. But if you do this, it’s permanent, and you’ll never know if she came back.”

Frank shook his head and blew a puff of hot air out of his lips, his dark brows scrunching up in pure annoyance and frustration.

“She ain’t comin’ back-”

“You don’t know that. She’s not dead, Frank. She’s lost. Maybe she’s with Karen and Foggy. Frank, someone came down from another planet and wiped out half the universe. Is it so crazy to think that could be undone?”

The anger that was simmering inside Frank from Matt’s intrusion seemed to be burning through the alcohol in his system, and Matt’s question was igniting a tiny ember of hope that Frank wasn’t prepared to tend to. His body physically deflated as he dropped his head between his broad shoulders. There was a heavy tide of tears on his bottom lash line threatening to flood at any moment.

“Don’t do that.”

“You have to have faith, Frank-“

“I don’t, Red.”

“I do.”

Frank didn’t know when Matt managed to slip the revolver from his grasp, but he didn’t feel the weight of a permanent decision in his palm anymore. Matt had planted a tiny seed of hope, and what if’s were taking over Frank’s brain like wild ivy. 

What if there was a chance you could come back? Matt had a point, you weren’t dead. Not really. Even if the probability of it happening was one in a million, didn’t Frank owe you the same unwavering patience you had always shown him?

“Look Frank, just…give me a year. One year to show you things can be different. If you still want to make that call in a year, I won’t stop you. I’ll leave you alone. But Frank…you’ve gotten through this once before. You can do this again. If not for yourself, just try for her.”

A year. A year was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Frank had already been without you for three years now. 

What was one more?

Year Four.

Matt’s apartment was fucking obnoxious due to that goddamn billboard across the street, but it was better than the shitty motels Frank had been staying in. He still couldn’t step foot in the home he had shared with you. It had been three years now, and even though he wasn’t fully convinced you could come back, he couldn’t let it go. Everything that was you was there, and if he sold the house, that meant every trace of you and your existence was gone.

Matt had one rule for Frank staying with him; no killing. For a week, Frank lounged on the couch trying to figure out what to do with himself. He would start to read a book, but could never get more than a few pages because he remembered how much you loved to read, and then he would get stuck staring at the pages while memories of you played on loop in his head. There wasn’t a TV because Matt didn’t have use for one, and Frank didn’t care to watch anything anyway. It didn’t take long for Frank to go stir crazy. He had never been good at staying idle.

While Matt was out making the world a better place, Frank had managed to find a construction job. Busting down walls all day long allowed him to get his pent up anger out while not breaking Matt’s golden rule. Most days it felt like Frank was on autopilot. He woke up, went to the job site, smashed a sledgehammer through a wall until his hands bled, came home, tried to sleep, inevitably had a nightmare about losing you, and laid on the couch staring blankly up at the ceiling until the sun rose.

Every single day was a repeat of the last until they started to blur together. Frank didn’t speak to anyone at the job sites. He didn’t speak to anyone at all. Between Matt’s busy court schedule and his nightly patrols, they didn’t see each other often, and even when they were home at the same time, Frank still hardly spoke to him. He wasn’t sleeping, he barely ate, and on the days he had off, he didn’t leave the couch. He felt like a hollow shell of the man he used to be.

Matt knew what he was going through. Hell, he had been there himself after the second time he lost Elektra. He knew what it felt like to lose the person you loved most in this world, and that had happened to Frank twice now. He did his best to be patient, but after four months, he couldn’t take it anymore. Matt was fortunate that he’d had people that helped him combat his depression to find his way back to himself, but Frank didn’t have a soul in his corner.

Except for Matt. 

And even though Frank wasn’t shy about not wanting Matt’s help, Matt didn’t care. Frank could be stubborn, but he didn’t have the energy or the drive to match Matt’s stubbornness, and Matt used that to his advantage. He was relentless in pushing Frank to participate in life again. He purposely antagonized Frank, even if it meant being reduced to a human punching bag, because that meant Frank was still in there somewhere.

Matt started small in getting him out of the apartment, like guilt tripping Frank into joining him on trips to the grocery store.

��You’re not gonna help your blind roommate get groceries? You know, a lot of items don’t come with braille labels. So when I die because I accidentally put bleach in my coffee instead of creamer, you have to say nice things about me at my funeral.”

“You don’t need labels, Red. You got that goddamn bloodhound nose. Would you stop lookin’ at me like that? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine. Get your fuckin’ jacket and let’s go.”

After a while, he even managed to get Frank to join him at Fogwell’s from time to time.

“No wonder you became a goddamn lawyer. All you know how to do is fuckin’ argue, makes sense you made a livin’ outta it.”

“I’m not arguing, Frank. If we got in the ring, you would lose. That’s a fact. You don’t know how to box, you just know how to run at people and slam them into things. And you’re too bulky to move as fast as me. None of that is an argument, it’s a simple observation.”

“Why don’t you observe your ass in that ring so I can shut you the fuck up, Red.”

The more time they spent together, and the more Frank put in an effort to move forward one step at a time, the less empty he felt. The nightmares still came every so often, and there were days where the weight of your absence was too much for him to bear, but for the first time in four years, he didn’t feel so hopeless.

He could think about you without breaking down. He could see something that reminded him of you, and it warmed his heart instead of ripping it out. He had finally reached a point where he had slowly crawled out of the deep pit of grief that he had been digging for the past four years.

As much as he hated to admit it, Matt had helped him find a semblance of peace.

Year Five.

The sound of a dog barking caught Frank’s attention. He pulled his head out from under the hood of his truck, looking over at the grey and white pitbull that was standing a few feet away from the front door of the house you and Frank had lived in together that he’d finally moved back into six months ago. He glanced between the front door and the dog with his thick brows furrowed.

“What is it, Daisy?”

The dog turned her head when she heard Frank’s voice, the movement so fast it made her long velvet ears flop. She turned her attention back to the door and continued to bark. Something inside had caught her attention. Eyeing the front door warily, Frank rubbed his grease stained hands off on a small rag and walked over towards where Daisy was, kneeling down beside her to gently scratch that spot between her ears that she loved.

“Hey, shh shh shh. C’mon now, what’s got you so worked up, huh? What do you think is inside, huh? You smellin’ that-”

The sound of the front door opening caught Frank’s attention, and he instantly snapped his head in the direction of it. All of a sudden, his warm brown eyes went wide, and time seemed to freeze in that very moment. 

“Sweetheart?”

His quiet whisper was dripped in disbelief. There you were, looking exactly the same as the day you had vanished, looking between Frank and Daisy with an expression of surprise and perplexment.

“Frank?”

God, your voice. It had been five years since he had last heard it. That was all the confirmation he needed that this was real. You were real. You were really home. 

Without wasting a second, Frank stood and ran over towards you, tears filling up his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your frame and hugged you as tightly as physically possible. His heart was thrashing against his ribcage, and he was terrified this was just a vivid dream, but then he inhaled the scent of your shampoo intermingled with your perfume, felt your hands gently pressing against his back, and heard your soft angelic laughter.

“Frankie…baby…you’re crushing me.”

Frank pulled back only slightly, bringing his large hands up to cup your face to study your features, taking in every single inch of you. He caught the way you frowned softly, looking up at him in pure concern when thick tears streamed down his cheeks. You lifted your hand to delicately brush them away with the featherlight touch of your fingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re really here.”

“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be? Baby, why are you so upset?”

As you ran your hands through his long grown out curls, a crease of bewilderment nestled in between your brows when you took in his appearance.

“Wait…what happened to your hair? It was just short five seconds ago…and you didn’t have a beard. How…how did you do that? And when did we get a dog? Frank, what-”

Five seconds ago. 

Is that all it was for you? Frank could see the visible disorientation on your delicate features, and he had a lot of questions of his own, but right now nothing mattered but you. He leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss, pouring every emotion he had felt in the past five years into it. He kissed you like the world could end at any moment, because for him it did the day you vanished.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a deep exhale of relief.

“You…you were gone, sweetheart. You were gone a long time…a long goddamn time.”

“Gone? What-”

“I’ll explain everythin’, I promise. Just…just give me a minute, please. Just let me hold you for a minute, can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

Frank had always been able to read you like a book, and he could tell by the look in your eyes that you weren’t just confused. Hearing you had been gone for a long time infused you with a sense of panic and uncertainty. But you trusted Frank, and you knew whatever hard truth he was going to tell you, he wouldn’t let you go through it alone.

“Okay.”

As Frank embraced you again, you suddenly felt a pair of paws on your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the happy dog wagging its tail while looking between you and Frank. Reaching down, you gently pet the side of her face with a soft smile.

“Hi there, precious.”

“Daisy.”

Glancing up at Frank, your lips parted slightly when Frank told you her name. A soft smile covered his lips, the first smile to do so in five years. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear slowly.

“You always said if we got a dog and it was a girl, you wanted to name her Daisy.”

Tears welled up along your bottom lash line as you looked up at Frank, a gentle smile covering your lips. After a moment, you glanced away from Frank to look at Daisy again, letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Daisy.”

Frank gave your waist a light squeeze, leaning in to press a soft lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And we’ve been waitin’ a long time for you. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[leaawrites]

Lie to Girls (LH44)

Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

Summary: in which, both lie to themselves to keep the butterflies alive.

Warnings: angst, lying, bit toxic behavior, swearing,

Wordcount: 0.8k

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

It could’ve been different if she was someone else. Someone who was able to confess their own thoughts and not let the mirror blind her when looking at him. The pink tinted glasses of life taking over her whenever he did something he swore not to do, reminding her of all good he’d done for her.

“Lewis, why is the bottle standing there. Half empty?”

She knew he’d been drinking, more than before. She knew he lied to her about it. She knew he wouldn’t stop now and be honest with her all of a sudden. It wasn’t his way of life. Whatever happened, as long as it was bad, never happened because of him. It was always something outside of his control.

“Baby, I swear, I only had one drink. It was already this empty when I took from the cabinet.”

It wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t, because it was a new one he bought yesterday. Replacing the empty one in hopes of her not noticing the difference, but she did. She always noticed, but she never said anything.

Putting the bottle back in the cabinet, she heard him walk up behind her, his arms wrapping themselves around her waist as if out of instinct. His face snuggling into the crook of her neck, leaving little kisses on her skin.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against her skin. Tickling her with the stubble of his beard and making her giggle, the doubts flying away to the back of her mind like they always do. “How was brunch?”

“Good,” she answered, turning around in his arms and looking at his face. God, he was gorgeous. “I missed you too though.”

She could smell the alcohol lingering on his tongue and the endless excuses forming in his head. The unbearable truth catching up to her before she could let herself fall into him once more, ‘you’re gonna loose your mind if you keep going like this.’ The endless arguments catching up to her and coming back like they were love confessions. The pictures that kept her up at night, which he brushed off as isolated incidents that wouldn’t happen again. But they did. Everything he swore wouldn’t reoccur to them, happened over and over and over again.

Still, his lips tasted so sweet when they touched hers. His hands on her body still felt so comforting.

And in the end, he woke up next to her, right?

People could say what they wanted, about them and him, in the end they still ended the day together and they would until the end. She was sure of that.

“Sometimes, I’m afraid you’re just a dream I’ll wake up from,” she confessed, her hand brushing over his cheek, watching his face lean into her touch. Watching him take in her tenderness.

“I’m real,” he promised her, “and I’m only here for you.”

Butterflies erupted in her chest, her heart feeling like an exploding volcano. Filling her body with love and affection and tearing her doubts in two individual pieces before burning them completely, turning them into ashes. She’ll most likely look back on this in years time and see how stupid someone clever can be for love. An embarrassing thing it is; love. Something so simple hurting someone so much. Like a simple touch can break a vase. It was fragile and delicate, but with the right care, it can stay alive for centuries to come. And he was willing to provide her with the right care, when he was around.

“I had a talk with my mother and my sisters today over brunch,” she started telling him the thing pondering on her mind the whole drive home. “Lou, my friend from college - you remember her right?”

“The one with the glasses?” He asked back, making sure he knew who she was talking about.

“Yes, she married a few months ago and - as you know - I never really liked the guy.”

“Yeah, you never tried to make it unknown.” Lewis laughed at the memories of hours of her complaining and telling him all the shit he’d done.

Rolling her eyes in playful annoyance, she continued talking, “Anyway, Sarah was at her house a few days ago . I think, Monday or something - and the whole house was a chaos. Lou, she looked terrible and her husband he was sitting on the sofa, watching some shit TV-show while she did all the housework. It just - I hate men sometimes. They are terrible and she just lets him do it and says that he isn’t usually like this, but I can’t believe that.”

Her sister, Sarah, knew that feeling all too well, who didn’t? She knew what the situation in a relationship was when the house looked like that. She had been there, telling herself that he wasn’t usually like that. She told it everyone she passed on the street and who cared for her. Lying to everyone, including herself.

“You know I would never do stuff like that if that’s what you’re worried about, right?” He assured her, taking her face into his hands and looking at her with sincerity filling his eyes.

He was just as pathetic of a liar as she was.

“I know.”

It was the terrible faith of a woman falling for a boy.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

An exclusive deal

Written for @astrangersummer, week 12

Prompt: not-date

Rated: M

Words: 1,778 (also on AO3)

Relationship: Steve/Eddie

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Record label owner Eddie; Waiter Steve; Sex work; Attempted non-con (mentioned); Protective Eddie; Possessive Eddie

Notes: Previous part | Part 1

Eddie has been fantasizing about Steve Harrington for as long as he can remember. 

There was nothing tender to it in the beginning. Eddie was well aware of high school hierarchies and the unspoken laws of small town life. He was a freak who listened to the wrong kind of music, who lived on the shady end of town and sold drugs from his run-down van. He’d never amount to much in life. 

Steve on the other hand? Perfect, pretty King Steve with his rich parents, the big house, a different girl on each arm every weekend? That boy was destined to go far, everyone in Hawkins knew that much. 

Eddie was not an idiot. He knew that there were worlds between the two of them. There was no way in hell Steve would ever be his. And so he contented himself with imagining how that soft, smooth skin would feel under his hands, how those lips would taste as he sucked and bit at them while Steve moaned into his mouth. How the muscles of those perfect thighs would shake, wrapped around his waist or slung over his shoulders as he slowly reduced the King to a whining, sobbing mess.  

Eddie booked it out of Hawkins the second he finally had his diploma in hand. He never once looked back. He still thought about Steve, occasionally. 

It was only after they met again, years and miles away from that wretched place and with their positions in life all but flipped that Eddie's fantasies took a different turn. 

Suddenly, Steve wasn't just an unattainable pretty face floating past in the hallways, but an actual, real person. Still floating, mind you, now on roller skates while waiting tables, but a person no less. A person with a past he refused to discuss. A person with a stubborn streak for miles and a beautiful, snarky sense of humor, and a soft, vulnerable side he was desperate to protect. 

And suddenly, without warning, Eddie’s feelings shifted. Suddenly, he found himself preening at each glimpse of that smile, found his chest growing warm and tingly every time Steve accepted his tip money or leftover food.

Suddenly, the very thing that had always been a distant daydream seemed possible, and suddenly, he found himself craving it with a burning urgency that startled even himself. 

He wanted Steve to be his. 

And now, Steve is here in his apartment, shifting on the sofa so that he can lean further into Eddie’s space.

It's everything Eddie has been thinking about for weeks. Having Steve here, in his living room, close enough to feel his body heat, close enough to touch.

Except this is not a date. 

“Ow, fuck,” he hisses as Steve touches a piece of alcohol-drenched gauze to his split lip. “That hurts!” 

Steve scowls at him. 

“It wouldn't hurt so much if you could stop fidgeting for five seconds” he scolds, but his touch goes more gentle. “We need to clean this before it gets infected.” 

“Well,” Eddie says, “Maybe I’d stop fidgeting if you were more careful.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, putting two fingers to Eddie’s chin so that he can keep his head in place. “Stop being such a crybaby. I swear to God, I've babysat four-year-olds less whiny than you.” 

“Yeah, well,” Eddie snarks. “I doubt the four-year-olds ever had their heads bashed in trying to protect you from some sleazy, wannabe rapist in a dark side alley, so there.”

Steve freezes. 

“Shit,” Eddie says, fighting against the rapidly rising urge to punch himself again. He's probably mildly concussed already, God knows he can do without extra hits. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”

“It's okay,” Steve says, but his expression has become guarded and distant again. Before Eddie can stop him, he stands, snatching the first aid kit from its place by their feet and carrying it over to the side table standing a small way off. A tense silence settles over the room while he turns his back, pretending to organize the contents, and Eddie wrecks his brain for something to say to lift the mood.

“Who was that douchebag, anyhow?” is what his mouth settles on. Steve's shoulders go rigid, and scratch that, Eddie clearly hasn't been punched enough yet. 

“Dunno,” Steve mutters, just as Eddie is considering whether to bash his stupid fucking head against the sofa table or the nearest wall. “I don't ask their names, usually.” 

Eddie can practically feel how the remaining color drains from his face. 

“Wait, whoa,” he blurts. “Hold on a second. Their names? As in plural? What the hell, Steve?” 

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” Steve slams the first aid kit shut so hard the plastic cracks, and whirls around. “Don't act so shocked. You think I'm getting by on waiting tables alone? Please! We're both grown-ass adults, don't make me spell it out for you.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie screeches. His hands are shaking, he can hear his own blood in his ears, and apparently, he's gotten off the sofa at some point, because he's on his feet and Steve takes a step back as he advances on him, bumping his ass against the table. “What are you even- … You can't do that.” 

Steve's eyes go hard. 

“Why not?” he asks, and the aloof tone and stubborn jut to his chin remind Eddie painfully of the first time they met again at the diner. “What's it to you?” 

Everything, Eddie wants to say. It's fucking everything to him, because Steve is everything, and the idea of Steve with anyone else makes his blood boil and his stomach twist.  

“I just…” he stutters instead. “I don't- … I don't get it. Money's a little tight, so you thought it would be a good idea to fuck strangers in an alleyway?” 

Steve flushes and sputters. It would be adorable, under any other circumstances, if Eddie could feel anything but helpless rage right now. 

“I don't fuck them,” he says. “I just …” 

He trails off, blush darkening by about five shades. His eyes stay glued to one of the framed band posters on Eddie’s wall as he forms a loose circle with his thumb and fingers. He does a vague, jerky up-and-down motion, once, before he lets his hand flop to his side. 

“Sometimes I suck ‘em off, but only if they're nice and pay extra.” 

Eddie stares at him. Maybe, if the situation was any different, he'd find it funny how Steve can't bring himself to say the word handjob, but will casually talk about sucking someone off for a bit of extra money, but right now, all he wants to do is scream. The thought of Steve on his knees in that dark, stinking side alley, of that pretty, pink mouth opening for some other guy's cock, fills his mind with dark needlepoints of red. 

“Are you fucking serious?” His hands have found his hair, pulling on a fistful of curls until his scalp stings. “That's- … Shit, that's dangerous, Steve. Do you have any idea what-” 

“Oh, wow!” Steve throws up his hands and laughs, but there's no joy in it. “It's dangerous? Really? Well, thank you for telling me. What would I ever do without you?” 

“Well excuse the fuck out of me,” Eddie snaps, and his voice rises dangerously. “Like what, I'm not allowed to worry about you?” 

“No, you're not!” 

The words bounce unpleasantly off the walls of the living room. They feel like a punch to the gut, and without his conscious doing, Eddie finds himself stumbling a step backwards. Steve takes in the shock on his face and huffs. 

“You're not,” he repeats, more calmly this time, and somehow it's even worse the second time around. “You don't get to- … fuck, Eddie, I dunno what you think this is, but we're not- … You're a customer. I serve you food, you pay me. You tip well, so I'm nice to you, but that's- … We are not friends. You don't get to worry about me, and you most definitely do not get to tell me what to do or not to do with my body, okay?” 

Silence settles between them. Somewhere outside, the sound of sirens slices through the night. 

“Okay,” Eddie says. “I'm- … okay.” 

Steve nods. His breath is coming in ragged little puffs. 

“Okay,” he repeats. “Good. Thanks for helping me out.” 

Panic clawing at his chest, Eddie watches how he turns, picking up the bag with his roller skates from the floor. He wants to shout out, wants to tell Steve not to leave, wants to lunge and hold him back and never let him go again. 

But he can’t. This is not a date. They’re not friends. Steve isn’t his, and he can't tell him what to do, can't protect him, can't do anything but pay him for his service and hope that-

“Wait.”

The word is out before the thought fully settles. Steve turns on the threshold of the living room, eyes weary and tired. 

“What?” 

Eddie doesn't allow himself time to pause. If he did, he'd think about what a horrible idea this is, and he doesn't have time to second-guess himself now.

“How much do you make with that little side hustle of yours?” 

Steve shrugs. 

“Depends? I have a couple of regulars, but-” He cuts himself off and Eddie can see how he reels himself back in, how his shoulders go rigid and his expression closes off. “Why should I tell you?” 

“Because I'll double it.” Eddie means to sound bold and confident, but he nearly barrels over himself in his haste to get the words out, and his voice cracks pathetically on the last syllables. A disbelieving little smile twitches over Steve’s face.

“You'll what?” 

“Double it,” Eddie repeats, more firmly this time. He finally finds the use of his feet again, bridging the distance between them with a few quick steps. Steve’s smile drops. “No, screw this, I'll triple it. You want me as a customer, I'll be your goddamn customer. On one condition.” 

Steve's shoulders bump against the doorframe as Eddie steps into his space. For a second or two, Eddie thinks he's going to bolt - run right out the front door and into the darkness, maybe disappear from Eddie’s life forever. But he stays. Stays close enough for Eddie to see how his breath hitches in his throat. Close enough for Eddie to see the temptation in those gold-flecked eyes. 

He knows he has won before he even says it, and it fills him with a grim, possessive satisfaction. He's probably a horrible person for it. 

“I want this to be an exclusive deal.” 

To be continued ...

Tag list: @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon @steddhie

@formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

[f1letters]

bejeweled | ln4

"and I miss you, but I miss sparkling"

summary: after a triple-header where they couldn't see each other, things got even stranger when her boyfriend seemed totally uninterested in spending time with her. so, she took matters into her own hands

warning: a little bit of angst, but fluff ending, mentions of a long-distance relationship, Lando being an uninterested boyfriend, reader feeling ignored and worthless, reader being petty, mentions of alcohol, swearing, reader trying to make Lando jealous, mentions of McLaren's bad 2022 season and Danny leaving the team (crying 😭), not proofread

pairing: lando norris x reader

word count: 2.7k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

masterlist

Baby love, I think I've been a little too kind

Didn't notice you walkin' all over my peace of mind

In the shoes I gave you as a present

Puttin' someone first only works when you're in their top five

And by the way, I'm goin' out tonight

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'

Y/N couldn't keep count of the number of times she had heard this phrase being said during the past two years. 

She prayed that people were right. That distance would make their relationship stronger, their time together more special, their appreciation for each other bigger.

She hoped her heart would mend every time he came back home but in all honesty, she just felt... lonely.

From: babe

only a few more days and the torture is over, can't wait to kiss you again gorgeous, miss you 🧡

Y/N read Lando's text over and over again, daydreaming about their reunion after so long apart, as the driver had three races in a row at Spa, Zandvoort and Monza.

It didn't matter how many times Lando called or texted. How many times he expressed how much he missed her. How many times he said how excited he was to see her again.

In the end, it was exhausting spending her days simply waiting for him to be there.

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

And when I meet the band

They ask, "Do you have a man?"

I could still say, "I don't remember"

Suddenly, the jingling of keys on the other side of the door caught her attention. Y/N turned towards the entrance where she saw the image of her boyfriend appear through the darkness of the night that filled the apartment.

Quickly getting back on her feet, the girl rushed to him, hugging the boy desperate to return to her arms. His body relaxed as soon as it made contact with hers and Lando let him pull her as close to him as possible.

"Fuck," Lando whispered against his girlfriend's forehead, whose tears of relief now streamed freely down her cheeks. "I can't believe I'm finally back home."

"God, I swear it was the worst weeks ever." The girl confessed, although it was common to be apart for a long time since her work did not allow her to follow him most of the time. "I've missed you so much, Lan. So much."

Grabbing her gently by the sides of her neck, the driver looked straight into her bright, tired eyes. "Me too, baby. But now we have two weeks to ourselves."

For a moment everything fell into place. But it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down again.

Familiarity breeds contempt

Don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart

Diamonds in my eyes

I polish up real, I polish up real nice

After spending the night lying next to the boy she loved, Y/N couldn't control all the excitement she felt inside her chest.

Very early in the morning, the young woman got out of bed, leaving the sleeping man behind, and headed to the kitchen where she went all out to celebrate his first morning back in Monaco.

With the utmost care and love, she cooked just about everything: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, you name it. And as soon as everything was ready, Y/N returned to the room and jumped on top of the British man, now awake on his phone.

"Good morning, sunshine!" The girl said, as she hugged his hips and laid her head on his stomach. "I made the best breakfast ever just for you, baby. So you better be hungry." 

Her laughter was quickly interrupted by the boy's surprising coolness towards her. "Good morning, but I think I'll pass. I still feel super tired from the flight, so I'm going to stay in bed a little longer." Lando set his phone back on the bedside table and, running a hand over the top of her head as an act of apology, continued. "I hope you don't mind, love. It's just for today."

It's just for today, he said.

The next day, still under the wave of happiness, Y/N tried her luck again and decided to approach her boyfriend again to make plans, now that he was already feeling more energetic and recharged.

Lando spent the morning jumping around the house, so when Y/N saw him walk back into the room, she dropped to her knees in her seat, turned around and leaned on the back of the couch.

"Lan, what if we went out to dinner at that Thai place we went to last month?" She asked, her head turning slightly as she remembered their meal. "I swear I'm still thinking about that Pad Thai."

Lando continued his way to the kitchen, opening the fridge to get some water. "Hmm, maybe another time. Don't feel like going out."

And with only a few words, he disappeared again into another room of the house.

On day 3, the girl was caught off guard when she saw her boyfriend with a backpack on his back and his hand on the doorknob.

"Hey, where are you going?" She questioned, curious.

"Just going to the gym with Carlos." He replied, eyes on the phone in his other hand.

"I thought you were tired." She blurted out. At that moment, the persistent girl decided to be direct and confront him. "Is there something wrong? You've been so distant lately."

She had barely seen him even though the two of them shared the same house. It was getting embarrassing how much she tried to engage in conversation with him, only to get rejected every single time.

The driver just spat out a string of words, including 'busy with business' and 'training', but nothing soothed the uneasiness she felt in the pit of her stomach.

Baby boy, I think I've been too good of a girl

Did all the extra credit, then got graded on a curve

I think it's time to teach some lessons

I made you my world, have you heard?

I can reclaim the land

And I miss you

But I miss sparklin'

It just didn't make any sense.

What happened to the 'week to ourselves? To all the 'I miss you' and 'I can't wait to see you' he said?

It got to the point where she was even starting to question every time he told her he loved her.

A week passed, and in a last attempt, Y/N walked up to her boyfriend and placed her hands on his shoulders, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

"How about we watch a movie, cuddled a bit on the couch…?" She suggested, whispering close to his ear.

Lando placed a hand over one of his girlfriend's hands, looking back to meet her gaze. "Sorry babe, but I'm going to stream with the guys now. Maybe later."

Maybe another time. Maybe later.

She had been a little too kind and she was done playing nice.

It was time to teach him some lessons.

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

And when I meet the band

They ask, "Do you have a man?"

I could still say, "I don't remember"

Y/N entered her room and confidently walked to her closet. She knew exactly the garment she was looking for and as soon as she laid eyes on her shiny bejeweled dress, she picked it up.

Leaving the clothes she wore behind on the floor, she changed into the stunning dress and sat in front of her mirror, curling her hair and doing her makeup.

Her eyes ended up dark and smoky, perfectly adorning the determined and vengeful look on her face.

Grabbing her small Prada bag, Y/N walked to the room where Lando was already streaming, catching the driver's attention.

"Hey, I'm already live." He warned her, as he turned to see his girlfriend. Laying his eyes on his girlfriend all dressed up, a nervous shiver ran down his spine. "Where are you going looking all polished up?"

"Don't wait for me for dinner," She answered coldly, even though she knew the people in the comments were going to have a field day with this. "And by the way, I'm going out tonight."

Familiarity breeds contempt

Don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart

Diamonds in my eyes

I polish up real, I polish up real nice

As soon as she walked into the room, she made the whole place stop with the shimmer of her dress under the spotlight.

If Lando wasn't going to give her the love and attention she deserved, she sure as hell was going to give it to herself.

Y/N was finally done with letting her worth be determined by a man, even if he was supposed to be the love of her life.

Sapphire tears on my face

Sadness became my whole sky

But some guy said my aura's moonstone

Just 'cause he was high

Walking towards the bar, the young woman couldn't help noticing the eyes that fell on the fascinating and beautiful image that she was.

At that moment, although she missed him and the good times of their relationship, she was reminded of how much she missed sparkling.

Y/N ordered two tequila shots and drank them without missing a second. She now felt prepared to start the night, leaving her problems behind.

Dancing as she made her way to the middle of the floor, the girl began to sway her hips to the music, between the hot bodies glued together in the room.

Tonight was all about her.

And we're dancin' all night

And you can try to change my mind

But you might have to wait in line

What's a girl gonna do?

A diamond's gotta shine

Back home, Lando couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension and anxiety that gripped him.

As much as he tried to keep his good spirits and attention on his friends, his followers and the game, his mind was elsewhere: her.

His eyes roamed the chat as he interacted with some of his fans until one of them made his heart stop beating for a second.

teamlandofewtrell: have you guys seen Y/N photos clubbing? I smell trouble in paradise lol

The man cleared his throat, trying to maintain his posture. "Guys, I have to go now, but I'll see you very soon!"

Without further explanation, Lando grabbed his coat and the keys to his McLaren and headed towards her.

And as soon as he entered the club, he immediately found her.

The furious boy walked over to her, grabbed her arm and pulled her to a more sheltered corner, only to find her surprised and upset eyes.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" He shouted over the music, unconcerned by prying ears. "First you make me look like an idiot on stream, then I find out you're alone in a club doing who knows what. Are you all right in the head, Y/N?!"

"You're worried now, are you?" The girl laughed sarcastically. "That's fucking rich."

"You have to be fucking kidding me. It has to be." Lando ran his restless hands through his hair nervously. "All because I didn't want to see a movie with you today? That's it?"

"Today, of course. The problem is from today." She continued her ironic tone. "You know what, Lando? It's about time you realized that just because I made you my world doesn't mean I can't claim the land."

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

And when I meet the band

They ask, "Do you have a man?"

I could still say, "I don't remember"

Lando was shocked by her confrontational words, as it was a side she rarely showed.

"Stop this nonsense, Y/N." Lando snapped, gripping her arm with some force. "Let's go home now, and tomorrow we'll talk when you come to your senses."

Out of nowhere, a man approached the couple. "Hey, is everything okay here? Do you need some help, babe?" He asked her.

Y/N recognized him as the vocalist of the band that was performing when she first arrived at the scene.

"It's okay, thanks." She replied, freeing her arm from her boyfriend's hold and letting her burning eyes lay on Lando's face. "This man was about to leave."

"If you need to come with me, feel free to join, gorgeous." The singer said, looking her up and down. "Do you have a man? 'Cause if you don't, I sure could be yours for tonight."

Even though she was uninterested in the man's suggestive proposition, she couldn't pass up an opportunity to entice the driver. "I don't remember."

"She has a fucking man, now get the fuck off." Lando spoke out aggressively, having no patience left for her foolishness.

Familiarity breeds contempt

Don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart

Diamonds in my eyes

I polish up real, I polish up real nice

"You have the nerve to show up here playing the role of the victim when all you did this whole week was ignore me," Y/N yelled, losing her mind. "Day after day, I made a fool of myself and tried to approach you, to make plans with you, to do the things I know you like to see if you would change your shitty attitude but nothing."

"From the second you arrived, the only thing I got from you was a cold shoulder and indifference. And honestly, I'm fed up, fed up with your behaviour when all I did was wait for you, all alone and miserable, while you fulfilled your dreams."

Lando remained glued to the ground, unable to move as he tried to assimilate all the angry words she spat in his direction.

"So if you have anything else to say to try and ruin my night, you might have to wait in line because I don't have the time to do so right now."

And we're dancin' all night

And you can try to change my mind

But you might have to wait in line

What's a girl gonna do? What's a girl gonna do?

I polish up nice

Eyes to the floor in embarrassment, the driver gently grabbed her hand. "You're right, I'm so sorry, love."

"What?" She blurted out, not believing the sudden change in him.

"You're right, I've been an absolute prick to you lately," The boy looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with regret and sorrow. "Those last three weeks weren't just bad because I was away from you. It was bad news after bad news and I just ended up taking it out on you unfairly."

"Lan, you know you can talk to me about anything." She softened and stroked his hand. "What's wrong?"

"Everything, honestly." He sighed, saddened. "The car is shit most of the time, I can't seem to get out of 7th place ever, Danny is leaving the team next season and, as if it couldn't get any worse, I spent all weekend getting asked about it like I had some power over the matter."

Y/N knew her partner was feeling especially down over losing yet again another teammate he really cared about, so Lando's anguish came as no surprise.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, really." Lando apologized again. "You didn't deserve all of this."

"Baby, I'm here for you. Always. Through thick and thin." Y/N brought her lips to his, letting her hands grip his curly hair as she leaned into his kiss. "Let's have some fun, dance a little, and make up for lost time, what do you think?"

"Lead the way, gorgeous." Lando kissed her again before she led him to the centre of the floor.

Gathered in their bubble of love again, Y/N, who once shone like a jewel, now shone like a true diamond with the light of her life reflecting on her side.

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

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(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

[n7punk]

Unhinged Instagram Lives Era Fic Notes:

Ok these are small because I TRIED to just put everything in the Author’s notes because it wasn’t supposed to be a “real” project 😭 but I’ve got a few things to say about UILE.

Playlist is just The Sex Was Good Until It Wasn't album by XANA.

Chapter 1:

⦁ Catra was planning to end up with somebody at the end of the night and Adora was lowkey her top choice, so she texted her when she decided she was done with the party she was at and hadn’t found anything else she wanted to do.

⦁ Catra just straight up misheard Adora in chapter 1 and because she never asks she literally never finds out she didn’t say kitten

Chapter 2:

⦁ I swear Catra really isn’t an alcoholic, she just doesn’t mind alcohol, is around it constantly, and has people buying her drinks in addition to having plenty money on hand, so she found she was doing it a lot and realized she needed to be more intentional about it when discussing it with her therapist.

⦁ Not that it literally ever comes up or matters, but Faith’s sister played drums on the Grammy-winning album.

Chapter 3:

⦁ Catra was kinda wrong about how Adora’s management would feel about their connection, so it really wasn't an issue for them to come out, especially because Adora was transitioning her image to include more… well more Catra vibes, if we’re honest, which she called maturity in almost the opposite way Catra’s music was becoming more mature. Adora was getting freer and more horny, while Catra was getting happier and more responsible, but overall Adora’s image didn’t change nearly as much as Catra’s did, and even Catra’s was a gradual shift.

⦁ So it was supposed to be a one shot. Then I had the idea for chapter two and was like fuck ittt. Then I had the idea for chapters 3 and 4 and I was like cool good ending 👍 So that’s lowkey where I consider the end of the fic, but my brain wouldn’t shut up, which is how chapter 5 happened even though I consider 4 a solid ending. And Chapter 6 oh my god I swear. I need to stop thinking about this fic at 1AM.

Chapter 4:

⦁ Adora’s parents are dead, Mara took her in as a kid but she’s just a few years older and it was hard on everybody involved. Also, her full name is Grayskull, management just thought that was too “hardcore” for her genre so they shortened it, and even though her last name does mean something to her unlike Catra, Adora ended up liking that distance between what the public owned of her and her private life.

⦁ Catra’s fans are used to and fond of her antics. She calls it living life to the fullest in interviews and she’s not getting into a lot of controversies or breaking the law (at least not laws that matter) so it really isn’t going to affect her appeal either way if she shifts away from it, but it’ll make some people feel old when she eventually gets asked about cutting back the partying an interview. Other people will say it’s about time.

⦁ When Catra does get into controversies it’s usually shit like blowing someone off, being unafraid to insult someone she feels deserves it, or taking over a party like she did the bar. That’s the modern day rockstar stuff, which is a marketing term she doesn’t use herself to the public but that definitely comes up in a lot of coverage of her.

⦁ Conversely, Adora tries to keep her life private and she’s astonishingly successful given her numbers but stuff spills out, mostly in her dating life, because it was a little messy pre-Catra. She did earnestly attempt some relationships, but they were failed attempts and that left some messy exes.

⦁ Catra hasn’t like, actually had sex in public, but there’s definitely been some extremely horny making out in front of people at clubs and exchanges that people with shame would keep behind closed doors. Despite all outward appearances, Catra needs a safe environment to feel comfortable having sex, so she has some standards, she just tries to seem like she doesn’t.

Chapter 5:

⦁ Normally I headcanon Catra as having a really sharp memory for Pain reasons but for both trauma and sobriety reasons she really doesn’t remember much of her burn-down year, which is when she and An dated, and she meets a lot of people literally every week, so at a certain part they get away from her.

"Chapter" 6:

⦁ “lake at the bottom or our river” is a XANA lyric and “unhappy in Manhattan” is a Chappell referenced queen you SERVED at the VMAs.

⦁ I did the capitalizations purposefully here with CATRA used when talking about her music and Catra used when referring to her as a person.

⦁ When I first wrote An I was not intending this bonus scene to exist but it didn’t make sense to invent another ex for it, so I just gave An a really, really bad day. The meltdown was mostly about everything else happening in her life, honestly, but when she saw she was being filmed she assumed she was recognized because of that and she snapped. I support women’s wrongs she was justified.

⦁ Catra and Adora’s fans do, generally, support their relationship. Both of them have come up with ways to call the other toxic so those subsets always exist, but this post really was about an outlier situation that got blown out of proportion on stan twt and wouldn’t have been that big of a deal/worth a post if the 7/11 incident hadn’t happened. I just really like r/HobbyDrama (when it’s good).

⦁ I love how extremely obvious “Hardcore CATRA stan’s” bias is when describing Catra versus Adora lol.

⦁ The link goes to the photo on Tumblr, but if you actually searched for the Twitter image url listed it would take you toa video of Megan thee Stallion at the VMAs. And the link… well c’mon yall I was goofing :3c

⦁ Lonnie made the pie chart Catra ended up posting to make fun of her while they were working on her latest album. Catra hasn’t actually fact-checked it so it’s wrong in some regards but close enough. It’s also a pie chart pulled directly from my writing tracking spreadsheet, though I manipulated some of the values first. Catra would Not have gone to the effort of making this, the only reason she replied at all is because Lonnie sent it to her literally last week and she thought it was funny, and also wanted the (small subset) who were bitter about her finding happiness to get ratio’d appropriately. It bothers her when people try to make Adora out to be toxic, that’s HER girl, excuse you.

⦁ There’s always that one annoying comment at the bottom of the post that then totally unrelated discourse breaks out in the replies on and that’s what happened with that last comment. Also jjaj10 is for Aly & AJ’s recent 10 year album anniversary this summer.

⦁ Catra goes for the slightly subtler “GOD.DESS” title for her next album (her albums are all stylized in all caps) which is mostly about how fucking amazing her or Adora are in various respects (include sex) with a few “bad bitches have bad days too” moments (Megan the Stallion you are iconic). The cover art is centered on Adora, actually, who’s sitting on their sex bench dykespreading in pants and a tight tank top showing off her arm muscles and serving face to the camera while Catra drapes over her wearing black leather and posed with her leg slipping between Adora’s. Catra's leather outfit is the same one she's then described to be wearing in the bonus chapter 7 (hi from the future). It’s subtle but the kink people in their fandoms immediately identify this photo was taken in a Very Private room in their home and once they say it everybody knows that’s not a workout bench even though tbh it looks like one in the shot. They knew that was going to happen or they wouldn’t have done it, Catra literally has an S&M-type song on the album. They’re really just living their best lives at this point.

⦁ It is not… impossible that I add to this fic more in the future, and if so it would be tacked on the end but could conceivably by non-linear, i.e. scenes taking place during or before the main fic itself and not just following it.

⦁ I used a modified version of this public work skin for the reddit post.

And now, to humiliate me, here is a list of sentences that were supposed to be the last sentence of the fic when I wrote them (all of which are the final sentence of their respective final scene):

CH1: “Maybe she will release the song after all.” [next to last scene] (then I started writing in the notes that they did do the jam session, etc, and I realized I should just put that in the fucking fic)

CH1: “If Adora wants to put that song they wrote together on the radio, she’ll certainly see Catra in her bed a lot more frequently if only because Catra will get a constant reminder of what she sounds like when she’s moaning for her.” [last scene] (okay it’s a completed one-shot now, cool, what’s that, it’s a party scene coming in with a steel chair-)

CH2: “Maybe her therapist will be proud enough to make up for the disappointment of the drink.” [last scene] (ok two chapters for fun, if I get more ideas maybe- shit I already have more ideas)

CH3: “Maybe Catra wants to know what it would actually be like.” [last scene] (hey that’s a nice wrap-up point. Lol I bet Adora’s introduction to Catra’s scene is- fuck here we go)

CH4: “It’s somebody else’s loss if they don’t like what that does for her.” [last scene]

CH5: “Not when she’s coming home to her arms every night.” [first scene] (ok this one’s interesting because I very quickly had the idea for the Adora interview because I looooooove writing interview scenes after the cat’s out of the bag so originally, I tacked that onto the end of the chapter, and then I had more ideas and separated the interview and the new scenes into their own thing)

CH5: “Faith can stay mad they’re having amazing sex and putting out chart-toppers.” [last scene] (again the fic was supposed to be DONE but I wrote this right before bed and as I was lying there not falling asleep I wrote the stupid hobbydrama post in my head and just. Sighed and picked up my phone to take notes)

And then, finally, the actual final sentence at the end of Chapter 6. I’m exhausting even to myself.

[ladylooch]

would literally love anything nico rn like i’m in such a fic drought and i love your writing so much plssss nico 🥹💗

maybeeee more drunk reader or overprotective nico 🥹

A/N: You know what, how about both? And thank you so much for your sweet words! I truly appreciate your request and kindness and reading my work 🥰 Hope you like this!

Finally, find you a partner who will save you when you need it. That shit is hot.

Warnings: creepy man, reader is drunk, swearing, physical violence.

Word Count: 717

The bass of the music thumps against the heels of your black boots as you wait for a drink at the bar. You’re out in the city with your boyfriend and his teammates/significant others, blowing off some much needed steam before the grind of playoffs begins. You had made a quick stop at the bathroom before weaving your way to your place now in search of another drink.

You probably don’t need another, but your buzz feels so good you want to keep chasing it.

You make casual conversations with a guy who points out your sparkly boots. In standard, drunk girl fashion, you gush about how you got them on sale at Nordstrom Rack. He takes your friendliness as an invitation, tilting in closer to you until you feel pinned between him and the bar.

“What do you say we get out of here? You look like you could use some company tonight.” You wrinkle your nose in discomfort. Pings of danger dash down your limbs as something about his previously friendly demeanor changes. He leers at your breasts, biting his lip like you’re a snack.

“Um, no, I don’t want to.”

“I think you do.” He leans in closer until the smell of whiskey from his breath assaults your nose. 

“No I really don’t.” You become more forceful with your no, raising your voice in hopes someone overhears you. The music is too loud and your tone seems to get lost in the bass.

“Come on, sweetheart. We can have a good time together. Make each other feel good.” 

You lean back as he reaches for you. It’s almost not real life. It feels like you’re watching from above, knowing you need to move away, search for someone safe, but the alcohol won’t let you react fast enough. You’re about to scream in panic, when a blur moves in front of you. Someone steps between your bodies, knocking two palms into the man’s chest so he falls backwards off his stool. His back thuds hard against the wood floor, vibrating in your chest along with your rapid pulse.

“She said no.” It’s Nico. You sober up instantly, recognizing this could be bad.

“Neeks.” You call, placing your hands on his back. He ignores you.

“You are one lucky bastard.” He seethes at the man, standing over him, practically spitting. “If even one tip of your finger had touched her, you would be bleeding out on this god damn floor.” Nico’s breathing is ragged as he gulps in air between words. His European accent is thick in the air from how angry he is. The man scrambles back at the threatening look on your boyfriend’s face. Nico’s hands are squeezed into fists at his side. You press your forehead to his spine, hoping he will let this go without further confrontation.

You’re safe now with Nico; that’s what matters.

“Geez, we were just talking.” The man insists, crawling back to standing. “I didn’t touch her.”

“No, but you were going to. Even after she told you no. You’re a fucking piece of shit. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Sorry.” The man mutters as a lame parting shot. He picked the wrong woman to try and snatch. The rest of the bar slowly goes back to their drinks and conversations. Nico’s shoulders are shaking with heavy breaths as he turns back to you.

“Tell me you’re okay?” He is so soft when he touches you around your rib cage.

“Yes. I’m okay.” You run your hands up his arms, lacing your fingers around his neck to pull his lips down to yours. “I was scared.”

“I know. I saw it all. I got to you as fast as I could.” He motions to the crowded bar. Saturday night in the city makes it hard to move around. The rest of the Devils come shoving through; Jack Hughes even has his hands up ready to throw down with his captain. Nico waves them back to the table.

“Take me home.” You plead to him, burrowing your face into his chest. You shudder in relief as his arms wrap tightly around you. His mouth places delicate kisses along your hair, holding you, letting the world disappear until it’s just you and him.

“Let’s go.” He agrees, wrapping a secure, shielding arm around your shoulders and walking you both from the crowded bar.

[prismaticfaery]

Little Bunny - Part Two

John Price x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mental health struggles take over John’s life, and all Soap wants is for you to see him the way he sees you. An evening out causes a stir.

**TW: Mental health struggles, panic attacks, anxiety, swearing, sexual content (not graphic), angst, breastfeeding, alcohol use. Forgive me if I’ve missed any!

Rating: Mature

Over 10K words!

Part One

A/N: Wow this took a bit for me to release, I am so sorry for the wait! I was originally going to post “Little Bunny” as a stand alone but with so many of you enjoying it, I just had to make this a series! Thank you so much for all of your support! I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

Soft breaths fanned across your face, a heavy arm wrapped around your waist. It felt like home being in his arms, limbs wrapped around each other under the blankets. God he was so handsome, you thought, your sleep-heavy eyes could see the features of his face so clearly with the moon so bright in the sky. Soft snores escaped John’s mouth, his lips parted ever-so-slightly. The corners of your mouth turned up into a smile. Reaching your hand up to the soft auburn chops that John kept so neatly groomed, your hand lightly brushes against the hairs and the soft skin of his cheeks. 

Being the light sleeper he was, John’s eyes shot open, those bleary baby blue eyes staring right into you, “fucking hell, Pup, you scared the shit out of me,” his voice cracks.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I would wake you up,” you whisper, your hand still resting on his cheek. 

“You seem to forget who I am,” John’s arm reaches over to brush one of your baby hairs back that stuck straight out, displaced from sleep. 

“I could never forget who you are,” you chuckle, capturing his lips with your own. 

Placing a hand on your waist, he deepened the kiss, the familiar taste and smell of his cigars invading your senses, his body melting against yours. You could feel the temperature rising under the blankets as you wrap your arms around his neck, John taking the opportunity to roll onto you, his hips digging into your pelvis, grinding softly into you. With a trembling breath, you look into his eyes, pleading for him to keep going, his hand reaching between the both of you– 

Gasping awake, your tired eyes scan your surroundings, your sight landing on the little stuffed bunny that came in the post. You could hear the tiny body of your newborn stirring in her sleep, soft squeals and grunts letting you know that she was on the verge of tears. The hour was late– past midnight now, and you knew she would be rooting for her food as soon as she woke. Latching your hand onto the bassinet to move it closer to you, you sit up from your position in bed, watching as the baby’s mitten covered hand is brought to her mouth. Chuckling to yourself, you reach down and lift her from her bed, bringing her close to your chest. 

“Let’s get you fed, yeah?” You whisper, your nose brushing against the soft tufts of hair that jutted from her head. 

Three weeks. 

Three weeks since you received the knitted bunny in the mail, the familiar penmanship of John is a clear indication that the event in London was real– he in fact saw you with the child you both had part in making. Your mind was being pulled in every which way, your body heavy like lead. He only knew the baby’s nickname, not even her real name. John was unaware that the baby even shared his last name. Giving her his last name was your way of showing your love for him, that it would always be there. 

Your sleep heavy eyes watched as the baby ate from your breast, a heavy tear threatening in the corner as your body shivered from a sudden feeling of sadness, a shaky breath escaping your lips. You often dreamed of John, and it always ended the same way– with you under him, his calloused hands softly caressing the flesh of your waist, squeezing fervently as he pushed his hips into yours, relishing in any friction it caused. You were craving his touch and his very presence– it was suffocating. You just wanted him here, to meet his baby. You knew that if circumstances had been different, that he would be so obsessed with his daughter, and would be at your beck and call while you recovered from birth. 

Reaching out was not in the books for John, you knew that better than anyone, but while he was on leave, he could have easily asked to meet his daughter and then leave it at that. Just to meet her once. To speak about where to go from there, whether to co-parent, be together officially and raise her as a family, or to keep the no contact going. You felt like you were in limbo– not knowing what the hell to do to move forward. 

“I’m sorry, Bun,” you say almost silently, but just low enough for the baby to stir at your words. 

As the baby continued to eat, your attention went to your phone. Johnny had texted hours before and you had not answered him yet. He continued to check in on you, even though you never replied back, his texts went through just fine, but all that he got was a read receipt from you. Holding your cell phone in your hand, you began to type out a reply to him finally. You did miss him after all– especially his goofy personality. 

“Sorry I’m reaching out so late, but I just wanted to tell you that I’m still alive,” you send the text without a thought. 

Johnny had trouble sleeping most nights, and he depended on a midday nap to keep himself from falling asleep during debriefs or sniping practice– he often felt like a slacker but it was how he was for most of his life. His bare chest was rising and falling calmly as his head was turned to look out of his window, watching the night sky– the moon to be exact. He enjoyed the night time, as he was always able to get lost in his thoughts and think about his life. To imagine where he may be in life years down the road when he decides to retire from the military. He liked to imagine that he would finally settle down with a pretty girl, and have a few babies, living out in the country with a small farm. 

His mind often turned to thoughts of you, and how he would do anything to see you again. You looked so pretty as a new mother– your cheeks flushed and your features going soft compared to the hardened appearance you had while in the military. He had grown so fond of you over the years, but his heart nearly skipped a million beats when he finally got to see you again after months. God he wished he had the courage to tell you exactly how he felt, but he knew after all this time that the Captain was who had your attention. He could dream though, right?

Price had become withdrawn, focusing only on his work for the new recruits of the SAS and never coming out of his room or office. He had even stopped going out to the bar with the Task Force. Johnny knew that the baby you carried and birthed was Price’s, judging by Price’s reaction to hearing that the baby arrived. It deeply upset Johnny knowing that you gave birth without the baby’s father by your side– you deserved at least that, but the baby deserved more. That little baby girl deserved a father that was present, and John was acting like a fucking moron. 

Feeling his phone vibrate against his bare chest, Johnny’s thoughts were wiped away, his hand flipping his phone up and his heart nearly stopped when he saw that you had answered. It was about damn time that you did as well– he felt like he was talking to a damn brick wall for months. Scanning the words of your text, Soap’s eyes crinkle in the corners as his smile grows. Typing out a reply, he let out a huff of air, like a breathy chuckle. 

“‘Bout damn time, don’t disappear like that on me anymore,” his text read. 

“I promise,” you reply back almost instantly.

“You getting any sleep with that cute little girl?” Johnny types out, hesitating to hit send, but finally going for it. 

“Hardly,” you text back quickly, then seconds later, a “typing” bubble pops up, to which Johnny waits, “I think she’s going through a growth spurt right now, she’s been eating so much it seems.”

Johnny’s smile hasn’t faltered yet, his happiness was an understatement. Knowing that you’re finally texting him back, and being so casual– like how it used to be between the both of you, it was making his heart soar. If only you had felt the same way as he did, if only you loved him like he loved you. He would take care of you and the baby, treat her like his own flesh and blood because only God knew how badly he wanted that. 

For years, you both trained together. For years, you went on deployments together, and even went through selection together for the SAS. Spent many drunken evenings at the bar with your squad, and the Task Force, and it was only now that Johnny began to realize that when you left your seat at the bar to go to the bathroom, and Price followed behind you moments later, that it was to have a quick hookup, and that those happened quite frequently at the bars. It probably happened more often than he thought at base. There were times where you both had snuck to each other’s rooms late at night to play video games or card games, or to just lend a listening ear. It never led to anything romantic or otherwise sexual, as Johnny respected your boundaries and would provide friendship until you came to him and asked for something more. He had many instances where he wanted to ask you out on dates but had gotten too nervous when you made eye contact with him while he spoke– God you had such pretty eyes. 

The texting back and forth had continued for hours until Johnny assumed you had finally fallen asleep. You both had finally caught up on each other’s lives, and you seemed to be doing well for the most part, especially with being a brand new mother and still going through the hormonal roller coaster right after giving birth. Johnny hoped that you both would keep in contact, and hopefully he would have a leave soon so he could plan to meet up with you. Those few moments in the cafe weren’t enough– he needed to hold you longer, look at your beautiful and glowing face and have it etched in his brain forever. 

Early morning rolled around quickly, the nearly empty glass of scotch sat untouched for some time on the desk, papers strewn messily across the wooden surface. A half smoked cigar was placed inside an ashtray at the end of his desk though the smell of smoke still lingered inside the office. John sighs, twirling a pen between his fingers as he stared off at the white door across from his spot at his desk. He hadn’t left his office yet, as he had found it more comforting in this room, rather than sitting in the silence of his barracks room where he found himself suffocating and wanting to claw his way out of his skin. He saw your reddened cheeks stained with tears as you walked past him, ignoring his existence like he ignored yours and the baby’s. He wanted to run after you, and he should have, but he didn’t. That made him a coward in every shape and form. He should have met his new baby girl, and asked how you were doing. Fear ate away at him constantly with his job, but knowing that you and the baby seemed to be doing just fine, he didn’t want to jinx it. 

When John sent out the parcel that contained the knitted rabbit, he knew that he could potentially open a can of worms, but he needed you to know that he was thinking about the both of you. For all he knew though, you had thrown the rabbit away, refusing to allow the baby to keep something her absent father sent– you had every right to do so. You had tried to keep John around, to at least have him by your side to think of the options in bringing forth the life you both had created together. He should never have left you alone in that bathroom to fend for yourself, and in such a vulnerable moment. John knew you were scared, he could see it on your face with your dried tear trails and in your body language. You didn’t want to tell him then and there but you had to, and John was not a stupid man, he would have figured things out given some time. You had been sleeping more, your breasts becoming fuller– you’d even complained about them being tender one evening. You avoided breakfast the morning you had told John the news of the pregnancy and that wasn’t like you. 

“Captain, I need your help with this,” your voice came from behind, John’s body turning quickly to see who was asking him for help. 

It was you, your bright eyes peering into his as you held a pistol in your hand, “what’s the issue?” He asks, taking your firearm from you, pointing it down to the ground and keeping his finger away from the trigger.

“It’s jammed,” you say, crossing your arms to your chest, “would you mind helping me with it so I can get back to range practice?”

John scoffed, a mischievous smile forming on his mouth. He knew damn well you knew how to get the jams in your guns out, but here you were, handing over your pistol to him. Taking the magazine out, John kept the pistol pointed down and away from you and anyone else, keeping his fingers tightly on the slide lock, smacking the butt of the pistol once, then twice. The metal clink of the round gave confirmation that the jam was cleared. John held the round in his hand, examining the possibilities of why and how it got stuck in the chamber. 

“Make sure to check the rounds before loading them into the magazine– this one’s swollen,” John tossed the round to you, your hands cupped to catch it. 

“Yes sir,” you nod, batting your eyelashes at him. 

“Now, I think you knew this round was bad. Do you know how dangerous this could have been? Exploded shrapnel inches from your face?” Price’s arms crossed, his eyes boring down at your much shorter self. 

“Well, I–,” you tried to search for the excuse you were going to use but Price was backing you into the wall of the range, “I wasn’t going to shoot.”

“Yeah? What were you planning then?” Price placed his hands on the wall to box you in, his head tilted down. 

“I think you already know, Captain,” you look up, your eyes fluttering closed as his face moves closer to yours. 

“John, just John,” his lips capture yours greedily, your hands grabbing at his shirt to pull him closer to you. 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” you pull away, your breathing erratic. 

“You realize you do the same with those pretty eyes of yours?” John’s mouth curled into a devious smile. 

John couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of you and him. You were very obvious with your lust and obsession for him, but he was not a subtle man either. He knew what made your head turn to look at him, he knew what you enjoyed most about him. You loved his neatly groomed beard, and the way he would neaten it up with his sandalwood comb in the middle of meetings. Your mind flooded with thoughts of the beard burn he could be giving you between your legs. He loved watching you squirm in your seat while his eyes scanned over your entire body. 

Looking at the watch around his wrist, John’s body slumped in his seat. It was the fifth day in a row that he had stayed up until the sun was rising. His sleep schedule was horrendous and he was blaming it on the fact that he just couldn’t get you and the baby out of his head. His little baby, so tiny and sweet, stirring inside the sling wrapped around your body. The little wisps of hair smoothed down by the knitted bunny hat that sat atop her head. He wondered if she was good to you and let you sleep, or if she was a good eater like her daddy was. John’s brain swam with so many questions about his little girl. He wanted to hold her, and rock her, and give her so many kisses, watching her tiny nose scrunch at the feeling of his beard against her soft cheek. He was being selfish, he knew that very well, but maybe in a different time he would experience that. 

For now though, John needed to sleep, and he was thankful that he did not have to work. Slamming down the rest of his scotch, he huffed, grabbing the keys from the top of his desk to finally retreat to his room. He was sure that he’d struggle to fall asleep like he had been for months now, but his job depended on him to at least be somewhat rested and awake enough to make important decisions. 

Once reaching his room and locking the door, John began to pull his green t-shirt off of his body and strip out of his camo pants. He felt a wave of exhaustion wash over his body but he knew that even if he needed to sleep, he wouldn’t be able to. His body was in a constant fight or flight and his mind raced so much that it scared him to pieces. John feared for the safety of you and the baby every waking moment. Not even the burn of scotch or whiskey took his mind off of it. 

It was days later and in the early hours of the morning, the baby was still asleep in her bassinet and swaddled snugly inside a muslin blanket. Your phone had multiple notifications from Johnny, and you felt happy if only for a short moment since your journey as a single mother. You regretted not reaching out more often to friends, especially ones that you had known through your career in the military and had experienced life changing things with. You cared so much for Johnny and you knew that he cared for you more than a normal friend would. You were grateful for him, and knew that regardless of the time lost, it would be made up for quickly. You just didn’t know how to open up after John left you in such a state. You wanted to tell Johnny everything that happened– why you left the military so suddenly, why you hid a whole pregnancy and baby for so long, who the baby’s father was, and why he wasn’t present. You just didn’t want to have a spotlight on you and risk Johnny acting irrationally for your sake because you knew he would. Johnny had once punched a new SAS soldier in the face for catcalling you and from then on, you knew that his protective nature around and for you was out of love. 

Your mother’s footsteps up the stairs pulled you from your thoughts, and soon her head was poking through the crack of your door, “my love, do you need me to watch the baby while you get some work done?”

“That would be great, thank you,” you rub the sleep from your eyes, wrapping the blanket from your bed around you and shuffling over to your desk, turning the computer and monitor on to log into your job. 

Your mother had a smile on her face as she snuck over to the sleeping baby in the bassinet, picking her up gently so as to not disturb her sleep. Once your mother had left the room with the baby, you began to get lost in your work, deadlines for projects sneaking up on you quickly as the start of a new month would soon be upon you. Your boss begged you not to come back so soon after having the baby, but you felt like you needed to in order to keep yourself from going crazy and thinking too much. The baby had been here for six weeks, and even though the days went by so quickly, it still felt like an eternity. You couldn’t imagine sitting in the house rotting away without a single thing to do while you took maternity leave. 

Your mother had spoken to you about seeing a therapist, to at least speak about all of the negative feelings and emotions you often felt, and to turn them around into a more positive thing. You had been warned about the possibilities of postpartum anxiety and depression, and maybe you were experiencing it here and there, but you were sure that it wasn’t because of the lack of sleep or the hormones, you knew it was from the predicament you were thrust into. Being alone from the start of your pregnancy to now, you knew that this was the main cause. As well as thinking of the could-have-beens and should-have-beens. You may have told John you would do this alone, but you were expecting him to put up more of a fight. Especially since he had told you he had love for you in the past, but you also believe it may have been a heat-of-the-moment comment. One would think that when confessing love, the person would try to do anything to keep you around or to not leave you in a predicament that should have been worked through together. You had to become cold-hearted in the situation, knowing that you were ex-military– Special Forces at that and John was in a higher position in the Special Forces. He was a leader. So many things played part in the safety of the three of you, you knew this, and so did he. But why is it so difficult to understand? Why is it always eating away at you? Grief was not only relevant towards death, it was also relevant to the outcomes you wanted but couldn’t get. 

Throughout the day, your mother had brought you snacks and drinks, and reminded you to pump milk for the baby’s stash for the freezer. You had no clue how you would survive without her help in this, and you were so incredibly grateful for her support. When the baby wanted to eat, your mother was right at the door, asking if it was okay for her to feed from you rather than break into the stash that was needed for more important times, like when you needed to leave the house. 

Scrolling through the proposal you had drawn up with one hand, while the baby’s hand grasped at your lifted shirt while she ate, you heard your co-workers discussing random things amongst themselves. Tiny gulps came from the baby as she ate quickly, and you had to mute your microphone to not have her disturb the meeting going on through video call. Her eyes were wide open, staring right up at you. Smiling down at her and letting out a soft coo, she began to unlatch herself from you to give you her full attention. Six weeks old and absolutely obsessed with staring up at you, but she had yet to give you a gummy smile. 

“You’re the prettiest little thing,” you say softly to her, her eyes widening at the sound of your voice. 

Giving her the biggest smile you could muster, you pinch her soft and chunky cheek… and there it was: a smile. In all of it’s gummy glory– a smile. You laugh and squeal in excitement, your mom asking what was going on. 

“Mum, she smiled at me!” 

“She did not! I missed it!” Your mother yelled up the stairwell. 

“It’s about time, you little stink,” you squish the baby’s cheek between your pointer finger and thumb, the action earning you another cheeky smile. 

Dinner rolled around, your plate long abandoned on the dinner table, most of it eaten and the rest had gone cold. You had taken up a spot on the carpet, the baby having her tummy time on a floor gym. Her grunts were so amusing as she tried her best to keep her head up for as long as she could muster, her pretty eyes glued on you and each movement you made. 

Your mother was in her spot on the recliner, her legs crossed, and her fingers twirling and twisting yarn on her knitting needles, the television lowered enough to be a calming background noise. She had been working on a new cardigan for the baby, the yarn was yellow, like a sunflower in the summer. There was a small knitted bumblebee already made that she was going to add to the breast of the cardigan. Knitting had always been your mother’s hobby, and you were glad that she was able to keep up with it, especially now that there was a grandbaby to spoil. While away in the Royal Army, you had taken along a cream colored blanket she knitted you, and John had always wrapped himself in it whenever he snuck into your room for the evening. He always mentioned how neat the stitches were, his fingers brushing against the beautiful moss stitches. 

“Do you know how to knit like your mother?” John asks, his hands resting on his bare stomach.

“She did teach me, but I never finished any of the projects I started,” you hum, sitting on the edge of the bed while rubbing your elbows with lotion, your hair pushed back with a fuzzy cat ear headband, face glowing with moisturizer from your skincare routine. 

“You should make me something.”

“You really don’t want me to do that,” you side eye John, a shit-eating grin forming on his face. 

“Can’t be that bad, pup.”

“Oh, but I am.”

It must have been comfortable on the floor for you, as you seemed to have drifted off for a moment. Your mother had the baby resting on her chest as she continued her knitting project. You stare at your cell phone screen, realizing it had been well over a half an hour since you had fallen asleep. Sitting up, you put yourself in a criss-cross position, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

“Proper tired you must have been,” your mother laughs at your hunched position on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I fell asleep like that,” you mumble, tapping the screen on your phone, noticing that Johnny had called you– he must have had an emergency, “would you mind if I took a call real quick?”

Quickly accessing Johnny’s contact information in your phone’s contact list, you press the phone to your ear, listening to it ring twice before Johnny answers, “I didn’t think you’d call back,” a huff of air escapes his lips– a soft chuckle. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask, placing your thumbnail between your teeth. 

“All’s right– just wanted t’hear your voice,” the thick Scottish accent came through. 

“Well, if you enjoy very tired ‘I-just-woke-up-from-a-nap’ voices, you’ve called the right person,” you yawn.

“Shit, I’m sorry if I woke ya.”

“No, don’t apologize, I’m glad you called me. I was thinking about you earlier today,” you admit, your stomach twisting in nervous knots from the realization of your words– you shouldn’t have said it like that… should you?

“That makes two of us,” Johnny hesitates, almost as if he had to process what you said for a moment. 

There was a pregnant pause, your teeth now biting away at what little thumb nail you had left, “how has everyone been at base?” You finally break the silence. 

“Ghost is on deployment, and Gaz is taking a leave,” Johnny skirts around mentioning John, to which you’re thankful for– you didn’t need to hear about him and Johnny didn’t want to speak about him anyway if he were being completely transparent. 

“Are you planning on going to the ball coming up?” You ask, the silence heavy once again between the both of you. 

“That’s actually why I called– to ask you to come with me,” Johnny’s heart was racing faster than even he could comprehend, and he knew that the possibilities of you rejecting him were higher now that you had become a mother– chances of rejection were high before, but even more so now. 

“I don’t know, Suds, I have to pump milk every few hours and–.”

“You know I don’t care ‘bout that, I’ll even sit with you while you pump– feed you some of those fancy finger foods too,” Johnny laughed, a hand brushing through the mess that was his mohawk. 

Your smile grew and your cheeks began to heat up, Johnny’s laugh contagious and goofy. You missed the place that had become a home after so many years, being around the people that had become like your siblings when you had no siblings of your own back home. Maybe accompanying Johnny to the ball would allow you to reunite with those familiar faces and to catch up on lost time. You wouldn’t mind seeing Johnny in formal attire as well– he did clean up quite nicely. You could also make up for the time you cut Johnny off during your pregnancy. Thank goodness Johnny was so forgiving because he could have easily told you to never contact him again. 

“You promise to feed me?” 

“Of course,” Johnny replied back quickly, and without a doubt. 

The pub had been deafening, the voices of the patrons whooping and cheering as a football match commenced on the televisions. John usually indulged in the games, but lately he found no interest no matter how hard he tried to pay attention. Not even a glass of whiskey or scotch pulled him out of his disinterest. He felt like an old man, despite being in his late thirties, yet at the same time, other things had his mind occupied. He had tried drowning himself in work for the SAS, and even bringing women to his room after an evening of drinking but all of his thoughts led him right back to you. He was helplessly in love with you, and he was watching you slip further and further away with how much time continued to pass. His visits to your mother’s social media sent him into a spiral for hours. Looking at the gorgeous crystal blue eyes of his little girl– knowing that he was the one responsible for the exact shade and color caused tears to sting in his eyes. How you mustered to look into those precious blue gems every waking moment without thinking of the state John left you in was baffling. You were always good at hiding things and he saw nothing in your eyes– no sadness, no anger, just pure love and bliss while caring for that little baby. You had no mean bone in your body but if you had ever released your anger on him, that would be the day he would fear for his life.

The whiskey in his glass was hours old at this point, and the thought of knocking it back made his stomach turn sour. Scooting the glass across the bar to have the barkeep take it away, he turned his body around in the bar chair, staring up at the television for a moment to see the team he usually cheered for losing miserably, he thought about standing up and leaving, but his attention was soon turned to his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket. Digging into his pocket and looking at the preview of the notification on his screen, he chuckled. He had found a way to receive notifications from your mother’s social media without having to actually be her friend. John felt sneaky and wrong for it, but he loved when posts included you and the baby– it gave him a glimpse into the life you created away from him and the Army. 

The baby was in the kitchen sink inside of a flower cushion he could only assume was an infant bath. A washcloth was covering her plump belly as she was reclined back on the cushioned flower bath, her tiny hands balled into fists against her chest. What tugged his heart the most was the gorgeous gummy smile his little girl gave the camera all while having a pile of soap suds on her head. Tapping the photo, he pressed his thumb down on the screen to save the photo to the library dedicated to you and the baby. He had started saving every photo posted so that he could stare at both of you any time he wanted. His eyes scanned over the caption your mother had attached to the post. 

“Bun-Bun has been smiling so much lately,” John read the caption out loud. 

His heart then sank to the pits of his stomach when he realized it must have been a new milestone for Bunny– the smiling. She was six weeks old now so it made perfect sense. My God, was she the most beautiful little creature he’s ever seen, and did her smile make her even more gorgeous. Just like you– his Pup, but boy did you hate that nickname he gave you. He could be there with you, bathing her each night before bed, making sure her skin is moisturized with lotion, zipping her into a sleepsuit. He would watch as her little eyes fluttered closed as she rested in his arms after a warm bottle. 

Escaping to the bathroom in a rush, John locks himself inside a stall, his hands bracing against the stall door, his legs heavy and his chest tightening. Panic washed over him so intensely that it hurt his muscles, and his breathing became erratic. A whimper escapes his lips as he tries his best to hold himself up, an unbearable tightening in his throat makes it hard to swallow back the saliva that collected in his mouth. It wasn’t often he experienced a panic attack, but he surely was not a beginner in handling them. The panic and anxiety was destroying him more often lately, and it took him up to an hour to get a handle on himself– he definitely couldn’t drive in these states and he wouldn’t dare be seen in the public eye like this either. 

Sliding down to the cold tile floor, John places his head in his hands, his breathing still out of control and his chest full of bricks. Taking the beanie off of his head, he heaves a large breath in and out, repeating it multiple times until his lungs finally felt like they were receiving enough oxygen so he wouldn’t pass out on the dirty floor. But then the waterworks began, heavy and hot against his cheeks. He was never ashamed of crying, but he was ashamed that he let himself become so low that the crying was such a persistent thing. Therapy and medication was something he had done in the past, but it was due to seeing so much death and losing so many squadmates he cared about. If he saw a therapist and spoke to them about the shit he had done to you and that baby– just leaving you to fend for yourself in the throes of pregnancy, birth, and single parenthood, he knew he would be judged. 

“Can I turn your head?” Your voice plays in John’s head. 

John could almost feel the soft touches of your fingertips on his face, his neck going lax as you pushed his head to the side for a better view of his beard. He would have you touch his beard up in places he couldn’t quite see or maneuver well into. It was one of his favorite moments of intimacy with you, your breasts so close to his face that he could smell the sweet scent of your body wash and perfume. His hands settled on your hips or waist, brushing softly under the shirt you wore to get just a sliver of your skin– to feel how soft it was under his rough fingertips. 

Using a fine tooth comb, you gathered the coarse auburn hairs, examining the length over and over until you felt satisfied to move on. John took his beard care very seriously, and you didn’t want to ruin the progress he made on growing it out so thick and even. It made you nervous in the past to use the straight razor, but John insisted that you would be just fine and that it would cause less irritation for him to have it used on his skin rather than a regular razor– which is what you preferred to use overall. Once you were done, you would oil his beard and smooth it down with beard wax, the smell so incredibly dizzying that you would pull his beard with your fingers and smash your lips against his. John places his large hand on the back of your neck, and pulls you further into the kiss, teeth gnashing, your throat releasing the smallest of whimpers into his mouth. You tasted so divine– so addicting and he always wanted more. 

Often, those moments he remembered from the past would pull him back to Earth– to ground him during his panic and his anxiety. John’s breathing had steadied, but the adrenaline stayed, his hands shaking and his body trembling. The sticky tears that dried on his cheeks desperately needed to be washed away. He needed to get back to base– to sleep off the extreme exhaustion his body felt after experiencing his panic attack. 

Johnny could hear Price’s footfalls in the hallway– it didn’t help that he had to live across from the man and would hear him coming to his room at all hours of the evening and early morning. He knew the man had become a wreck– his attitude cold and overall he became so distanced from everyone. The Task Force had become like an old toy, discarded into a donation box after it had been played with. Price never let the Task Force go so long without an objective to look into and solve– it had been months. Johnny, Ghost, and Gaz decide to take private contracts elsewhere or help the SAS whenever they need it. Price needed to get his shit together. 

With the ball coming up soon, the younger male knew that Price would most likely not attend and he was hoping his hunch was correct as he didn’t want the two of you to cross paths. He wanted to save the both of you as much hurt as possible– especially you. Johnny knew you were hurting so badly and were trying your damned best not to show it through your texts. He wanted to take all of your hurt away– to carry it on his shoulders for you. With you agreeing to accompany him to the ball, his heart felt like it could burst into a million happy pieces and he was hopeful for his moment to finally scoop you up, with Bunny as a little bonus. 

Comfortably resting on his bed, Johnny’s arm draped across his midsection as he scrolled through his social media timeline– you often told him that he’d run into a wall one day with being on his phone so much, but he couldn’t help it. It was an addiction looking into other people’s lives and reading news articles. He especially loved watching your mother’s page for anything new to pop up about you or the baby. He hoped that one day, you would reactivate your social media and post daily like you used to in the past. 

A notification on his phone pulled him from his thoughts– you had texted him. Boy, did he feel spoiled with a phone call and texts all in the same week. 

“Looking at dresses, what do you think?” You ask, two screenshots attached to the text message. 

One emerald green dress, and one royal blue dress. Both were floor length, simply designed but still beautiful. The emerald green dress however, caught Johnny’s attention with its keyhole neckline, the slit would sit right between your breasts, and show a perfect diamond cutout of your glowing skin. 

“I think the green one would look gorgeous on you,” Johnny texts back, sending a thumbs up emoji right after. 

“T-minus two weeks and it’ll arrive five days before,” you send back quickly, a gasping emoji at the end of your text. 

Johnny laughs, searching for his .gif of the screaming groundhog to send back, “THE STRESS,” he replies after the .gif sends. 

You react to the message with a crying laughing emoji, and the man can’t help but giggle at how excited he was knowing that you were also excited. Was he hopelessly in love with you? Yes, absolutely. He could run laps around base a million times and have a smile on his face the whole time. Now he had to think about flowers, what fragrance he was going to use. Would you dance with him? Would you consent to a kiss when he brought you back home? His mind was racing with thoughts and possibilities. 

Staring at yourself in the full length mirror in your room, you smooth out the wrinkles of the dress you ordered online. It hugged every single one of your curves nicely but it was a little tight around your chest area with the baby not having eaten in a few hours. If you and Johnny stayed at the ball for more than a few hours, you would have to pump to relieve pressure and to keep possible leaks from happening. It ground your nerves knowing that breast pads would be too visible underneath the thin material of the dress, and so you had no protection if you had a random letdown of milk. Where would you even keep the breast pump and milk cooler– in Johnny’s car? Thank goodness it was still rather chilly out and you had ice packs. 

Your mother told you to stop fretting over everything but this was going to be your first night away for so long. Not leaving the baby for more than a few hours at a time in her eight weeks was filling you with anxiety. You trusted your mother obviously, but that baby was your whole life– you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her for too long. Maybe a drink or two would settle your nerves. 

With your makeup done, your hair placed up in a sleek bun, and your skin moisturized, you placed your heels on your feet, tightening them around your ankles. Your mother was entertaining Johnny and the baby downstairs– you were actually surprised he arrived right on the dot as his punctuality was not the best. The Scottish accent never failed to make you smile– it got so thick with certain words as you listened to the conversations your mother and Johnny had in the living room. You made fun of Johnny once for not being able to say “barely”, his finger wagging at you to stop your silliness. Spritzing perfume on your neck and chest, you sigh, hoping the fragrance was okay for the evening. Being in the military, you only ever used light scents, so anything musky or stronger was not something you were used to. 

You begin to make your way downstairs, Johnny’s eyes lighting up as he watches you descend the stairs. He was holding the baby in his arms, her beautiful blue eyes not once leaving him– she was in awe with him as he was with the both of you. He looked so incredibly handsome in his formal suit, with his badges and medals decorating his jacket. Standing up from his spot on the sofa, he held the baby to his chest, cradling the back of her head with his hand as her chin rests on his shoulder. 

“You look stunning,” he finally says after staring for a minute. 

“Thanks Suds,” you hold your hands out to take the baby from him. 

“She seemed a wee peckish– was eatin’ her hand while I held her,” Johnny chuckled, his hand softly resting on the baby’s head as you held her to your chest. 

“Is it okay if I nurse her before we leave?” You ask, Johnny nodding his head as he motioned his hand for you to take his spot on the couch. 

Confused on how you were supposed to feed the baby while wearing the dress, you fumbled a bit before asking Johnny to unzip the back of the dress so you could shrug it down your shoulders. Rough hands begin to find the beginning of the zipper at your neck, sliding it down gently so it wouldn’t snag on the way down. As the baby ate, Johnny’s eyes never left yours, and it was making you nervous. You knew it was his way of being respectful as you fed the baby but you found yourself drowning in his ocean blue eyes, and you knew your cheeks were tinged red at this point. He was so attractive– and the smell radiating from him was enchanting. 

“I got ya flowers by the way,” Johnny breaks the silence finally, “your mum is putting them in a vase.”

“How lovely, thank you,” you flash a toothy smile, and it’s followed suit by a nervous clearing of your throat. 

It was around eight in the evening by the time you and Johnny had reached the venue for the ball, Johnny asking what your plans were for pumping during the car ride– the most you could handle without leaking capped around three hours. Johnny set an alarm for 10:30pm, not wanting you to go too long and being too uncomfortable. He was extremely prepared, the backseat of his Audi sedan had blankets and pillows for you to sit and pump. It was very thoughtful of him to do that, and you wished he didn’t spoil you so much, being that you two had been on missions and deployments in the worst possible conditions. 

Once you both had exited the car and Johnny handed the keys off to a valet, you entered the venue together, your arm linked with his. Light music played in the dance hall, couples mingling and drinking from champagne flutes and rocks glasses. A few familiar faces had come into your view, but the nerves began to take over. Johnny noticed this– your arm squeezing him a little too tightly. Resting his hand on yours, his thumb brushed lightly over the top of your hand. Breathing in deeply, you exhaled after a moment– an attempt to calm your nerves. You were going to be okay, but there was a deep lingering feeling that you had a spotlight on you, that everyone knew the reason you left the military in such a hurry. That you got knocked up with Captain Price’s baby. 

“Holy shit,” a familiar voice shouted across the room, “is that who I think it is?” Gaz came into view. 

“Oh Gaz,” you cried out, releasing yourself from Johnny’s arm to hug Gaz, the tall man embracing you tightly, your head resting against his chest. 

“We missed you,” Gaz whispered to you, one of his hands squeezing your shoulder. 

Tears began to well in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall and ruin your makeup,”I missed you all so much.”

Releasing you from his bear hug, Gaz looks you up and down, ”you look bloody amazing.”

“I second that,” Johnny smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, your hand resting on the middle of his back. 

The happiness you felt in this moment was immeasurable, seeing the warm smiles of Gaz and Johnny. It was too bad Ghost was still on deployment. Gaz and Johnny often talked him into coming to the military events and he would sometimes show up out of the blue without saying he would actually attend. Social events weren’t really his forte, but he did try. 

A waiter lowered a tray of champagne glasses filled with prosecco, Johnny grabbing two glasses– one for you and one for him. Gaz had walked off to meet other people, leaving you and Johnny alone at the front of the venue. You hadn’t consumed a lick of alcohol in a while, only a half a glass in and you were feeling the warmth wash over your body. You had to be careful not to drink too much though with having to breastfeed. Any milk you pumped tonight would only be stored away for milk baths but you also had to think about feeding the baby straight from the breast as that’s what she preferred. 

Once you were done, Johnny took the empty glass and placed it on an unoccupied table, his hand enveloping around yours to pull you to the dance floor. Your body was buzzing pleasantly as he wrapped your arms around his shoulders, his hands holding onto your waist gingerly. He smelled so wonderful– like sandalwood and musk. The light jazz music that played was the perfect speed to just sway along to. Those lovely blue eyes never left yours, your chin tilted upwards while the smile you had on your face was making your cheeks hurt. 

“You’re beautiful,” he lowered his mouth to your ear, a giggle escaping your lips. 

John didn’t plan on going to the ball at first as he dreaded having to be social recently, but here he was, Gaz by his side with a glass of whiskey, and a glass of scotch clutched in his own hand. The young Sergeant had been buzzed for some time, often scurrying off to say “hello” to other ball-goers. If he had any more to drink, John may have to keep him on a short leash and maybe even bring him home before the night is over. It was rather funny though, as he became more goofy and light-hearted, which definitely brightened up the mood John was in. 

The older man takes a sip from his glass, the burn that coated his throat was smooth– unlike the whiskey Gaz had taken a liking to, which made John scrunch his nose and cough, prompting him to stick with the scotch for the evening. Gaz swayed in place to the music, a hand stuffed in his pocket, “you know, sir, I think you would be happy to hear that there’s a familiar face floating around the venue,” Gaz speaks up finally. 

“Oh?” John lifts the glass back up to his mouth to take another sip. 

“Yeah, she’s with Soap– looked real lovely in that green dress.”

“Is it that crazy ex of his?” John was surprised, knowing damn well that Soap was miserable as hell with that woman, “why the hell would he get back with her?”

“No, that’s not who I’m speaking of,” Gaz shakes his head, a goofy laugh erupting from his mouth, “oh, I see them!” He points his glass towards the dance floor. 

Then he saw you– his Pup. His beautiful and glowing Pup. The scotch he was trying to swallow stuck in his throat– like he had forgotten how to drink for a moment. You were pressed so snugly against Soap’s body that it made his body burn with jealousy. How did that fucker manage to finally grow the balls to ask you out after all of these years? You made it clear as day to John that you weren’t interested in the man, so why were you here with him, smiling up at him and red-cheeked like a little school girl with her crush?

Downing the rest of his scotch, he then stormed off to find the bar, leaving a bewildered Gaz behind. He was pissed, no– infuriated. If you were here with him, that meant he most likely picked you up at your house, and even saw the baby– no man would be stupid enough to meet his date at the venue. Jealousy ran hot through his veins as he slams the glass on the bar, the bartender looking up at him surprised. 

“You alright, sir?” 

“Just give me another scotch,” John’s eyebrows were knitted in anger as he plops himself down in an empty bar stool, his fingers combing through his hair. 

John stole looks of you, his eyes peering over his shoulder to see you dance with Soap for what seemed like forever, you two only stopping long enough between songs to take sips of your drinks and catch your breath. That lovely green gown you wore hugged every curve so snugly, it made his pants uncomfortably tight. Becoming a mother had done wonders to your body– your hardened muscles from being in the SAS had become more plush, your breasts more full and that keyhole in the front of your chest accentuated them even more. Jesus, he needed to get a grip. 

“Hey, could I get a bottle of water please?” That familiar Scottish accent filled John’s ears, the male leaning over the bar. 

It had gotten late, and Johnny had done enough research to know that a woman who was breastfeeding needed to keep hydrated, and you were also due for a pumping session soon before you experienced a leak. The barkeep handed a bottle of water to Johnny, the man turning around to go back over to your spot near the dancefloor. 

“Captain, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” Johnny’s surprise makes Price’s face visibly contort into a scowl and in that moment, Johnny knew that Price saw you– with him as his date nonetheless. 

Price thought about his words carefully, his body leaning back in the stool, “having fun tonight, Soap?” he asks, bringing the lip of his glass to his mouth to take a sip. 

“Hey Suds, I’m about to head to the car–,” you hurry over to Johnny’s spot at the bar, heels clicking against the tile floor, placing a hand on his arm when you finally reach him. 

Oh shit. 

You stared for way too long, those baby blue eyes burning holes into you, the prolonged eye contact freezing you in place– you were terrified as his angry gaze fixated on you. Your heart was racing faster than you could process, the liquor that warmed your belly and gave you a pleasant buzz was no longer coursing through you. You are completely sober now, all from fear and surprise. Johnny’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, attempting to remove you from the situation. But those fucking eyes– just like your little girl’s, were like Medusa’s gaze, turning you to stone. 

“Shit–,” was all Johnny could say as he noticed the front side of your dress become soaked through. 

Thoughts of your little girl and her beautiful blue eyes had caused you to have a let down right in front of the man who put that very baby inside you– the man you hadn’t said a word to in almost a year. Tugging you away and walking you towards the entrance of the venue, Johnny had placed his suit jacket over your shoulders to hide the very obvious wet stains on your dress. He felt horrible that you had to run into Price like that– completely unprepared, like a deer watching the headlights of a car inching closer and closer. 

In the car, you had completely broken down, your makeup running down your face, the pump attached to you and expressing milk. One arm covered your breasts while the other wiped furiously at the tears barrelling down your cheeks. Johnny was settled in the front seat, quiet as a mouse and regretting bringing you out. 

“It’s not your fault Johnny,” you managed to say between sobs. 

“It’s completely my fault, I should have known better than to bring you back into your old life.”

“You didn’t know–,” you hiccup, your stomach doing cartwheels– twisting uncomfortably with anxiety. 

“I know he’s the baby’s father,” Johnny finally says after a moment, “I put two and two together–”

“He left me to figure things out on my own, so I did– I did this all by myself because I wanted to. He was too scared of what may follow him if he was involved so here I am,” the words just flew out of your mouth– like word vomit. 

Johnny placed his hands over his face, a sigh escaping his lips. He didn’t know how to fix this, he didn’t know what to say to make you feel better. He felt like a moron– a moron who was head over heels with you, a woman who was still helplessly in love with her baby’s father. How could he compete with his Captain? The man who had become like his mentor over the years– who taught him how to snipe and suggested he specialize in demolitions. He was more than sure he would be kicked from the Task Force now– if it were still a thing at this very moment. 

Johnny could hear the quiet motor of the breast pump stop, and your frantic sobs and hiccups had died down. It broke his heart hearing you and seeing you in such a state as he hadn’t experienced you cry like this before. It was wrong of Price to give you such nasty looks, he didn’t even care that Price had given him those same looks, but he could have saved you from such an intense breakdown if he just kept it solely on Johnny. 

For a moment, Johnny thought he was losing his mind, but when your nails began digging into his chest from gripping his shirt so tightly, he realized that you were hugging him from the backseat, your elbow resting on his chest. Your hand let go of his white dress shirt, moving to grab his chin and angle his head far enough to the side where you could reach. You kissed his cheek, whispering: “thank you for taking me out tonight,” your sweet, warm breath fanning against the side of his face. 

“I’m glad you agreed to come out with my sorry self.”

“Give me some time, okay?” You ask him, his head nodding quickly in response. 

“I have all the time in the world,” Johnny smiles, his hand grasping your smaller one, the one that rested on his chin. 

John had gone home right after you and Johnny had pulled out of the parking lot, his eyes never leaving the black Audi he owned until it was completely out of his sight. His drive home was completely silent, fingers clutching his steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He wanted to scream, to let go of the fury he felt in the pit of his belly. He shouldn’t have left Gaz behind but he just needed to leave before he did something he regretted. It wasn’t so much as John disapproving of you and Johnny, it was more so the fact that you had kept Johnny in the friend zone for so long because you had no interest in seeing him in a romantic way. But the chemistry between you both was undeniable– your eyes staring up into his eyes during those dances made him think of the times you would lovingly look into his own. Your pretty eyes were so easy to get lost in. 

He should never have looked at you like that– the utter fear that glazed over your eyes and body language was enough to shatter his heart into splinters. Regret was heavy on his brain as he never meant to make you feel those emotions, especially not enough to make you not realize your own let down reflex and your dress becoming soaked through.

[icrypop]

Pink Pony Club

Angel Dust/Anthony x Trans FtM reader Songfic

Warnings: Homophobia/Transphobia, talk of suicide,drugs, alcohol, overdoses.

Chappell Roan currently has my heart with this song and I immediately felt the pull of Angel Dust with it...sooo...I think this'll be so cute 🥰 trust that im working through thr few requests I've got left so feel free to request more fandoms <3

-Writer Icy♡

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n stared out of the window, watching the fields of Tennessee blur past, the early morning sun casting long shadows over the countryside. This town had never felt like home, not truly. Not since they realized who they were—a boy in a body that didn’t quite fit. That discomfort, that gnawing feeling, had always been there, just beneath the surface. But it wasn’t until they met Anthony that everything became clear. Anthony, with his loud laughter, confidence, and unapologetic flamboyance. His bright eyes like neon and his Italian accent that fit his face just right. They had met at a dive bar when Anthony had flown in from LA, all talk of dreams, lights, and big cities.

Y/n had never met anyone like him. Anthony made LA sound like paradise, and the way his eyes sparkled as he spoke about performing made something click inside of them

I know you wanted me to stay

But I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA

And I heard that there's a special place

Where boys and girls can all be queens every single day

"You ever thought about leaving this place?" Anthony had asked one night, the two of them sitting on the hood of Y/n’s car, the stars twinkling above them. Y/n had hesitated, then nodded.

"Every day."

"You got that fire, N/n. I see it in you." Anthony had said with a grin, his cigarette dangling from his lips. "You could be anything out there, you know? Come with me to LA. I perform at this club called the Pink Pony Club. It’s a place for people like us, people who don’t fit anywhere else."

Y/n had laughed, a bit incredulous. "You think I could perform? Like… on stage?"

"Hell yeah!" Anthony had punched them lightly in the arm. "I can already see it. We’d tear it up together."

I'm having wicked dreams

Of leaving Tennessee

Hear Santa Monica

I swear it's calling me

Won't make my mama proud

It's gonna cause a scene

She sees her baby girl

I know she's gonna scream

---

Leaving home had been a fight, though. Y/n's mother had found the plane ticket tucked away in their drawer.

"You’re not leaving," her voice was sharp, eyes wide with panic. "What do you think you’re doing, Y/n? Running off with that boy to God knows where?"

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

Y/ had squared their shoulders, heart pounding but resolute. "I’m going to LA, Mom. I’m going to perform with Anthony at the Pink Pony Club."

"That’s not real life!" Her hands flew up in frustration, voice rising. "This isn’t who you are! You’re just confused, Y/n!"

"Confused?" Y/n's voice broke. "You don’t even know who I am! You’ve never listened, not once! I’m not confused—I’m finally figuring it out. I’m leaving."

Tears had welled up in their mother’s eyes, but Y/n had already turned away, grabbing their suitcase. The pain in their chest was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating life they would have if they stayed. They didn’t look back.

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

---

LA was everything Anthony had promised. The lights, the energy, the thrill of the stage—it was a world that Y/n had only ever dreamed about. Performing at the Pink Pony Club became their life, the rush of adrenaline from being on stage filling every void that had once been left empty.

The first night Y/n performed with Anthony, it felt like magic. The two of them danced together, the music pulsing through their veins, lights casting them in a warm, ethereal glow. Y/n had never felt so alive, so seen. On stage, in front of the world, they were exactly who they were meant to be.

I'm up and jaws are on the floor

Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door

Black lights and a mirrored disco ball

Every night's another reason why I left it all

As the months passed, the connection between Y/n and Anthony grew stronger. It started with stolen moments backstage, laughing about the wild characters they encountered at the club. It grew into late-night conversations about their dreams, their pasts, their shared pain of feeling like outsiders. Slowly, their friendship turned into something deeper. Something more.

I thank my wicked dreams

A year from Tennessee

Oh, Santa Monica

You've been too good to me

One night, after a particularly electric performance, Y/n found themselves sitting next to Anthony on the rooftop of their tiny apartment. The city stretched out below them, buzzing with life.

"You ever think about what it would be like if it all just stopped?" Anthony asked, staring out at the skyline.

Y/n frowned, glancing over. "What do you mean?"

Anthony shrugged, his usual bravado dimmed, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his drink. "You know, if all the lights went out. If it all just... ended."

Y/n's heart clenched. "Anthony, are you okay?"

Anthony looked at them, his expression softening. "I’m fine, toots. I just think too much sometimes."

Won't make my mama proud

It's gonna cause a scene

She sees her baby girl

I know she's gonna scream

But they knew better. There was a weight to Anthony that hadn’t been there before, and it scared them. With all the partying they did, drugs, drinking...everything had made them wonder…

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

---

The overdose came suddenly, though, in hindsight, Y/n had seen the signs. The long nights, the pills that became more frequent, the way Anthony’s laughter started to sound hollow.  Y/n had tried to help, but they hadn’t known how. They weren’t enough to save him.

Anthony was gone.

Don't think I've left you all behind

Still love you and Tennessee

You're always on my mind

And mama, every Saturday

I can hear your southern drawl a thousand miles away, saying

The funeral was a blur of pain. Y/n’s world crumbled, and they found themselves back in Tennessee, standing at the doorstep of the home they had once fled. The fight with their mother was inevitable.

"I told you!" she had screamed, her face red with anger. "I told you this wasn’t real! And now look! Look where it’s gotten you! God what have you done?!"

God, what have you done

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

Y/n had been too numb to argue, the guilt and grief sitting like a stone in their chest. They had felt like an outsider everywhere—LA, Tennessee, and now even in their own skin.

—

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

It wasn’t long after that Jade found themselves in the same spiral. They continued preforming but they went harder everytime. Double the alcohol, double the drugs...double the pain. The pain of losing Anthony had been too much, the crushing weight of trying to survive without him too heavy to bear. It was easier to numb it all. To slip away.

And then one day, everything went dark.

When Y/n opened their eyes, they were in Hell. Landed hard on the front steps of some hotel where people were talking.

The irony wasn’t lost on them. Hell was loud, chaotic, filled with the type of characters that would have fit right in at the Pink Pony Club. But amidst the chaos, there was one face they never expected to see again.

Anthony.

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

Except now, he wasn’t Anthony. He was Angel Dust, a larger-than-life version of the man Y/n had fallen in love with. It was shocking at first, seeing him again. Y/n’s breath had caught in their throat, their heart racing as Angel dust sauntered over, that familiar smirk on his lips.

"Toots? Is that really you?" Angel asked, voice teasing, but there was something soft in his eyes.

Y/n nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. They couldn’t believe it.

"Well, well," Angel grinned, "guess you really couldn’t stay away from me, huh?"

I'm gonna keep on dancing

And just like that, the years of pain, the grief, the loneliness melted away. They were back together, in Hell of all places, but it didn’t matter. They found a new club, one even better than the Pink Pony Club. The lights were brighter, the crowds wilder, and on stage together, it felt like they had never been apart.

I'm gonna keep on dancing

Y/n and Angel performed night after night, their love for each other rekindling, this time without the weight of the world dragging them down. The bad was still included...but it was dulled. It felt more at home at the end of the night. In Hell, they could be exactly who they were meant to be.

[minhosimthings]

Hold me Without Hurting me

Chapter 14: Hibiscus and Holding on

A/N: In which an old friend fills your life with flowers again, along a bumpy sided road.

Pairings: Ceo!Jay × Ceo!fem!reader, includes rest of Enhypen and certain other groups

Warnings: angst-fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to enemies to fake dating to enemies to lovers, Mentions of food and alcohol, swearing, nothing much but it's a bumpy story.

Story prompt: If I had a flower for every time I fell in love with you, I would walk in my garden forever. (This story is based on the language of flowers.)

A/N: Oh my god what! Mona posting two chapters in one day? It's a Christmas miracle. But real guys this is the second last chapter before the big ending and ITS GONNA BE LIT. im gonna go slow with the last chapter, make it as poetic as possible, so that these two idiots finally get a happy (sappy) ending. Also tagging @yunabi436 I hope this keeps her fed for a few days until the last chapter!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Jungwon was never one for relationships and love and all that jazz. Although his mother constantly pestered him to get a wife and give her some grandkids, he never took interest in it. After all, he was young, younger than his boss, whom he had never seen with another man wraped around her arm.

But Park Jay was different.

Although Jungwon didn't know his boss that well, he knew that she was a no nonsense woman who liked to get her job done on time. So when he saw her excitedly narrating her tales of her Jay and her played in the mud and planted flowers, he knew that this was something special, along with Jay's own assistant Kayla of course.

"Promise you'll call?" Kayla said, giving a small peck to Jungwon's cheek. Jungwon smiled down at her frame, and caressed her cheek. "I'll try to get a transfer here, alright?"

"Why is Miss Yang leaving so soon anyway?" Kayla questioned, still holding onto her lover, "I thought Mr Park were the full lovey dovey couple." Jungwon chuckled at his girlfriend's words and shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know much about that." He stated, hearing you call for him, "I love you babe, I'll call you when I get back." With a tight squeeze of her hands and a kiss to her lips, Jungwon scampered away, suitcase in hand, and a sad frown on his face.

"Congratulations Mr Park." A dreary faced man, with an awful moustache have a key to Jay, "You have earned this." Jay's hands trembled as he took the key and opened a mighty metal safe. Everything felt cold, his mother's stare, the lawyer's smirk, the metal of the key and the ringing noise in his ears. The wilted hibiscus in the corner begging for water, reminded him of your cold stare, as he shook hands with all the Ceo's, thanking them for coming to the meetings. Your hands didn't have that touch anymore, that cotton touch reminding him of why he still pestered on with life. And now, you were gone.

"Leave us." Jay commanded to the lawyer, who scampered away like a rat, leaving Jay and his mother alone.

"Why?" Jay slammed his hand on the table, making the old woman clutch her pearls tighter, "Tell me why the fuck you had to drive her away."

"She was ruining you." The woman spoke, her tone high and commanding, "Jay, this is your entire future, you can't risk it all for a girl you fell in love with fifteen years ago."

"I loved her!" Jay shouted, his voice echoing throughout the room, "And you just had to make history repeat, didn't you? Driving me away from her again and again, so that this stupid buisness can thrive." The woman clutched her pearls tighter, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Son, look on the bright side." She sighed, "You can expand the buisness now with these papers!" She looked at all the documents strewn on the table, "You can build an empire, Jay."

Jay had never felt angrier before, as he looked at his mother, greedily eyeing the papers. He would have drunk a snake's venom right now, if it meant having your hand twist in his, if it meant having to see you again, daintily flowing in a mud caked sundress, if it meant telling you, about all the times he had experienced death, thinking about you.

"You know what, mum?" He scoffed, putting the key in his hand down, "You're fired, from now on, you are excused from your position as my Chief of Management. You may leave now."

The old woman let out a pained cry, her face forming something akin to shock. "Jay, sweetheart-" "Leave mother." Jay glared daggers at the woman, "No more excuses from you. My lawyer shall be contacting you in a few days about your position from now on. You're excused."

As the woman got up slowly from her seat, pearls on the verge of breaking from how tightly she was holding them. Her face was a disgusting painting of horror and pain.

"I'll tell you this Jay." She said, before leaving, "Don't come scampering back when that girl ruins your chances of capital."

"Oh I'll take that chance." Jay spat his words with sweet venom laced in between.

He had one last chance.

And he wasn't going to waste it.

"Ma'am?" Jungwon wrapped his head around your door, frowning at the sight which beheld him. Your head was held in your hands, as you stared at all the papers in front of you.

"Yes Jungwon?" You cleared your throat, quickly sitting up straight and wiping the tears from your eyes, "Are those the reports for today?"

Jungwon nodded and sat down on the chair opposite you, an action quite unusual, as he usually just deposited the files and ran away. "Ma'am you need to stop working so hard." Jungwon's lips formed into an adorable pout, "You haven't even eaten a morsel in so many days."

You tried your hardest to smile up at Jungwon, and ran a hand through your hair. "I'm alright Jungwon, just hand me those reports."

"No you're not." Jungwon stated simply, as if to take control of the conversation.

"Ma'am no matter how much you try to distract yourself from Mr Park, it's not going to work, and especially not if you keep drowing yourself in work like this." You were taken aback at his words. What happened to the shy, nervous assistant you had been hanging out with for so long?

"I know I'm not supposed to butt into your personal life, but it is really taking a toll on your health too." Jungwon sighed, "So please, for God's sake, would you go home and rest for once?"

Jungwon's ears had turned hibiscus red by the time he finished with his impromptu speech. The confident mask he had once worn seemed to have deteriorated now, that he was fiddling his fingers and nervously biting his lips.

"I forgot how convincing you can be." You chuckled, easing his nerves a bit, "If I go home and rest for a few days, can I trust you to manage the office, Jungwon?" Jungwon's face lit up and he nodded frantically.

"I will literally do anything for you to go home and rest." He giggled, as you quickly packed up your things with his help.

"Thank you Jungwon." You sighed, as he dropped you off at the entrance of the building, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

The warm touch of the water hit your skin like a blanket enveloping you on Christmas night. When all were asleep, and you just couldn't bring yourself to drowse off, until a boy wrapped you all comfy in his arms, and cradled you to sleep, humming a song into your ear.

You had forgotten how cold the evening was, as you wrapped yourself tightly in your bathrobe, glass of wine all prepared and your cat Perry, lazily dropped on your bed, hid whiskers untamed.

Seven pm, the clock read. Still enough time to make dinner, you thought and relax to watch a sad Disney movie. Maybe you'd watch Up or The Good Dinosaur, you didn't really have a choice.

Outside your window, the winds of Zephyrus, Notus, Boreas and Eurus ran through time like an expatriate, leaving your lips cold and dry, without the touch of someone else's on them. Someone very specific.

The sudden sound of your cat leaping off of the bed, broke you out of your deep thought.

"Why do you sit on my phone, if you know it scares you, you stupid cat?" You rolled your eyes at your cat, who by now, had rested himself on the bedside table, and picked up your phone, which showed Jungwon's caller id.

"Won hey. Is everything alright?" You said, picking up the phone. "Yes ma'am.... And also no ma'am." Jungwon's voice rang in your ear. "What do you mean?"

"Mr Park has just landed in Seoul."

[diorkyeom]

‘✷’ : CHAPTER TWO “one joshua to rule them all”

<< prev chapter | ao3 fic | next chapter >>

chapter word count: 5.5k+

chapter warnings: swearing, alcohol

summary: "lately, seokmin had come to a realisation. joshua hong, seokmin thought, was a little bit of an enigma." - in which seokmin has known joshua for years, but he's always been a bit of a mystery to him. and as the days go by, he finds himself falling further and further for the enigmatic man, wanting to find out who the real Joshua Hong is behind his polite smiles and warm eyes and sweet words.

notes: if gods existed, i think they'd probably like to grant wishes purely to make humans suffer lmao

Seokmin ended up beginning to see a lot more of Joshua.

It was small things, really, but considering the fact that, up until then, Seokmin hadn’t even glimpsed a hint of Joshua’s shadow, it made him wonder if there were any gods up there, listening to his every word.

Because, well, he saw Joshua everywhere.

They bumped into each other while Seokmin was out grocery shopping, or while he was just getting off the bus and Joshua was getting on, or while Seokmin was popping into the gym to see if Soonyoung was escaping his dishwashing duties again (which was an utterly mortifying encounter that he really didn’t want to repeat), or simply while walking down the street as they accidentally made eye contact.

It was safe to say that he was seeing a lot of Joshua.

Soonyoung looked up from where he was spraying water on the cacti out in their hall, frowning when he saw Seokmin walk through the door, coming home after work.

“What’s up with you?” he asked, setting down the spray bottle. "Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? And why are you late?”

Seokmin blinked, a rabbit under headlights. Soonyoung tilted his head, the concern melting into something more mischievous in his eyes.

“You did something, didn’t you? Seokmin, why’re you coming back from work late?”

“Uh, no reason,” Seokmin lied lamely, wincing internally. Damn. That hadn't even convinced himself. He made a mental note to get better at lying. “Nothing happened.” And then he ran to his room.

Or, tried to. Soonyoung had fast reflexes, even though he really only chose to use them whenever it most benefited him. Seokmin was often the poor victim of such reflexes, he thought. He made another mental note to get better at dodging Soonyoung's grabby hands.

"I can see it all over your face," Soonyoung said suspiciously. "What did you do this time?"

Seokmin tried to laugh casually. It didn't work. "Would you believe me if I said that absolutely nothing happened at all?"

"Nope."

"Aw, damn. I need to improve my skills of lying to you. Could we make that a daily session?"

"Seokmin, stop avoiding the question," Soonyoung said, shaking his shoulders. His eyes gleamed with the potential of getting embarrassing information out of him. "What did you do?"

Seokmin squirmed, unable to get out of Soonyoung's death grip on his arms.

"One of my students is leaving school today," he said finally. "She gave me these flowers to say thank you. But—"

"Oh! Let me guess, they're the ones you're allergic to?"

Seokmin glared at the interruption. "No."

"You touched them and they immediately died?"

"What? No!"

"There was a roach in them and you screamed and threw it in her face?"

"Huh? Hyung, that's what you did the last time your niece tried to give you flowers," Seokmin said. Soonyoung huffed, and then motioned for him to carry on with his head. He still had that death grip on Seokmin's arms.

"Just get on with it."

"I would if you stopped interrupting me," Seokmin sulked. "You're not letting me finish."

"So keep going!"

It was an incredibly embarrassing encounter, in fact. Seokmin had cherished the flowers, since they'd been given by one of his favourite students, and had happily carried them in his arms on the way home.

Only to turn the corner and run right into Joshua.

"Hello!" Joshua had said in surprise, steadying him with an arm on his shoulder. Then his voice had gone soft, that gentle softness which made Seokmin blink rapidly. "Those are some lovely flowers. Where did you get them?"

Seokmin had stared at him for a long, long moment.

“Seokmin?” Joshua’s voice had turned a little worried, removing his hand from his shoulder to wave it in front of his face. “Are you okay?”

Seokmin blinked at him again. And then—

"They're for you!" he'd blurted, for some reason.

Joshua froze. "What?"

"—and then I pushed the flowers into his arms and ran away," Seokmin finished miserably and Soonyoung cackled.

“You gave Joshua hyung flowers? That weren’t even for him?” Soonyoung said, still laughing. “Oh, wow. What did he say?”

“I don’t know,” Seokmin said, still in that same miserable tone. “I told you. I ran away.”

Soonyoung burst into laughter again, and Seokmin sighed.

If there were gods out there, listening to his wishes and orchestrating these embarrassing encounters, then Seokmin wasn’t sure he liked them that much.

His daily life carried on just like that, with a weird mix of constant Joshua-sightings and his normal, everyday routine. If Seokmin was being honest, it was getting kind of terrifying at this point, just how many times he’d seen Joshua over the past few weeks, when before he’d barely see the man outside of their monthly Game Nights.

It was mildly awkward, in the way that it would be mildly awkward to constantly see your friend’s undeniably attractive and weirdly elusive housemate even though you’ve held probably ten conversations in total with them. While the encounters weren’t necessarily unpleasant, he didn’t know what to do with the fact that his ears constantly reddened and his heart seized up and suddenly he didn’t know how to string two sentences together whenever he caught sight of Joshua’s big eyes and soft smile and shy wave of ‘hello’.

Seokmin was half-worried that he was being stalked, if Joshua didn’t look utterly surprised by their sudden, frequent encounters, just like him.

Well, Seokmin supposed, if the gods were indeed listening in on the lives of mere mortals like them, then this wasn’t exactly the worst wish of his that they could have chosen to grant. At least everyone around him wasn’t talking about Joshua 24/7, because boy would that be weird.

───────────── ‘✷,

Every time their favourite dongsaeng came over to talk to Soonyoung and Seokmin, it always had something to do with work.

Seungkwan always had something to complain over, or something to gossip about, or something to relay to his hyungs that would eventually devolve into him telling them how brilliant he was due to how he’d handled the situation. He was a master storyteller, better even than Jeonghan, and while he did get (justifiably) annoyed when Soonyoung and Seokmin interrupted him with constant questions, the way he told a story was almost unsettlingly gripping.

They dedicated entire evenings to these talk sessions, equipped with coffee and hot chocolate and a vast variety of unhealthy snacks, talking and laughing until the wee hours of the morning even though, most of the time, they had work the next day. But while sipping piping hot drinks with pop music blasting through the house and shitting on colleagues and discussing the meaning of life, no one had time to worry about work.

“Seohwa keeps saying that I look like a hamster,” Soonyoung said, squishing his cheeks and frowning, "and everyone keeps agreeing with her. Be honest you guys. Do I really?”

“Yeah,” Seokmin replied instantly, Seungkwan nodding in agreement with him. “You’re, like, the most hamster-looking person ever.”

Soonyoung took his hands away from his cheeks. “I hate you both.”

Seungkwan cackled, crawling through the mess of pillows strewn across the floor to kneel in front of Soonyoung, pinching his cheeks and moving his head around. “But hyung! Come on, you have to agree that you’re literally as adorable as the adorablest hamster in the world. You look just like the pet hamster my cousin used to have. Hey! Don’t bite me, you animal!”

Soonyoung just grinned as Seungkwan ripped his hands away from the elder’s face, shrugging as if he hadn’t just clasped his teeth around Seungkwan’s thumb. “Don’t put your hands next to my face.”

“What happened to your cousin’s hamster?” Seokmin asked, turning Seungkwan’s glare away from Soonyoung. “I didn’t even know she had one.”

“Oh, it died,” Seungkwan said. “Overfeeding.”

Soonyoung, taking a sip of his now-cold hot chocolate, choked.

“It was really sad,” Seungkwan carried on thoughtfully, patting Soonyoung’s back as he coughed. “It was so cute. It used to hoard food in its mouth like this—" He puffed out his cheeks— "with literally the exact same expression that Soonyoung hyung has when he's stuffing his face with food."

Soonyoung glared. "You're literally the worst person in the world. I'm banning you from coming back here."

"You wouldn't," Seungkwan said cheerfully, while Soonyoung rolled his eyes and Seokmin laughed, because they all knew that Seungkwan was right. And besides, even if they did ban him, he'd probably pick their locks and stroll into their apartment anyway.

"Hyung, can you get me more hot chocolate? I ran out," Seokmin asked, waving his empty mug at Soonyoung.

"Oh, hyung, me too!" Seungkwan said, holding his out too. "Make me some more too."

"No hot chocolate for traitors," Soonyoung snipped, but he stood up anyway, taking their mugs. "I hate you both so much."

Seokmin grinned, blowing a dramatic kiss in Soonyoung's direction as he attempted to navigate through the fluffy pillows and blankets that they'd flung across the floor of the living room. Soonyoung gave him the finger in return, and Seungkwan laughed.

"Kwan. Are you still going church-hopping tomorrow?" Seokmin asked, once there was the sound of the microwave whirring as Soonyoung heated the milk.

Seungkwan brightened, leaping at the chance to talk about his work. "Yeah, we are! We're going out of the area tomorrow, and we'll probably go there again the day after because the writers said that they won't have finished finalising the script until at least the end of this week. Ayun noona thinks they're slacking off, which is why it's taking so long."

Seokmin laughed. "Ayun noona thinks terribly of everyone."

"She does, doesn't she? Such a bitch," Seungkwan said, with feeling, and it made Seokmin laugh again as the younger scrunched his nose. "Did I tell you that thing she did the other day? We were in one of the churches in this area, and everyone was in a good mood because, you know, it was a nice day! The sun was out, we were technically getting a day off because who the fuck even does research on research trips, and Hyuwon had paid for literally everyone's lunch. We're on our way to the next church, but this noona just…"

And so the evening carried on. Soonyoung came back with the hot chocolate while Seungkwan was in the middle of his rant and almost spilled the drink all over the television to avoid Seungkwan's flailing hands. There was a scuffle, and melodramatic yelling, but eventually they settled down and Seungkwan carried on telling his story like nothing had happened.

It was chaotic. It was confusing. But it was, above all, normal, and Seokmin's head was buzzing with just how wonderfully, messily ordinary it was. As he laughed at Soonyoung for being slapped on the shoulder for interrupting Seungkwan's story, all he could think of was how good it was to have this day, this evening of ordinary stuff with no Joshua-ness. After all, it was probably the first day since last month's Game Night that he hasn't been reminded of Joshua, either because of his own brain or because he'd been seeing the man across the street at every turn.

Not that he didn't want to see Joshua, of course. But he didn't exactly want to deal with the weird heart palpitations and strange tongue-tiedness every single day, you know?

This evening was simply a good distraction from how startlingly suddenly Joshua had invaded his life.

“—and that choir that Joshua hyung leads was there too! His children were really really good, and it was all stuffy church hymns that they were singing, but that’s expected, since we were researching church stuff, but it was really amazing. Joshua hyung is a great teacher to the kids.”

Seokmin blinked at Seungkwan, astounded.

Great.

He spoke too soon.

Seungkwan kept rambling about his church-hopping events that had happened with his music theatre crew, because apparently they were gathering ‘hands-on’ experience to help with their new upcoming project, or something. Seokmin wasn’t sure how that worked, but they were doing it anyway, and Seungkwan carried on talking about it, his ramblings mostly on Joshua for the moment. Soonyoung was nodding along, practically drowning in a pile of cushions he’d made but still engaging in the conversation all the same.

Seokmin wanted to bash his head against the coffee table and knock himself out. This was insane. Joshua was everywhere, damnit.

When Seokmin said he wanted to see more of Joshua, he didn’t mean he wanted to see him and hear of him 24/7.

“—and I just think it’s so cool he does his day job and still leads the choir of the church, you know? Although, from what Jeonghan hyung said, he’s gonna quit his day job soon and do something else,” Seungkwan was saying. He was still talking about Joshua. How was he still talking about Joshua?

“What’s he gonna do?” Soonyoung asked.

“Work at a school as a music teacher,” Seungkwan replied. “Jeonghan hyung said he was growing tired of his desk job, so he’s doing something he enjoys. Good on him,” he added, “because from the way he worked with the church kids, he really, really loves teaching music.”

That made Seokmin smile, just a little bit. The image of Joshua giving a bunch of little kids his lovely, lovely smiles and clapping good-humouredly as they finished singing made his heart warm.

“Speaking of Joshua hyung, though,” Soonyoung said, and there was a distinctly sly lilt to his voice as he grinned at Seokmin. "Wanna tell Seungkwan what you did?"

Seokmin groaned. "No, actually, I don't."

"What? What? Hyung, what did you do?" Instantly, Seungkwan turned to him, fully intent on dragging the whole story out of him, patting his arm excitedly. "Hyung, tell me, please! I wanna know!"

"It's nothing interesting?" Seokmin tried. "You're not gonna wanna know?"

Soonyoung snorted at the way Seokmin's words had ended with a questioning lilt. Seungkwan just shook his head, eyes wide.

"Of course I want to know!" he insisted. He'd have looked so innocent and sincere if Seokmin didn’t know that he was fully intending to laugh at him once he'd told the tale. "I wanna know everything that my lovely Seokmin hyung gets up to, you know?"

Seokmin cringed. "Okay, okay, I'll tell you. It's really not that interesting."

And so, he relayed the same embarrassing story that he'd told Soonyoung, finishing in the same flustered, miserable tone.

"—pushed the flowers in his direction and ran away," he said, miserably, and Seungkwan burst into laughter. Seokmin crossed his arms, bottom lip jutting out. He had the worst friends ever.

“That’s so—” Seungkwan couldn’t even finish his sentence before dissolving into laughter again, holding onto an uncontrollably giggling Soonyoung for support. “Oh, Seokmin hyung, what are we gonna do with you?”

Seokmin sniffed. “You know what, I agree with Soonyoung hyung’s decision. Seungkwan, you’re banned from coming back here. Ever.”

“You wouldn’t,” Seungkwan said again, through tears of laughter, and he was right, again, but Seokmin huffed and pretended to be mad at him all the same. “You love me too much.”

“Debatable,” Seokmin said, but before Seungkwan could squawk in indignation, he pushed the younger’s mug of hot chocolate back into his hands. “Shh. Drink. Let’s talk about something else, I’m bored.”

“Okay.” Soonyoung opened a bag of chips, chomping thoughtfully. “Wait, Seok, it sounds like a lot of your students are leaving lately.”

Seokmin brightened at the change in topic and then saddened with a sigh. “Yeah, they are. So are the teachers! Everyone’s leaving all of a sudden, and it makes me sad.”

“Teachers too?” Seungkwan asked, putting down his mug again, eyeing Soonyoung’s bag of chips. “Is it one specific department they’re all leaving from?”

Seokmin tapped his lips thoughtfully, thinking through the colleagues who’d told him he was leaving soon. “I dunno. These two guys from the music department are leaving together to create a company, though.”

Seungkwan was still side-eyeing Soonyoung’s the bag of chips, sitting back on his knees. “Huh. Hey, I wonder what kind of company they’re trying to create.” He leaned forward suddenly, managing to snag the entire bag out of Soonyoung’s hands.

Immediately, Soonyoung gave a cry of outrage and lunged towards Seungkwan, arms outstretched while the younger rolled around and adamantly yelled “No! No!” while trying to keep the chips out of Soonyoung’s reach.

“I think it was a company on mental health or something” Seokmin said, half to himself, half to his friends wrestling amongst the fluffy blankets. “I can’t remember what it was about. Oh, and there’s another guy who’s leaving ‘cuz he's retiring, I think.”

Amidst a spray of chip crumbs, Soonyoung emerged victorious, sticking his tongue out incredibly maturely at the static-haired Seungkwan.

“What department was he? Dance history?” he asked, while Seungkwan sat up and tried in vain to calm down his hair.

Seokmin shook his head. “Nope, he taught chemistry. No one teaches dance history at a normal school, hyung,” he pointed out.

“Hey, your school isn't normal. It's fancy as fuck,” Seungkwan said, giving up on his hair and glaring at Soonyoung. “It’s a fucking private school. You have stables. You might very well have dance history lessons too.”

“Well, we don’t,” Seokmin said. “Our music department is pretty big, though. Well, we’re down two now, but there’s still a lot of teachers there. We have an organ tutor and everything.”

Seungkwan threw his hands up in the air while Soonyoung shook his head, and Seokmin blinked.

“What?”

“An organ tutor,” Seungkwan emphasised.

Seokmin thought about it. Shrugged. “Okay yeah, it’s a bit weird.”

“A bit weird,” Soonyoung repeated, grinning. “Oh, dear Seokmin, I have no idea how you managed to get into that school at all.”

“Honestly,” Seokmin said, “Me neither.”

Instantly, Soonyoung cuffed him around the head with a pillow. “Hey, don’t say that about yourself! You are brilliant, Lee Seokmin! You deserve the highest salary ever and for none of your children to hand in half-assed essays for the entirety of your career!”

Seokmin blinked, confused, opening his mouth to protest and receiving a mouthful of cushion in return. “Wh—I was agreeing with you!”

“It was a trick question!” Seungkwan crowed, before his head swung back suddenly as Seokmin threw a cushion in his direction. He fixed his eyes on Seokmin, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. “Oh, you are so dead for that.”

Any attempts to carry on the conversation were lost beneath flying upholstery and shrieks of laughter and the sound of the three of them cheering while murdering one another with pillows.

───────────── ‘✷,

Someone had decided to bring a bluetooth speaker to their latest Game Night, and Seokmin didn’t know whether he should be congratulating the person or fantasising about wringing their neck.

“Soonyoung, fucking turn down that music before I smash that speaker to bits!” Jihoon yelled over the cacophony of noise, making Mingyu jump from where he was standing in the middle of the room, acting out whatever charade he was meant to try and get them to guess.

“Never!” Soonyoung yelled back, almost tripping over Junhui’s legs to run towards his precious speaker, hugging it as if protecting it from the various profanities that Jihoon was yelling at it.

Minghao rolled his eyes from where he was squished next to Seokmin on the sofa, stuck so close to his side that they were practically sitting in each other’s laps. “If Jihoon hyung doesn’t smash it, then I might,” he muttered, and Seokmin grinned.

“You and those spindly arms?” he said, poking Minghao in the side.

Minghao scowled. “Shut up.”

The music was lowered, eventually, and Mingyu went back to acting out what looked like a rabbit hanging from a branch and dying a painful death.

“I don’t get it,” Jeonghan said eventually, and several voices yelled out their agreement. “Should we play something else?”

“No, guys, this one is really easy,” Mingyu insisted. “Come on, I’m acting out one of you guys.” He did the action again, and the rabbit scrunched its nose and seemed to almost succeed at lifting itself up onto the branch before it fell back down again. “Do you really not get it?”

“Just tell us,” Seokmin yelled out. “No one gets it.”

Mingyu huffed. “It’s Seungcheol trying to do his first pull-ups back when we were in uni.”

Immediately, there was an explosion of noise as Seungcheol cried out at the injustice of the horribly inaccurate depiction while Chan screamed with laughter and various others yelled in recognition. Seokmin laughed, sipping from his mug, marvelling at how quickly Game Night was once again veering away from its main aim of, well, playing games.

Minghao was curled up at his side, drinking water out of a wine glass, and wasn’t it really weird that Seokmin was drinking alcohol in a mug and Minghao was drinking water in a glass?

He pointed this out to Minghao, but the man just shrugged. “Jeonghan never does anything that makes sense. It’s no wonder that the cups he’s assigned to us don’t make sense either.”

Seokmin laughed, draining his mug and stretching out on the sofa, which had rapidly emptied as everyone jumped up to yell at each other. “You’re so right.”

Overall, this month’s Game Night was going really well. They’d already almost murdered each other during five rounds of Uno, one weird round of Chinese Whispers and three of charades, and Seokmin’s brain was entering that floaty state where he felt all loose and happy and everything made him laugh.

And he was, most definitely, not avoiding Joshua.

He wasn't, okay, he really wasn’t. He didn’t even talk to Joshua normally, so it was totally ordinary for them not to interact once during Game Night. Even if he was Jeonghan’s housemate, it wasn’t like Seokmin was best friends with him too. And that wasn’t something that was going to start now, right? So it was totally normal.

It was also totally normal for Seokmin’s eyes to keep drifting to him, of course.

Soonyoung suddenly launched himself into the gap between Minghao and Seokmin, making Seokmin yelp and Minghao hiss. Except, he bounded up to them with too much force, so Soonyoung simply bounced into their laps before sliding off again.

“W—Soonyoung, get off!” Minghao looked down at the man on the floor, who was giggling on the floor and evidently drunk off his ass. “What’s wrong with you now?”

Seokmin tilted his head, poking Soonyoung in the cheek with his foot. The elder didn’t even react, only giggling harder, and Seokmin grinned. “Everything. Hyung’s wasted.”

Minghao wrinkled his nose, tsking. “Already? It’s not even midnight yet.” He stood up from the sofa, stepping over Soonyoung’s body. “I’m gonna go find Junhui,” he said to Seokmin, motioning to the mess that had spread out from the living room and into the hall. “Make sure he’s not puking all over himself again.”

Seokmin gave him a salute. “Good luck, soldier.”

No sooner had Minghao vacated the sofa than Jeonghan flopped down into the space next to Seokmin, leaning into his shoulder and waving down at Soonyoung on the floor at their feet.

“Hi, Soonyoung,” Jeonghan grinned. “How’s the floor?”

Soonyoung muttered something.

“Cool,” Jeonghan said, before whipping his attention round to Seokmin. “Have you seen Jihoon?”

“Uh,” Seokmin blinked, startled by the sudden question. “No?”

Jeonghan sighed, slumping into him again. “Shame. I’m looking for Joshua. I dunno where he’s gone. It’s like he’s disappeared into thin air.”

Seokmin tilted his head, thoroughly confused, because Joshua was standing in the other corner of the living room, looking like he was consoling a teary Seungkwan while trying to hold back his own laughter. He was nowhere near Jihoon. And he was right within their range of vision.

“Are you drunk?” he asked Jeonghan, and the elder threw his head back and laughed.

“Me? No way,” Jeonghan said, grinning, sitting up properly. “You, Minnie, aren’t nearly drunk enough, however. Here.”

And he pushed another mug of alcohol into Seokmin’s hands that he’d seemingly procured out of nowhere, watching him like a hawk until he took a sip. Jeonghan smiled, satisfied, drinking from his own mug as he leaned back into the couch, watching the chaos of the room.

“Joshua hyung’s right there,” Seokmin pointed out helpfully, just in case Jeonghan hadn’t seen him. He wasn’t sure how Jeonghan hadn’t, though, because Seungkwan was making loud wailing noises and Joshua was standing next to him, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“Right where?” Jeonghan asked, but it was a little absentminded, as if he’d stopped looking for Joshua. “You should make friends with him, you know.”

Seokmin blinked. “I—what?”

“Make friends,” Jeonghan said. “With Joshua.”

Seokmin squinted at him. “I think you are drunk, hyung.”

Jeonghan just laughed. “Maybe. But you should. Just talk to him, you know? I think you’d get on really well. You’ve probably already seen how he’s so much like you.”

“He is?” Seokmin furrowed his brow. At his feet, Soonyoung was wriggling around, trying to sit up. “How do you know that? I don’t know anything about him.”

“Sure you do,” Soonyoung murmured, headbutting Seokmin’s knee. “Like how hyung makes weird design choices.”

Seokmin blinked as Soonyoung dragged himself to his feet, frowning like he was in deep thought before sitting in Seokmin’s lap. “Ugh, get off, you’re heavy. How could you even hear us from down on the floor? Above all this noise?”

“You’re loud,” Soonyoung said, grinning and adjusting himself in Seokmin’s lap. “And comfy. Why are you so comfy?”

Seokmin yelped when Soonyoung kneed him in the crotch. “Ow! What the hell? Jeonghan hyung, help me!” He turned to his side only to find that Jeonghan disappeared. Probably fucked off once he knew that Seokmin would be calling for his help, Seokmin thought grumpily. “Hey, stop wriggling, will you? You’re gonna make me spill beer all over you.”

“Never,” Soonyoung declared, clinging to Seokmin’s shoulders. “I’m never leaving. It’s so comfy here.”

Seokmin looked around exasperatedly, trying to find an escape, before his eyes lit up. “Hey! Hyung, Minghao’s gonna attack your speakers with a baseball bat!”

“He’s gonna do what?” And instantly, Soonyoung leapt off of Seokmin, allowing him to breathe again.

There was the distant sound of yelling and Soonyoung wailing about his speaker, and Seokmin simply laughed as an empty-handed Minghao walked back in the living room only to be tackled to the ground by Soonyoung. Junhui walked into the room a few seconds after and promptly tripped over them, and Seokmin laughed even harder.

“Hello.”

The soft voice in Seokmin’s ear made him jump, and his eyes widened as he turned around to see Joshua sitting next to him on the sofa. The elder nodded his head to the living room doorway, where the impromptu rugby pile had turned into all of them somehow lying face-down on the floor.

“I love the chaos you’ve caused there.”

“You heard what I said to Soonyoung?” Seokmin asked, surprised. Joshua laughed, shaking his head.

“No. But I guessed.” Joshua paused, eyes flitting to Seokmin, eyes warm and yet also tinted with something unfamiliar. “He was all over your lap, after all. It was difficult not to notice.”

“Oh.” Seokmin blinked. Somewhere, someone let out a squawk.

Joshua didn’t say anything, giving a small smile, leaning back into the cushions. He was drinking water, Seokmin noticed. Out of a plastic cup with Winnie the Pooh’s face on it.

Did Joshua ever actually drink at these events?

Seokmin surveyed the room once again, and Junhui was meowing like a cat for some reason and Seungcheol was trying to bodily lift Jihoon off from where he’d been clung to Seungkwan for some reason or other. But he wasn’t really seeing any of it, more focused on Joshua by his side, all silent and thoughtful, the elder’s words ringing in his ears.

“We aren’t like that,” Seokmin suddenly blurted out. “Soonyoung hyung and I. He’s just. Clingy. With everyone.”

Joshua looked over at him, and when he smiled over the rim of his cup at him, there was a little twinkle in his irises, all bright and gentle and sweet. “It’s okay. I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah.” Joshua’s eyes crinkled. “I know.”

That made Seokmin feel strangely glad.

After a few moments, he nodded to Joshua’s cup. “Not drinking again this time?” he asked.

“Hm? Oh, not tonight,” Joshua said, sipping his water again. “Alcohol always tastes too bitter in my mouth.”

“I get you,” Seokmin said, nodding in understanding. “Way too bitter.” Then he tipped his head back and drained his mug.

Joshua looked over at him and laughed.

Silence descended on them again, but it was a companionable silence. Like it was totally okay for them to inhabit the same space as each other without words having to be exchanged.

It was by no means quiet in the room, not with the inevitable shouting that came with monthly Game Night, but it was… nice. It was kind of nice to sit still with Joshua, Seokmin thought.

“I think you’d get on really well.”

Seokmin frowned thoughtfully, glancing over at Joshua again. The elder caught his eye, and simply raised his eyebrows at the eye contact, a silent question. It had Seokmin shaking his head with a smile before facing forward again.

Jeonghan had known Joshua for years. He’d known Seokmin for years, too. So of course he’d be someone who could tell whether two of his best friends would be able to get along.

“You’ve probably already seen how he’s so much like you.”

But, well. Seokmin hadn’t. And that was the weirdest thing about all of this.

Seokmin might not have known Joshua the longest, but he had known him for long enough. Long enough to probably know at least a few embarrassing or personal stories about him. But, no matter what Joshua said, no matter what Jeonghan said, no matter what anyone said, Seokmin had to say that he didn’t think he knew all that much about him.

But he should at least know some things about Joshua. Right?

Seokmin looked over at Joshua, who was sipping water from that plastic Winnie the Pooh cup, eyes sparkling as he watched Junhui waving his hands while telling the others something. He squinted his eyes, trying to properly scrutinise his hyung, trying to think about what he knew about him.

But Seokmin. Seokmin had to admit he was definitely more than a little drunk, and he had Hansol’s seagull-squawk laugh in his ears, and Jeonghan’s house was always so warm and comforting and it made his already creaky brain practically come to a full stop.

So as Seokmin looked at Joshua’s side profile, all he could think about was the delicate slope of Joshua’s nose, the way his cheeks were flushed due to the warmth of thirteen people squished in one room, the way his eyes crinkled so prettily, the way his laugh sounded like music, the way—

“I think I’m going to go to my room,” Joshua said, and suddenly he was all up in Seokmin’s personal space, lips close to his ear so he could hear him properly. He smelled soft, Seokmin thought faintly. Whatever that meant. “It’s too noisy.”

“R—ight,” Seokmin said, and suddenly he felt like he could feel his pulse pounding in his wrists. His brain was basically nonexistent now, and his tongue felt sticky, bitter alcohol all around his mouth. “Um, rest well, hyung.”

Joshua smiled at him, and it was his soft-cotton smile that made Seokmin’s dizzy head feel a little more grounded. He stood up from the sofa, making his way across the crowded living room and attempting to leave. Seokmin found himself watching him, watching as Joshua was accosted by a mildly tipsy Seungcheol, watching as Joshua smiled teasingly and warmly in a honey-golden kind of way which seemed to satisfy Seungcheol enough to let him go.

Hm.

Seokmin wouldn’t deny that he was just a little bit mesmerised, not just because Joshua’s smile was so pretty, but because he’d smiled… differently. Like he knew exactly how to deal with both Seokmin and Seungcheol, navigating those situations effortlessly.

But what was Joshua like? What was he truly like? Seokmin wasn’t sure he had a clue. Perhaps Joshua smiled softly to him and warmly to Seungcheol and gazed at Jeonghan fondly, but what was Joshua’s real self? How was he when he wasn’t laughing at Soonyoung’s stories or crying over Seungkwan’s skits or making awkwardly endearing mistakes that feel almost like he’d thought them through before he’d enacted them?

Surely there was one true Joshua there. One Joshua that was more Joshua than all the other ones, the Joshua who he was on the inside.

The real Joshua.

But Seokmin didn't think he'd ever seen the real Joshua before. He didn't know who Joshua really was. He’d never thought about it until then, but now he had, and he realised that he really didn’t know.

Joshua didn’t look back as he walked out of the living room and up the stairs, but Seokmin watched him all the same, mind buzzing with alcohol and fuzzy cotton and smiling warmth.

For the rest of the night, Joshua was all that Seokmin could think about.

taglist (interact here/send ask to be added): @fairyhaos @atinytinaa @my-moarmy-heart @weird-life-of-a-closet-fangirl @lilsafsafbooyah @stqrrgirle @bittersweet-folder @weird-bookworm @ultrara-re @tianakings @bangantokchy @ahuihoeeee @tiinkerbell

[justagirlwhowritess]

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Genre: Angst no real comfort

Warning: toxic relationships, alcohol, swearing, insecurities

Additional Notes: I listened to July by Noah Cyrus while writing this.

“God you are so fucking annoying. Do you ever shut the fuck up, y/n?” Tomura spat at you. You had been dating the man for about two years now, and at first he was incredibly sweet, kind, really made you love him, now he’s become an asshole who acts like he couldn’t care less about you. You blinked back tears and shuffled on your feet mumbling an apology under your breath. He rolled his eyes and left the room, probably going to drink again, you think to yourself as you do your nightly routine to get ready for bed, alone of course, Tomura hadn’t bothered coming to bed with you for months now. It was about four am when he finally crawled into bed, you were still awake sniffling softly clutching a pillow to your chest. You should leave him, you have thought about it, but the change is immense, it’s scary, what if he decided to hurt you for leaving? He’s a villain after all and you are just a civilian with a less than useful quirk, no one would notice if he dusted you. “If you want me to leave, you are just gonna have to tell me. I can’t read your mind. I can be packed and gone by sunrise.” You mumbled as he shifted. He grabbed your shoulder and rolled you over.  “What are you talking about?” he asked, looking at the fresh tears streaming down your face. “If you want to be done with me, you have to be the one to break us up. I can’t do it, I’m not strong enough to leave you. If you want to go and find someone that can love you better, you deserve better, but you have to be the one to leave me, I just can’t bring myself to leave you, I love you so much Tomura.” You choked the words out through sobs and a few hiccups. He sighed, his face growing softer looking at you crumbling next to him.  “I’m not leaving you, don’t be fucking stupid.” he spoke. You looked back at him, feeling confusion bubble in your chest. “Why not? You remind me every single day I'm not good enough for you and never will be. You always say you can have whoever you want, so have them. Why keep me around? Just tell me to leave and I’ll go, no reason to keep stringing me along.” you cried. He rolled his eyes. “I love you. You aren’t leaving. Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.” his palm was resting on your cheek with his thumb but no other fingers touching your face. “Okay. I love you, Tomura” you whisper, feeling his hand leave your face as he goes to roll over.

[muav99]

So first post eee!!! ( Not edited so bare with) but if you like i’ll write part 2🩷 My favorite truth or dare trope🤭

Ot8- Pg-13 Truth or Dare

Smut (almost) - Soft dom Felix X Sub reader, Y/N used, best friend pining, Teasing, Warnings of Alcohol, Swearing

Pt 1.? Tbc

The night started out chill, Chan suggested we all go out and buy some Soju to share after the long ass week. Me, chan, Felix, and changbin went to the convenient store to grab the drinks. The rest of the guys stayed at mine to chill until we got back.

“We got em!”

Yelled chan as we ran through the door giddy to open up the bottles.

“Finally”

sighed hyunjin grabbing one for himself and taking a light sip.

We all took our swigs and sat in a circle on my floor. By the time we were buzzed enough Seungmin started the truth or dares.

“Truth or dare Han?”

He asked as he finished off his last drops and throws the bottle to the side.

“Dare”

says Han. Of course he would pick dare.

“I dare you to kiss hyunjin”

Seungmin says falling over absolutely dying laughing.

“EW…….okay” Han replies.

Felix is sitting beside you, he’s usually clingy but tonight its like he’s glued to my side. Subtle touches and does he keep looking at you? No thats weird. Han leans over to hyunjin who’s making the biggest upset glare at him. He quickly pecks his cheek and hyunjin pulls away dramatic screaming. Everyone’s dying at this point toppling over. Felix is leaning over laughing into your neck. You freeze. Unsure how to feel even though he normally does this, maybe its the alcohol. Your cheeks flush as he looks at you with concerned.

“You okay Y/n?” Felix asks.

He grabs your thigh and squeezes it in reassurance. But it creates more then reassurance.

“Im okay! Sorry, probably just a bit tipsy” You say.

“I’ll keep an eye on you then” he says pulling you in by the waist real close.

You look around searching to see if his behavior seems flirtatious to anyone else. But everyones in their own world. And besides you and Felix have been best friends how long? Years. He’s just being sweet. And besides he’s tipsy too. You lean into his touch to reciprocate his actions. Enjoying it more then you’d admit out loud.

“Y/n? Truth or dare?”, the thoughts in your head silenced by the voice of Changbin.

“Oh! Um has anyone done dare? Sure dare” you say trying to distract yourself from felix pressed against your side.

You finish off the bottle and look changbin in the eye.

“I dare you to sit in Felix’s lap the whole game” he says.

Felix loosens his grip slightly on your waist and looks at you slightly nervous now.

“Since you two are comfortable over there” Changbin says and points to your almost cuddled position.

The alcohol is starting to give you a bit more confidence so you look over to felix, where he’s trying to find anything to drink left. You slide closer and position yourself on his lap. Instead of nerves he exudes, he suddenly loosens up his body language again and gets comfortable. It feels right.

“Alright then move on” Felix says as he snuggles into your neck and wraps his arms around your waist tighter.

He has to be drunk now. Or am I just. Way too into this. You feel him harden under you and you gasp. Maybe he was just too comfortable now.

“You alright sweetheart?” He whispers right into your ear.

“I…..” your breath hitches and my heart beat gets faster and faster.

What is wrong with me. He’s your best friend get it together. And he’s a guy it. Happens. Right?

You turn your head where he’s looking so soft and pouty into your eyes. His gaze could hypnotize I swear. Is he doing this on purpose? He has to be.

-Hours go by-

The rest of the game plays out as expected. Everyone gets loud then crashes and half of the guys fell asleep. Its around 12 now and everyones found their sleeping spots or are getting into some type of snack. Its only you and Felix in your room now. God help me.

“Truth or dare Y/n?” He asks.

“Are we still playing or isnt that over?” You laugh trying to play cool.

“Only if you want to y/n” he says gazing up and down at you slightly.

I swear he has to be doing something. With the leftover liquor still in your system you felt good enough to continue.

“Sure Felix, truth” you say trying to act as calm as possible.

“Did I make you uncomfortable tonight?” He asks more timidly then before but still moves closer.

He made you feel things you shouldn’t and the liquor isn’t helping. If its such a taboo, why do you want him so much. Why is he looking at you like that, like he never has before. Just answer him….

“I wasn’t uncomfortable felix.” You say not daring to look up.

“Y/n.” Felix moves in even closer and pushes a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I liked you being so close to me all night.” He says looking you in the eyes.

You gulp scared to even speak. You croak out dryly nervous as all hell. “Really?”

“Is it so bad I wanted you even closer?” He says dead serious. Gazing into your eyes for an answer.

Even Closer?? He. You begin to pulsate in response, heat radiating off your body. Who is this felix? Have you really not been around him drunk before?

“No” you blurt out and then cover your face in shock of what you said.

“Y/n its okay. I mean it really, and I um….I could feel you when you were sitting on me.” He whispers teasingly but lightly into your left ear.

Your cheeks become bright red and you as subtly as possible close your legs to try and rid of the tension. But he notices of course.

He chuckles slightly, “You nervous y/n?”.

Lying through your teeth wouldn’t get you through this. And how he’s speaking to you is only going to make your situation worse if he keeps it up with the teasing. God his voice. He grabs your hand and intertwines it with his. He kisses your cheek lightly.

“Y/n, can I kiss you? I know you want me to.” Slight rasp in his voice apparent as it drops.

“Of course, I do but….”

He cuts you off by grasping your cheek and connecting your lips softly but passionately. In the middle of desperate kisses he says

“Ive….wanted……this………so long……….you don’t……even know” he pulls away to catch his breath inches from your face.

“I did too. I just didn’t know how to…..” you say as he cuts you off with a small peck.

“Its okay y/n, right now I just want you to feel good okay? Is that okay baby?”

His hands rub painfully slow up and down your thighs.

Fuck. Baby? The pet names made you melt and with his deep voice? You were wetter then ever.

“Felix….please” you plead.

You weren’t usually the desperate type but everything changes in the right circumstances right?…..

Thank you for reading😭💙💙 Hopefully you liked it and maybe soon i’ll start requests.

[masterwords]

no two ways about it

Summary: Hotch and Emily are old, grouchy and bitching over drinks while they wait for Derek. (Set in the retirement in Chicago universe.)

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: alcohol consumption, lots of swearing

Words:

Notes: I just wanted to have Hotch and Emily sit and bitch for a while after he's packed up all of his things from his office. And be salty with them, let them be mean to each other for a while with love. This pointless and plotless. Enjoy.

**

“You seriously downplayed the amount of paperwork involved in your job,” Emily groaned, sucking down the last drops of her bourbon. There was time to mix later, she figured, but for now...for starters...it was straight up. It was the first of the afternoon and she was in the mood to get shitfaced. Or...reasonably buzzed, anyway. She did have to get back to work at some point.

Hotch cocked an eyebrow at her assertion.

“In what way?” he asked quietly, just turning his glass between his thumb and forefinger. Around and around. She'd downed one in its entirety, save for what she'd spilled when she knocked into the table with her knee, and he hadn't even set his to his parched lips yet. “I think that my complete lack of a social life should have been a pretty good indicator.”

“Oh please!” She shouted, raising her glass to indicate to anyone who would listen that she was ready for another. And to keep them coming. In London she could just have asked them to leave her the bottle...damn she missed London. “You made it look so easy.”

There were two heavy boxes of books and memorabilia between them, file boxes they'd barely managed to lug inside the little speakeasy. They would make Derek carry them back out. Boxes that contained the life he'd lived within the walls of the BAU, his awards and medals, his books, Jack's handprints when he'd been small enough to happily endure fingerpaints and construction paper. She guessed that now his tastes ran more toward video games and bikini posters, though with Hotch for a father...maybe not the latter. She wasn't sure he would even know where to begin with those things...that kid needed Derek's influence in his life.

“My marriage fell apart because of the hours I worked, if you recall.”

“No, your marriage fell apart because you wouldn't leave the BAU for a job that didn't require you to travel so often. You know what? Let's be real here...your marriage fell apart because you chose Derek Morgan over your wife.”

He frowned at that cruelty, but he couldn't refute it. Wasn't it sort of the truth? Derek called, asked for his help, said they needed him and he came running. But was he running away from Haley and a job that would be mediocre at best, or was he running to Derek and a serial killing single father who was using his son as bait? Well, that was a question better left for another day, or maybe never. He would rather not think about comparing the two great loves of his life, and the way they each in their way drove the other to ruin. Derek allowed photos of Haley to hang on their walls and that had to be enough when it was all said and done.

Emily, with a fresh drink in her hand, relented at his silence. She crossed a line and didn't want to see how much further she could push him before he simply got up and left. He was known to do that, just up and leave. “How is it that you, of all people, managed to land Derek Morgan anyway? I tried. You know that? God...did I try...”

“That's not the way he tells it. You refused his advances...many advances, from what I understand. He was pretty taken with you.”

“Well,” she started, licking the bourbon from her purple stained lips. There was a rush of memory that flooded her, warmed her tired bones. Gideon once told her that everyone went through a phase when they started working at Quantico, no one was immune. Emily scoffed, said she preferred the fairer sex but Gideon only nodded that knowing grandfatherly nod and walked away, leaving her to her own devices. Some of which involved flirting with a man she didn't want to sleep with. “I won't speak ill of your lover...but he sure gave up awfully fast.”

“On you.” Hotch smirked then, finally taking a sip of his drink. Scotch and soda, the cubed ice clinked against the edges of the glass. He really was getting old. She didn't care much for the implication hanging in the air between them even if it was true.

“What are you saying, Hotchner?”

“Just that he knows when something is worth pursuing...” There was that damned twinkle in his eye that she loathed, and if they were in private, she would probably have punched him in the shoulder, knocked him over. She was sure she could do it.

“You're a catty old bitch, you know that?”

“Will you stay with the BAU? I know that you had intended to return to Interpol once Peter Lewis was apprehended, but with my...”

Oh, she wasn't ready for that abrupt change of topic. She calls him a bitch and he blindsides her with that? She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, interrupting him mid-thought. Before he had a chance to say something endearing...she didn't want it.

“Your betrayal.”

“Yes, of course, with my betrayal...will you go back to London, or will you stay?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Hotch, to his credit, forced a smile. The kind that read as weary, world-worn, like he understood more than she did. And he'd come by that knowledge through years of pain. His voice was quiet and forlorn. “Everyone has a choice.”

“I don't know. It does seem easier now, the idea of putting down roots. I don't mean to be rude, but without you there it feels...less like I'm intruding on something. Playing in someone else's sandbox. After I died, it was just...aw shit. It was just hard, you know? Knowing what you and JJ did for me, what the team went through on my behalf...but hell. I'm over it now. Shiny new Emily, right?”

He nodded, understanding in some way. He was sort of in the thick of that right now himself, coming to terms with his old life being out of reach and a new life stretching out before him. Uncharted territory. Her words stung, he wouldn't deny that, but he did understand it. She'd never really been able to re-establish her life after her death, and while the team moved on and forgave them all...she hadn't. She looked at him losing weight rapidly and knew what lengths he'd gone to, what he'd sacrificed on her behalf, and it would never be okay. She could never go back to where they'd been. He risked it all for her life, and he would have done the same for any of them in the same position...but the thing was, she was never supposed to come back. He grieved her like they all did, he moved on like they did. He didn't keep tabs; he didn't ask questions. She was dead and buried, for her own safety and the team's because she knew...it hadn't just been for her. It was to keep all of them safe. With her dead and buried, Doyle wouldn't target the BAU, and even then they dispersed like leaves on the wind.

And yet...here they were. Square one. Older, maybe wiser, definitely tired. And a little bitter.

“Good. They need you.”

“Oh horsehit. Finish that drink, dammit. I'm practically drinking alone here. I do not drink alone.” She was already hailing her next, frustrated that he wasn't keeping up. He never really had, but he used to at least try. He looked so old, so worn, but also somehow happier than he had in years. Maybe ever. Derek was good for him. And, in that turn, she knew he was good for Derek too. It was rare that a couple achieved the kind of balance that they came by so naturally.

She might have been a little jealous, but that would go to their heads so she wouldn't let on.

“I can't toss them back like I used to,” he answered mournfully, sipping a little more. “My stomach can't handle it. It's already complaining.”

“Soft. You've gone soft.” She paused, reclining a little in her seat and nudging him with the toe of her boot playfully. She still couldn't believe he was sitting across from her in this little speakeasy that smelled like old leather and booze. “I know what you mean though. I'll have a hangover for a week after this. One drink and I pay for it. Getting old fucking sucks.”

“I injured my back two nights ago,” he offered, finally finishing off his drink. She gave him a look of concern, glancing first at him, then the boxes he'd just stubbornly carried from her office down to the bar, and he smiled that infuriating smile of his. The one that was meant to be reassuring but only filled her with anger. “I'm fine. It's nothing, just strained I suppose.”

“What did you do?”

“I slept. I went to bed feeling fine and woke up hardly able to stand up straight.”

“Oh,” she started, staring into her third or fourth glass of bourbon with some apprehension. Hangover imminent. “I bet your honey rubbed that sore spot right out with his big strong hands...”

“He did no such thing.” Hotch paused, pursing his lips, eyes wide. It wasn't that he was scandalized, but talking like this in public did make him feel a little on edge. “I was home alone. He works much earlier than I do, and I tend to sleep in these days. I called in sick and laid in bed all day if you can believe that. I read an entire book.”

“Wait wait wait...you sleep now? You actually sleep? You sly sonofabitch. You set me up. It's been weeks since I've slept more than 3 hours a night and you're over here sleeping in? Calling in sick and laying in bed? I'm starting to feel like I've been tricked...”

“No one forced your hand, Emily. You missed them and you came back willingly.”

“Yeah, okay, I missed them but your job sucks.”

“Your job. Your job sucks.”

“Ohhhhh...you know what? You know what? You're cut off. No more drinking for you, Aaron. I don't think I like you drunk.”

“I'm not drunk.” He hadn't even ordered a second drink, poking at her was too fun to be distracted from.

“No more for you. I, however, need another. Pronto.”

Hotch did finally order a second drink, but at his request it was more soda than scotch. He wasn't lying, his stomach couldn't handle that kind of assault anymore. It never really could but he used to try harder, be more willing to deal with the consequences...he'd lately grown accustomed to a different lifestyle. His misery was not a given any longer. Not anymore than was necessary, anyway. A certain amount was owed to the damage he'd done to his body in his younger years, either at his hand or with his permission, but he wasn't in the market for new problems.

Emily, however, sucked down two more before she ceased. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know.”

“And him. I love Derek too. Even though he took you from me, from the team. I bet you would have come back if not for his pretty face...”

Hotch, smiling a little sadly, wouldn't deny her that. He had very little to live for outside of that, when you really dug down to it. He wasn't too proud to admit it. But there was Jack, and there was Derek and there was Hank, and that was three very good reasons to not only live, but thrive. At fucking last.

“This may come as a shock to you, but he didn't actually ask me to stay in Chicago,” Hotch said quietly. She stared at him, eyes wide and wild in the dim light of the bar. She'd assumed that Derek professed his love in some grand way, begged him to please stay, move in...maybe even given him a key. To hear that he'd done no such thing gave her pause. “He'd been operating under the assumption that I would go back. To Virginia, certainly, and likely to the BAU. Jack asked to stay and as it turned out, I had no actual desire to leave either. My mind had been made up about the BAU from the moment we left. Chicago took a little longer.”

"Jack likes Chicago huh?”

“He does. He's happy there, and I think I've done enough damage...he deserves to have a say in our lives.”

“So Jack said no more serial killers.”

“He did. In fewer words, perhaps, but yes.”

“Could he do that for me, too?”

Hotch smiled and glanced up in time to watch Derek's shadowy figure come through the open doorway of the bar.

“When you're ready, give me a call. I'll have him quote you a price for his services.”

Bending forward, Derek pressed a kiss to the top of Hotch's head. That was one of the few PDAs Hotch would allow, even though he could have done without Emily seeing it.

“You losers ready to hit the road? This place is lame. What is that, elevator music?"

Derek, ushering them along quickly, hefted both boxes into his arms while Emily paid the entire tab. Hotch stood slowly beside the table, rubbing absentmindedly at the small of his back...that chair hadn't done him any favors. Maybe he would ask Derek to rub his back later, that idea hadn't sounded half bad. Slowly he gazed around the bar, taking it all in. Some part of him knew he wouldn't be back to Virginia for some time, and it was possible he may never come down to this area of town again. With no real attachment to Quantico any longer, it didn't seem likely that he'd have any reason to come this way. There was a peacefulness in that realization. He'd anticipated some sadness, some remorse, and gladly found none. He had moved on.

“You wanna come back to the hotel for a few more drinks? Order some room service?” Derek asked, and Emily glanced at her watch apprehensively.

“Because of you and your siren song, I have a fuck-ton of paperwork to finish...I'll text you losers when I get done and see if you're still awake. Maybe we can have ourselves a nightcap.”

“Sure,” Hotch said, knowing that it wouldn't happen. That Emily would be at work until she couldn't concentrate anymore, until she was practically falling asleep or vibrating out of her skin and then she'd catch a cab home. Because Emily hated goodbyes and this sure as hell felt like a big one. “Text Derek. I may be asleep.”

She did punch him in the shoulder this time, scrunching her nose in disgust.

[alikestory]

mostly rambling about writing my webcomic...

i was doing the typesetting for the next chapter and there's this one part where i was like, i need to explain what this person is referring to for this scene to have any weight. i'll just write a quick backstory thing~

anyway it's. as long as a normal chapter nowwwww :'^) INEVITABLY. i still have one little scene left to write dfghj

generally this arc keeps getting LONGER ;___; i know how it ends and i'm like "wait is this going to have any impact if i don't write something about that??" and in general there are lots of things i know about the characters that aren't in the comic and i'm like DOES IT MATTER???? i don't know.... :'3 (like, not stuff that's going to be revealed later just kinda mundane things that happened before the story starts. but then i hate it when a manga has an entire volume dedicated to one side character's backstory and i'd like my webcomic to END ONE DAY.........)

okay so i wasn't like "i'll just write a quick backstory thing~ tee hee~" I SAID IT BLEAKLY. RESIGNED TO MY FATE.

it is mostly the character in question narrating some stuff so i thought okay i'll do it nagata kabi style and i can totally finish this and another 21 page chapter in two months. i mean her manga is in a simple kinda sketchy style and there's a lot of narration but it's interesting....... anyway that's my current plan. basically how shitty can i get away with this looking..... and what if i made it pink like my lesbian experience with loneliness.......... but i don't want people to see it and think of nagata kabi necessarily i just like pink. MY WEBSITE IS ALREADY PINK. IT'S FINE. NO ONE WOULD EVEN NOTICE. also being like "hey remember this completely unrelated and also way better manga???" at the very beginning of a 30-40 page update. :'^) BAD IDEA.

anyway i own (i can't think of a way to abbreviate this title sdfg why is it so long) my lesbian experience with loneliness but i want to read her newer books too. i think i read exchange diary at a library and found it kinda boring tho? .-.;; ig it's not as sensational as long title. less sex appeal. (that is a joke.)

SEEING THE NEWER TITLES IS. bleak. this poor woman what the hell. like reading long title you'd expect things to get better for her and it's not like her manga hasn't been successful either..... it's kind of depressing, i put them on hold at the library but DO I REALLY WANT TO KNOW???

also somewhat self-conscious about my library holds u__u;;; having three volumes of manga in the first place. whenever i put manga on hold i worry they'll think i don't read real books..... (because i DON'T. i put left hand of darkness & house of leaves on hold too but i've had both of them out before and just never actually read them........ THIS TIME I'M GOING TO. I SWEAR.) i also took impossible people out a few months ago so what if they can see my reading history and are like "why do you read so many comic books about alcoholics??" BUT NEITHER OF THOSE THINGS WILL HAPPEN. i just have an anxiety disorder :v

aaaaa i also don't even know if this backstory flashback thingy is enough.... I MEAN. I GET IT NOW. I KNOW WHY THEY DRAW AN ENTIRE VOLUME OF VILLAGER E'S BACKSTORY. (actually when i think of this phenomenon i think specifically of fai from tsubasa orz;;;; I'M SORRY.) AND. OKAY. IT'S SO EMBARRASSING.

nothing i'm saying or will continue to say is helping my case for Dear Library Employees, I Swear To God I Don't Just Read Comic Books (about alcoholics. i also read comics about other stuff.)

there was some comedy/romance shojo manga i read back in high school and i think the offenders here were by the same author but i don't remember who for sure :v anyway there were a bunch where something serious was about to happen or the characters were finally going to be honest with each other and then they'd have some kinda joke and it would always annoy me bc as we have established i love some sensational drama :v

BUT I GET IT NOW ;_____; THAT IMPULSE...... it's hard to write a sincere and emotional moment and be like WHAT IF IT DOESN'T LAND????? it's so obvious what i'm trying to do that if people go "i don't buy it" then i'll just DIE I GUESS?????????

but you have to try u__u you HAVE TO.

[strawberrysmootji]

Chapter 3 | Acta deos numquam mortalia fallunt

“Mortal actions never deceive the gods”

18+ fic, minors do not interact!

Chapter summary: You and Aegon are in a room together, what could possibly go wrong?

(edited)

Chapter warnings/tags: Use of the word ‘queer’ (used as strange, weird, etc (I swear i’m not homophobic, i love women pls)), ghosts, family drama, mentions of murders and death, Aemond does NOT know how to talk to women, targaryen slander (reader is such a hater lol), canon typical mentions of incest, millipedes

if any of these things are not to your liking/ are triggering i recommend not to read it! Word count: 3.9k

[A/N]: I’m so sorry this came out later than I promised. Last week was really hectic but fortunately I have less classes this week. Today I read ‘The Yellow Wall-Paper’ by Charlotte Perkins Gilman and that definitely inspired the long notebook part in this chapter. Let me know what you guys think about the notebook parts by the way, should I keep them shorter or is this fine too? This might not be the best chapter I have written but it has given me loads of inspiration for what is next in the story.

Anyway, if you have the chance, definitely read ‘The Yellow Wall-Paper because I absolutely loved it!! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Rigor Mortis Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“What the-”

Aegon quickly shushed you again by forcing his hand over your mouth again. Ser Criston’s footsteps could be heard passing the room and slowly but surely faded away. Aegon removed his hand off your face and scowled. 

“Can you be any louder?” 

“What?”

“You’re absolutely horrible at sneaking around my lady and I mean that with great offence.” 

Gods, he was strange. 

You tried to catch your breath for a few seconds and studied him in silence. He was still in his day clothes, but he had taken off the striped light green vest he wore in the morning. You were right, he looked sickly regardless of the colours he wore. His silver blonde hair was dishevelled and the bitter stench of alcohol seemed to permanently cling to his body. 

“Do you even realise how improper it is to take hold of me like that-” Aegon started groaning in frustration mid-way through your sentence. He pulled his hand over his face as he did and waved you off with his other hand. 

“You are a real pain in the arse-” “Excuse me?! You’re the one pulling a lady into a strange, vacant room! I am already engaged to someone-” “I beg you. Please, shut your mouth.” 

Aegon walked- more like stumbled- over to a cloth covered chair and sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head.

“You are too curious for your own good. I am saying this out of genuine concern. Mind your business.” 

His words were harsh but he genuinely seemed to be looking out for you in his own strange, Aegon-way. His answers to your questions always seemed to spark more curiosity and confusion within you. A silence fell between the two of you until you finally realised how inappropriately you were dressed. He seemed to notice your discomfort and a playful grin tugged at the corners of his rosy lips. 

“Do not worry. I have seen women in less clothes and I do not desire you. There is no denying you are beautiful, of course. However, you are simply not the type of lady I am attracted to, besides, my dear brother would have my head if I ever tried to pursue you.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. Aemond seemed pretty protective over you, even if the two of you were still barely acquaintances. 

“Why are you helping me?”

Aegon remained quiet for a few seconds and shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Queer

You decided to drop it for now and looked around the abandoned room. You were about to ask a question again but Aegon groaned loudly in frustration. 

“I swear this damned wench.” He muttered, clearly irritated by…nothing?

“What are you-”

He shushed you.

“Listen.” He said and pointed with his finger to the ceiling. Was he talking about the floor above this? If you remember correctly, that was where Lord Viserys’ hallway was located.

A wail..

If you concentrated really hard you could hear the wailing and screaming of a woman. It was still too quiet to properly hear it but it still managed to send chills down your spine. 

No one was allowed in there and you doubted the wailing came from Lord Viserys.

It was only slightly but the wailing seemed to get a teeny, tiny bit louder every second. You turned your gaze back at Aegon who was picking dirt from under his nails with an annoyed expression. 

“Who is-”

“Father’s first wife.”

Aegon replied with a sigh and his violet eyes turned to meet yours. You seriously wished he would simply stop saying the most confusing and out of pocket sentences like it was nothing. Viserys’ first wife? Would that be Rhaenyra’s mother, late queen Aemma.

You hadn’t heard anyone talking about the Lord’s first wife still living at the estate. She died…or was that just a cover up? Did the king want to remarry? Oh gods, they didn’t lock her up, right?

“Why is she crying?” What a stupid question. You were sure you would cry even louder if Aemond locked you up.

Still, you couldn’t shake off this uncanny feeling. In no situation was this normal. For starters, the crying was barely comprehensible to your ears, but Aegon had complained that morning about her wailing so loud he couldn’t sleep. 

Aegon didn’t reply as he studied you in silence.

“What has Aemond told you about this family?”

Aegon reached into the pockets of his black trousers and pulled out an equally black tobacco pipe. He took out a small tin container from his other pocket and filled the pipe with the brown substance you could only assume was tobacco. He placed the pipe between his lips and stood up from the cloth covered chair and walked up to an old drawer. He pulled out a box of matches and started to light his pipe. He took the lit match and brought it close to the tobacco, but not close enough to completely lit it. From what you could see he only charred the top and then extinguished the match by waving it up and down. Smoke came from his pipe and mouth and he sat back down. 

“Well?”

“He’s told me about princess Rhaenyra’s quite…illegal inheritance of the factories and the uhm…inbreeding.” You awkwardly replied. Aegon groaned and shook his head in response.

“How romantic of him.” 

“Right…”

Another silence fell between the two of you. It was very clear that neither of you were skilled at socialising with someone that was practically a stranger. The woman’s wailing was getting a little louder again, snapping you out of your thoughts. Before you could even ask about the women Aegon spoke again.

“Rhaenyra’s mother died in childbirth.” 

“But I can hear her.”

Aegon silently stared at you, letting you figure out everything yourself. He was dead serious when he told you about Rhaenyra’s mother. 

Reality was finally hitting you.

No.

No.

No.

He was lying. He had to be. He must be trying to scare you away, or trying to make a fool out of you in front of the family. It had to be. It had to be. 

Perhaps he was trying to make you seem mad. Was he trying to send you away? It couldn’t be, Rhaenyra's mother was dead. It couldn’t be her that was wailing and crying. 

You were spiralling into all these different thoughts. Aegon was lying. He was. There was no other way. Ghosts, spirits, ghouls and- whatever! They didn’t exist. It was only a trick of the mind. Perhaps an evil cook is drugging them all and it is just a shared hallucination. Your brother had told you about them. How your father’s employees believed the factory was haunted by a tall shadow-y figure that lurked in the corners after sunset. It was the toxic fumes. Benjamen said so. 

“You’re lying.” 

Your voice was trembling. You didn’t know if it was from frustration or paranoia, perhaps it was from both. You turned around to leave. You couldn’t care less if Criston found out it was you who was listening in on his conversation with Alicent. 

“I am not finished yet-” Aegon took hold of your wrist, pulling you close to him. He held his pipe in his free hand as he intensely stared into your eyes.

“If you are smart, which I know you are, you leave this godforsaken place.” He hissed in frustration. 

“Write to your father, write that you want to leave. Mother is too desperate to continue the bloodline to see how incredibly stupid this arrangement is. Helaena told you to leave and now I am telling you to leave. Trust us.” 

Helaena had told you to leave….of course, the flowers.

She had been looking out for you even before you arrived at the castle. 

“I can’t just leave. What about Aemond, the dowry or the wedding.”

“Not worth it.”

Gods, this man was unbelievable. 

“I can’t just leave. It is my obligation to marry Aemond and I intend to do so. Your ghost stories are not going to scare me away.” 

You managed to wrangle your wrist from his iron grip and rubbed where he had held you. It stung a little but fortunately for you, it didn’t hurt. All you wanted to do was leave this strange room and get away from Aegon.

“Sleep well, my lord.” 

You made your way out the room and closed the door behind you. As you did so, your eyes fell onto the gold inscribed name plate on the door and then it finally hit you.

You had been in the room of Daeron Targaryen, and it seemed like he didn't live here any more. 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

- Night, the seventh day (the church bells just rang twelve times),  first month of the year 1871 -

This day was peculiar to say the least. After the first days my hopes were high when I first arrived but I fear this family is more queer than I initially anticipated. Everyone is strangely secretive about the murders and their knowledge of the culprits, even though I am to be part of their family soon. 

Of course, I cannot ignore their history of inbreeding either. Sure, it might’ve happened about a hundred years ago but I still find that to be quite recent. If madness doesn’t bring down this family it sure will be the fighting amongst each other. An isolated father whose eldest child lives far away from her half-siblings and a second wife that claims said eldest child’s children are bastards is a recipe for disaster. 

As far as I know two out of four children of King Viserys are mad. Aegon, the eldest son, is trying to scare me away with ghost stories and has absolutely no manners. He does as he pleases, such as day-drinking and dragging proper ladies into vacant rooms. Sure, it might’ve been to save me from Ser Criston, which, by the way, is an outdated title. It should be ‘Sir Criston’, apparently inbreeding isn’t the only outdated tradition they live by. I am trailing off. Aegon dragged me into the room to save me from Ser (Sir) Criston, quite a creepy room might I add. It seems that this Daeron Targaryen doesn’t live in the Red Keep anymore judging by the white sheets carefully thrown over the furniture. 

Right, I was talking about the ‘mad ones’. Helaena, the youngest daughter, the third child, has a real screw loose. She is quiet, mumbles to herself like there is no one else in the room and says the most cryptic things I have ever heard. At breakfast she told me:

“Shadows need the light to exist but roam freely in the darkness.”

She could be reciting poetry but I just know there is a meaning to it. She said right before Otto Hightower (the sanest person in this entire family so far) announced the body of the monthly murder had been found. I theorise there might be some criminal gang that murder the civilians of King’s Landing at night…the servants also spoke of Tayla (this month’s victim and apparently a handmaiden of queen Alicent). They said she went out at night, so I believe this culprit doesn’t have a set target each month. His victim profile seems to be completely random as far as I know. 

I know I don’t speak much here about my future husband. If I ever fall victim to this murderer (or this family) I don’t want future historians to believe I was some lovesick woman. This notebook is strictly for research purposes. I suppose I can share some information, he might end up being a person of interest when I die inside this old castle or the filthy streets of the city (I should really stop speaking of my hypothetical death, I don’t want the Gods to get the wrong idea).

Aemond is a quiet and reserved man. He is smart, quite handsome and seems to be physically strong. If I had to say something I like about him it is his intellect and his long hair. Don’t get me wrong, such long hair like that is incredibly out of fashion. The handmaidens at back home would most likely scream in horror when I tell them my future husband has flowing silver hair like some mediaeval knight. 

Tomorrow I shall try to find the library and seek more information about the Targaryen family tree. If not for research purposes, then for my own entertainment. Perhaps I can even look for this mysterious ‘Daeron’.

I shall write down my findings again soon. I swear there is something queer about this family. 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Today was surprisingly sunny for King’s Landing. You had breakfast with Alicent and she seemed not to suspect a thing. She had told you Aemond had a client over today so he wouldn’t be available until late in the afternoon. 

Wanting to enjoy the nice weather before it was over you made your way outside. It was still cold of course, but the sun felt nice. You walked past the eerie cemetery and deeper into the woods of the Keep. The path was still densely overgrown but you reached a part where the dirt path got wider. Your curiosity only grew as you followed it. Aemond hadn’t shown you anything past the cemetery after all. 

You eventually reached a clearing. In the middle stood a magnificent oak with leaves as red as blood. Of course, you knew about the heart trees of the Old Gods, your old home had one as well, but you never knew an oak tree could serve as a heart tree as well. Judging by the shape of the leaves and the crooked thick branches of the tree you were certain it had to be in the same family as a live oak tree. It made you happy that even in the Red Keep they kept the old traditions of the first men alive. 

Someone sat on a swing that was attached to one of the thickest branches of the tree. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was. You only knew one woman that wore light coloured dresses and had beautiful long silver hair. She hadn’t bothered to style it this morning, which you found to be a bit improper but then you remembered she was quite strange anyway. 

“You are here sooner than I expected.” Helaena’s voice was incredibly pleasant to listen to, or so you thought. It was sweet and delicate, almost as if she was careful not to make too much noise as she spoke. 

“You were expecting me?” 

Helaena hummed in response and you cautiously approached her. You leaned against the thick trunk of the tree and Helaena hopped off the swing, only to sit back on it but this time she was facing you. You remembered something your mother used to say.

“It is often said that no man can tell a lie in front of a heart tree, as the old gods know when men are lying.”

Perhaps this was your time to finally get some answers. 

“Aemond likes you, you know?” Helaena softly swung back and forth on the old wooden swing. Her words surprised you. He hadn’t really shown he did. Well he took you on a walk and dropped a major piece of information with no prior warning, not something you would call charming, elegant, or gentlemanly. 

Helaena continued.

“He said he is relieved he is getting to marry an intelligent woman.”

Her smile seemed so sweet and genuine, it was very different from what you were used to. Perhaps the strange woman was finally warming up to you now that her brother had told he ‘likes’ you and thinks you’re smart? 

That was definitely not what you had thought Aemond would think of you. As smart. Sure, you were confident to admit that you possessed some sort of intellect. But for a man who studied at Old Town university it was certainly peculiar to call, no- even tell other people that his future wife was smart. 

“I am delighted to hear that.” 

Helaena was, surprisingly, easier to talk to compared to Aegon, who was supposed to be the more sociable of the two. However, Helaena’s gaze wasn’t fixed on you but something behind you. Was she simply avoiding eye contact because she disliked something, or did she really see something? The eerie feeling you felt yesterday crawled back up. Your entire body switched from relaxed to anxious, almost as if all of your senses were a hundred times more sensitive. Was something really watching you? Perhaps it was only a castle worker. Someone had to keep these woods and gardens looking good, right? Even in the winter. 

You knew you had to look. Your brain was tricking you again. This palace is guarded. No one would be able to simply slip in and spy on you whenever you entered the godswoods. 

Then you felt something. Something ticklish and long moved from your shoulder towards your hand. Paralyzed by fear you could only move your eyes to where the feeling was. In reaction you shrieked. You don’t think you have ever been so loud before. 

You swatted your hand around, desperate to get this beast off your body. Once you had finally flung it off Helaena calmly walked over and picked it up from where it had fallen. Letting it crawl over her hands and watching it in fascination.

“Diplopoda…a millipede.” She whispered softly and slowly walked back to the swing. You watched in amazement. She wasn’t afraid of the insect, in fact, Helaena seemed completely mesmerised by the creature. The hundreds of little legs all moved as it crawled over her soft delicate pale hands. Her fingers were long and thin, like a master pianist. 

“You’re not- afraid of the insect?” You asked her after you had regained your breath and most importantly, your composure. There weren’t as many bugs in the North compared to here. The climate here was a lot warmer, even in the winter. You felt a little silly for being so frightened by such a small creature.”

“Millipedes are actually myriapods…” She replied as she seemed completely lost in thought as she studied the insect- no. She studied the myriapod.

“They have eyes…but they cannot see very well. To answer your question, this species is completely harmless to humans.”

Well, at least you learned something new today.

“Would you like to hold it as well?” 

No. Absolutely not.

“I suppose I could try.”

You walked to where Helaena sat on the swing. The wood creaked a little as it still slowly moved back and forth. You held out your hands, bracing yourself for the nasty, itchy, crawling feeling of the largest millipede you had ever seen. Helaena’s face had lit up once you agreed to hold it, she seemed so excited to share her interests with you. It made you wonder if she could even share it with her own family.

Perhaps they understood her just as little as you did.

Helaena had carefully placed Millipede the Myriapod in your hands. You felt squeamish as you felt the hundreds of little legs move around in the palm of your hands. You had to move your hands around a lot too. The creature was quick and you didn’t want it to fall off, not because you cared about the thing, but because you didn’t want to upset Helaena. 

Something about her enthusiasm reminded you of your father. Who loved telling you ghost stories and myths. You didn’t believe any story he had told you, but seeing his face lit up as he was talking about the things he loved made you smile. Helaena’s excited expression made you smile as well. You realised you had judged her too soon. Sure she had some…issues, but she was kind and was eager to befriend you. 

“I think it doesn’t like me.” The creature was quick and constantly tried to slip away from the palms of your hand. The strange squeamish feeling felt less overwhelming with time. Sure, the thing was absolutely horrifying, but the feeling that you might die if you touched it had completely faded.

“Come, I’ll help.” Helaena’s sweet smile instantly melted your heart. She took the insect- no, myriapod from your hands and you instinctively wiped your hands off on the skirt of your dress. She started to walk towards the path that led back to the castle. You were so distracted by the millipede and Helaena herself that you had completely forgotten to ask her the questions you wished to ask her.

“Princess Helaena-”

“I wish to show it to my grandfather.” Helaena was completely in her own world while she walked.

“Okay, well, may I ask you a few questions then?” “Perhaps later.” Well, at least she didn’t beat around the bush. Her bluntness hadn’t surprised you. Alicent had tried to make a proper lady if her daughter, there was no denying that. Helaena simply had a mind of her own. She wore her hair loose whenever she pleased, she did not care about the proper ways you should wear colours. There was something admirable about her, even if she was a little mad.

The gloomy castle came back into view when the two of you exited the godswood. Immediately you felt a shift in the air. The clouds blocked the sun and the feeling of gloom and dread returned. It seemed to linger around the castle constantly and was not something you had gotten used to yet. 

“Aemond would want to see you by the way”

You raised your eyebrow as you turned your head to her.

“How do you know that?” She shrugged and continued to walk. She turned the corner and you followed her blindly, accidentally colliding with a hard human chest. You nearly fell backwards but you felt a strong, lean arm stabilise you.

“Gods, I am so sorry-” 

You finally looked up to see who you had bumped into, it was Aemond. You were about to call after Helaena who happily continued to walk towards her grandfather’s study as if you had never been there to begin with when you noticed something different. For starters, Aemond wore a glass eye. It wasn’t the completely white eye he had worn when he first met you. Instead his glass eye looked nearly identical to his healthy one. 

However he had made one major change.

“Your hair…” Was all you managed to stammer out.

Aemond’s long silver hair you had grown to adore had been completely copped off. Instead it was cropped on the sides and back while it gradually got longer on the top of his head. He looked good. Different, but good.

Your face must’ve given off a different reaction because Aemond almost nervously ran his hand through his hair.

“You don’t like it-”

“I do like it.”

An awkward silence fell between the two of you. Neither of you really knew what to say. 

“Not that your old hair was bad- I just…I like this as well.” You doubted your awkward stumbling over your own words did much to reassure him but he seemed to somewhat regain his usual composure. He sternly nodded and started speaking again.

“I need you to be my assistant this afternoon.” 

Huh?

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