#i won’t be around then so it’s not my problem

[lomlhwa]

scandal (l.c)

pairing: idol!reader x idol!chan

preview: you got into a dating scandal with another idol and chan is not happy. it should've been him, he's your actual boyfriend after all.

tags/warnings: fem reader, mentions of beomgyu and other idols, possessive chan, kisses galore, pet names (pretty, baby, my love, angel), oral (fem.receiving), holding hands while fucking, so much praise, monster cock chan, marking, did i say possessive?, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.8k

song rec for this fic: obsession by exo

a/n: i tried making fake tweets + texts for this how did i do? also i just threw in random female idols to make a fake group lol

you sigh, putting your phone down and rubbing your temples. dating as an idol is so tiring and sometimes you honestly forget why you even try. but you love your boyfriend so much. beomgyu is your good friend and sometimes you fail to remember to be sneaky when hanging out. even small things like going out to eat together makes fans assume you’re madly in love. this isn’t the first time you’ve been roped into media with beomgyu and you’re certain it won’t be the last. 

with your swift rise to fame, you’ve had many dating scandals in your time. what pisses chan off the most is the fact that it��s never been him that you’ve had a scandal with. you’ve gone out on many public dates before and no one has ever picked up on the fact that you’re together. he even kissed you in the view of a sasaeng one time and they didn’t notice. he wonders if it’s intentional on the media’s part or if they’re seriously just that oblivious. 

you run your hand through your hair, trying to fathom why the general public knowing about your relationship is so important to him. everyone within the industry knows so why does everyone else have to? relationships can ruin idol reputations and he doesn’t seem to care. maybe it’s because you’re both already so big that he’s not worried? or he’s hoping your fans are just accepting enough to be okay with it? 

your members come wandering into the living room and you’re quick to compose yourself. you don’t want them to know you’re having relationship problems again. “you okay, y/n?” minji asks you, concern spreading on her face. you nod and smile to the best of your abilities. “hmm, i don’t believe you but we have schedules so i’m not gonna push,” karina shakes her head before gesturing for you to follow the group out the door. you gather your things and do your best not to think about anything but the late night ahead of you. 

___________________________________________

after a late night at dance practice you finally get the time to check your phone. you know chan had a fansign today so you decide to check on some of his fan accounts. you smile as you’re met with cute photos of him posing with gifts from fans. you find lots of updates on things he said as well. his current favorite movies, foods, tv shows and… songs. of course he mentions you. it’s cute that he listens to your music and likes to promote you to fans. 

you jump as you realize sana is perched over your shoulder, reading your text messages. “he’s gonna get in trouble when people realize he keeps talking about you,” she comments, clicking her tongue. you sigh dramatically, slouching your shoulders. “that’s what he wants.” suddenly all your members are gathered around you, confused as to what you’re talking about. “i got into another scandal with beomgyu and chan is jealous that it’s not him. so he’s putting in extra effort to try and get people to assume things.” your members share a weird look between them before turning back to you. “i think you should go on the most public date ever and make sure everyone knows you’re with lee chan of seventeen,” lily smiles brightly at you. this comment shocks you a little but you agree. 

“will you guys help me set up a giant celebration at the restaurant under our dorm?” you ask and they all agree excitedly. you all rush to get back to your dorm, eager to plan an extravagant dinner for you and your boyfriend. you talk to the owners of the restaurant and they agree to vacate the restaurant for you. they even promise to make food on the house. your girls help you pick the perfect outfit, hair and makeup for the event. they even “accidentally” tell a well known media outlet that you have plans for tomorrow and they should be there. 

___________________________________________

you sit in eager anticipation waiting for your boyfriend to show up. you can see a photographer out of the corner of your eye, waiting for something to happen. you hear the backdoor open and chan walks in, confidence filling his every step. your eyes fall on the suit he chose for tonight. he left his blazer undone, showing off that the buttons resting on his chest were begging to burst open. 

“hello, my love,” he says as he pecks your cheek before sitting down across from you. “what’s the occasion for such a fancy dinner?” his face changes to panic for a moment before he speaks again; “did i miss our anniversary? your birthday?” you shake your head and chuckle just as a waitress comes scurrying out of the kitchen with pre prepared food. you thank her and shoot her a quick wink before turning back to your lover. chan looks at you with an unreadable expression, but you hope it’s positive.

the two of you eat your food happily, the atmosphere feeling very comfortable. your share anecdotes from your lives as idols, laughing that the ridiculousness of your respective companies. before long, your meal is coming to an end. chan gives you a look you know all too well and you’re quick to scurry away, up the stairs and to your dorm. your boyfriend follows swiftly behind you after thanking all the staff. 

you thank your members mentally as you enter your normally occupied dorm. as soon as the door is closed, chan’s hands are on you. he drags you by your hips, crashing you against him. he kisses you with such aggression that you would think he was trying to eat you. your tongues tangle like snakes, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth. “fuck, baby. you’re so sexy, you know that?” he connects his lips to your jawline, sucking on your skin gently. he sucks dark red marks on your collar bones, taking a moment to lean back and admire his work. 

“jump,” he mutters as he hooks his hands under your thighs. you hop and he catches you before quickly scurrying towards your room. he lays you down on your bed, pressing your legs wide open. he groans as he realizes you aren’t wearing any panties. you bite your lip as he admires you. “stop fucking me with your eyes and fuck me for real,” you demand. chan drops to his knees in front of you, desperation filling his eyes. you lift yourself onto your elbows so you can see him better. he kisses his way up your thighs before meeting his lips with your drenched core. 

his skilled tongue darts out to circle your clit, small whines escaping from your throat. he grips your thighs, holding you exactly where he wants you. he slurps and drinks you up as you twitch and squirm under him. he focuses his attention on your sensitive clit, rubbing his tongue back and forth over it. “channie, please please ple-ah,” he silences you with a harsh smack to your inner thigh. “let me enjoy your cunt. god, i love that you’re mine,” he presses kisses against your slit, licking a fat stripe up it to follow. “fucking mine.”

he grazes his teeth over your clit, drinking in the way you squeak and raise your hips towards his mouth. your hands fly to his hair and drag his mouth back to you. he chuckles before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it before letting it go with a small ‘pop.’ you grind your core against his face, his nose brushing your clit as you get more and more desperate for release. “you have the most perfect pussy, baby. could eat you forever.”

a low moan slips from his lips as he watches you clench around nothing at his words. he places one final kiss to your core before rising off his knees. “you’re so tasty, angel. but i think i might explode if i don’t get inside you.” he reaches down to undo his pants and let them pool around his ankles. he aligns himself with your desperate hole before pressing in gently. “my pretty, pretty girl.” he grabs your hands and intertwines all ten of your fingers with his. a gesture like this always felt so romantic to you. 

he arms flex in reaction as you clench around him in an eager effort to get him to move. he draws his hips back slowly before returning himself to the hilt. your eyes cross and your back arches off the bed as he repeats this ritual over and over before he can’t take the slow pace anymore. he tightens his grip on your hands as he speeds up, the sounds of skin slapping filling the room. he stares between the two of you, watching as he disappears and reappears between your legs.”fuck, baby. you’re all mine. i don’t care what the media says. i’m the one fucking you. not beomgyu, me.” you nod your head, panting like a dog in the summer heat. “say it. who does this pussy belong to?” he thrusts into you faster, as if to make it harder for you to answer. “y-you, chan. fuck, it’s all yours.”

he lets go of your hands and opts to wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your chest. he ruts into you with such vigor you think you might snap in half. he lifts you partially off the bed so you’re kind of sitting in his lap. your grind down on him, desperate for more. “channie… god, need it so bad,” you plead, your orgasm threatening to rip its way out of you. he runs his tongue between the valley of your breasts before pulling back to look at your face.

“keep eye contact with me while you finish. let me see how fucking good i make you feel.” you nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as he connects the pad of his thumb to your clit. you let out a deep sigh and fight your hardest not to throw your head back. the way chan looks at you through his sweaty bangs has you seeing stars. “cumming. oh my god i’m cumming,” you cry out as your whole body spasms. “yeah, that’s it baby. squeeze my cock like that.” your arms give out and you fall back onto the bed, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turn white. 

your lover’s orgasm is quick to follow, ropes of cum painting your walls white. he moans and whines out your name like a hymn, gripping your waist so hard you might bruise. you twitch as he rides out the last of his high before stilling completely. he pulls out of you slowly before laying next to you. he pulls you tightly against him, panting slightly as he settles. “i promise i don’t care what the media says. i love you."

___________________________________________

© lomlhwa 2024

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

jason todd with a partner who’s into skincare/haircare

he didn’t know people actually did those 10 step korean skincare routines until he met you

he goes over to your place one day and sees all of the products in your bathroom and is like how could you possibly use all of these

he grew up with a broke mom and then a bunch of men, even billionaire bruce wayne doesn’t really do much besides some fancy hair products maybe

will probably be a bit skeptical like he lowkey thinks it’s a scam because no way do you need that many products just for your face

but if you sit him down and explain everything i think he’ll understand (or at least he understands that it’s important to you. don’t expect him to become a skincare expert overnight)

thinks you’re kinda cute when you’re doing your routine, like with your little headband and how focused you are while you’re doing it

will loiter around in the washroom, spend extra long brushing his teeth so he has an excuse to watch you

he will 100% laugh at how goofy you look when you put on a face mask though

make him wear one and suddenly he isn’t laughing anymore

if you try to make him do a whole skincare routine he’s going to grumbling the whole time but he’ll still do it

still thinks it’s kind of unnecessary (“why are we washing our face to make it dry to slap on wet stuff?”)

he lowkey does enjoy it though

he doesn’t have too many skin problems (i feel like he did have acne as a teenager but he grew out of that) besides maybe like his skin being on the dry side

definitely has ashy elbows and knees too

so at the very least he appreciates the moisturizarion, but he doesn’t really get the other stuff

feel like he’ll stick to just splashing his face with water or going like “i wash my face when i shower” but when you’re doing your routine he’ll steal some of your moisturizer

i think as time goes on, he’ll really like the domesticity of the whole nighttime routine thiugh

like shower, blow dry hair, brush teeth, skincare

luckily he’s not a 2 in 1 type of guy but that’s only because he straight up didn’t understand what conditioner was for

and i feel like he would just buy one of those costco sized bottles of body wash, like a neutral scented one so he doesn’t have to think about restocking (also it’s the most price efficient)

will tease you if you have fancy shampoo and conditioner

but who’s going to steal it after all of that teasing? he is

i think he just does it accidentally but ends up finding the smell really comforting (reminds him of you) and also his hair feels weirdly nice

might use it once in a while

definitely see him enjoying having his hair blow dried and also blow drying your hair

it’s a weirdly intimate act

also i feel like he’s not big on words, so sometimes he does other things to show he cares for you

like just the little things

he knows you take your skincare routine seriously, so if there’s ever a day when you feel too tired to do it, he knows something is up

will probably try to gauge what the situation is, like whether it’s a problem with work or school, if you want to talk about; or if it’s just been a long day

will help you to the washroom and if you’re too tired, will do your skincare for you

he’s watched you enough times to kind of know what he’s doing

personally hc that he has to get used to the change in his body and physical strength after the lazarus pit so he’s careful to be as gentle as possible

handles you like you’re on the verge of breaking

he’ll tie your hair into a loose ponytail (he knows it could be tighter but he’s kinda worried that it’ll hurt if he does another loop), keep the headband stretched as he pulls it over your head so that it doesn’t make contact with your face

makes sure the water isn’t too hot (you have to assure him that if the water is a little hot it won’t kill you and that for the oil cleanser to come off properly he’s going to need to make it hotter) and rubs the softest circles into your face

i think he’s focusing on this too much to be talkative

it’s kinda cute watching him struggle with some of the products

he’s trying to remember the order of the products and where on your face you put each one

you might have to give him pointers from time to time

i think he starts giving you obnoxious kisses all over your face as you’re trying to do your skincare to tease you

but after a few times i don’t think it’s a joke anymore…

will accidentally taste some serum and be traumatized though (please do not try to eat skincare!!)

will stick to your lips

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 8

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +4.1K 🤫

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, no smut (alluding to sexual situations), heavily dialogue-centered, use of Daddy, Mama, and other pet names (lil' mama, pretty girl, etc.), spanking, FLUFF, kinks mentioned

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 5 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 6 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 7 => 🦋

*Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

“Terry, can you move? Damn. You don't have to be in my skin 24/7,” I laughed, hitting Terry through my moo-moo. He was underneath my nightgown and resting his face on my belly since we were both lying on the couch.

“Leave me the hell alone, woman. I’m comfortable,” he said, squeezing the back of my thighs.

“Too fuckin’ comfortable, and that's the damn problem. Get up!” I said, attempting to push him. I tugged the nightgown from over his head.

“Hell, no! Move again and see what happens. I dare you!” Terry said, tightening his grip.

“I would be wrong to whoop your ass. Wouldn’t I?” I asked. Terry smacked his lips and pulled the nightgown back over his head.

I leaned up on my elbows and pushed Terry on the floor. “I’m hungry! I’m hot, and you won’t leave me alone!” I pouted.

Terry looked at me from the floor. “Now, if I whooped your ass, would I be wrong?” he asked while standing.

“Yes. Yes, the hell you would. Would you really whoop your baby?” I said, batting my eyelashes.

“Hell yeah. Now, come on!” Terry said, lifting me off the couch. I was cradled in his arms like a baby. “Spoiled ass. I can’t even be mad. It’s my own damn fault,” he said as he carried me to his kitchen.

He leaned over to place me on my feet. “You cooking, or am I?” he asked, kissing my forehead. I pointed towards him. “Aight. Whatchu want?” he asked, crossing his arms.

This was a no-brainer for me. I turned towards the counter and grabbed the loaf of raisin bread, holding it up in front of Terry. “French Toast, again. Really, mama? You ain't tired of it, yet?” he asked, grabbing the bread.

“Nope. I can eat it a million more times as long as you make it,” I said, hugging his abdomen.

“Aight. It’s whateva you say, love. Extra cinnamon, right?” he asked, looking down at me.

I smiled while shaking my head yes. If there was ever a moment that showed how much I had Terry wrapped around my finger, this would be it.

30 minutes later

“Do you want eggs, mama?” Terry asked while standing at the stove.

“Yes, scrambled. Oh, and with cheese!” I said, sitting at the kitchen island.

“I know, baby girl,” Terry said, cracking the eggs into a separate pan.

“So, what are we gonna do today? It looks like it’s gonna rain,” I asked, rising from the chair.

“Hmmm… I don't know. We’ll figure something out,” Terry said, shrugging his shoulders.

I walked to the fridge and looked around for the ingredients to make my iced coffee. I pulled out the coffee concentrate, almond milk, and creamer.

“Can you make me one? Same as last time. I liked the syrup you used,” Terry asked, looking over at me.

“Sure. Just so you know, I used two syrups— white chocolate and sugar cookie. Oh, and thank you again for buying them,” I said placing everything on the counter.

Walking around the kitchen, I opened the cabinet to grab two glasses. “Where are the syrups?” I asked, biting the inside of my lip.

“Cabinet by the fridge,” Terry said, nodding his head.

I opened the cabinet and saw the syrups on the third shelf— the shelf I couldn't reach. I reached towards them to see if I could knock them down. I leaned on the counter and tried to get closer, but nothing worked. I hoisted myself up so that my thighs were on the counter.

As soon as my knees were on the counter, Terry’s arm looped around my waist. “No, ma'am. I think not,” he huffed.

“I could've reached them. I almost had it,” I said while Terry grabbed the bottles from the top shelf. With me still cradled under his arm, he placed the syrups down and closed the cabinet.

“You know I'm not a kid, right?” I said, crossing my arms.

Terry put me down and looked at me before speaking, “Yeah, but that doesn't stop you from bein’ clumsy. Now, does it?” he asked frankly.

I stood there in shock. “Move!” I laughed, pushing past him to grab the syrups. Terry walked around me to go back to the stove.

“Watch ya’self. You playin’ wit’ fire, mama,” Terry said as he continued to make breakfast.

“Try me,” I mumbled under my breath.

Terry’s head snapped to look at me. Our eyes locked in a playfully tense gaze. We both began to smirk at each other. It was clear we were both in a goofy mood. I fought to hold my gaze but couldn’t. I was never going to win a staring contest against this green-eyed bastard. I looked down at the ingredients for the coffee, fighting the urge to laugh.

“That’s yo’ one free pass. Next time, it’s me and you, mama. Understood?” Terry grumbled continuing to cook.

“Maybe,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I don't know. I'm feelin’… feelin’ a little…,” I mumbled while making the base for our coffees.

“A little nothing. Havana Rose… You skatin’ on thin ice, girl. Watch it!” he said without looking back at me.

I could hear the smile on Terry’s face. Honestly, this wasn't doing anything but putting me in a playful mood. Terry moved all the finished food to the opposite side of the kitchen island. I stopped making the coffee and walked to the cabinets where the plates were. I opened it and pulled down two large plates. I walked back over to Terry. I could see him tense up a bit because he immediately knew I was up to no good. I wanted to play, so I slid in between Terry and the island, letting my butt rub against his groin. I pushed my hips back, making sure to press my ass against his dick.

“Here you go, Daddy,” I said, putting the plates in front of us.

As I began to slide from in front of Terry, his hand came down on my left ass cheek. It felt like like my ass was on fire.

“Ow! That fuckin’ hurt!” I screamed while holding my hands over my butt.

Before I could turn around, his other hand came down on the back of my uncovered thighs.

“Havana! Language!” he said, turning back to the food. He picked up a spatula and began plating the French Toast and eggs. His ability to just continue doing shit like nothing happened always pissed me off.

I walked back over to the unfinished coffee, sporting a full pout. I loved hated when he did that. I was only joking with his overly serious ass. Sometimes, I wished Mr. Ex-Marine would lighten up with his mean ass.

“Cute,” Terry laughed, clearly picking at me pouting.

I wanted to cuss his ass out, but I knew better. I chose to hold my tongue and say nothing in return. I just continued to finish the coffee.

15 minutes later

“You almost done?” Terry asked, reaching across the island to stroke my chin.

“Yeah,” I said, finishing the last pieces of strawberries on my plate.

I looked up at Terry. His elbows were propped up as he ate while scrolling on his phone. His mouth was doing that cute little twitch when he was thinking. Damn, he was even fine without trying to be. Ever since that night, I’ve been getting caught up over the smallest things— the way his chest flexes and jiggles when he moves, the way his ears wiggle when he's laughing too hard, the way he… Aw, shit. Here I go again.

“Havana! Mama! Hey, you listenin’?” Terry said, getting my attention.

“Huh? What? I was…” I said, biting my lip in embarrassment.

“You were lookin’ at me, but I felt like you were lookin’ through me. You good?” Terry asked, leaning to stand up straight.

“I’m fine. I was just thinkin’,” I said, pushing my plate away. I was honestly fighting the urge to jump across the island and fu— let me chill.

“Just checkin’ on you, mama,” Terry said, smiling at me. He grabbed our plates and put them in the sink.

“Don't worry. I got the dishes,” I said, sliding off the stool.

“You sure?” Terry asked, watching me closely.

I nodded my head yes. I stood at the kitchen sink and began quickly doing the dishes. I could feel Terry’s eyes lingering on me. I didn't want to turn around and look. As if he could sense the tension, Terry walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“You look so cute, but I know that face. Where’s your head, ‘Vana?” he asked, leaning down to kiss my neck.

“I don't know. Daydreamin’, I guess. I wanted to go out, but…” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“We can always go out later, mama. It’s just after 10 in the morning,” he replied.

“I know. I’ve been in the house for days— baking and getting out orders. I wanted to be anywhere but inside today,” I pouted.

Terry began kissing me repeatedly all over my face. “I know. We'll just try later. I promise. Alright?” he said.

“Okay,” I said, huffing in slight frustration. Terry tapped me on the butt before walking off.

I silently finished washing the dishes and cleaning the rest of the kitchen.

I turned to see Terry sitting on the couch, staring out the window. The rain was pouring. I knew it wasn't going to slow down any time soon. My mood was instantly dampened.

“You know when we were kids the rain used to ruin our whole day. Now, I can stare at it for hours,” Terry said, leaning back with his arm over the couch.

“Didn't we all? I used to hate it because of my hair. Well, that and I couldn't run fast enough. I always got wet no matter how hard I tried,” I said, leaning against the counter.

“What you mean?” he asked, looking over at me.

“Terry, I been big my whole life. Imagine my thick, clumsy ass running through the ran. I got so tired of getting my ass beat for ruining school clothes because I slipped and fell somehow. After a while, I just stopped trying. I'd rather be wet than dirty,” I laughed.

“Damn. So, you really have always been clumsy? Here I was thinkin’ it was me making you nervous. That's kinda disappointing,” he said, pouting and sticking out his bottom lip.

“Terrence Richmond, I know damn well you aren't pouting. So, you really don't like the fact that I'm not swoonin’ over yo’ ass. Get the fu—,” I said before Terry's eyes cut to me. He raised his eyebrow as a warning. I raised my hands as a sign of an apology.

“I see we still got some work to do when it comes to that mouth of yours,” Terry said, glaring at me.

“What?! I caught it. I didn't even say the last one. How are you still mad? I’m a work in progress, remember?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Roll’em again. Go ahead! You really been tryin’ me today, love. You want Daddy's attention, huh?” he asked, laughing at me.

“Nope, I could care less. Sorry,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Terry instantly rose from the couch. I knew better than to stay where I was. He was much faster than me, in every aspect of the word.

“Don't even think about runnin’!” Terry commanded.

I took off towards the hallway, sprinting into his bedroom. I slammed the door behind me. I locked it right when his hand began twisting the doorknob.

“Ah ha! Gotta be quicker than that!” I yelled, giggling like a child. I stood in the middle of the room, holding my stomach from laughing so hard.

Before I could even celebrate my small victory, the door swung open. Terry's large frame came around the door like a prowling lion.

“You gotta remember I'm an ex-Marine, love. This silly lil’ lock ain't stoppin' shit,” he said, turning around to lock the door again.

“Oh, come on. There's no way. You couldn't let me win this one time?” I said, folding my arms. I began to walk backward into the room.

Terry was quiet. His posture resembled a stalking predator, and I was more than prey. I had unknowingly trapped myself in a fuckin' room with a damn savage— a deviant. The back of my thighs hit the bed.

“Terry…” I whined, sitting on the bed. I began scooting to the center of the bed.

“Nahhh, what's wrong? Scared?” he asked standing in front of me.

He climbed on the bed and positioned himself between my legs. He used his knees to push mine apart. He grabbed the back of my thighs and pulled me closer to him. I squealed out in content.

“Would you stop? You psychopath!” I yelled, trying to push Terry away.

“Nah, let's have fun!” Terry said, sliding his hands under my gown.

I instantly thought his hands would go to my breasts or pussy, but they didn't. This fuckin’ bastard was tickling me! His hands were all over my body, torturing me and sending me into a fit of laughter. Tears were prickling my eyes, causing my vision to blur. Terry’s large frame became nothing more than a shadow as he hovered over me.

“You done?” he asked, gripping the collar of my gown in a closed fist.

I looked away from his face. I was trying to buy myself time to breathe.

Terry gripped my collar tighter, “Oh, you don't wanna talk?” he said, leaning on top of me.

His hands were back on me as his lips kissed my neck. My laughing was the only thing that could be heard throughout the apartment. Besides low muffled grunts and shallow breathing, Terry wasn't making a sound. His sole mission was to tickle me to death. I don't know what was worse, his hands or lips, but unbeknownst to him, this was setting off a fire that I wasn't sure we could stop. With every kiss, I craved more. Luckily, the intensifying yearning for more than a quick kiss was fizzled out by the enjoyment of the present moment. I felt like a kid— a happy one.

I screamed as loud as I could. Terry's hand flew over my mouth. “That's not nice! We have neighbors,” he said, kissing my cheek.

“Please!” I yelled through his hand.

Terry removed his hand from my mouth. “What you say? I ain't hear ya’, mama,” he said, kissing my lips.

“Please! I have to pee! If I piss myself, imma make sure I piss on you. Then again, that might be a kink for yo’ nasty ass!” I said lifting my leg between us.

“We don't kink shame in this house, ‘Vana, especially considering what you had me doin',” he said, grabbing my leg. He pushed the back of my thigh so my knee was in my chest.

“Oh, stop it. You act like that was the wildest thing ever. You sure weren't complainin’ when you had me on that barn floor wit’ my ass in the air,” I said, squirming underneath him.

“Oh, you wanna be a smartass. Unh unh, stop movin'!” he said, pressing me deeper into the mattress.

“Terry, I have to pee! Please, we can continue this lil’ game right after, honey. Just give me a break,” I begged. If I didn't get up in the next minute, I was going to soak this bed and not in a “good” way.

“Fine!” Terry said, letting me up.

“THANK YOU!” I said, flying off the bed. I ran to the bathroom, feeling like I wouldn't make it.

After relieving myself, I entered back into the bedroom. Quickly scanning the room, I realized Terry was nowhere to be found.

“Terry?!” I yelled.

“I'm in here!” he yelled from the living room.

I walked out of the bedroom and into the hallway. As I rounded the corner to the living room, Terry stood in the doorway. He was leaning to the side with his shoulder pressed against the doorframe.

The smell of rain flooded my nostrils— salty and fresh. I've always loved the smell of rain, especially when I was a little girl. It reminded me of the summers I spent in the country.

“I remember when I was younger, my brothers and I would get suited up in our raincoats and boots just to play in the rain. Mama hated it with a passion. She used to complain about how hard the mud was to get out of our clothes. Daddy, on the other hand, he’d just say we were boys bein’ boys. Hell, he’d even encourage it. I miss those days. Days when we didn't give a damn about how we looked or what we were doin’. We just did the shit— without a care in the world,” Terry said.

Terry’s shoulders dropped as if his memories began to weigh him down. I walked up behind him, letting my hands wrap around his waist. I hugged him tightly. I felt his body shake softly from a silent laugh.

“You know… sometimes, as adults, we care too much. Who gives a fu.. I mean, who cares what other people think?” I asked, pressing my body into Terry’s.

“Mama, we too grown for that kinda stuff, now,” Terry said, laughing somberly.

I paused for a minute, falling victim to my own poignant thoughts.

Had we really become that displaced from happiness? Why was it so hard for adults to indulge— in joy, playfulness, and excitement? Grown-ass adults who were so afraid of being called childish that we were denying ourselves the simplicity of pleasure and gratification through laughter and smiles. We were victims to the parameters of supposed “free will”— an idea of free will that was bastardized by the voices and perceptions of others.

Fuck that! If Terry wanted rain, Terry was gonna get it!

I released my arms from around Terry, grabbing his hand. I pulled him towards the top of the stairs.

“Havana Rose!” Terry yelled.

“Don’t… Just trust me,” I said as we slowly descended the wet stairs. (Apartment exterior)

Rushing from the second floor to the first, I didn't want to give Terry any time to overthink. I pulled him into the rain, praying he would enjoy this moment.

“Babygirl!” Terry said, attempting to shield himself from the pouring rain.

“Just enjoy it, baby. Who gives a… who gives a fuck, huh?” I said, spinning around in the rain.

Terry let his head fall back on his shoulders. I stopped to watch this moment. He raised his arms above his head, reaching for the rain. Finally! He was letting himself be a kid again. His head slowly dropped to look at me. The biggest smile I had ever seen was plastered on his face. A smile so wide that it caused his eyes to close.

“That’s my baby,” I whispered to myself. I was seeing Terry through a completely different lens.

Terry lunged towards me, picking me up. He tossed me over his shoulder and began spinning me around. His laughter booming through the air around us.

“Terry!” I yelled out in laughter.

“WHO CARES, REMEMBER?!” Terry yelled back through the rain.

Putting me down, Terry pulled me into his body. My chin rested against his chest. He grabbed my face in his hands, drawing me closer to him. His gaze was piercing and intense.

“I love you, Havana Rose. Do you understand me? I love you with all my fuckin’ heart, and don't you ever forget that!” he avowed passionately.

I stood there, taking in every word like my life depended on it. Terry would have seen the tears streaming down my face if it wasn’t raining. I wish he could see how much his words were affecting me.

“I love you, too!” I said, jumping into his arms.

My legs wrapped around his waist. Our eyes were locked into a gaze that encompassed a million emotions— love, happiness, passion, lust. My hands went to the back of Terry’s head. His lips met mine in what felt like a kiss orchestrated by Cupid, himself.

We stayed right there in the rain and in love, for what seemed like hours. Kissing and loving on each other like two naive children, unaware of the world around them.

“Y’all gone be sick as dogs out there!” yelled Mrs. Geraldine, Terry’s next-door neighbor.

We pulled away from each other, laughing at her statement. Terry slowly put me down. My feet sloshed in a small puddle beneath me.

“Alright, babygirl. I think Mrs. Geraldine is right. We need to head inside and get you warm, mama. I don't want my baby sick,” he said, picking me up bridal style.

“Oh!” I squealed.

Terry carried me to the bottom of the stairs. I tried to get out of his grasp.

“What you doin'? I got this, lil’ mama. Sit tight,” he said, ascending the stairs carefully. He took his time with each step, handling me like a delicate flower or a small child.

I looked into Terry's eyes, getting lost in the different hues. I had looked in his eyes many times before, but none of those times ever felt like this one. It was as if I was committing every detail to memory. I never wanted to forget how his eyes looked right now— sparkling and wild.

Terry's eyes looked down to mine. “I can't focus wit’ you lookin’ at me like that,” he chuckled.

“I can't help it. You look so… so… so damn pretty. You're one gorgeous man, y’know?” I said, playing with his ear.

He moved his head away. “Ah, here you go with that! Leave my damn ears alone!” Terry rasped through gritted teeth.

“No,” I said stroking both of them.

“Get down! I'm not finna play wit’ you!” he said, putting me down at the doorway.

Walking into the apartment, I was hit by a harsh chill that sent a shudder down my spine.

“Go get out of those clothes and warm up,” Terry said, pushing me on my behind. I swear this man treats me like a child.

“What about you?” I asked, turning back towards the door.

“I'm coming right behind you, mama. I promise,” he said, grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it.

“Better be,” I said, taunting him as I turned around.

And once again like clockwork…

smack

His hand lands right across my ass. How didn't I see that coming?

“Ow, I'm starting to think you just like spanking me,” I said as I rubbed my stinging ass.

“Yeah, I do. It's something ‘bout that recoil and the sound. Ouu… dear sweet Jesus, it drives me crazy,” he exclaimed with joy.

“You're a sadist. You're a fuckin' sadist. Terrence Richmond is a goddamn…,” I started before Terry picked me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

“That's it! That mouth is too loose today. You don't know when to quit, huh?” he asked, rubbing me on my ass. I was beginning to anticipate another spanking.

Unfortunately, his phone rang. He turned around suddenly with me still over his shoulder, thrashing me around.

“Whoa! I don't think I like this ride anymore,” I said through laughter.

“Sorry, love. Here,” he said putting me down. “Go ahead. I'll be right behind ya,” he said, kissing my forehead.

I simply nodded my head yes and began to walk towards the room. Once I was in the bedroom, I walked over to the laundry basket and began pulling off my wet clothes.

“Babygirl, change of plans. I gotta make a quick run to the site. They’re havin’ a problem. I’m sorry!” he yelled from the living room.

“Okay. Be safe. Love you!” I yelled over my shoulder.

“Love you more, mama. I’ll be right back,” Terry said as I heard the front door open and close.

With that, I decided to take a hot shower to warm myself up and relax while Terry was gone.

Taglist: @brattyfics @persethegawd @kimuzostar @avoidthings @5headsupremacist @insidefeelingofanadult @creartivefairy @kirayuki22 @nayaesworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ariiijestertheklown @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @jimmybutlrr

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[willowed-wisp]

sweethearts [ johnny ‘soap’ mactavish ]

johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x f!reader

You had known him forever. Since nursery school and all the time in between.

John MacTavish- though, you called him Johnny. And in later life, that turned into calling him ‘Soap’.

He had been gunning for that uniform since you were 15 and he was 16… falsifying his age only to fail miserably.

It was culture shock to when he left when he was 18… he was your first friend, first kiss, first young love. Yet, it was nothing official. Just two best friends experimenting with each other. You couldn’t have asked for a better person.

You were there when he came back- more of a man than the boy who left. All of him larger than before even that indicative smile. But HE hadn’t changed, still the same snack eating, football loving Scotsman.

That meant your attraction for him was worse than ever- having been in love with Johnny for most of your life. His sky bursted gaze enough to drive you crazy.

Someone like him would never feel the same about you- strictly friends.

Mates who got mistaken for boyfriend and girlfriend most days of the week. Neither of you minded it but it was always you who persisted the, ‘as if… he drives me insane…’ the pining kind of insanity.

His return led you to distance yourself, an insecure freshly turned 18 year old, distracting herself from the boy next door. Johnny could do much better for friends than you, he was the youngest SAS recruit to pass the selection.

HE COULD DO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU.

You didn’t even go say goodbye to him when he left for his first mission- somewhere you’d never know.

Instead, he came to you. Stood at your doorstep.

His face gloomy, “So you weren’ even gonna say goodbye?” Not knowing what to do, your shoulders shrugged and silence ensued. “You’ve been off for weeks, when was the last time we had a movie night? Is it because of the training? Me leavin’?”

Fingers picking at your nails; you’d never been nervous around him. But this was the first time seeing him in god-knows how long, when you hadn’t spent a day away from each other. “I don’t know, John- ,”

“You do know and that’s the problem, Y/N, because you won’t bloody tell me what I’ve done wrong,” he spoke harsher than intended, regretting it within an instant as your stepped forward- sizing the six foot something soldier up.

Staring up at him, “Why do you bother with me when you could have anybody around you? I’m not going anywhere with my life!” It wasn’t envy that spurred you on, it was the fact he was going to leave you.

Heartbroken and yearning. Lost without the boy who had always bolstered you up when you had been thrown to the ground.

Johnny’s eyes welled with tears, “What’s made you think that?”

In a whisper, “You’ve just gotten into the fucking SAS, Johnny…”

“So what? I’m still the same guy… nothing’s ever gonna change me… you should know that by now…”

You wanted things to change- the dynamics between you. Before he found somebody who would knock him off his feet and you’d never get the chance.

His fingers trailed your arm, before he cupped your hand. Blue coveted your vision, “Nothing’s goin’ to change us, you’re my absolute best mate…”

Like a dagger, he struck a nerve, “Maybe I don’t want to be your ‘best mate’, I’m sick of pining for you when clearly you’ll never feel the same way,” a quick pause, “Go and find a pretty gir- ,” Before you knew it, his kiss smothered you. More intimate than when you were twelve, with more intent.

Instead of resisting, you caved in. Hands balanced holding his jawline, clean shaven.

Exploring every inch of your body in that hurried kiss. It was better than anything you had dreamed.

Before you pulled away first, “You’re my everything, Y/N…” Thumbs rubbing circles at your waist. “I cannot tell you how long I’ve wanted to do tha’…”

The memory ran writhe in your brain. That was 8 years ago…

Since then you were happily married with a baby on the way. Johnny had been deployed for over a month. Today he was supposed to be returning- from where you didn’t have a clue but he always came home safely.

That’s what mattered.

You expected the phone to start buzzing, the usual unknown number saying to go to the airport. Instead, a knock at the door.

It was like him not to want to run you around pregnant. But it was Simon who answered the door.

Not able to help the tremble. Air caught in your throat, choking on nothing. “He’s not… is he?” Stopping those tears from coming down- clutching your belly.

You’d have fallen to your knees- had it not been for capable hands.

You looked up, blue eyes for days and a face contorted worriedly, “What did you say, to ‘er, LT?” He held you close, but it would never be enough for you. “You and munchkin okay?” He rubbed your large stomach.

You crushed him in your arms. “Darlin’, I’m a bit tender…” Only then did you notice the sling in his arm, a bandage skirting beneath his shirt.

“What happened?” He shook his head, a grin on his face.

One of nervousness, “It could have been a lot worse,” Simon was as gruff as usual. You would never be allowed to know what happened.

“I’m just glad you’re safe and sound,” Thumb rubbing along longer stubble on his cheek, there was more to the story than either him or Simon were telling you. “You too, Si, thanks for taking care of him.” Spoken wholeheartedly, “Dinners on, you can stay if you want?”

He accepted as he usually did. The mood held less tension as time went on. You came to the conclusion that you were lucky to have Johnny in front of you, laughing at some stupid dad joke Simon said.

All you did was sit there, looking at the guy you had loved all your life.

Your Johnny…

————

I contemplated 💀 Johnny but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He’s just too sweet and just too tragic to write.

Thank you for reading :) xx

————

masterlist

[marauder-misprint]

Hair ii

part 1 part 2

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

2.2k words

cw - fluff

Your last class of the day ends and you sigh as you realize that you’ll have to give the hair tie back. Remus isn’t in your last class so you try to look around for him. You check a few places that he might be with no success. You decide to just keep your hair up until after dinner. You know he won’t skip dinner and you can give the hair tie back then. You work on homework in your house’s common room until dinner. 

From your spot at the table, you see Remus and wave. You don’t make a move towards him yet; you want to eat with your hair up. Ink in your hair was one thing. Food would be so much worse. You only half listen to your friends’ conversation as you keep glancing in Remus’ direction. You wish you had your parchment from class earlier today so you could add to the tally marks of catching Remus staring in your direction. 

After you finish eating, you make your way to where he is still sitting with his friends. As you get closer, he stands up and meets you halfway. He looks just as nervous as he had earlier. And over his shoulder, you see his friends exchange mischievous glances and whispered comments. Once Remus is standing right in front of you, you remove the hair tie and it’s impossible to not notice the faint blush creeping up Remus’ neck as you do so. 

“Thanks for the hair tie. Today had a lot less swearing, thanks to your, erm, connections.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says breathlessly. “No problem. My pleasure. Glad I could help you out.”

You hold out the hair tie for him to take and return to Sirius. He takes it and immediately shoves it into his pocket. There’s a beat of silence between you. It’s awkward with neither of you knowing what to say but not wanting to turn away. 

“So, ah,” you say, running your hand through your hair. It’s amazing how quickly you’re uncomfortable with it being down somewhere other than your dorm. 

“Yeah,” Remus says in response to whatever you said. He couldn’t take his eyes off how your hair fell around your face, making your features pop more than he was used to. “Um, do you need to get more hair ties?”

“That or beg my roommates to search for mine with me.” You look around the Great Hall. “I’m still not sure where they could’ve gone.”

“Would, erm, would you want to go to Hogsmeade? With me?” he asks. “To get more hair ties,” he adds to clarify. 

“Oh! That would be nice. I just need to grab my cloak.”

“Me too. Obviously,” he says with a chuckle. “Meet back at the gate?” 

You nod and walk out of the hall with Remus. Although you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, you swear you hear some howling from behind you, roughly as far away as his friends were sitting. You’re not sure what that’s about. 

Remus is waiting for you at the gate when you get there. You had decided to change out of your uniform for this impromptu Hogsmeade trip; Remus hadn’t. He still had on his uniform, but it was loosened to be more comfortable. 

“Ready?” he asks as he offers you his arm. 

“Yup!” you say with a shake of your coin purse before you take his arm. 

You don’t look at Remus’ face the whole walk to Hogsmeade. You felt your face heat up the moment you took his arm and you didn’t want him to see you blushing so furiously. If you had looked at him, you would’ve seen him blushing the same amount. You try to ignore your hair as it blows in the wind, but every few steps, you’re moving it out of your face, tucking it behind your ear or tossing it over your shoulder. It’s quiet as you walk, just the sound of your feet against the stone, the waves of the Black Lake and the leaves fluttering in the breeze. It really was a lovely evening with the sun low in the sky. It would certainly be dark by the time you walk back. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you always wear your hair up?” Remus asks. 

“Keeps it out of the way,” you answer. “One lesson with it down and I got ink all over!”

“There must be ways to, uh, manage it? Other girls have their hair down.”

“I’m sure there is, but I don’t know how. It’s easier to just tie it up and go, you know?”

Remus laughs. “Go, you know,” he repeats. 

“Shut up!” you laugh, finally looking at him with a smile on your face.

At this point, you could blame your flushed face on the wind. You’d be lying if you didn’t think he looked cute with his own rosy cheeks. He’s already looking at you, but what did you expect? He had been looking at you all day. 

“I suppose it also,” he starts, reaching with his free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “shows off your pretty face.”

With how much your blush deepened, you couldn’t blame it on the wind. You look down at your feet, away from his sweet gaze. He couldn’t help but smile wider. You were adorable and the affectionate words just slipped out. You walk for a bit longer in silence.

As you cross the short bridge into Hogsmeade, he asks, “Which store are we going to? Can’t say I buy a lot of hair ties…”

“Sirius doesn’t drag you along?”

“Believe it or not, no.”

You hum. “Well, I usually go to the Knicks and Knacks. They have the ties, and then I like to walk the aisles.” 

“Then we’ll go there, yeah? I don’t mind, uh, walking the aisles if you want to.”

“Okay,” you say with a nod. “It’s this way.”

You lead him to the shop and a bell jingles as you open the door. The shop smells of cleaning products. You drop Remus’ arm. You head for the aisle you know has the hair ties. You weren’t going to risk walking around only to forget the one thing you actually came here for, and you would do that so you actively work against your fickle memory. You select two packs, one of plain black ties, like the one you borrowed from Sirius, and one of patterned ones. Remus joins you with a basket and he grabs them from your hands to toss into said basket.

“I could’ve carried them,” you tease.

“But I have a basket!”

“Are you going shopping?”

He shrugs. “Never know what you’ll find.”

You shake your head and start to walk down the aisle away from him. It was wandering time. You didn’t need anything else, but it was nice to look. Part of you felt guilty for keeping Remus in Hogsmeade longer than he probably intended, but he didn’t say anything. He meandered the aisles a few paces behind you. You saw him toss some things into the basket, but you weren’t paying attention enough to see what exactly he had grabbed. You stop to look at the stand of makeup. You didn’t wear much; your mum always said you were at Hogwarts to study and you agreed. But a tube of mascara couldn’t hurt. You pick one out and turn to find Remus. As soon as you walk up to him, he takes the tube from your hand and puts it in the basket. 

“That all?” he asks.

“I think so. Sorry for taking so long.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

He turns toward the cashier and starts unloading the basket. You stand just slightly behind him, pulling out your coin purse.

“Two galleons,” the cashier says.

You open your purse to get the coins, but Remus is already handing the man the gold coins.

“Remus!” you gasp.

“My treat,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you.

He has a sly smile on his face that makes the blush return to your cheeks. The man hands a bag to Remus with his purchase and you exit the store together.

“What did you all get?” you ask, reaching for the bag but he holds it out of your reach. “Come on, I know hair ties and some makeup don’t add up to two galleons.”

“You’d be correct. And I’ll tell you if you’ll tolerate a butterbeer with me?”

You stop in your tracks. That was unexpected. Didn’t he have homework to get back to? You had finished yours for the night, but maybe he hadn’t. Weren’t his friends waiting on him? They had seen you return the hair tie to him at dinner. You didn’t know if he had told them where he was going after dinner.

“Oh, um, yeah. If you don’t have to get back to the castle. A butterbeer would be nice.”

His face lights up. He hooks his arm through yours, as you had been on your walk to Hogsmeade, and leads you to the Three Broomsticks. Even without the herds of students who flock to the pub on the weekends, it’s warm and packed inside. Remus guides you over to an empty table. Madam Rosmerta is quick to bring over two mugs of butterbeer. You love how she doesn’t bother asking if you want anything else; she just knows her customer base. Hogwarts students want butterbeer. 

“I suppose I should’ve asked if you needed to get back to the castle,” Remus says as he reaches for the mug in front of him.

“It’s alright. I’m in no rush.” You offer him a smile. “I made sure to finish my homework before I had to give the hair tie back.”

“Is now a bad time to tell you that Sirius said you could keep it?”

He sheepishly takes a sip as he watches your reaction. You laugh, which relaxes him. 

“I would’ve needed more anyways. A girl cannot survive with a singular hair tie.” 

“So you need two then.”

“Did you not just buy two packs for me? Hair ties need to come in the dozen.”

He hums. “Well, obviously, I don’t have expertise in hair ties. That’s more your domain. And Sirius.”

“What would you say your domain is?”

Human to animal transfigurations is the first thing that goes through his mind and what he would’ve said to the Marauders. 

“Prank logistics?” 

You laugh. “Yeah? You’re the secret to the Marauders’ success?”

“I can’t take all the credit. We all do our part.”

“And you all get the detention.”

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but-”

Your continued laughter cuts him off. You don’t know why he’s trying to defend himself, or what he’s trying to defend, really. It was a fact that they earned their fair amount of detentions for their extracurriculars. 

“Do you, uh, like our pranks?”

“The ones that aren’t cruel,” you say with a nod. “I must say, I’m glad I haven’t been on the receiving end yet.”

“Yet?”

“Oh, I just assume it’s a matter of time. Doesn’t everyone end up a target at one point or another?”

Remus appears to ponder that for a moment.

“Certain people are off limits.”

“Yeah? What earns ‘em that privilege?”

“Either the potential consequence or they are of… importance to one of us.”

You take in that answer. You don’t think that pranking you would have a horrible consequence. You’d take it in stride as best as you could, depending on what it is. You could assume what being “of importance” meant, but you weren’t totally sure that was what he was implying. 

“Anyone on that list?”

“Professor Boubble, Professor McCraugh, Lily Evans, Peter’s sisters,” Remus lists off. 

He left off one name, unsure how you’d take it. You seem intrigued by the names he lists off, or rather, the names he didn’t say.

“You’d prank McGonagall? Dumbledore?”

“Please! They’d love it!” he laughs. “They’d take away points and give detention, but they’d love it.” 

“Do you guys have anything in the works?”

“Always. James and Sirius are just endless ideas.”

“Are you able to talk about it? Or are you sworn to secrecy?”

“Alas, secrecy is the secret to success,” he says with a wink.

“I won’t tell! I promise!”

He shakes his head before taking a sip of butterbeer. 

“Sorry, love. I like you but my lips are sealed.”

I like you. 

“Ah, it was worth a try.”

The conversation drifts away from pranks to assignments for classes and your differing electives to which candies are your favorite and what the last book you read was. You both finish your mugs, which are quickly replaced with fresh glasses by Rosmerta. After you finish those mugs, you decide it’s time to head back. Your easy conversation lasts all the way from the Three Broomsticks to the doors of Hogwarts. 

“Uh, before you go, can I ask something?” Remus asks, nervously fiddling with the bottom of his jumper.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Was, um, was that a date?”

His face burns red, embarrassed with the question. You bite your lip as you look up at him. 

“If you want it to be.” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You had been wondering the same thing since he paid for your butterbeers too. 

He holds out the bag from Knick and Knack, having held onto it the entire evening. 

“Yeah, I’d like it to be,” he says softly.

You go up onto your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Then it was. Good night Remus, and thank you for the hair ties. All of them.”

@c0ldstvff - this for you ❤️

[elvensorceress]

tuesday teases

Haven’t been around in a million years but the show baited me with delicious Eddie angst. So. Hello lovely little gay people in my phone. Would you like some Tuesday fic teases?

@tizniz @hippolotamus @chaosandwolves @inell @smilingbuckley @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @blutterlie @thelikesofus @ronordmann @dr-shortsighted-owl @lovecolibri @eddiebabygirldiaz @fiona-fififi @thekristen999

Here’s the ridiculous boys after the realtor phone call meeting…

“She probably wasn’t thinking anything one way or the other. She’s just focused on her job and finding us— me. Me, technically. A house.”

No. Not just Eddie. Their house. It would be theirs. Even if Buck isn’t there. Even if he never steps one foot into it. Eddie’s home is still Buck’s home. That won’t change. Ever.

But he can’t say that. How does he say that?

He gets up from the couch and grabs his empty mug. “You still want to make snickerdoodles? Or some other cookie? Or, what did you call it? Cake masquerading as loaf bread?” Eddie doesn’t wait for an answer. He goes into the kitchen and gets out the stash of flour he’s recently acquired.

He stocked up. Just in case. Can’t have the alternative of Buck without his baking.

Eddie sets one of the ten pound bags on the counter then grabs a pack of butter and the carton of eggs from the fridge and finds the measuring cups and spoons in their drawer. The basket Buck made years ago during quarantine is next. It holds the vanilla, the baking powder and soda, various flavored extracts, finishing salt, molasses, packets of instant yeast, chocolate chips, other baking essentials. He takes the jar of cinnamon from the spice rack in the cupboard, goes to put it with everything, but finds Buck staring from the kitchen doorway.

He looks too wistful. Too heartbroken. And all Eddie can offer is a kitchen and ingredients. He doesn’t have anything else.

Was it really that much of a loss? They were only together for six months. Did Buck really want to spend his life with the guy? It couldn’t have been that serious. It never is.

None of the people Buck’s dated are good enough for him.

Maybe Buck isn’t thinking of his ex right now. Maybe he’s thinking about the kid who was like a son to him.

Or the whole Eddie moving to El Paso thing. He seems fine, for the most part. He’s helping. But that’s what Buck does. He helps. He supports. Even when he shouldn’t.

But Buck has bad relationships to get over. He’s not really thinking about Eddie or Eddie’s problems. He’s focusing on a task so that his mind doesn’t wander where it shouldn’t.

Buck would be fine without Eddie. Hell, he’s probably better off. Or he will be.

Eddie asks too much of him. He takes up too much of Buck's time with his issues.

Eddie looks through the little stock pile he’s put together. “Anything else you need?”

Buck looks, stands beside him, and answers, “Sugar?”

Sugar.

Eddie’s stomach twists. It’s not a pet name. It’s an answer. Not a term of endearment. Answer. And of course it slipped Eddie’s mind. Why wouldn’t something that huge and essential be missing from his offering. He should have some though. Buried in the back of the pantry. He finds white, brown, and confectioner’s, and adds them to the supply. “All yours. Whatever you want to make. I’ll run to the store and get more if you need anything. We should have plenty of flour though. I got you five bags.”

Buck’s head snaps toward him. “Five bags? You got me five bags of flour? Like, two pound ones, right? Or the five pounders?”

Eddie shakes his head and gestures. “No, the tens. Like that one.”

“You bought me fifty pounds of flour?”

“Well, you’re the one who decided his coping mechanism was snickerdoodles and sourdough. I’m just being supportive. Since you’re my wingman and I’m yours or whatever you said when you stole my tablet and my realtor call.”

Buck huffs but smirks. “More like saved your call.”

More like saved Eddie’s everything but who’s counting?

[berenwrites]

Vocation, Steddie, Stranger Things, G

A/N:  Almost didn’t get anything written for this month. Had loads of ideas because it’s a great prompt but kept failing to write them down. But I finally managed it. Hope you enjoy. Don’t forget to check out all the other great fics at @steddiemicrofic too💖.

Written for prompt: GUARD | wc: 532 | Rating G | cw: none

Tags: Fluff, Upside Down aftermath, future, corroded coffin, famous Eddie

Also on AO3 | ( My Other fic on Tumblr)

Vocation

It had started off as a cover when Eddie and the band began to take off. Once Corroded Coffin were slightly too large for Eddie having a constant male companion to go unnoticed, they manufactured a reason. Steve became Eddie’s bodyguard.

The kids had thought it was hilarious, since Steve had never won a fight with a human in his life, but Steve hadn’t. He’d taken private lessons and become what Eddie needed him to be. That it meant he could be seen everywhere with the man he loved had helped make all the bruises from combat training, and headaches from learning strategy and all about security, totally worth it.

The ruse hadn’t been necessary for years, but that didn’t mean the whole fandom didn’t still call him Bodyguard Steve. With the advent of the internet, he even had his own fanbase, which he found decidedly weird, but cheerfully put up with.

Of course, being in the public eye led to one little problem, people were beginning to notice he wasn’t aging normally. None of them were. Those who had been there at the final battle when they took down Vecna for good had all shared in something. It had affected them physically. For Max and Will, it has been more obvious, they could throw things around with their minds just like El. For the rest of them it had taken a few years.

Hopper and Joyce had been the easiest to spot. In their 40s when everything went down it had become clear much faster that neither of them was headed for their dotage when they should have been. Dustin had a whole sideline of studying all of them and his best guess was they were aging, on average, about two years for every ten.

That made turning down the management when they suggested Eddie get a younger man as his bodyguard really easy, but other things harder.

“Do you think it’s time to retire?” Eddie asked as he looked down at the latest article about the band in Rolling Stone.

“Do you want to?” Steve asked.

“No,” Eddie admitted, “but look…”

Steve glanced at the full page spread. It was hard not to see it. Jeff, Gareth, and Doug looked like veteran rockers, Eddie looked like a young upstart in their midst. The guys knew the truth. It had been impossible to keep it from them eventually, but the world didn’t. So far it had been explained away by leaks to the press about Botox and plastic surgery, but that wasn’t going to cut it for much longer.

“Vampires,” Steve found himself saying to his own surprise.

“Huh?”

“Tell the world you’re a vampire,” he replied as the idea formed. “You and the guys always wanted to do a really gothic album. Pretend it’s a whole thing and people won’t see the reality. It’ll give you a few more years until you’re ready to leave it behind.”

For a moment Eddie just stared at him.

“Sweetheart,” his husband finally said, “did I ever tell you you’re a genius?”

Steve just smiled to himself as Eddie dashed off to call the rest of the band. He would guard Eddie’s happiness forever.

( My Other fic on Tumblr)

[extremely-judgemental]

This is the last time I talk about Elain (hopefully!). I honestly don’t understand where you’re getting the idea that she is sweet. Elain is polite, like ‘my neighbour is nice to me’ sort of way. That doesn’t warrant how everyone puts her on a pedestal.

Her actions are mostly glossed over as self-preservation, but that doesn’t seem right to describe her behaviour either. At least, not in a sympathetic way. I'm sure there’s going to be an overload of trauma to justify this, because how can SJM’s heroines have mere mediocre problems when they can be abused or have lost a loved one?

I digress. Ever since Nesta’s grooming came to light, the same is assumed about Elain—that she’s groomed to be ‘nice’. That’s not entirely true. Their mother and grandmother focus on Nesta because getting the eldest married well will bring more prospects for the other two. In their mother’s words, Elain needn’t worry because she is a born beauty, and so she is not trained in courtliness or politics. And, Feyre has enough liberty to lock herself in their father’s office. As a middle child, Elain chooses the ‘nice’ mask because it’s what gets her attention in a family full of stubborn heads—her mother, her grandmother, her sisters.

During their poverty years, even if she could do chores, it’s hard to believe Nesta let her given how much she coddles Elain. And, Feyre treats her like a fragile doll. Elain essentially enjoys the best of both worlds like her father without contributing much to the family. She benefits heavily from her sisters’ animosity against each other—she’s the kind one while the other is the bitch. She’s also quick to secure a marriage alliance right after they regain their wealth. This isn’t to say it wasn’t out of love, but the plot is set in somewhat medieval times, where the order in which the sisters marry is crucial—Elain already wed before the eldest leaves a mark on Nesta’s reputation, making it difficult for her to find suitors.

Elain goes her entire life without being blamed or hated by her family, or even the IC. To have gone through all those struggles, having done literally nothing, and still cherished by everyone? Kindness doesn’t buy you that kind of a pass. It’s not her fault that everyone puts her first, but it’s the result of the image she actively cultivates to achieve her means.

This is why the paintbrushes don’t hold much value either. She doesn’t make Feyre’s life easier or take away some of the burdens, but gives her presents and everything is okay between them? This comes off like love-bombing to me—making Feyre feel special so that Elain isn’t the villain. Which worked, as Nesta is the one called ungrateful. When you’re struggling and someone offers you a bit of joy and relief, it is impactful, and Elain’s gesture could have been that if she had contributed to the family. But now, it comes off as manipulation.

And here’s my issue with her betrayal in Silver Flames. No one gives two fucks about what she thinks is best for Nesta. The IC won’t sit around and wait till she’s convinced. If she decides to lock herself in her room and cry again, only Feyre might care a little. Until then, she’s never included in any major decisions and she’s too perceptive to not notice this. She doesn’t even have to side with Nesta, but to pack her things to send her away?

She even goes on to throw in a ‘you don’t have to be miserable’ when Nesta is being imprisoned with a man. Imagine Elain trapped with Lucien to get her out of her funk. Feyre violated Lucien’s mind when he asked for a few minutes alone with her. They were chaperoned by the entire family for one simple tea. Clearly, Elain is not so stupid as to not know what she’s implying. She lets Nesta suffer not out of self-preservation but because she, like Feyre, believes Nesta is hopeless.

Later, she manipulates Nesta into scrying and insults her in front of everyone who hates her. She blames her ‘invisibility’—she crafted for herself—on others. It isn’t about her owning her life, because she could have done the scrying right away without that conversation with Nesta. And it’s not about protecting herself from the IC. Her outburst felt more like her resentment, that she couldn’t handle losing her shield.

There are many who want Elain to stand up to the IC, but the thing is, she has no reason to. When none of her actions are held against her, what would she fight for? The IC’s behaviour is borderline psychotic with Nesta to prove she wouldn’t be welcomed into the family unless she becomes reputable enough to be Feyre’s sister and Cassian’s mate. In Elain’s case, she is already forgiven and accepted.

Though it still falls under the broad term, her self-preservation carries heavy undertones of selfishness and manipulation. It is not even a survival response triggered under pressure. Most of her life, Elain never has to make big choices. She always gets what she wants without lifting a finger. No responsibility at home, more attention from family, the only one to receive her father’s love, her engagement to Graysen, going to Graysen for help, being left alone during the battles, having her own gardens in Velaris, learning to cook, leading a simple life, to be away from Lucien, pursuing Azriel. When exactly is she ever denied in the first place to preserve her happiness?

Also, Elain is definitely not a helpless doe. She is an opportunist. Her ‘kindness’ is a mask to escape scrutiny from others when she neglects her responsibilities. It serves her too since ‘Elain is Elain’.

And that’s fine because these flaws add layers to her character and there’s room for growth. But when the narrative ignores them and paints her as an angel because it supports the glorified hero, that is wrong. We see it happen with Feyre, Rhysand, and the Inner Circle. Elain is underdeveloped, yet she shows prominent traits at major plot points and still is considered ‘sweet’. At this rate, she’s just going to be another bland cutout who can never do anything wrong and is universally loved (like Feyre).

On the other hand, all this masking, the cunning, and the pettiness are great agents for her obvious future bonding with Rhysand who is quite similar. But her true nature has to be acknowledged first, which is clearly not happening in the narrative or the fandom.

There are obvious issues to be resolved in Elain’s character—shedding these traits and loving others without exploitation—but the focus will be on what SJM deems worthy for her plot. Elain went from being content to staying in the background, tending to her gardens, and creating beauty to wanting to step out of her sisters’ shadows. Though she never gave that vibe, it will be shoved down our throats because these leads need to be badasses. At this point, she has more chances of turning into another Feyre with her ‘coming out of the shell’ journey because that’s the only way women can grow in this series. I don’t like Elain the way I don’t like Feyre, Rhysand, or Cassian. She is, and will likely never be, held accountable for anything she does. Nesta has self-awareness, her flaws are portrayed as such, and she makes amends for her mistakes because that allows Feyre to be right again. But what reason does Elain have to be better when she hasn’t done anything wrong until now?

[blissfullyecho]

My 2025 Skinny Routine

1. I’m cutting back on added sugar. My ultimate goal is to keep my added sugar below 20g or 30g weekly (I have a huge sweet tooth and can easily have this in a day). Added sugar is only found in processed foods and it makes you fat and age. But I’m not giving up on sweets entirely so I’ll limit my budget to 20-30g weekly.

2. Intermittent fasting at least 16:8 daily. Fasting is such a good way for your blood sugar to regulate, your gut to actually run smoothly, burns through carbs and sugars first to then burn fat (energy), etc.

3. Skinny dinners— no carbs at night unless it was on occasion. Carbs are important to give us fuel and energy. I don’t need energy and fuel before bed in a couple of hours.

4. I’m ditching dairy and having it on special occasions like if I ate out. But I won’t have dairy or anything containing dairy in my kitchen this year. I’ll enjoy it when I’m eating out.

5. Fasted cardio. So I live in LA and since moving here, I fell in love with hiking. My job allows me to work remote so I can go on a few hikes per week in the morning. Running is also one of my favs but I would like to be outside more this year.

6. Reformer pilates. I currently go to Pilates a solid 3x a week but I’m going to increase that to 4x a week. I spend almost $800 a month for my current membership (I have unlimited mat and reformer pilates) and would actually like to take advantage of what I’m paying for.

7. I’m going to start eating breakfasts again. I’ve noticed that when I don’t have breakfast, I make crazy decisions for lunch and dinner. I intermittent fast currently from 12p-6p but I’m thinking about changing it to 9a-3p.

8. You guys are going to gag but I spend almost $2k a month in food delivery. This includes tipping, and yes, I always tip and I tip 25% because I found out Uber only pays the drivers $2 per trip and drivers have to pay for their own gas. So yes, I’m tipping and I’m not going to cut down on tipping. But I am going to cut down on the amount of times I get food delivery because I get so bloated everytime I eat out. LA has really good healthy options but I still feel nauseous after I eat out vs. when I eat from home.

9. I’m going to start reaching for fruit way more than sweets. My problem is that I will buy a bunch of produce because it’s convenient for me when I’m feeling lazy, and then it sits in my fridge getting moldy because I want Tiramisu instead. I’m going to have to train myself to grab for fruit and let the tiramisu be a weekly treat and not a daily 9pm Uber Eats delivery (although I have been good because it’s holiday season and I cut back on the junk this time of year)

10. Scale back on the red meat. I have been eating steak almost every day and I am so lethargic afterwards. I’ve never really been a crazy meat eater but lately I’ve been eating filet or wagyu daily. I even had bacon wrapped scallops last night and I hate bacon. Like I said in my last skinny post, I eat a ton of protein around this time of year but the red meat is not making me feel too hot.

This is obviously subject to change but this is what I’ve been feeling lately. I don’t care for any messages that tell me this is triggering. What this is is healthy. Having 10 burgers a week because you’re “listening to your body” is not healthy and that’s not self-love or balance. That’s 10 freaking cheeseburgers lol.

Anyway, my book The Luxe Girl’s Playbook to Life that talks about going into 2025 an upgraded version of yourself will be unavailable in 2 days from this post (11/28/24). Get yourself yours today or miss out.

[saddled-on-stars]

Hey! So for some reason your ask was deleted somehow?? It disappeared from my drafts?! But anyways, here you go lovely <3 @habitabel asked: please write Keatlejuice gifting reader stuffed animals please 🙏 and then listening to reader ramble on about the names, backstories, and how they got the stuffed animals they already have ty 🫶 I’m sorry that this one took me so long!! I hope you enjoy it!!

Happy reading! - Star ★

-★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Trigger Warnings: Explicit Language, Suggestive Themes -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Key: ★ (Y/N) = Your Name ★ (L/N) = Last Name -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Requested by: @habitabel (THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT WITH ME, I'm sorry that this took so long 😭🙏) -★-★-★-★-★-★-★-

- ★ - Stuffing Stories - ★ -

It’s 3AM, and the only sounds in the room are of your own groaning, and the pillows shuffling along your bed. You can’t sleep due to the constant negative thoughts running through your brain, at a million miles a minute.

The day was going great—work was it’s typical busy, but you don’t mind, and you even had a lighthearted chat with your coworker about your shared love for old sitcoms. But then came the side-eyed comment about your ‘Unwilling Service’ from someone who didn’t even know you, and how much it got into your head. You were just trying to answer their question, which was unbelievably bizarre. They asked something about how to get to the park that was thirty minutes away. Hell, you didn’t even know the place existed, and you didn’t work for a directory station.

You are already practically on edge as you walk through your apartment door. Dinner is an afterthought, the thought of eating even something small, sounding like too much of a task. And though you try distracting yourself with a movie, The Exorcist, obviously, the restless energy refuses to fade.

It isn't just today, though. Sleep had been a problem for weeks, a relentless cycle of tossing and turning that left you staring at the ceiling, wondering why you just couldn’t sleep. Tonight is no different. The clock ticked past midnight, then 1AM, now 2AM, each passing minute a reminder that tomorrow would be another day of exhaustion.

Your chest grows tight, your breathing shallower than you’ve experienced, in a LONG time for that matter. The usual distraction techniques aren’t working. Counting sheep, breathing exercises, even scrolling through your phone—all useless.

You pull the covers over your head, but the heaviness of the day’s events looms large. That offhand comment from earlier—’unwilling service…’ Did they mean lazy? Disinterested? Were they secretly annoyed with you? Did everyone at work feel that way? Was it the same with your friends?

The spiraling thoughts claw their way deeper. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms. You hadn’t meant to start tossing and turning, the pillows shuffling deeper.

"Fuck, what is wrong with me?" you mutter under your breath.

With a shaky breath, you sat up, rubbing your eyes. The weight in your chest hadn’t gone away, but you knew someone who’d make it bearable.

"Beetlejuice," you whispered, voice cracking. "Beetlejuice... Beetlejuice."

The flash of green and black in the corner of the room becomes bright with flair, causing his entrance to be as grand as ever. "It's showtime-”, he begins, but the second he takes one look at you, his demeanor shifts.

“Whoa, whoa. Babes? Fuckin’ hell, you okay?” he says, eyebrows furrowing as he notices your trembling hands and red-puffed eyes, shaking his head as he curses himself for not being there sooner. He’s by your side in an instant, sittiing on the bed with a mix of concern and determination.

“C’mere,” he mutters, pulling you close. His arms wrapped tightly around you, his striped blazer soft against your cheek. “Talk to me, Babes. What’s going on?”

You want to answer, but the lump in your throat won’t let you. Instead, you bury your face into his shoulder, your breaths uneven.

Beej doesn’t press. He doesn’t ask questions. He just shifts back against the headboard, tucking you against his chest, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it by yourself, okay? I’m here.”

The familiar rasp in his voice, usually cocky and teasing, was softer now, filled with a warmth you didn’t know you needed.

As you start to calm down, the sound of his voice keeps you grounded. “You know what you need, Babes?” he said, pulling back slightly to look at you with a small grin. “Some quality cuddle therapy... and maybe a new friend. One sec.”

Before you could protest, he vanishes with a poof, leaving you in a sense of longing, wondering where he’s gone. Only for him to reappear quickly, holding something behind his back.

“Ta-da!” He reveals a small stuffed bat with button eyes and a goofy grin. It’s actually quite cute, and it’s got a lot of character, it seems. He chuckles, and holds up the little creature, “Meet, uh... Flappy. Thought you might like him.”

The absurdity, yet adoration, of the name makes you laugh, a weak but genuine sound that seems to lift the tension in the room.

“Flappy, huh?” you say, gently taking the plushie in your hands. “What’s he doing here?”

“Oh, you know. He’s a night owl. Bit of a chatterbox. Thinks you’re the coolest guy around.”, Beej says with a large grin.

You smile, turning the toy over in your hands. “Guess he can join the others.”

Beej’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wait, you’ve got others? Babes, you’ve been holding out on me.”

And just like that, the weight in your chest eases, feeling the utter excitement of getting to share your wholesome obsessions over your stuffed animals, each one having a characterized personality of its own. You find yourself rambling about your collection—each stuffed animal, its backstory, how you’d gotten it.

Beej listens intently, actually seeming interested in what you have to say, throwing in the occasional quip, but mostly just letting you talk.

“And this one’s name is Gemini! My friend named her, since it’s her zodiac sign, but she’s a little fruit bat, who was an orphan from the time she was a baby! She got adopted by a bunch of normal bats, who accepted her into her family, and when she grew up, she went to explore the world!”, you exclaim happily to Beej.

Beej nods with excitement, “Woah, Babes! I had no idea how much you knew about these little guys.”, he says with a joking tone and a wink.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, as you blush. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bore you with these little guy-”, but you’re quickly cut off.

Beej’s lips are softly pressed against yours, his eyes closed, as your eyes flutter to do the same. You wonder what made him want to do this, but you’re too shocked to care.

He pulls back slightly to look in your eyes, chuckling softly. “Do not EVER apologize for that, Babes. I think hearing about them is very sweet to hear from you. And besides, what kind of demon would love you if they didn’t hear about your little stories?”, he asks with a smile.

Your face is surely entirely red now. What did he say?

“W-What did you just say?”, you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

His black-circled eyes soften as he gazes at yours, “I love you.”, he says in a whispered tone, his gaze flickering to your lips.

Your gaze follows to his own lips, as you softly whisper back, “I love you too.”. You lean closer slowly, closing the space once again.

Out of all the backstories that you’ve shared tonight, this one will always be your favorite.

- ★ - Written By Saddled_On_Stars - ★ -

[midnight-bay-if]

I'm so torn between ROs... Honestly can't decide between S, who seem to be like the greenest of flags here - they're human, and have no ulterior motive (I think?) to pursue the MC, apart from the initial spark of attraction and curiosity. Also their personality seems okay as well, they look like a mature person, someone with whom it is easy to communicate and just be around. Sure, they have their own inner demons, but come on - who doesn't? At least S try to not make their demons everyone else's problem.

But also there is N, who seem a little bit too much for me personally, but, oh, I do want to romance them just to spite Alek.

And also there is Umbra! Umbra, reappearing out of thin air, when they are needed. Umbra, who looks like an encyclopedia illustration of 'ride or die' term. Umbra, who follows us around like a lost puppy. A little bit creepy - in a sexy way - tall, dark, alluring puppy. Somehow the fact they do not realize how attractive they are and how much more they intrigue the MC by trying to keep us at arm's length, makes them even more attractive.

God save multiple save slots 🤣🤣🤣

Also, if there is some kind of petition about making Hunter a LI in the next book, please, sign me in. I really like their personality. They are surprisingly honest and do not try to cover their motives behind pleasantries. Yes, we do not know yet what those motives are, but still. I also love their 'no f***s given' attitude and the fact that they like to get on the MC's nerves a little bit. But at the same time they immediately back off when they see we are genuinely not in the mood. What a beautiful potential for the 'push and pull' relationship dynamic! To annoy each other, first out of spite and mutual irritation, using pet names as an insult, but slowly starting to anticipate this banter, making it flirtier and annoying not each other, but everyone else around... Starting to like each other's stubbornness and edginess... Chief's kiss.

Oh, but also, of you say Hunter is a shitty person, and there is nothing to redeem them, that's all right, too. If they are genuinely a bad person, and want to use our MC for whatever reason, and do not care for us as a person, then we can just ask Umbra to pay them a friendly visit and to (intimidate them to death)... I mean, poop on their porch or something. Like a good puppy they are.

Hi, anon! I’m so glad my evil plan to have everyone fall in love with each of my ROs is working, haha.

But yes, you are right about S being the greenest of green flags, lol. All the ROs have a journey to go through, but S is well in the depths of theirs already and has mostly come through the other side. I wanted at least one RO to be well-adjusted. That isn’t to say they won’t experience struggle in their route, but they will handle it with dignity and maturity.

N is definitely a little full-on, but they can also be good fun to write, at least, haha.

Umbra is a cutie. Definitely MC’s ride-or-die. Umbra came from a really personal place, so I can’t help but have a soft spot for them. They were my guardian angel exactly when I needed them, so now I hand them over to everyone else, too. Just in case.

I’ve been giving it a lot of thought since the discourse started about Hunter. Hunter is not a good person, but I think it will make for a very interesting dynamic if people decide to pursue him. By the time his potential romance comes around, people will be able to make a much more informed decision about him. So, although I couldn’t make him an RO in book one, I think it will work out for the best this way.

Thank you so much for the kind message :) It really means a lot.

[onthewaytosomewhere]

so @cactusdragon517 gave me a prompt last week and well my brain kinda went brrr.... and i tapped away at it in between everything else i've been doing and well now it's done and in the wilds of ao3 hoping for someone to read it ...

Alex is many things—a former First Son of the United States, fiancé to Henry, a prince of England, almost a prince himself now by title, and—what he had kept hidden for so long—an omega. It had taken years for Alex to fully come to terms with that part of himself, and even longer to let someone else see it. Now, though, it's not so much a secret as a fact of his life. A fact that, at the moment, is causing him considerable frustration. Because Alex is going into heat. He’d felt it creeping up last night, the restless energy and faint ache in his lower abdomen signaling its approach. This morning, it’s undeniable. His heat is coming, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. Typically, this wouldn’t be a problem. Henry has always been more than happy to help him through it, ensuring Alex feels safe, loved, and thoroughly satisfied. But Henry is overseas, halfway around the world, opening yet another shelter. He won’t be back for at least two weeks. Alex refuses to call him home just for this. The work Henry is doing is important, and Alex isn’t about to pull him away from it just because his body is throwing a tantrum. Still, as Alex stares at the ceiling of their shared bedroom, sprawled across the plush duvet that still smells faintly like Henry, he can’t help but groan in exasperation.

[trekscribbles]

The Bushwhack Job: Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3. I'm just overly excited and want to share what I have.)

Eliot hit the ground forearm-first, rolling along the left side of his body to spare himself as much pain as possible. Lancaster’s shot went high—he heard it thud into the wall, well past the desk he’d landed beneath—but his attention was on the sound of Parker’s footsteps as she broke from cover. One, two, three... The door crashed open, and Lancaster’s answering shot came four seconds too late.

Parker was safe. The rest, he’d figure out.

The radio buzzed against the floor in the middle of the lobby, and he heard a muffled, “Ford, I have Parker. Come around to the front. Lancaster’s still inside with Spencer.”

Thank God for J.B. He really didn’t know how he was going to repay him.

“Hear that?” Eliot called. “Now it’s just you and me. We can still walk out of here before the police show up.”

“No one’s walking out,” Lancaster said. “But you’re right about one thing: we don’t have time to play. Stand up. I won’t shoot, I just want to talk to you face to face.”

Eliot snorted. “Somehow, I’m doubting your sincerity.”

“I give you my word.”

That was as good as useless, but if Eliot wanted to keep him talking long enough to chance an escape, he had to play along. “All right,” he said, sucking in a fortifying breath before straightening behind the desk. His right leg throbbed, and he could feel the blood soaking into his jeans—another pair of Sunny’s ruined. He’d never pay her back at this rate.

Lancaster stood across the room, his derringer aimed at Eliot’s chest. “See you worked your hands free,” Eliot said, rolling his shoulders. “What took you so long? We shouldn’t have been able to beat you down the stairs.”

Lancaster grinned. “I had to stop at my safe. Didn’t want this to get caught up in the explosion.”

He lifted a gun belt, and Eliot snorted. “Don’t you think you’re taking this cowboy thing a little too far?”

“This isn’t a cowboy thing,” Lancaster sneered. “This is a Colt Model 1860 Army Percussion Revolver, owned by Jesse James himself when he rode with the Quantrill Raiders. I bought it for $230,000, but I figured once I found the James treasure, it would sell for twice that.”

A flicker of color outside caught Eliot’s eye: police lights. Their sirens joined the wail of the alarm, and Eliot did his best to push the noise to the back of his mind. “Hard to dig up a treasure on someone else’s property,” he said.

“Well, with you out of the way, that won’t be much of a problem.”

Eliot eased a step backward, shuffling to keep from putting too much pressure on his right leg. “You don’t know Sunny June very well.”

“I don’t need to,” Lancaster said. “That’s the beauty of money. You never have to get your hands dirty.”

“Until now,” Eliot said.

“Until now.” Lancaster lifted the gun, sighting down his arm and closing one eye. “A fact I’m about to remedy.”

Eliot braced himself to turn and run, but Lancaster didn’t shoot. Instead, he bent his knees, set the gun at his feet, and slid it across the floor toward Eliot.

“Pick it up,” he said.

Eliot stared at him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Shooting at the range is one thing,” Lancaster said, sliding the gun belt off his shoulder and fastening it around his waist. “But I’ve always wanted to know how I’d measure up in a real gun fight.”

“Your gun is 150 years old,” Eliot said. “And mine has a range of like seven yards. Not exactly worthy of the O.K. Corral.”

“You scared?” Lancaster needled.

Eliot laughed. “That don’t work on professionals, hoss. I got nothing to prove to you.”

“Then put it this way.” Lancaster spun the cylinder on his revolver, sliding bullets in as he spoke. “I’m shooting either way. You can pick up that gun and defend yourself, or stand there and take a bullet. Doesn’t matter to me.”

Fire sirens joined the cacophony of alarms, but no one was coming inside. Waiting for the bomb squad, probably—he had to keep stalling. Slowly, he lowered himself into a crouch and reached for the derringer, his eyes on Lancaster’s right hand. He’d holstered the gun and stood with his feet planted wide, grinning.

“How do you see this going down?” Eliot asked. 

Lancaster flexed his hands. “You pick up the gun. It’s already loaded, but you’ll need to cock the hammer. Stand with it at your side, and then we draw. Fastest man wins.”

“Speed’s got nothing to do with it if you can’t land a hit,” Eliot said.

“Then I guess we’re about to test your aim.”

Great—Eliot had no idea if he could shoot. Probably, given his other skills, but it would be just his luck that guns weren’t one of the weapons he was apparently proficient with. But even if he could shoot, even if he could manage to hit Lancaster at the edge of the derringer’s range, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Whatever he’d done in the past, whoever he’d been before… he didn’t want to be a killer. Parker had trusted him to follow her out, and if killed Lancaster now…

He wasn’t sure how much of himself would stay behind.

“On three?” Eliot asked. He’d picked up the gun, frowning at the feel of the short handle in his palm, but was careful to keep it pointed away from Lancaster. 

“So you can shoot on two?” Lancaster said. “You’re not getting inside my head, Spencer. Just draw.”

“It’s not really drawing if I don’t have a holster,” Eliot muttered. He lifted the gun carefully, keeping it at his hip as he rose on his good leg.

“There’s no talking your way out of this one,” Lancaster said, sneering. “Either way, you’re not getting out of this alive.”

Eliot went still. “Either way?”

Lancaster’s fingers twitched, and his gaze darted toward a clock on the wall over Eliot’s head. “You think you’re the only one who can stall?”

Alarms and sirens screamed. Eliot’s heart pounded, sending stabs of adrenaline through him—but no fear. Time was up, and he was getting out. 

He’d made a promise.

“You assumed I had to call to set off the bombs,” Lancaster said, misinterpreting his silence. “That ain’t the only way to do it. I would’ve taken a long lunch, only to come back and find the evil Mr. Ford had made good on his threats again—but this will work. You’ve got about ten seconds to decide whether you want to go out with a bang or a bullet.”

Eliot fired. He aimed high, hoping to take Lancaster by surprise, make him flinch—hoping to steal an extra second while he turned for the door. Lancaster’s gun clicked behind him—a misfire—the idiot had probably tried using the ammunition in the gun belt. He didn’t look over his shoulder to see if Lancaster was following. He fixed his eyes on the doors—on the golden hair he could see beyond them.

The explosion started above them. Without the charges in the basement, the building shook, but held—windows burst overhead, raining glass down on the sidewalk outside. The firefighters and police flinched at the sound, hurrying to usher spectators out of the way. Eliot’s leg gave out and he stumbled, caught himself on one hand, and ran on. He was ten feet away—seven, five, two.

The next charges blew as his hand hit the door, and the force of the blast threw it open, glass shattering around him. He lost his feet, crashing into the sidewalk as heat exploded against his back, and then something hit his head—

[ineffableslytherinking]

Chapter 15: Recognition of my dark RadioStatic fic Prized Acquisition has been posted!

“¡Hijo de puta!” Valentino slammed his hands down on the table and shot to his feet. “What the fuck is your problem?!” “Oh, come on, it’s fuckin’ obvious.” Velvette waved her hand at Vox exasperatedly. “He’s in love with the radio prick.”  The moth demon scoffed as he propped himself on the table, leaning his weight on one of his lower hands. “Please. Love isn't real, it's just chemicals. I should know.” He leaned forward to blow a puff of smoke into Vox's face.  He waved the smoke away with a scowl. “My feelings for Alastor are irrelevant,” he insisted firmly. “I know him. I've known him since I landed in Hell. I know… it’s not just a soul contract between us. He wants me around.” “Yeah, Angel was the same way before he ran off to the princesa's hotel,” Valentino taunted slyly. Sparks jumped around Vox’s screen. “That's not even fucking close to the same thing,” he spat. “You never cared about a real relationship with Angel. You don’t love-” He cut himself off with a curse as Valentino threw his head back in a laugh.  “Oh, so you do love your little deer,” he cooed, sliding off the table and stepping over to run a hand over Vox’s shoulder salaciously. “That’s precious, Voxxy. But if you love and trust him so much, why not just set him free? See what happens.” He turned as though to walk back to his chair, but paused, leaning back to look over his shoulder with a cruel smile. “Spoiler alert - he won’t stay with you.” 

This is a dark fic where Vox owns Alastor’s soul, so please heed the warnings on AO3!

[picturesquepalette]

On The Beach

oil painting on cardboard

[tj-crochets]

I cannot find the post anymore because my notes are a mess, but shoutout to the person who told me to look up a pattern for bloomers as an answer to my very vague post about maybe wanting to make shorts, you were absolutely right!!

I found an easy tutorial, all I have left to add are the bottom hems and elastic, and I did not have enough of any one pattern of flannel so instead I have half and half plaid flannel bloomers. They are going to be my winter pajama pants and I am delighted making them, they will be absolutely ridiculous