#i would've gone to get a coke too

[starcraftt]

pony's a little shit and he knows it.

[hunnysahara]

˖⁺‧₊˚❀𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓪❀˚₊‧⁺˖

Hamzah x fem reader

Thought I'd be cool in California, I'd make you proud. To think I almost had it going but I let you down.

After a disastrous move to Los Angeles, you’re sent packing back home to Toronto trying to beat the gnawing feeling of loneliness.

WC: 4.4k

CW: cannabis usage / angst if you squint

No one really understood why you had to leave and you weren't willing to admit you would've rotted beneath the scalding Los Angeles sun if you didn't go back home. You didn't have the stomach to tell your parents they were right when they told you it wouldn't work out, that it wasn't something you could handle. 

Now you stare at the half-empty suitcase sprawled open on the floor, clothes spilling out in a heap like a discarded life. This is what it's come to- moving back into a cramped, outdated flat in Toronto with a roommate who spoke to you solely through dirty glares, a far cry from the polished, sun-soaked world of Los Angeles you thought you would never leave. The room is small, with barely enough space for you to walk around, let alone recreate any sense of the luxury you had grown used to. The walls are bare, a sterile white that mocks the vibrant, carefully curated lifestyle you had paraded on social media.

This must've been the fear that crept into your head during late nights coming to fruition. You had moved in a week ago and couldn't bring yourself to unpack, hardly leaving bed. You were living off the packs of ramen you bought from the gas station on the way from the airport.

You hadn't been happy in California, but being back home made you think that you wouldn't be happy anywhere. Everything there was too expensive, and everyone was coked out of their minds, and you had crawled out of there by the skin of your teeth like you had been dragged through hell. Your rise and fall have been documented in real-time for all of your followers to see even if you tried to play it cool, there were always internet sleuths who would speculate.

Still- you try to compose yourself the same way you would a song or a speech, what little savings you had wouldn't last forever. 

You start pulling clothes from the suitcase, one by one, the sharp scent of Los Angeles still clinging to the fabric. It's bitter, almost like a cruel joke- a reminder of everything you've lost. It's all here: the designer jackets, the sheer tops perfect for rooftop parties you won't be attending anymore. You didn't even like the clothes, you just liked the idea that someone would pay for you to wear one of their designs. 

What you hadn't accounted for when you made the split-second decision to move was just how cold Canada was in October. All you had to keep you warm were a handful of sweatshirts from high school and leggings you were gifted in a PR package months prior. 

Once you have forcefully shoved your clothes into your dresser and pushed every box to one side of the room, it looks almost intact from a certain point of view. You set up the tripod and camera with mechanical precision, your movements slow and deliberate as you adjust the angles, making sure the tiny frame of your new apartment looks somewhat presentable.

It's not much, and you know no amount of clever angles or editing will make this place look like your old life in Los Angeles, but you're determined to try. It's been too long since your last post your followers must be wondering where you've been, and why you've gone silent. If you don't get something out soon, they might stop caring altogether and with your digital footprint, you're sure you've closed out all other career options.

With a deep breath, you sit down in front of the camera, smoothing your hair and glancing at your reflection in the monitor. Your stomach twists as you catch sight of yourself—your eyes look hollow, your skin dull in the unfortunate lighting. 

"Hey, guys!" you begin, your voice sounding brittle and raspy. "I know it's been a while, and I just... wanted to give you all an update." You trail off, feeling the words crumble on your tongue. In the monitor, your smile falters, and you cringe, reaching forward to hit the stop button.

"Ugh," you groan. That was terrible. You sound fake like the voice actors in ads on Spotify. A voice like plastic, made to sell. You delete the footage and start again, clearing your throat, and shaking out your shoulders.

"Hey! So if you couldn't tell I have moved," You clench your teeth into a smile, awkwardly shifting to show the new space just slightly. "And I am in Canada once again," Around the end, your voice falls too soft, too unsure of your own words.

"Hi, everyone. It's been a crazy few weeks, and I know I owe you an explanation," you say, forcing the words out this time, willing them to sound genuine. "So, I'm back in Toronto, and I—" You stop, cringing as you watch your own awkwardness play out on the monitor. God, why do you look so stiff? You sound like you're reading from a script. Your eyes drop to the ground in frustration, biting the inside of your cheek to stop your off-putting words from mounting into a scream. 

In the two months you spent trying to pick yourself back up, it was like you forgot how to do your job entirely and simultaneously forgetting yourself. You weren't sure how you acted or how you were supposed to. The line between you and the caricature you played on camera was bleeding into itself.

Each attempt leaves you feeling more deflated, and more disgusted with yourself. The room starts to feel smaller, the walls inching closer with every failed take. You slam your finger onto the stop button one last time and bury your face in your hands, the frustration boiling over into hot, bitter tears.

"Whatever," you mutter to yourself, sniffling and wiping away whatever tears want to spill.

You grab your phone, hoping for a distraction, for anything to pull you out of this spiral of self-loathing. But as you scroll through your feed, that tightening in your stomach returns.

Your best friend from LA who had conveniently become busy the second things started folding in on you, was at a club with her new boyfriend who of course had a movie star smile and a head of thick curls. Another friend happily promotes her brand deal. You weren't even sure you were friends with them anymore, they didn't seem to take your absence to heart while theirs was so prominent to you that it felt like a presence.

Everyone you were friends with from high school was sharing their experiences with college, exams, dorms, and everything you traded for fifteen minutes of fame. Another friend in some exotic location, cocktail in hand. They're all doing something, achieving something. They're moving forward while you tripped and fell backwards.

You stare at the phone for what feels like an eternity, fingers hovering over your parents' contact. It's been months since you last spoke to them—their voices were tight with disappointment, the kind that sticks with you like peanut butter to the roof of your mouth. 

A lump forms in your throat as you scroll past their names again, hesitation gnawing at you. You know they're furious, and rightfully so. 

With a deep breath, you press "Call" before you can change your mind, holding the phone to your ear. It rings, once, twice, three times, the silence on the other end growing louder with every second. You glance out the window of your tiny apartment, the Toronto skyline nothing like the sunlit sprawl of LA. When the ringing stops, you almost wish they'd picked up, just to have the comfort of a familiar voice, even if it's charged with anger and disappointment.

Then the voicemail beeps.

"I'm back in Toronto, as you probably guessed," you say, voice cracking slightly. "The house... it's fine. It's not LA, but it's fine." You let out a shaky laugh that sounds hollow even to you. "Um, I know you're really mad at me but I would love to see you guys for lunch or maybe watch a movie or something like we used to."

You take a shaky breath, glancing at the phone like it might somehow give you the courage to continue. "I just wanted to hear your voices, I guess. I wanted to say I'm sorry. You were right and I wish that I listened to you. I just—" You stop yourself before the words start spilling out too fast, too frantic.

"LA was just a little too overwhelming for me, I missed Canada," you continue even if it isn't the full truth, your voice softer now. "You can yell at me all you want, I just want to see you guys." You huff a laugh to hide the urge to cry "Things are still going good, I'm glad I'm back. I don't think it'll be too different, maybe just a bit quieter."

There's a long pause, the silence of the room pressing in on you. You close your eyes, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over. "I love you both," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "So if you want to, call me back and we can set up dinner or something. I'll... I'll talk to you later, bye."

Outside, it gently begins to rain. You don't need to press your ear to the glass to hear it, each splatter is like a whisper and you're so attentive since it's the only thing that's spoken to you in weeks.

You drag yourself off the bed, eyes burning from the unshed tears you've been holding back. Sitting around won't fix anything, and won't magically make your problems disappear. You need to do something. Anything to get out of your own head, to stop that endless cycle of self-loathing. With a resigned sigh, you turn back to the mess of the apartment, clothes strewn across the floor, boxes stacked in corners, wrappers and empty water bottles piling up on the coffee table.

"Alright," you mutter to yourself, wiping the last of the tears from your cheeks. "Just... clean up. Start somewhere."

You grab a trash bag and move to the kitchen, shoving empty takeout containers and crumpled napkins into it, the stale smell lingering in the air. With each item that leaves your hands, you feel a tiny bit lighter. Cleaning, at least, gives you some semblance of control. You can't fix everything, but you can make this place feel a little less like a prison.

When the bag is full, you tie it up with more force than necessary, the plastic crinkling angrily under your fingers. You glance around the room, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the cleaner surfaces, the space looking a little more livable. It's not much, but it's something.

You grab the trash bag and head to the front door, holding it awkwardly under one arm as you fumble to turn the knob. The rain is light enough that it leaves you just sprinkled as you awkwardly rush to the garbage can.

It's only when you turn to look back at your door that you remember it locks upon closing. Your breath catches in your throat as you frantically pat down your pockets, then scan the floor, hoping to see them lying somewhere nearby. "No, no, no, no," you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you realize they're not on you. You can picture them clearly, sitting smugly on the kitchen counter, just out of reach.

Conveniently, this was when your roommate had picked up a late shift, leaving you locked out of the flat. 

You try the knob just in case, rattling it as if it might magically give way. It doesn't. A strangled sound escapes your throat, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Fuck!" You shout, pulling on the handle like that would do anything. 

"Are you kidding me?" you seethe, pulling away from the door and kicking it. Hard. The impact sends a jolt of pain up your foot, but you don't care. You kick it again, harder this time, the door thudding in response, refusing to budge.

As childish as you felt kicking the door, it's the final thing to tip you over and you can no longer hold back the tears that were waiting to fall. They're hot and stinging, blurring your vision as you slam your hands against the door again and again. The pain in your knuckles feels good in a way, like a release. You curse under your breath, the words tumbling out, raw and vicious. "Damn it!"

Your strength drains quickly, each hit becoming weaker until you're just slapping the door with the flat of your palms, gasping for breath, the anger dissolving into a wave of grief and exhaustion. You slump against the door, sliding down until you're sitting on the cold, hard floor, your shoulders heaving with sobs.

You pull your knees to your chest, burying your face in your arms. The street is quiet, the only sound of your broken cries echoing softly around you. It's like every emotion you've been bottling up since you got back is pouring out now, in the cold air and oncoming rain, in front of this unyielding door. You cry for the life you lost, for the mistakes you made, for the uncertain, terrifying future that stretches ahead of you.

This can't be the rest of your life, right?

Then you sense it—a presence, a pair of eyes on you. You glance up, wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, and spot him: your neighbour. He's leaning against his brick doorway just a few feet away, a joint lazily balanced between his fingers, looking at you with an awkward mixture of concern and confusion from beneath the awning. 

You hadn't noticed him or the smell of pot which must've been subdued by the rain. You vaguely recognize him. Hamzah, you think his name is. Never had you known he was your neighbour but you were sure you had seen him on your feed a couple of years ago. Now, though, he's standing there, his eyes locked onto you like he's stumbled upon something he wasn't meant to see.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. He takes a drag, the tip of the joint glowing faintly in the dim hallway. You can see the smoke curl around him as he exhales, the smell reaching you a moment later. You swallow hard, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over you. Great. Not only are you locked out, but now you've got an audience to witness your breakdown.

"You, uh... you good?" he asks finally, his voice rough from the smoke. It's an awkward, tentative question as if he's not quite sure what else to say in this scenario. 

"Um," You straighten your posture, coughing to clear the bubble in your throat from sobbing "Yup."

He shifts uncomfortably, scratching at the back of his neck. "Do you... need help or something? Like... with the door?" he offers, taking another drag.

"I just locked myself out, had a bad day," You say, trying to slip in an explanation for your little show "Uh, my roommate can let me in when she gets home." 

He exhales a cloud of smoke, nodding slowly. "Yeah. I can see that." Another pause, then he adds, "You want me to call someone? Like a locksmith or something? Is there something I can do?"

You glance up at Hamzah, eyes still red from crying, and see him taking another drag. The silence between you feels heavy and awkward. Impulsively, you blurt out, "Can I have a hit of that?" You're not sure why you ask—maybe you just need something to take the edge off, something to dull the sting of reality.

Hamzah hesitates, looking you over like he's trying to gauge how serious you are. Then, with a small shrug, he steps closer and extends the joint. "Sure," he says, holding it out and gesturing for you to come closer. 

Sheepishly, you move from your spot on the stoop and scamper over to his patio. You take it from his fingers, feeling the warmth of where his hand was. It's not like you've never done this before, but it feels strange now, in this setting, stuck under an awning with a virtual stranger. You bring the joint to your lips, inhaling deeply. The smoke burns your lungs for a moment, and you cough, fighting the urge to wince as you hand it back to him.

"Thanks," you croak, blinking to clear your watery eyes. The two of you sit in silence for a beat, and you sense him watching you again, more curious now than awkward.

"So," he starts, breaking the silence. "Why are you locked out? What happened?"

"Oh, it's one of those automatic locks but it's actually not since the keypad is busted," Even as you string the words together they don't make sense to you but Hamzah slowly nods.

"Okay," His eyes are half-lidded and another silence stretches between you until he fills it "So you just moved in?" He asks to which you nod "From where?"

"California."

"Why'd you leave?"

"Coke." You answer a bit too fast "Everyone is coked up all the time and it's just kinda miserable no matter where you go." 

"Yeah that checks out," He takes a drag before offering you another hit. Hamzah's eyebrows draw in as he studies the curves of your face and the bridge of your nose, finally, he says "Sorry, you just look really familiar."

"Yeah, you do too," You feel the smoke fill your lungs, the sensation feels as rough as sandpaper.

"Yeah," he reiterates, drawing the word out, eyes still on you. "No, I do know you," Hamzah announces like he's cracked a riddle "I used to watch your videos."

"Used to," You repeat, sucking a sharp breath through your teeth "Youch."

His eyes widen slightly "No, no, not like that, I'm just busy now, like I don't have time to-

You cut him off with a laugh "I don't care, I'm just being a dick."

"Oh," He takes a breath out and his lips slowly curl into a small smile "Cool." 

Silence hangs between the two of you like two birds on a wire as you pass the joint back and forth. The eeriness is filled by the patter of rain, harsher now and splashing against the concrete, so loud it sounds like pebbles being tossed onto sheets of glass.

"Are you like- okay?" He glances at you, coughing into his fight for a moment. 

You knew the marijuana had hit you when everything felt like it was moving in frames and suddenly your body didn't feel so heavy "I dunno," You answer truthfully, tongue loosened by the pot in your system "I just don't know what to do."

"How old are you?" He asks abruptly.

"Twenty-one." When the words leave your mouth he laughs "What?"

"What do you mean you don't know what to do? Watch a movie, eat some cereal, you've got time."

You look ahead of you at the street, water dribbling it's way into drains. Oddly, it felt like exactly what you needed to hear, that jigsaw falling into place. The joint is almost finished now, just a few more puffs left. You take a slow drag, savouring the earthy, slightly sweet taste before exhaling a thin stream of smoke that mingles with the cool night air. "It doesn't feel like it." 

"Nah," He waves it off "You've got time and- " Hamzah fishes another joint out of his hoodie pocket, holding it up with a grin. "Since you're already having the worst day ever," he says, "Might as well make it a little more interesting." 

You stare at him for a moment, the remains of your previous frustration tugging at the edges of your mind. But then you shrug. What do you really have to lose at this point? A small, wry smile creeps onto your face. "Sweet."

-

Hamzah's living room is messy in a comfortable way, with gaming consoles scattered around the TV and piles of clothes thrown across the couch. "Make yourself at home," he says with a grin, already rummaging through a pile on the floor to pull out a small tripod and camera.

You collapse onto the couch, feeling the familiar thrill of preparing to film, even if this time it's more chaotic and impulsive. Hamzah sets up the tripod, the lens trained on the two of you. He fumbles for a second, trying to find the record button.

"Okay, okay," he mutters to himself, squinting at the camera. "Ready?"

You nod, suppressing a giggle as he finally gets it going. He plops down beside you, and you both stare at the red light blinking at the top of the camera.

"Hey, what's up, YouTube!" Hamzah begins, his voice loud and overly enthusiastic, making you burst into laughter. He shoots you a mock-serious glance, pointing at you. "So, this is my neighbour... my locked-out, kind of sad neighbour. We just had a major debrief."

"Major," You nod in confirmation.

Hamzah grins, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. "Right, right. She is in a bit of what I call a slump that we are getting her out of. So, what brings you to the fine streets of Toronto?"

You launch into an exaggerated tale of your move back, embellishing details to make it sound even more ridiculous. He plays along, interjecting with snarky commentary, and soon the two of you are riffing off each other like a well-rehearsed duo.

For a moment, you forget about the locked door, the mess of your life outside this room. You're just... here, laughing with this random stranger, acting like a complete goof in front of a camera.

"And that's how we ended up here," Hamzah finishes, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Two neighbours, locked out, stoned out of their minds, trying to salvage what little dignity they have left."

"I think your dignity is fine, actually," You correct him.

"Mmm, I dunno about that," he shakes his head "My digital footprint is insane."

"How insane?"

Hamzah holds a finger out before reaching into his pocket and taps around, holding his phone out to show you the screen. You watch as several clips play one after another, him saying incredulous things, taking shrooms at Comic-Con, slipping in a hot tub, and eating a comically large hotdog. 

"Ah, I see," You nod slowly.

"Can you believe I did all of that sober?"

"No, actually, maybe, I don’t know you that well."

"Well," He gestures to his phone "That's basically all you need to know."

"Really?"

"Nah," he shakes his head "What am I saying?"

The glint of a green light catches your eye and you're reminded that this entire conversation is being filmed. You nudge Hamzah's bicep, pointing at the camera "Dude, we have a video to make."

"Wait," he puts his hand out, "I think I just discovered the solution for world peace."

"Do tell." Nothing makes sense, you’re just putting together the first words that come to mind like a game of scrabble.

"Everyone gets high at the same time and then we can all resolve our issues." In the moment, it seemed genius, like there were no issues to it. In your state, your face splits into a smile and you give Hamzah a high five.

"But seriously, we gotta film because I'm going to be very irrelevant very soon."

"Right, right. We will-" his head swerves, looking around for something to hold interest, then, he goes back to his phone, opening up Garage Band "Make a song."

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Nah, just trust me, we will freestyle, it'll be good."

You blink "I can't sing."

Hamzah shrugs, tapping a button that creates a drum loop. "Who cares? It doesn't have to be good. In fact, the worse it is, the funnier it'll be. People love random off-putting stuff that doesn't make sense."

You lean forward, hands on your knees as you try to think of some lyrics. "Okay, okay," you say, catching your breath. "How about... 'I got locked out of my house, life's a mess, lost my success'?"

Hamzah snorts, nodding eagerly. "Perfect. And then, something like, 'My neighbour showed up with a joint, now we're high, nothing's going as planned...'"

You both burst out laughing at how terrible it is, but that only makes it more fun. As the best of a song comes to fruition, you start shouting out lyrics in a half-singing, half-yelling voice, each line worse than the last.

"Can't pay my rent, don't have a cent!" you cry, dramatically throwing your head back.

"Got kicked out of school, and now I'm feeling uncool!" Hamzah chimes in, wailing.

It's chaotic, utterly ridiculous, and so far from anything either of you would ever consider sharing online, but the sheer absurdity of it leaves you both gasping for breath between fits of laughter. You catch glimpses of each other between the laughter, and you realize how freeing it feels to just be silly, to do something that has absolutely no pressure to be perfect or polished. In truth, it wasn't that funny but under the influence, breathing was funny.

As the last of the laughter dies down, you hear the faint rumble of a car engine pulling up outside. You freeze, holding your breath, listening as a car door slams shut and footsteps approach. It takes you a second to register what's happening, and then your eyes widen in realization.

"Oh my god," you mutter, scrambling to your feet. You rush to Hamzah's window, peering outside. There, standing by the curb with a purse in hand, is your roommate. Relief washes over you so suddenly it nearly knocks you over.

"Is that...?" Hamzah asks, glancing out the window beside you.

"Yep," you reply, feeling a mixture of giddiness and embarrassment flood your chest. "That's Margot. I can finally get back inside!" You turn back to him, grinning ear to ear. "I should probably go but uh- thanks for the weed," you say, heading toward the door. Hamzah just nods, a lopsided smile on his face as he follows you to the doorway.

"Oh- yeah," he says, opening the door for you. 

You give him a quick wave, then jog down across the yard to catch your roommate before she heads inside. By the time you reach her, she's already at the door, fumbling with her keys.

"Hey! Thank god you're back!" you blurt out, slightly out of breath. "I locked myself out."

She gives you a skeptical look, seeing your red, glassy eyes but nods, unlocking the door. You slip inside with a sigh of relief, feeling a little steadier, a little less lost than you had a few hours ago. Before she can ask more questions, you glance back toward Hamzah's house, catching sight of him leaning casually in his doorway, waving goodbye with a lazy, knowing grin.

You wave back, shaking your head slightly. What a weird, unexpected day it's been. And yet, somehow, you don't feel quite as alone anymore. It's a weird serenity that washed over you. Toronto didn't seem as hopeless as it did initially.

A/N: Anyways, if you’ve read this far, feel free to send a request. I didn’t really know where I was going with this, just wanted to write something Hamzah.

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Reader

That song "Loser Baby" from Hazbin Hotel has been on my mind ever since I watched the video, and I'm like, ooooh, prompt idea ✨️✨️

Basically, Jason and Reader are both members of the Titans, Jason's going through some shit, thinking he's alone to deal with it because the other members never cared about his problems, so Reader is there to sort of comfort him!

WARNINGS: mentions of suicide, drug use, weaponry use

Notes: Based on HBO Titans, timelines are mixed, idk how a molotov cocktail works, just go w it, unrealistic gun use

Another day, another failed mission. Why? Jason took the impulsive decision to dive in, head first, into the first danger he saw, which led them to be ambushed by other criminals. Sure, they got the majority locked up, but now the others are spread around Gotham now trying to get backup.

And like most times, when Jason messes up now and again, the members start pointing fingers while Dick was at GCPD.

"We went through the plan a million times, kid," Hank grunts. "You wait for Dick's signal!"

"Yeah, yeah! I heard you the first time," Jason spits back. He's been hearing this ever since the whole fiasco ended up until now as everyone got back to the tower. "Get off my back, will you, at least I fuckin' tried, asshole."

"And we would've completed the mission successfully if you tried after Dick gave the cue," Kory chimes in. "You need to work on your patience."

"Whatever," Jason mumbles storming back into his room.

Just as he was, you were exiting your own room, located just beside Jason's.

"Hi, Jay, how was the- oh...kay?" Just as you were greeting the young vigilante, he ignored you, slamming his door shut.

You walk into the lobby. Though you were a member of the Titans, you didn't participate often in missions. You design and create weaponry for the other members, especially Dick and Jason, as they don't have any powers. You excused yourself from joining the missions because although you knew how and when to use your mechanics best, your combat and stealth skills aren't as advanced.

You picked up this interest of building and experimenting after a few downfalls earlier in your life before Dick found you and took you in.

You grew up on the not so upper class side of Gotham City, and you were not an intentionally planned kid. Your parents made bad decisions, weren't married, and both were struggling in their own way. But your dad soon realised that it was all too much for him. He couldn't take care of himself, let alone take care of a kid, his kid. Soon enough, he reached his limit and swallowed a few too many pills.

That's when your mom went spiralling into her own depression. She smoked more cigs, snorted more coke, and drank more alcohol. And when you were old enough to comprehend the profanity she spat at you, she figured that you were smart enough to live life on your own. So she kicked you out. Later that night, when you came back, just to double check if your mom was just on a high and didn't mean what she said, she was gone. The only evidence to prove she was there were the smashed bourbon bottles and and cigarette butts scattered across the floor.

You sat yourself on the couch, legs tucked into your chest as you wrapped your arms to secure them in place and waited patiently for your mom to come home.

But she never did.

Some bad people were after you, claiming that your mother had owed them a shit ton of money. When you told them you didn't know where she was, they said that you'd have to continue to pay back her debt. You had nowhere else to go. So every time they'd come knocking on your door, you'd bolt out through the fire escape.

You had a molotov cocktail in your hand, a little something you saw your dad do once when he was in a difficult situation such as yours. This is the first time you've tried to use it before. You're scared that saving the bottle would be a waste of time. What if you threw it and the fire just went out? What if it wouldn't have the effect you'd expect? What if it would hurt you too in the process??

You just prayed. Prayed for some sort of miracle. In your other hand, spray on deodorant that you stole from the grocery store a walk away from your apartment.

There's a recently abandoned one-story house just down the road.

Lure them there, spray the room, blow 'em up.

You repeated the plan to yourself. So many things can go wrong. You couldn't do anything but pray.

Your chest ached when you got to the building. You covered your face as you choked, inhaling the deodorant that you sprayed around the room.

"There they are!" One of the men yelled towards your direction. You waited. Just a couple seconds.

You ran out the back window as they crashed through the door. Looking back, you waited as much as you could, making sire as much of the men entered the house.

Now.

You lit the cloth on fire, using your mom's lighter, one of the things you kept, and threw it through the window. And just like that, the fire caught onto the particles of the deodorant, and as the bottle smashed to the concrete floor, the building as a whole burst into flames, the painful screams of men remaining in the house.

"Oh my god, it worked!" You said to yourself, panting as you continue to run away.

From then on, you experimented with other, easier ways to create the same kind of effect. You used scraps of metal, lead wires from lightbulbs, plus lightbulb shards to create explosives to protect you.

Soon, your knowledge of weaponry expanded. You managed to steal a gun from one of the men that were after you. You liked to know how things worked. And you liked to manipulate how they worked.

You spent your time disassembling your new gun and eventually created a new weapon of your own. You'd pretend to be too scared to use it, bad man grabs it off you, aim it at you, pulls the trigger, and boom. The bullet blows to the other end, towards their face.

Too bad luck wasn't completely on your side for long.

You screeched as you walked past an alley, your hair being grabbed and pulled by a large man. "Think you can get away from me, bitch?" A gruff voice spat.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, grasping as your scalp that's burning your skull. You heard the glint of a knife as the sharpness poked at your side.

"Please, please, no, please," you whispered, begging for your life to be spared.

"You better pray for a miracle, cunt," the man said, jabbing the knife into your side, then throwing you against the wall, leaving you to bleed out.

Your vision blurred and came to the conclusion that you were going to die.

That is... if some random stranger found you and decided to bring you back to what you found out to be "Titans Tower." Learning his name to be Richard 'Dick' Grayson understood you had no one to take care of you and that you were the one who caused that explosion. He also found your little gun, and the great detective saw how it's been rearranged.

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar area. You were bandaged up well, but you were still scared. You hissed, trying to sit up. At the same, Dick walks into the room, a trya with soup, a glass of water and a small tablet next to the glass all prepared.

Dick smiled, introducing himself and apologising for bringing you unconscious. He offered you a shelter, but also wanted to know more about you. How you ended up in the situation, who was after you, and how you managed to rearrange the gun.

He then took you under your wing, giving you your own room and even your own materials to create more weapons for yourself. These ranged from melee weapons, explosives, and hand to hand combat weapons.

Dick tried to train you in physical combat, but you admitted that no matter how hard you tried, your fighting skills won't really improve. So you offered to just create new defence weapons for the team and operate missions from the tower as the team went out.

A couple of months later, you met Jason Todd. You'd be lying if you said he wasn't attractive, and his flirtatious attitude didn't help with your attraction towards him.

You also admired how skilled he was in fighting. Fighting a person while blindfolded? Fighting two people while they're all blindfolded? You wished to be just like him. But you were too shy to talk to him.

Jason speaks before thinking, and you were scared that he'd make fun of you for being part of the Titans without knowing basic combat and stealth skills. So you avoided him as much as you could.

But your guard was down as you had your headphones on, sitting on the couch in the lobby, sketching out a design for new throwing blades that could inject a liquid into the body to knock someone out for around half an hour.

"Why do I never see you around?" A curious voice chimes. One of your headphones laid off your ear, so you flinched when you heard someone begind you.

"Uhm, I.. I don't know what you're talking about," you quietly say, not sure how to confidently talk to the attractive boy.

"You're never out on missions or in the training room. Why are you here?" He says, arms leaning on the back of the couch, face dangerously close to yours

You shrugged. "I kind of make the weapons, I guess. I got those Rs of yours to send a shock wave of electricity," you replied, trying to identify yourself.

Jason tilts his head. "So, how come I never see you around training or missions? With weapons like them, I assume you would be useful out there."

You shake your head. "Fighting isn't really my forte. And my aim is never accurate," you explain, bracing yourself for the taunts.

"Huh. Want me to teach ya?" He offers.

Your head shoots towards him. "Uhm. Thanks, but Dick already tried training me. Trust me, I'd just be wasting your time and be a pain in your ass," you say, fidgeting with the pencil in your hand, kooking away from him.

"Nah, you trust me. I can teach you way better than Dickwad can. And if you still think fighting just isn't a thing for you, we can stop."

You stare up at him for a few moments before sighing and agreeing.

Surprisingly, Jason was able to teach you the basics, but that was as far as you could learn. Nonetheless, you were grateful that Jason taught you something that you could learn. You couldn't thank him enough. In return, you designed weaponry specifically suited for his fighting style.

From then on, you and Jason developed a beautiful friendship. Unfortunately, your crush on him only grew more.

But you and Jason were always there for each other. You never ran out of stories and fun talks to chat about. And eventually, little by little, the two of you opened up about your not so different pasts.

So when Jason stormed into his room after coming back from the mission while making absolutely no contact with you, it got you worried.

"Jeez, what happened?" You say as you walk to where the other members stood.

"Jason being Jason as always," Rachel mumbles.

"Uhh, Jason was just being eager. He's been trying to solve this case for weeks," Gar tries to reason out.

"If that little shit just stuck to the plan, his case would've been solved," Hank raises his voice as Dawn tries to calm him down.

"Just be patient with him. He didn't mean it," you try to calm everyone down.

"We can't be patient with him if he himself can't be patient," Donna calls out from the fridge, grabbing a drink.

"Listen, he's been through enough already, cut him some slack," you begin to get pissed off.

"If you're referring to when he got kidnapped, that was his fault too," Rachel says, sitting down on the couch.

"You know what wasn't his fault? Drawing crosses on your mirror, Rach. And that made all of you blame him for the other shit planted in your rooms. Do you know how much that shit hurt him? And none of you didn't even apologise! So, sorry, on behalf of him, that he wanted to show he was still strong enough even after he was kidnapped and dropped from a skyscraper. But have a little decency and time to understand why he acts the way he does," you ranted, not letting anyone reply as you stormed away.

During your times spent with Jason, you didn't miss his ADHD meds lying around, and eventually, he opened up to you about his therapy talks with Leslie, and you're glad it's somewhat helping. You just wushed you would be as much helo to him.

You knocked lightly on the door. "Jay?" You called out to him. You sighed when you were met with no response. You know he didn't tell you to come in, hut you were so worried for your best friend, so you entered his room.

His rock vinyl was spinning, and you took the pin off, making the loud mhsic stop abruptly.

Staring out the window, Jason turns to you, glaring at you.

"C'mon, it's just me, Jay. You can talk to me," you say.

Jason scoffs. "Yeah, sure. Then you'd think of me like the others do," he says, his gaze returnint out the window.

"And how do they think of you, Jason?"

He shrugs. "Like a fucking loser," he croaks.

"That's because you are a loser," you deadpan. Jason's brows furrow in confusion as he looks at you once more. He honestly thought you'd start to go on a long, petty rant about you thinking otherwise.

You sighed, walking over to him, hding his hands and bring him over to his bed, sitting him down.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Jay. Your life sucks and I don't know if it's going to get better. There's a chance that it's not. You are a loser. You're spontaneous, make dumb decisions that don't always go well. But, you know? It's not entirely your fault. Your childhood sucks, your current family sucks and most of your teammates sucks. And you're just doing your best. You may be a loser, but guess what? I am, too. I can't fight, I can make weapons, but my aim is shit. My dad died, and my drug addict mom left me. I'm always alone i the tower because everyone else is out doing cool, superhero shit. I understand your pain, Jason. That's why we tell each other the shit we've been through. Because that load might be too heavy for only ourselves to carry. But I'm sure as hell it would be light as a feather if we carry both of our problems together," you choose your words carefully, your hands remaining on his, your thumb stroking his scarred skin.

Slowly, you move your hands, shifting them to link your pinky with his while he remains silent. "Jason, I promise you. I'm always going to be here to listen. I'm always going to be here for you. To help you in any way I possibly can."

Jason doesn't verbally reply. What he does, though, is nod and lean his head against your shoulder, tightening his grip around your hands.

[cellard0ors]

Travis isn't a fan of going into the big city.

Yes, he lives in New York, but not NEW YORK, New York. He lives in North Kill - a small town that's pretty much the exact opposite of it's 'shining star' city.

North Kill isn't glitz or glamour. It's not even tough and hard. It's small and country and - as he's heard some say - bumfuck redneck.

it's home.

And, to him, leagues better than the big city.

And yet.

The big city isn't that far from home. Not far enough, anyway, to prevent Travis from traveling there now and then. Now, specifically, for his brother Bobby's sake.

Family, after all, is the most important thing in the world.

And if Bobby wants to go to the big city to see some wrestling (or, again as he's heard some say, 'rasslin') Travis is willing to swallow his distaste for the city and go.

Or, as it is at this moment, swallow a beer

He's at a bar not too far from the convention center he, Bobby, and Chris will be going to in a few hours. Bobby and Chris, far more excited for this than he is, are out and about exploring.

Travis, for his part, is enjoying a drink in an establishment that's surprisingly quiet. A good cleanser for the soul before he's surrounded by people. Screaming, sweaty excited people.

...Jesus...

"Well that's a face."

Travis perks up from his drink and then...internally freezes. He's old enough now (in his fifties and all) to control his reaction when he sees an attractive woman.

This means that, while his expression is calm, his nerves are going off like fireworks - something he would've reflectively shown in his youth. He thanks himself for his age that his jaw doesn't drop.

Because this woman?

Gorgeous.

She's blonde and beautiful and giving him an amused smirk, "Don't like the drink?"

"Drinks fine. Company not so much." And how he manages something that slick is a mystery to him.

"I don't see any company."

"That's because I'm alone."

She nods to herself in understanding, "So you don't like that?"

"Normally? No. Right now? Definitely not."

"Any particular reason?"

"Not really."

"Well...I could buy you a drink? Join you? Maybe a change of company will cheer you up. Change that face a little."

Travis fights off a smirk but she catches it, grinning wildly, "See? It's already working!"

"I can see you're trouble..."

"Loads and you're already in it. Didn't even say 'no' to the drink and it's too late now." She boasts and sure enough the bartender is near enough that the girl can request another for Travis and, for herself, a rum and coke.

Once the bartender is gone she turns to him, "Name's Laura."

She holds out a hand and he lets out a sigh as if this is a big burden as he shakes her hand, "Travis."

+

They share a few more drinks, they share a few more flirtatious remarks, and just when Travis is really contemplating asking her out, her phone buzzes and she looks at, hissing, "Oh! I lost track of time! I really have to go!"

Laura gives him a shy smile, "I really had fun with you, Travis."

"Same." Is his simple response, but his heart is jackhammering as he prepares to ask for her number. Only for her to suddenly draw a sharpie from her jacket, "Here..."

Laura gets a hold of his forearm.and scribbles on it, "When you get a chance, give me a call."

"So...right now?"

She laughs and tucks the marker away, "Sadly, busy tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's fine by me." He returns with his own shy grin. She seems reluctant to leave, but her phone buzzes again and she gives in, even if it is with a pout.

Travis watches her go before directing his attention to his forearm to see her best scrawl. He chuckles at it and shakes his head to himself, wondering why on earth she's carrying a sharpie around.

Later that night, he finds out exactly why.

[johntuckermustdie]

RAFE CAMERON FANFIC

Found this deep in my drafts, not sure if there's still a market for obx fanfics but ohh well...

pairing: rafe x oc

summary: Rafe attempting to get clean 💀

warnings: drug use, a lil bit of angst, bad grammar and typos

word count: 2.1k

PART 1:

***

He watches her from across the dark room. She's talking with one of her friends, chatting more animatedly than usual, her system wraught with alcohol.

If theres anyone else in the room, he doesnt seem to notice. He's been watching her for almost an hour, since his bleary eyes caught a glimpse of her brown hair as she waltzed through the doors.

He's perched on a couch, his friends nearby slung over cushions as they ride out the high of the cocaine. He's riding it too. Pupils blown out, heart racing. He's barely moved from his spot in two hours, only moving slightly to refill the drink in his hand.

She's been ignoring him the whole time, going about her night like she doesn't notice. She knows he wants to talk but she's not doing it when he's like this and for once he seems to respect that. He hasn't even tried to make a scene, but she knows the nights not over yet.

He would've caused a scene if he wasn't too fucked up to walk. The coke and alcohol in his system make it hard to string sentences together and the last time he tried to move he almost fell.

If he'd have known she was coming he wouldn't have gone so hard. But hindsights always a wonderful thing.

Shes wearing the dress he bought her, its pastel purple (her favourite colour) and clings tight to her form, showing off the soft curves of her body. She had wanted to get his attention, even to just make him regret his decision, but she'd be lucky to get any legible words out of him in his current state.

She spends the next few hours laughing with friends and dancing with tourons, she ends up with a dark haired boy who says he's from Georgia. She moves against him on the dance floor, his hands on her hips as they sway. She cant remember how many songs she'd been dancing with him for, but based on the hair sticking to her sweaty forehead and the burning in her lungs as she tried to catch her breath. It had been some time.

Rafe having been overcome with drowsiness, had fallen asleep. But as he finally comes to, the party is still in full swing. Hes by no means sober but his legs seem to be working again, which is great because he needs to piss.

Theres no sign of her as he walks the halls looking for a bathroom, maybe she left he thinks to himself. She wasnt usually the kind to stay out all night. Theres a deep growl in his stomach, then it lurches. Saliva fills his mouth. He really didnt need this now considering he hadnt found a bathroom yet. He stops for a moment, with the intentions of letting his stomach settle, within moments the feeling subsides and he continues his search.

She's by the pool with the touron boy, sitting on the side their legs dangling in the water. The buzz she'd had rushing through her head when he first asked her to dance had gone. He seemed nice, he was funny too. They were currently talking about surfing. He was surprised how she'd spent the last 5 summers in OBX but had never learnt how to surf. He offered to teach her, she laughed.

"How does a boy from Georgia think he can teach me how to surf? Aren't you guys landlocked?" she laughed.

"Well," he starts, his speak slightly slurred, "I guess I'll just have to google it."

Rafe had found a bathroom and now his next mission was to locate Ti. He asked around for a few minutes unsteadily pacing the halls before he thought to look outside.

She was by the pool with some guy he'd never seen before. His money was on him being a touron. He was getting close to Ti, too close.

Even with the music that carried outside. she still heard him coming, his shoes scuffled loudly against the concrete as he made his way towards her.

"Hey Ive been looking for you," Rafe confesses, his speech slurred, her eyes are on him, watching him expectantly, but shes not quite sure what to expect.

He walks closer to where theyre sitting with their legs dangling in the pool, plopping himself ungracefully besides ti. He puts his arm around her shoulder, moving his face close to hers, she can smell the alcohol on his breath as he plants a wet kiss on her cheek.

His unsteady hands reaches around the side of her head bringing her even closer so he can lay sloppy kisses on her neck. The familiar sensation makes butterrflies flutter in her stomach, but she can't.She pulls away from him, meeting his eyes. The blue glow given off from the pool reveals his glassy eyes and unfocused gaze.

'What?' he voice slurs with an affronted tone,'I can't even kiss my girl anymore?'

She shakes her head, incredulously,'You made it very clear last week that I wasn't.'

He'd been having withdrawals when he said it but the words still stung. So much so she'd walked out and hadn't talked with him since, ignoring all his calls. It wasnt just the words that had hurt, it was the fact that he'd promised he would to try stop drugs but he hadn't. She was done. So done with having to act like his Mom all the time, reprimanding him, it wasn't her job.

He tries to lean closer again,'Rafe' she warns.

'I just. I just wanna talk,' he whines.

'Leave me alone, I'm not talking to you when you're like this.'

As much as the words had hurt, she still loved him and it killed her having to ignore him but she didnt know what else to do. All she knew was she couldn't watch him self destruct anymore.

'Please,' he begs, as he tries to clasp her hand in his.

His stomach betrays him a few moments later, he lurches forward, his vomit projecting into the pool and also landing on his jeans.

She sighs, shaking her head again. She turns her head to the right to the dark haired touron who has fallen silent beside her,'I am so sorry,' she says to him as she gets to her feet.

'Get up Rafe,' she says to his hunched form. He looks up at her, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm before struggling to his feet.

She didnt know how her night was gonna end but this was not what she had in mind. She gives the touron boy a final nod before she clasps Rafes side and begins to walk him back towards the house.

He doesn't protest, he barely says a word as she walks him to one of the upstairs rooms, him stumbling up the stairs as they go. A few of the rooms are occupied but she manages to find one. She pushes open the door, revealing a fairly large guest room complete with an ensuite and a queen sized bed.

"Stand here for a minute," she tells him unclasping his arm, leaving him standing beside the bed. She tugs on the white material of the covers, pulling them away from the edge, revealing the sheets below.

She turns back towards him, watching as he sways slightly on the balls of his feet. Her eyes travel to his jeans and the vomits soaked in the parts of the material.

"You're not getting into these sheets with vomit on you, so take your jeans off."

He fumbles with the belt for a few moments before she replaces his hands with hers, undoing the buckle like she'd done so many times before, this time with absolutely no passion behind her intent.

[[[

"I fucked everything up didn't I?" he mumbles as she pulls the comforter over his brief cladded form, "I always fuck things up," he confesses, his voice slurred. There's a pained expression on his face, his eyelids hang low.

"You know I didnt mean that shit Ti."

She watches him and in that moment she no longer feels contempt but instead pity.

"I dont care if you meant it or not,' she says, her expression hardening, 'Look at you,' she says as she gestures a hand towards him,"You're a fucking mess. You cant even stay clean for one day."

"Babe," he whines, one of his hands moves to grasp her wrist, but this time she doesnt try to pull away. His hands feel clammy against her warm skin, "Please just give me one more chance."

He tugs on her wrist, trying to pull her down to the bed,"Can you lay with me please?"

She sighs, fighting the urge she has to march out of the room and leave him

Finally, she gives her head a small nod. She pulls away from his grip, making her way to the other side of the bed.

She crawls her way over the sheets and moves to lay beside him. His eyes are barely open, his hair is slightly dishevelled. She puts a gentle hand through it, trying to comb it back into place.

"I keep fucking up," he utters. He moves so his body presses closer to hers, so his head is close to the crook of her neck," I don't know what to do," he continues, his voice cracking slightly. There's a shudder that wracks his shoulders that tells her he's crying.

Her heart breaks in her chest. She rubs her hand against his back,"You need to get some help Rafe."

"I know," he sobs.

When he wakes up his head is pounding. There's a dull pain behind his eyes and his mouth is dry. Ti's side of the bed has gone cold, but the sound of the tap running in the adjacent bathroom tells him she's in there. He gives a groan as he gets to his feet, the world spins around him like its just been hit off its axis. But regardless he makes it to the bathroom.

She's standing in front of the mirror, her face over the basin as she cleans her face, trying to rid it of the makeup from the night before.

"Morning," he says as he takes a place behind her, leaning on the wall behind him. Even though there is still a slight spin to his world, he watches her intently.

"Hey," she says as she raises her face from the basin. Meeting his eyes in the mirror. Her eye makeup is smudged, black stains around her eyes, "How you feeling?"

"Like shit," he mumbles as he moves a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes.

She gives a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

She leans her head back down, continuing in silence. She scrubs her eyes until there are only slight traces of last nights eye liner.

He remains behind her, waiting until her face finally peaks back out of the sink.

"I fucked up last night," he sighs.

"Barely," she says as she brings the towel to her face, wiping away the last drops of water, "You've done worse.'

He shakes his head at her, his eyes rolling, "That's not the point Tee. Okay?" he sighs, "The point is… I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" she says incredulously, her eyebrows raising, "you been saying that alot lately Rafe."

His eyebrows scrunch in annoyance, "Yeah cause I'm sorry,' he says it like its the most obvious thing in the world.

"No you're not!" she says, her voice raising,"You keep saying it, but you're not. If you were sorry you'd try to get your fucking life on track."

"I am trying Tee," he says, his arms moving like he's making a point.

She scoffs again in disbelief," Trying what?" she yells, "To kill yourself? Because last night it looked like you were giving that a good go.'

He looks away from her, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding her gaze, "I…," he stutters,"I didn;t know you were coming."

"So what?" she spits,"If you knew I was coming you would have pretended you're not some coked up piece of shit for a night!?"

The words are like a slap to his face, she regrets them as soon as they leave her mouth. but it's too late now, they're out, hanging in the air like a bad smell.

Her voice softens,"I'm sorry. I didnt mean that."

Although the words weren't far from the truth, she never thought she'd hear herself say something that hurtful out loud.

"No, I know you did," he says eventually, a defeated sigh escaping his lips, "Its true."

[shaunsummers]

And Boom Goes the Dynamite

"Fair." Though recent, the transition hadn't gone unnoticed. The calm brought anxiety all the same; but also all the time in the world to read, to research, but also...to cry. So many options in her isolated cave of dim lighting. With a smile, Robin extends her palm for Shaun's wrist as she watches the wound dried by an overly expensive washcloth. Soon going to work with gentle placement, her hand lightly layers the knarly punctures with Neosporin.

"You know, I never fucked with heroin. Or meth. But coke? Oh, I fucked with coke. I used to do it all the time. It chilled me out. Gave me superhuman focus or something. I don't know if I would've gotten through classes without it. I once snorted a line off some girl's pussy and finished a five hundred page essay in the same night. It was about the fall of Rome, if you were wondering."

Having left a good amount of goo, Robin casually tosses the small tube back into the well organized top drawer. "I didn't stop that long ago. I'm not exactly counting the days so I couldn't give you a number. It's certainly not longer than a few months, though. So, I get the not so peaceful head thing. That part is hella fresh. But no more sleeping with dangerous men for Robin. We love to see it." Though the laugh that followed was forced, Robin grins as she plops her body off the counter with a small grunt.

Entering the home, Lilith states in her still observation. Though even as her eyes scanned the room, her nose crinkles in the mild assault of something foul. It would've been commented on otherwise but with no one in view and concentrated smears of blood on the floor, it easily didn't matter. Without another word, Lilith breaks from her small group to venture towards the obvious sound of Robin's voice, tossing her purse on the couch on the way to the bathroom.

Talk about pearl clutching on the drive home. Never before had Rebel seen such smooth fast and furious traffic dodging. Only the queen of hell could weave in and out of close call collisions and have the confidence to say 'Its fine. It's not like I drive like Robin'. Was it really the driving? Or was it that the car could pass inspection? "It smells like pee." Rebel comments though relieved to see not a peep of anything broken. If no doctors or repairmen were needed, she'd consider that a win.

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

Still a bit frazzled from the hectic drive, it takes a second for Tek's nose to register the acrid smell of pee. Why pee? "Ew." Her nose crinkles, wondering how and who's urine could end up in the foyer, but with the blatant spatter of blood dusting the floor like twisted confetti, the worry immediately took over. "Uh..." From the sound of it, Shaun and Robin were in the bathroom, and Lilith was already going in to check on her boo. But there were two involved in the deathmatch, and one unaccounted for.

"I think we should go check on Siren..." Tek's gaze lingers on the mess before trailing back to Rebel; sure, there was no blinking red, blue, or white lights, but the fact that Ash had found out where they lived wasn't good news. And with how far away Siren seemed since she'd gotten back, it was too easy to worry.

She'd felt the need to internally prepare for Robin going in on her arm, but surprisingly, she was rather gentle. And even if she wasn't, the information dump that poured over Shaun in a blunt deluge was plenty to distract. She'd also primarily been into coke, but it had amped her up and left her with a pretty short fuse, though paid its rent by keeping her wired all night. Either fucking around or fucking someone, but it certainly hadn't pushed her into anything productive. "I don't...coke made you calm? I've never heard that. Ever. The only thing it ever made me was an asshole. But, maybe that's how I kept up with Ash for so long."

Casting her eyes down to the subtle shine of ointment, Shaun turns over her arm; it did look a bit better. Still fucked, and she was concerned that the marks would fuck up her tattoo, but the irony of the snake of the Garden of Eden getting marred by the chaotic vengeance of her crazy-ex-first-girlfriend wasn't lost on her. "But, it does get easier. The mental bit. My head was definitely done in by two months, but it's really just sorting everything you didn't when you were using. You'd think sobriety would throw you a bone after going cold turkey, but it doesn't even wait past withdrawals. But, it does get easier." Shaun didn't know the full story about what happened with Kane, only the basics from what Jade had told her. What Robin had done was a whole other can of worms, but being around someone so volatile—as she knew all too well—tended to get sponged up and spill onto everyone else in the process. She'd made her own share of fuck ups in that regard, so for that part? It wasn't hard to find sympathy.

"And there hasn't been another 'Ash', so you've got that to look forward to." Shaun chuckles, but the humored smile suddenly dissipates as the stray piece of information finally clicks in her brain. "Wait....you did coke off of some girl's snatch?" Was it just in the general area, or was she talking about snorting a line out of an ass in reverse? Wouldn't that cause some issues for the snortee? There were so many questions about the mechanics of that scenario, but with Lilith unexpectedly swinging around the corner, Shaun's eyes raise to a far more concerning sight.

It brought a little clarity to why Lilith had seemed so brusque—and just 'off'—on the phone, but she still couldn't peg what exactly was going on in her head. Shaun hadn't never seen this look on her face before. Features set in stone, but her eyes looked...wild. Like an antelope catching the smell of a lion in a nature documentary, just a second before the chase. She'd said they were okay, didn't Lilith know they were okay?

"Hey..." Brows furrowing in concern, Shaun takes a tentative step closer, reaching out to touch her gently on the arm in an effort to pull her out of whatever was going on in her brain. "Are you alright?...Siren's just outside with Sam, but we're all in one piece. Everything's okay."

[iviarellereads]

Nona the Ninth, John 5:20(1)

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(No icon) In which someone describes a miracle... of sorts.

In the dream, she said, “But that’s it? They shut you down—it was over?”

Though she doesn't remember moving, they're at the top of a hill now, looking out at a great plain. To the left it's clean, to the right is "a huge confusion of rubble and metal and foliage".

He tells her it wouldn't really begin for another year. The official story is that the investors decided to rethink the project, but John knew, somehow, that they invested in something else instead. He just couldn't find it. Then the project leaked, and the whole public knew that the world wasn't going to make it. The economy tanked, and people panicked.

A- panicked because their severance money was now nearly worthless. C- panicked because she was being recalled to England and didn't want to go, didn't want to leave N-(2) behind, didn't want to admit they were dating but everyone knew. M- panicked because what the hell were they going to do with all the bodies in the shutdown procedures.

That last got to John, too. He knew all the bodies by name, like friends, after working with them so long. They couldn't be cremated or buried safely.

I didn’t have to worry about the public or the media—we had a pet cop, P—.(3) She’d made detective by that point; was going on to big things in the MoD. Knew G— from way back, and G— and I were both hometown boys, so P— kept the heat down for us.

John takes most of the blame, in the aftermath of the leak. M- and A- could have gotten new jobs, but John would never work in the field again. He told them to leave him behind anyway, but none of them did.

It was such pandemonium. I mean, the worst was yet to come, but it was like the crisis had been announced all over again. Like you’d sprung this on us out of nowhere, like you’d never said you were sick.(4)

There's the Mars installation, but there's only room for five million people there, and they can't feed them yet. The Kuiper platform(5), the installation on Uranus in-progress… there's just not enough room for everyone, and no time to scale up. The cryogenic project would've let them get everyone to Tau Ceti,(6) and then they could work backward.

It was about giving you breathing room, you know?(7) I knew I wouldn’t live to see you get well, but I wanted to stop you hurting.

John didn't panic, though. He kept working, as much as he could, with what they had, nonstop before time really ran out. A- asked if John was taking any "Class As"(8), but he wasn't. A- told M-, who came and accused him of being on meth and coke.

I was all, Yeah … Coke Zero. She didn’t laugh. I laughed. He said, I guess I’ve always thought any pun was automatically funny.(9)

The electric guy said they couldn't keep using "three percent of the country’s electricity" for the vats. The health board guy was a jerk, and kept saying they had to dispose of the bodies on-site in ways John thinks the person he's talking to would have hated. But, he told them, those bodies were his friends. Saying stuff like that probably worried A- even more. G- kept insisting John was fine, but he'd always say John was fine, no matter if he wasn't.

Out of nowhere(10), they said it was lights out that night. John knew the bodies would degrade immediately outside their vats.

I had to let them go. I went around to everyone, talking to my favourites—I know it was weird having favourites, but let’s bloody face it, I’d gone weird—not even saying goodbye, just saying it’ll be fine, hang on for me, kia kaha, kia māia. C— made appeal after appeal after appeal. No dice.

The power was cut, one minute after six, and everyone was waiting when it went.

John goes quiet, and she asks what happened. He smiles, "a strange fleeting thing with teeth."

“Most of the bodies got the melt, like we thought they would,” he said. “Damaged beyond repair. Their brains liquefied almost immediately. But, Harrow … all the ones I touched, all the ones I loved … they stayed incorrupti(11)

So ends Day One.

=====

(1) "For the Father loveth the Son, and sheweth him all things which himself doth: and greater works than these will he shew him, that you may wonder." Sheweth would be interpreted today as "showed" or "shows". So the verse is in context of a Father (God) showing his Son (Jesus) marvels that he may also do. Quite relevant in the case of bodies not rotting because John loved them most, since he later develops necromancy. On the other hand, the A1Z26 brings us to THET, which makes no sense yet but if you got the impression that there are more of these… Well heck, you can look at the table of contents or flip through your copy, and see more, but there may be a spoiler there, and I'm pretending you don't see them but might want all available interpretations up to the point we reach. (2) Nigella, Cassie's cavalier. (3) Pyrrha, of course. Being a cop in her history? That could explain a lot if this is real. (4) Who does he think he's talking to? (5) The Kuiper Belt being a range of objects sort of out beyond Neptune (6) A star about 12 light years from our solar system, apparently very similar to our Sun, so the hope would be that there's a planet to set up on. (7) Wouldn't any person alive also be going with them? How would leaving give her breathing room? Unless… Well, you can draw your own conclusions. But why would John be talking to her? How? And why would she have Harrow's name here? (8) New Zealand, like the UK, split illicit drugs into Class A, B, and C. Class A includes but is not limited to meth and cocaine, probably the most likely things A- thought John was taking. (9) So, Gideon came by it as honestly as it goes. (10) It's not REALLY out of nowhere, John. They were trying to work with you and you took too long. (11) The first necromancy. And yes, it cuts off like that. On purpose.

[shortbcofkoffee]

CW: OD and coke addiction

Bruce knew what was going on. He'd been an insanely rich teenager too, granted Tim was a little more stressed than he was at 17. He's not blaming Tim, he'd never blame anyone for an addiction but it was getting worse. Tim was good at hiding it from the public and his friends (if he was hiding it from them at all. Bruce should investigate that further), but it was hard to hide things in a house full of detectives.

The sudden erratic highs and low lows were hidden because everyone in this family had some sort of those. The late-night spikes of energy could be accounted for by the mini-fridge full of energy drinks in his room. His paranoia and anxiety were just par for the course with Tim, no one would bat an eye. But there were some things he couldn't hide. Tim was losing weight. Dramatically. If he wasn't light before, he was now. He skipped almost every meal but he never made a peep about being hungry. His exhaustion was evident in his eye bags, but he never acted tired.

But then, during his lows, Tim looked sick. He looked so much smaller, so vulnerable. He looked like he was thirteen again. When the joy of Robin had just rubbed off, faster than it did with the others. Just sad eyes and a thin frame, sinking in on itself and avoiding Bruce like the plague.

What scared Bruce was that he knew he couldn't stop Tim if Tim didn't want to stop. Short of having eyes on him 24/7, Bruce couldn't control Tim's actions without destroying their relationship. Even then, the second Tim was away from him again he might go back to using. But he wanted to help. He needed to at least talk to him.

Back when Bruce had been using he had Alfred and Harvey. He hadn't felt a need to hide anything from Harvey because it was cool back then. It was a truly casual thing, you did a line before an event, or during if the host had any. That was being rich. Bruce didn't need help because no one needed help. Until he became dependent. Everywhere he went, every day, if he didn't have at least one bump first, he couldn't get through it. Bruce was a good actor, he always had been. That was part of being famous. Bruce was good at hiding his anger and paranoia because you can't always be scared and angry at everyone, even when you are.

Bruce had screamed at Alfred. And he never hated himself more. He screamed and insulted one of the only people who knew him. Liked him. Everyone loved Bruce Wayne, but no one really liked him. Not like Alfred. And he'd screamed at him. Bruce overdosed that night. He hated himself so much and the thoughts wouldn't go away no matter how much he took. He woke up a day later in a hospital bed with Alfred next to him.

Getting off coke was one of the hardest things Bruce had ever done. It'd be hard for Tim. But it was possible, and that's what mattered. He found Tim after patrol finishing his log for the day. Damian had long since gone to sleep but Tim was still wide awake, full of energy. Just like the last three days. His domino mask was still on but Bruce was sure if he took it off Tim's pupils would be the size of sausers.

"Tim," he started. The boy, because that's what he was, a little boy, jumped. "If you're finished, I'd like to talk to you."

Tim quickly glanced over his shoulder. Bruce is sure there's a tension that Tim can see in him, but he doesn't say anything. "Yeah, I'm pretty much done. What's up." He spins to face Bruce in his chair.

Bruce took a deep breath. He wondered if this was what it was like for Alfred. "I'm... worried about you. I-"

He didn't want to say it. Even if he knew without a shadow of a doubt, saying it made it real. And once he did there was no going back. And if he was wrong, God how he wanted to be wrong, he would've accused Tim of something awful. But no matter how he looked at it, this was reality. Tim hating him was better than Tim being dead.

"I know... you've been using cocaine." He looked for Tim's reaction. The boy looked clammed up suddenly. Like he'd rather be anywhere else. It didn't surprise Bruce but it confirmed what he already knew. What he wished he didn't know. "And I'm not judging you. God knows I'm not, I'm just worried."

"I'm fine, Bruce," Tim said. His voice was small and Bruce could tell he was looking anywhere but him despite facing him.

"Okay. I don't agree. I just want you to know that just because this feels good now, it can seriously hurt you later. If you-"

"I'm not you Bruce. I'm not an addict, I can hold myself together." Tim's face had twisted into anger. "Just because you almost killed yourself doesn't mean I will or want to."

That hurt a little. He shouldn't be surprised Tim knew about his overdose, it was a public obsession for a while and Tim was his self-proclaimed biggest fan before he became Robin. But it still hurt. Either way, Bruce just nodded and reminded himself it wasn't Tim. He was being affected by an exterior source, besides he could've said worse.

"I'm not saying that, sweetheart. I'm just saying you're headed down a dangerous path. I know how hard it can be, you know that. I want what's best for you, I want you to be healthy. Whenever you come down you look half dead. You don't sleep, you barely eat, if you're not working, you're not home."

"So what, I can't hang out with my friends? I'm sorry you can't understand or maintain interpersonal connections, but you're supposed to hang out with your friends." Tim stood from his chair. "I'm not talking about this with you. I finished my log, I'm going to my room."

"Tim. Sit down," Bruce ordered.

Tim scoffed. "I don't know if you've noticed Bruce, but you're not my father. The second I'm out of the cowl, your orders are barely suggestions. You're lucky I can stand even being around you anymore because trust me, most of us tolerate you at the most. There's a reason Dick left the second he was 18, there's a reason Jason would rather kill himself again before he lives another day in this house, there's a reason all of us would rather have our own lives outside of you. Me, Cass, Steph, Duke, none of us can stand being around you. The only reason Damian still does what you say is because he's literally a brainwashed cult baby. The only reason I don't leave is because you would literally kill yourself without a babysitter."

There was a lump in Bruce's throat. He'd learned not to cry before he learned to fight, but God did he want to. It's not Tim, he reminded himself again. The worst part was that he knew it was true, at least partially. He knew his kids loved him, that was an indisputable fact. But they also always let him know when he messed up. When he hurt them. All accept Tim (and Damian, but that was a different story).

Because Tim was never there to be a child. Bruce realized that a while ago, but no matter how he tried to remedy it one thing was the same. Tim hadn't entered his life to be a child, Tim was, despite everything and no matter how Bruce hated it, a caretaker. He shouldn't've been, he was only thirteen, but Bruce had let him. He tried to fix it, he really did. He tried to treat TIm like any of his other kids. But had he ever properly apologized? Was that why Tim felt like he had to do this to himself? He took a step forward and reached out.

"I know. I know. I'm so sorry, sweetheart, I put too much on you."

Tim jerked away and all but growled at Bruce. "Don't touch me! This is your fault, damn straight you put too much on me. Do you know how fucking draining it is to deal with you every day? I'm surprised no one else you know is coked up all the time. Do you even know what it's like to deal with you?"

"I'm sorry." That was all Bruce could say again. His voice sounded weaker than he would have liked. He looked away and kept his hands to himself. "I'm really, truly sorry, Tim. I'm just... I love you. I should've never been your responsibility. You've always done so much for me and I haven't given you the appreciation you deserve. But I love you. And I'm worried. And I want to help you because you're better than me. You always have been." He took another step, closing the gap between them. He placed a palm on Tim's cheek. He didn't notice before but it was starting to sink. "You're an amazing person. And I don't want you to end up like I did."

Bruce could hear Tim's breath hitch. When he looks into Tim's eyes the boy looks like he's about to cry. He looked like he wanted to say something, to apologize. Maybe that was wishful thinking. Tim shoved Bruce's hand away and took a step back.

"Shut up, Bruce. There's nothing wrong with me. You're right, I am better than you."

On that note Tim turned and darted up the stairs, leaving Bruce alone in the cave.

I hate searching up Tim Drake addict and getting coffee addict Tim.. I need this man on COKE. NOW.

[butlookatthemoon]

everything I didn't say

I was going to speak at my grandfathers funeral. and then I wasn't, and then I was, and then I couldn't. but if I had enough time, or heart, or courage, and perhaps less tears, this is what I would've said.

Today we are gathered here because Ed is gone, and everyone he loves is still here. My sweet momma, who picked up his love for new, shiny things. My dear aunt, who inherited his athleticism and played every sport I can think of. My grandmother, who keeps his stories of younger days alive. My little cousins who carry on his beautiful blue eyes. My brother and sister, who possess his insatiable appetite for something sweet. Myself, who has picked up his extremely tedious habit of going down every single isle in the grocery store, even though I know I don't need anything in those isles. We all know the true value of a Toyota Rav 4. We all know the absolute best time to get breakfast is on Saturday mornings around 9:30, thanks to him and his best friend Ricky. That there is no better place to be for a cubs game than a comfy recliner. or that there is never a time too early in the day for a Diet Coke. And there are countless other ways he has trickled down into each of our lives, even now. even still.

So yes, technically speaking we are here today because Ed is no longer with us. But I think it's worth asking, Is he really gone ? Or is he right here, with us, in all the little things we do. Things we do because we got to know him. Things we do Because we got to love him, because we still love him.

cb

[0nemorestranger]

chrissy wanting the two guys she loves most to be friends so she uses her powers of deception tricks them into going to a concert together. at first jason doesn't say anything when they pull into the trailer park -- chris has always been better with making friends outside of their social circle -- but when he sees eddie munson bounding down the steps and heading for his car, he nearly blows a gasket.

eddie opens the passenger door and looks at chrissy, ignoring jason entirely. "you're out of your mind if you think i'm spending an evening with him." (finally, something they can agree on.)

but chrissy stands her ground, as she always does. "it's just a concert. you guys won't even need to talk to each other."

he gives jason the once-over and grimaces. "at least come in and make yourself presentable. you stick out like a sore thumb."

"told you so," chrissy mumbles as they all walk up the trailer steps together. and what the hell? he thought an all-black ensemble would've been fine. they're an up-and-coming metal band, sure, but they're a christian metal band. it's not like he was gonna roll up to the place covered in spikes and pentagrams -- even if they didn't read the word.

eddie throws him a pair of ripped up acid-wash jeans. "put those on, for starters." he disappears deeper into the closet so jason can change in peace, thank god, and a few seconds later shirts come flying out one by one. he picks up the hellfire shirt and slips it on for shits and giggles. when he asks how he looks, eddie turns around and doesn't give an immediate response.

at least, not a verbal one.

but his look says a lot. maybe even too much.

"ridiculous." he shoves a shirt into jason's chest: a black tee featuring what looks like album art for a band called Stryper. he's heard of these guys -- christians too, chris says -- but he hasn't gone out of his way to listen to them yet. eddie turns around so he can change.

"didn't know you were into this side of the scene," he says.

"i may not dig on organized religion, but good music is good music." he turns around and looks jason up and down, quicker this time. "it'll do. let's go."

it's a quick drive to the venue. well, venue might be generous; it's only a big bigger than a walk-in closet. he could spit from where he's standing and hit the stage, then turn his head at a right angle and probably drool onto the merch table. "where's the pit gonna be?"

eddie smiles at him with half-lidded eyes: amused and a little smug. "hang up the gloves for two hours, balboa." then he steers them to the bar and orders: two beers, two shots of tequila, and a rum and coke for the lady -- those are his exact words and it makes jason wish there was room for a pit after all. but he flashes his fake ID along with theirs and plays nice. then they make their way toward the stage. people are still filing in, so they have no problem getting to the front.

"how long have you guys been coming here?" he has to scream to be heard over the pre-concert mixtape, something that is decidedly unchristian and headache inducing besides.

"since spring break. she remembered my band from middle school." (jason remembers, too. he hated them.) "i told her to come and see us when she got the chance. didn't think she actually would."

"and one thing led to another?"

"pretty much."

"yeah. and you got her hooked on devil music, so thanks for that."

"you're here too, aren't you?"

the rest of the evening happens in a series of snapshots: losing chrissy, then finding her swirling her straw around in her plastic cup and chatting up the bartender; eddie recommending him some non-metal music and jason noncommittally saying he'll check it out; jumping around when the band actually takes the stage; throwing an arm around eddie not because he needs help standing -- though he lost count after four beers -- but because, damn, this guy's not all bad. it makes jason want to hate him even more, but what he ends up feeling is actually something just short of fondness.

chrissy hates the idea of being drunk, so her single drink before the show was all she had. someone needs to be the DD, anyway.

"y' wan' stay the night?" it's slurred and giggly, but one look at eddie's glassy eyes and jason can tell that it's sincere, too. he makes for the bedroom, thinking himself rude only after he flops down on the mattress and is too beat to pick himself back up.

another body flops down beside him. "chrissy took th' couch. i c'n sleep on the floor, if y'want."

his head is buried in the pillow, but he tries to shake it anyway. "'s cool."

"really? i'da thought you wouldn' wan' me around, after..."

"yeah, well." he turns on his other side to get a better look at the guy. "it's flattering, y'know? always nice to get a compliment. and..." he waves his hand in the air. "sometimes people c'n surprise you."

"you're tellin' me." he chuckles and punches jason in the arm. "g'night, my man." then he turns over, and his breathing evens out almost immediately.

///

they wake up the next morning at almost the same time, facing each other. not a word is said, but the whole situation is so unbearably, inexplicably funny that they both bust up immediately, snorting and wiping their eyes and leaning into each other for support.

the racous laughter is what wakes chrissy up. if she were in a bitchy mood, she'd snap at them to shut the hell up and go to sleep. instead, she laughs, too. this whole thing went exactly as planned.

i wanted this to be a "real fic" for over a week now, but i couldn't get the words to come out right. so for the time being i'm posting this unpolished, unedited, bare-bones piece, and maybe if enough people like it i'll try to actually do something with it.

[coreyjensen]

"Well, she never was too good at answering questions, was she?" Corey couldn't help but be kind of pissed off at the situation. They could have helped Andie if she had only been honest with them. They would have been there for her, tried to help protect her. Instead, Andie had decided to keep everything to herself. Corey knew, logically, there must've been reasons for that. They knew Andie was terrified, probably with good reason, but it should've been a fear they faced together. "Even the letter doesn't answer anything. A bunch of cryptic stuff. Probably was scared of someone getting their hands on it. Trying to find her." Probably a wise kind of fear. Corey would've gone after her, too, if they'd had any idea where to go.

"I've dabbled in a few drugs in my time, but horse tranquilizer or whatever that shit is was never one of 'em." Corey could regularly be found with some weed, maybe some pills or coke at a push, but the thought of injecting anything gave them the squicks. "Didn't know Randall at all, so I can't make any comment on his habits, but shit, his death doesn't seem exactly above board, does it?" Corey scoffed. They didn't know what Andie was capable of anymore. Maybe they had never really known her at all. "Somethin' else, serious enough to get her to run outta town and never speak to me again? She thinks someone is gonna try and kill her, try and kill me for being with her. That doesn't exactly seem like something minor she coulda done."

~~*~~

Shawn could see the gears turning going wildly off the rails. At least in her opinion, "There's definitely a lot of unanswered questions for you there." She didn't have the answers either. The only person that had those answers wasn't really in a position to share them nor did they have the inclination. The only things Andie felt comfortable sharing were enclosed in what Corey described as a heavy letter. That somehow felt very similar to Shawn's paranoia lately. Maybe that was where they all were headed.

"Logically, lots of people have access to the drugs that killed Randall. Hell, Randall himself had access to them." It implied on some level that it was self inflicted, which was a theory the cops seemed to be settling on for some reason, but they both knew that wasn't true. It couldn't be. Shawn rounded the rack of clothes and patted Corey's arm gently before trying to answer the question that seemed to be bugging her friend the most, "I don't think Andie is capable of that. I'm sure it's something else."

[jordie-gvf]

the best gift, jake

summary : you and Jake had been dating for about 5 months now. But you had a secret to tell him, how will he react?

warnings : fluff, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of drugs, mentions of drug deals, mentions of death, teenage pregnancy

word count : 1.9k+

enjoy 🫶

You and Jake had been dating for 5 months now. You had kept a secret from him, up until now. 

“Jake, there's something I need to show you,” you had told him. He had a worried look on his face,

“Is everything alright?” He asked with concern. You shook your head and said, 

“Yes, everything is fine. I just don't want you to be disappointed.” He shook his head and said, “I could never be disappointed in you.”

You texted your mom who was housesitting for you that you and Jake were on the way to your house. When you arrived, Jake could tell you were nervous. He rubbed your shoulder and told you, “everything will be alright.” 

You walked up to the door and unlocked it. You heard giggling in the living room. You looked at Jake and sighed. 

You called for her, “Hazel honey, come here. There's someone I want you to meet.” 

You heard the pitter patter of 4 year old feet. You grabbed her hand as she hid behind your legs. 

“Jake, this is Hazel. She's my 4 year old daughter.” You refused to meet his eyes. You saw him bend down and look at her. 

“Hi Hazel, I'm Jake. It's very nice to meet you.” He stuck his hand out to shake her hand. She hesitantly came out of hiding and grabbed his hand.

Jake stood back up and noticed you crying. “Why ya crying, baby?” he asked. You picked up Hazel and told him, “I just didn't want you to be disappointed. I had her when I was 18. It was terrible for me. All the comments that were made about me.” 

He shook his head and said, “I could never be disappointed in you.” Hazel gave you a hug and you put her down. “Go ahead and play with Coco.” Coco was your mother. Hazel's first word was Coco. She said it when your mom was feeding her, so you both decided on that name for her.

You grabbed Jake's hand and brought him over to your dining room table. You grabbed him a coke and sat it down in front of him. “I guess I should explain,” you spoke out. He responded with, “No, you don't have to.” You nodded and said, “Yeah, I do.”

You explained to him that you and Hazel's father had been together all throughout high school. You had been on birth control, so you never used alternate protection. Then on January 14th, you found out you were pregnant. A pregnant 17 year old in Boaz, Alabama. You told him that her father had passed away from a drug deal gone wrong, 3 weeks before Hazel was born. She knew who her father was and how he would've been an amazing father, just that he went down the wrong path, and did not want to get his pregnant girlfriend involved in his drugs. You explained to Jake that you weren't asking him to be her surrogate father, and that you wouldn't do that to him. You told him, “If you don't want to be with me anymore, I can understand why.” 

He frowned and grabbed your hand. “You having a child wouldn't have deterred me away from you in the first place. I love you and I love her already. I would love to get to know her more.” 

He put his hand on your face and rubbed his thumb up and down. It had hit you a few seconds later, it was the first time he told you he loved you. 

“I love you too, Jake.” You said to him. 

He smiled and said, “Do you mind if I stay the night with you guys?” You shook your head and led him to your room. He got into your car and drove to his house to get himself some clothing and all his necessities. 

While he was gone, you explained to Hazel that she would've been seeing Jake around a lot more. She looked at you and said, “I like him Mamma, can he stay here forever?” You laughed and told her you would mention it to him. 

He came back and felt little arms wrap around his legs. “Hi Jake,” he looked down and saw Hazel. He asked if he could pick her up and you nodded. He pulled her into his arms and said, “Hi Hazel. I really really like your mamma.” She smiled and said, “I really like her too.” He set her down and walked over to you. “She looks so much like you, it's crazy,” he said. You pulled him into a hug and kissed him on the cheek. 

Jake had been staying with you for a few months now. Him and Hazel have grown a bond that you had never seen before. On his off days, he watched Hazel at the house while you went off to work. You would come home and there would be dinner on the table. You had asked him the other night after some long night of loving if you and Hazel could meet his brothers. He nodded and said, “I’d love that very much.” 

You had gotten up the next morning to see Jake gone and Hazel next to you. You turned over to your bedside table to check the time, 9:09 AM. You saw a note taped to your phone, it read: 

Good Morning to my two beautiful girls, 

I had to go to the studio to finish up a few things. I will be back soon, I love you both. 

All My Love, Jake ♥️

You smiled at the fact that he said two beautiful girls. He had only known Hazel for about 9 months and he was already treating her like his own. 

You woke Hazel up to get her downstairs for her to eat. You made your way down and saw an entire table full of all kinds of breakfast foods. You were definitely going to make this up to him later. You sat Hazel down at the table and checked the calendar, December 1, 2021. You made her a plate and brought her chocolate milk. You asked her what she wanted for Christmas. You were not expecting her answer.

“I want Jake to be my daddy.” she said.

You looked at her, wide eyed. “What?”, you said.

“I want Jake to be my daddy. Do you think he'd like that?” she repeated.

You got teary eyed and nodded your head. ‘I think he'd love that.”

That day, you went to the county clerk and went through the process of getting adoption papers. Later in the evening, Jake came home. You made his favorite for dinner, burgers. You made your infamous mac and cheese. 

Hazel came down and went straight over to Jake. He picked her up and gave her a hug. You looked at the two and could tell that they loved each other, a lot. 

After you had eaten and cleaned all the dishes. Jake put Hazel to bed and came downstairs. 

“I love our little family,” he said.

You smiled and kissed him. He looked at you and said, “I love Hazel so much. I really do. I've known you for 4 years and I've only known her for a year and a half, but I feel like she's mine.” 

You got teary eyed and said, “She is, Jake. You might not be her father biologically, but you are.” 

You and Jake were hosting Christmas this year. You made a ham, green beans, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, and a family favorite, mac and cheese. Jake but the ham in the Traeger smoker you had gotten him for his birthday. Hazel helped you make the rest of the food. When Jake came inside from the grill with the ham, Hazel walked over to him and said, “Daddy, Can I help you?” Jake looked at her and said, “Yeah, you can help me. Can you hold the fork into the ham?” She nodded and stabbed the meat with the meat fork. You looked over and noticed Jake wiping his eyes.

Josh and Sam had shown up first. Josh walked into the kitchen and offered his help to you. You told him you were fine and to go sit down. ���Hey Hazel-bug, wanna help me set the table?” Josh asked. She nodded and got down from the stool.

When dinner was almost done, everyone else showed up. Karen, Kelly, Ronnie, and Madison, Sam’s girlfriend. You and Madison had been best friends for a very long time, you met Jake through her. Madison had been in on Jake's Christmas gift, as was Josh and Karen. 

You and Jake served dinner and sat down. Hazel sat next to Jake and was quiet for the rest of the night. You looked over at Jake and he was leaning down whispering in her ear. 

You were in between Karen and Ronnie. Before dinner was being served, you informed Kelly, Ronnie, and Sam about what Jake's Christmas gift was. Kelly pulled you aside and told you, “I have never seen him like that, with anyone's child. He is very lucky to have both of you. I can tell that he loves you both.”  You had smiled at him and hugged him.

It was time. Time to open presents. Jake said we could do his presents last. Once everyone was done opening theirs, you handed Jake his boxes. You had gotten him some whiskey glasses, an Invicta watch, and some new pairs of socks. The very last wrapped gift was the adoption papers. Hazel asked if she could sit in his lap, he nodded and she got up in his lap and sat down. He opened the first layer of paper and saw a little rectangular box. He opened the box and read the letter you had helped Hazel write for him. The letter stated:

Jakey, 

You may not be my real dad, but you treat me like I am yours, and I can't be more grateful for you and the way you treat mommy and I.

Will you be my daddy?

He put his head down and started crying. Hazel wrapped her arms around his neck and he grabbed her and hugged her tightly. You and Josh had started crying as well, and held on to each other. Jake lifted his head up and said, “Of course I'll be your daddy.” and kissed Hazel on the forehead. What everyone else, minus Madison, didn't know, was that you had another gift for Hazel and Jake to open together. You handed them a box that was wrapped in pink paper with a bow on top. Hazel ripped open the wrapping paper and opened the box.

Inside was a shirt, small enough to fit Hazel. The shirt said, “I'm going to be a big sister!” Jake gasped and looked up at you. “Are you serious?” he asked. You nodded and everyone asked what the shirt said. Jake looked at Hazel and said, “Can you help me read this?” She nodded and read the shirt, “I'm going to be a big sister!” Everyone was surprised and Josh got up and went over to his brother. Karen and Ronnie came over to you crying and hugged you. Kelly patted you on the back and went over to his son. Josh and Sam came over to you and embraced you. Eventually, Jake came over to you and grabbed you. He put his hand on the back of your head and kissed your head. He moved his hand down to your stomach and rubbed it. 

He pulled away and said, “I think it's a boy.”

[musette22]

sometimes i wonder if Seb was quiet and shy in college too? and if Chris had gone to college, would he had been a frat boy? i kinda need to know and i kinda need a scenario of them meeting. imagine the shy guy meets the frat one scene? crazy

Oh, I've been thinking about this all day, nonnie 🥺 I don't think Sebastian was super shy in college, by all accounts he was charming and seems to have made friends pretty easily, but compared to Chris, he would definitely have seemed a little shy, I think. As for Chris being a frat boy... he probably would've been, but he also was a theater kid, you know? He and Sebastian have always had that in common <3

As for a scenario of them meeting for the first time... If they'd both attended the same college, somehow, I imagine this Chris

gif credit @gyllxenhaal

meeting this Seb

at a mutual friend's birthday party or something.

Sebastian initially sticks close to the couple of people he knows (at least until he has a better feel for.who he'd actually like to get to know better), nursing a vodka & coke and entertaining himself by watching other people and making up backstories for them.

Pretty quickly, he kind of gets stuck on this guy who everyone is referring to as Chris, who's loud and happy and seems to know everyone, and always has a beer in hand. Sebastian is reminded again of how he'd wanted to be called Christopher when he first moved to the US, and in fact, this Chris (handsome, popular, funny, and all American) is kind of everything Sebastian had wanted to be back then. He's more comfortable with who he is and with his background now that he's in college, but he's still a little fascinated by guys like Chris, who are everything Sebastian isn't. The way Chris moves, clearly comfortable in his own body, tells Sebastian he's probably here on a sports scholarship. He's definitely in a fraternity, and Sebastian bets Chris's dad is a dentist or something.

Sebastian gets so caught up in staring at Chris and trying to figure him out that when Chris suddenly turns his head and catches him looking, Seb freezes. Chris holds his eye for a moment, and then just gives him a small smile across the room before he resumes his conversation. Sebastian looks away quickly, heart beating too quickly, and is determined not to look at Chris again for the rest of the night. Of course, his resolve lasts for like, five minutes. When he glances at Chris again, he's a little shocked to find Chris looking at him this time. And not in an annoyed 'what are you looking at, bro' kind of way, but just a little curious, and maybe even... interested?

Sebastian almost chokes on his drink when he sees Chris excusing himself from the conversation he'd been involved in and heading straight for Sebastian, weaving his way through the crowd, clapping backs and doling out winks as he makes his way over. Sebastian is still coughing when Chris gets to him, and Chris immediately starts thumping Sebastian's back. He looks genuinely concerned, asking if he's okay, and Sebastian assures him he's fine (it's just his pride that's a little bruised)

"Haven't seen you around here before, I'm Chris," Chris says, and Sebastian says, "I know," and then kind of wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. But Chris just laughs - not at him, but just like he thinks Sebastian is genuinely hilarious, throwing his head back and grabbing his chest. And then looks at Sebastian with sparkling eyes and says something like, "Well, I don't think it's fair you know my name and I don't know yours," so Seb tells him, and Chris says, "It's nice to meet you, Sebastian", and Sebastian thinks that he really likes how his name sounds coming from Chris's (very pretty) mouth.

They chat for a while about their drinks, about their mutual friends and about their majors, and to Sebastian's surprise, they instantly get along. Still, even though Chris seems like a nice guy, Sebastian is hesitant to admit that what he really wants to do is become an actor. He's sure Chris will think Sebastian is just some theater nerd and will go and find someone cooler to hang out with, and for some reason, Sebastian is kind of eager to make a good impression and talk to Chris for a little longer.

But then Chris casually tells Sebastian that he spent most of his summers in high school at theater camp, and Sebastian blinks at him, going, "Wait, you're into theater?" To his surprise, Chris looks a little self-deprecating when he replies, "Oh yeah, I'm a a total theater kid. 'S probably stupid, but my big dream is to move to LA become an actor, you know?" So when Sebastian admits he also wants to be an actor, and he still goes to theater camp, and Chris lights up, clearly relieved that Sebastian doesn't think he's a delusional idiot, Sebastian realizes for the first time that maybe Chris and he have more in common than he thought....

And that's how they become friends (who later on, once they both manage to stop being pining idiots, become lovers) 🥺💘

[samtrapani]

Do you think ilyena and dimitri got along? Were they friends? What about anna and dimitri ? Does mikhail even love his wife? I just love when you talk about these mfs 🥰🥰

firstly aaa thank you for enjoying the ramblings abt the faustins and dimitri bc i just. love their dynamic so much !!

secondly, well. i like to think ilyena and dimitri get along (considering i'm pretty sure she calls him 'dima', suggesting they are close friends, at least). dimitri is pretty much the only other person who remembers the old mikhail, the mikhail who laughed and talked about the bright future the three of them would have, once they got their shit together. i like to think that even after being in prison, mikhail still wasn't that far gone, sure maybe he smiled a bit less, but he still was gentle in a way with ilyena. dimitri and ilyena, sitting around, talking about the old days. a picture of the three of them somewhere in their house, in a shoebox buried under a pile of bad memories, forgotten.

honestly, i don't think ilyena would've even guessed dimitri would betray them. because they would've been close. he's mikhail's best friend, he probably made sure all their affairs (day-to-day) are in some sort of order. how could someone who has done so much for them just. kick their house of cards down?

and anna, misguided and rebellious anna... she definitely thought of dimitri as an uncle, i mean, he's always with her father, always around the house. driving her to piano recitals and ballet lessons as a child when mikhail was too busy, telling her to stay away from drugs and boys with nasty grins. somewhere along the lines, she grew up, understood what the people around her did, and got lost trying to find herself. i think the anna we see in-game would call dimitri a hypocrite and condemn him to be just as bad as her father, but baby anna would've thought the world of him (and that makes me sad)

lastly, well. mikhail loves his wife. or maybe loved. i.... he's so just. fraught with anger and perpetually coked up. he's losing touch. i know all we see him do in-game is scream at ilyena, and ilyena blames herself for how he turned out, but 1) she isn't at fault at all and idk. she... it's... kind of a domestic abuse thing to be like 'oh yeah it's my fault' and i'm not saying mikhail is a nice person or he treats ilyena well during the course of the game. 2) she mentions how he used to be a better person. it's... it's a tricky question. he loved her. he loves her, now, still, in his own drug-addled way, through the haze he's constantly in. i'm not going to pretend he isn't like. flirting w girls and banging chicks on the side. he says he's done everything to get them all to liberty city with a nice house and a nice life (supposedly). the love he had for ilyena is no longer the same as when they first met and fell in love and got married. everything curdled and soured with time and due to his own habits. he loves her in a way that's just soured with hate, but i think sometimes, sometimes, when he's sober enough, when there's a delicate break in the screaming, there's something in his face and manners where it's almost. as it was before. (ilyena still loves him. i... believe she thought he would come back from the brink some day, but, well, we all know how that turned out.)

[garrickxvelour]

“Look, if you detest pine trees, then maybe the entire Northeast of the country and Canada might not be for you,” Garrick said with a laugh. “And the Pacific Northwest, too, for that matter.”

It wasn’t new to him—the gentle back and forth of a budding connection. Light smiles and teases. Bodies slowly moving closer and closer as the ease of conversation took hold. Fingers and arms inches apart where they were poised at the bar. Livvy’s eyes glittered the more they discussed their future plans. Blonde hair fluttering around her face in the evening breeze.

The crow’s feet beside Garrick’s eyes creased with a grin as he nodded. “Precisely my thought. We can get more of a full tour—more like I can—before the warmth and humidity roll in.” He finished whatever was left of his rum and Coke in his cup and hummed. “Although, I have gone out for a run a little later in the morning, bordering on afternoon, and it wasn’t too bad. But thankfully it was only for a half an hour. If it was any longer, I definitely would've returned home burnt.”

"Lobster and pine trees," she laughed, nodding her head, "it's like… if you move here and hate the scent of pine and don't like to eat lobster, you might as well turn back around. Then if you mention that whoopie pies are good, but they were made somewhere else?" Livvy let out a low whistle, shaking her head. It wasn't a good look for anyone, definitely wasn't going to make them any friends in Merrock, to say the least.

When Livvy had lived in San Francisco, it had been an entirely different planet, different world. She had felt like all of the little -isms that she had held onto went right out the window; knowing how to identify a chickadee's call, or the solid knock of pine wood didn't mean much to people who were more concerned with image and lived a totally different lifestyle, and so she could imagine how Garrick -- how anyone -- moving into a state like Maine, specifically a town like Merrock, could feel overwhelmed, and as though they needed to learn everything all over again, from the ground up.

Feeling a bright smile touch her lips when Garrick mentioned taking a bike ride together, Livvy nodded her head, "I'd like that, definitely easier to cover ground if you've got a good set of wheels under you," especially since walking from one end of town to the other could be done… but your feet were going to absolutely hate you by the end of it, no doubt. "We'll pick a day and go in the morning, so we can miss the hottest points of the day, no one wants to sweat that out."

[totally-a-different-person]

Tordeddtom threesome omega Edd and alpha tord and alpha tom Smut ofc pls but at the endMatt walks in and they say they’re playing twister

ok, I don't usually write omegaverse stuff but I don't mind giving it a shot, this probably wont be a recurring thing though (also my god yall are into the threesomes lately lmao) (nsft past this point, proceed at your own risk)

There was a certain unspoken protocol for when Edd was in heat. Matt and Tom would just try to stay out of the house as much as possible, sometimes going as far as to just stay with friends or hotels. Tord thought this was sort of dumb, he's known Edd since he knew how to talk and had helped him through countess heats before, he didn't think it was necessary to make a big deal out of it and embarrass him any further. He also kind of just liked being the one to take care of Edd, weather he'd admit that or not.

Speaking of which the artist was currently in his bed, feeling like absolute shit. He was just in his pajamas, but his underwear were hardly on at this point. His whole body was so much warmer, and there was that awful aching burning sensation in his crotch. He had finally given in and tried to fix the urge to have just anything inside of him, but his fingers weren't enough. The relief was so temporary and once it was over it almost felt like he was just making it worse. He buried his face in his pillow and groaned, almost tearing up. He was so frustrated and in so much pain. He almost wished he had just taken the suppressants, even with how dizzy and foggy he feels when he's on them. His toys were up in the closet or he would've gone to get them by now.

Meanwhile with Tord, he figured he should probably go check up on the brunette. So he hopped up from his desk and walked down the hall to Edd's room. Gosh, he thought the smell was strong in the hallway, when he opened the door his mouth was practically watering, coke, dark chocolate, and citrus filled his nose. The smaller male sat up a bit when Tord came in, the blanket wrapped around him. His eyes were wide and desperate. Tord clicked his tongue and walked over, closing the door behind him. He gently cupped Edd's face in his hands "Not doing too good, hm?" the norsk asked softly, almost taunting him. He just whimpered quietly, leaning into Tord's touch. The contact felt so good and refreshing. Tord couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for his friend, letting him indulge in his touch. "Would you let me help?~" He asked softly, one of his hands moving down to his Edd's neck. The brunette swallowed, letting out a small shaky sigh before nodding, looking up at Tord. Tord smirked a bit, giving a small "alright" before pressing his lips against the other's.

Edd was all too eager to kiss back. The taller male used his hand that had previously been on Edd's cheek to remove the blankets. He moved away from the kiss, a desperate whine from his partner. He looked down at the other. He was wearing his "smeg head" shirt and a pare of dark green panties that barely covered his erection, a bit wet at the tip. Edd sat up a bit, trying to kiss Tord again, holding onto his chest. Instead, Tord used his grip on his neck and side to pushed him back on the sheets. The smaller couldn't help but squirm a little, desperate for stimulation. Tord, as if reading his mind, used the hand that had been around Edd's neck to rub his member through his underwear and put his mouth against his neck instead, making the man beneath him yelp before letting lots of breathy moans. He held onto Tord tight, letting out a small breath as his partner looked at him for conformation before pulling off his underwear, Edd quickly nodded.

Tord kissed him deeply much to the brunette's delight as he took the cloth, but but before he could take it off the door opened, surprising them both. "What the fuck are you guys doing?? The whole house smells like..." Tom trailed off as he processed the scene before him. He swallowed thickly as he and Tord made eye contact. "Sorry about that, but what was I supposed to do? Just let him suffer?" Edd gently tugged on Tord's hoodie trying to regain the norsk's attention, whining softly. "Well he doesn't seem to be doing much better" The eyeless male remarked, fidgeting slightly. Tord frowned at the taller man, unamused. Then he got an idea. His lips curled up into a smirk "Why don't you give me a hand then?~" this did get Edd's attention. His eyes widened a bit and he looked over at Tom, finally acknowledging him. He could see the bulge in Tom's jeans, it could have been from the smell of his heat. Tom's cheeks flushed, looking back onto Edd's eyes. "It seems like somebody likes that idea, hm?~" Tord coed, mostly to Edd as he started softly running a finger up and down the outline of his cock. The artist let out a little surprised moan, it was so teasing but it felt so good.

Tord sat up a little bit, still stroking Edd, leaving him to moan and writhe against the sheet. Tord looked over at Tom "Well?" The blue male scoffed, but came in and closed the door. "You guys are so stupid..." He mumbled as he walked over the the bed, taking his shirt as he did so. Tord was happy and honestly pretty surprised that Tom wanted to join them. He sat behind Edd and had the man sit up so he could spread his legs, gesturing for Tord to take off the submissive's underwear. The norsk did so, having absolutely no problem with Tom taking control of the situation like that. Tord smirked a bit, running his hands over Edd's soft inner thighs making the omega mewl quietly before slowly dragging his tongue up his wood, earning a loud moan. He did it again, now grinning a little to himself as the brunette immitted lots of gasps and moans. "Open up for me" Tom requested softly. Edd obediently parted his lips, his tongue lolling out a bit. He was presented with three of Tom's fingers which were promptly put into his mouth. He wasn't entirely sure how to treat them so he just did so like he would have Tom's member. God... he hopped he would get to suck Tom's dick at some point.

Speaking of which the norsk had taken Edd's shaft completely in his mouth causing the brit to jolt. The room was almost immediately filled with muffled cries of pleasure. Tord's mouth felt so different and so much better than his own hands. He would occasionally buck his hips forward while Tord bobbed his head. Tom took his hand back, wanting to hear more of the artists noises. He pressed a kiss just below Edd's ear "All the sounds you make are so beautiful~" He said softly, along with a few things about how pretty he looked. The brunette shuddered a bit, both at the taller male's words and the hot breath on his neck. Tom used his dry hand to stop Tord for a moment, the Norwegian looking a bit confused but complying anyway, electing a desperate, almost frantic whimper from Edd. The demon pressed two of his wet fingers against the omega's puffy hole, slowly adding more pressure. "A-aah!~" He moaned out as the taller male sank his fingers in with little to no resistance, Edd being in heat helped a lot but the prep was probably still a good idea. "Fuck- Tom-more please!~" Tom had hardly moved his fingers at all and Edd was already begging him to keep going.

Tom added another finger and started thrusting them in and out, pressing against his walls to stretch him out. Almost immediately the cola addict was a mess, his head leaned back against Tom's chest. He jolted when he once again felt Tord's cold hands against his skin, the contact almost felt electric. This time Tord had grabbed his sides, holding fistfuls of Edd's softness. He pressed their lips together, but they were separated again before Edd had the chance to even kiss back. The artist loosely wrapped his free arm around Tord's neck, the other tightly held Tom's arm as the demon continued opening him up. He squeezed his eyes shut and hid his face in the rook of the alpha's neck moaning and yelping into the cloth of the red hoodie. Tord started to softly stroke his cock with the time of the other males fingers. Edd almost screamed, tugging on Tord's hair as he panted, quietly begging for more. It only took seconds for him to cum on the younger males hand, giving a particularly high pitched moan.

Tord was licking his hand clean as Tom took his fingers back. The omega looked at him, confused and disapointed. But then he heard Tom unzipping his jeans, gasping softly with excitement. He sat up a bit, spreading his legs further giving Tom a desperate look. Under any other circumstances he would have been so embarrassed to be so exposed and in such a compromising position, but honestly it wasn't even something that crossed his mind at the moment. he grabbed Edd and pushed him down, shoving his whole cock into the tight hole, making Edd scream, tearing up already. He gave the omega a second to adjust, the small thing panting and mewling softly as Tom ground against his walls. Tord let go of Edd's legs and he could hear the bed creak as the norsk moved, not actually opening his eyes until he felt a hand in his hair, griping with the promise of a tug at some point. He opened his deep brown eyes just to see Tord's member almost pressed against his lips.

"I want you to try to focus on Tord, ok?~" The eyeless male said softly. Edd only nodded gently in response "That's a good boy~" he praised. It probably would have been equally effective to just have Tord use his throat, but Tom just thought it would be cute to watch him try to do anything while he was fucking his brains out. Tom wasn't even moving yet and the smaller male was struggling to be still. He tentatively parted his lips and took Tord's shaft into his mouth, only the tip at first. He blushed deeper as he glanced up at the other male while he took more of him in. Tord let out a shaky breath, gently tugging at the brown locks, encouraging Edd to go further. He let out a muffled moan as Tom started moving, slowly pulling out before thrusting back in. A muffled cry of pleasure urging the demon to keep going. As he did he started getting more harsh with his thrusts. Edd was almost crying as he took more of Tord's cock into his mouth in an attempt to muffle his ever louder noises as tom pounded into him, it felt like it just got deeper every time.

Tord let out a couple quiet breathy sounds as Edd explored his cock with his tongue, the brunette's moans sending vibrations down his spine. He started bucking his hips into Edd's mouth, tightly holding the fluffy dark brown locks. Tord shoved Edd's head all the way down as he came with a gasp. Tom paused his thrusting so as to not choke the smaller male. He pulled off to spit out what he could but Tord stopped him, covering his mouth "swallow" Was all he said. Edd's cheeks went a bit darker and he did as he was told, slightly cringing at the taste. Tord had him open his mouth to prove it, then rewarded him with a smooch to the forehead and a quiet "Good boy" which as simple as it was seemed to be appreciated. He then looked up at Tom and nodded letting him know he could continue. Without warning Tom shoved Edd down onto his dick as he thrust in. The brunette gasped, crying out as Tom jammed into his sweet spot.

Tom didn't stop for a second, once he realized he hit Edd's prostate he thrusted into the spot over and over. He practically screamed out as he grabbed onto something, just instinctively trying to stabilize himself. It was Tord, who was more then willing to help. The brunette was so overwhelmed by pleasure he could feel his climax coming for the second time, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Tom was getting close as well, letting his quiet breathy sounds into Edd's neck. "close-" He huffed out, shoving Edd down as he thrust in earning another loud moan. The sub let out a breath, leaning back just a bit "p-please cum inside me~" He breathed out softly before moaning again. Tom's face gat a few shades darker and he started going even harder making the boy on his lap scream. It was only a few more moments before the demon came deep inside of Edd, biting his shoulder hard. Edd gasped before letting out a loud moan as he came as well, getting his load all over Tord's hand and a little on his arm.

Tord pressed small kisses all over the brits face saying quiet things about how well he had done. He also placed just one kiss one Tom's cheek, which seemed unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome, Tom was still trying to clear his mind when it happened so he couldn't focus on it too much. He moved Edd off his lap then looked at Tord and nodded, giving him all the ok he needed. First thing he had Edd lay on his back, he pulled off his own shirt now leaving Tord completely naked. He grabbed the omega's right leg and pulled it up, letting it rest on his shoulder leaving Edd on his side and completely exposed. The brunette looked up at him, face and ears deep scarlet. "Ready?" He asked softly and Edd nodded, quietly mumbling "ready" Tord pressed in slowly, thankfully no lube was needed because of how much slick Edd had. Said man let out a small pleasured sigh as Tord filled him, letting his head fall back a bit. "Fuck~" he breathed, his face becoming a bit more red as he did.

Tord started moving, immediately going pretty hard. He huffed under his breath, watching as Edd gasped and moaned underneath him. The brunette squirmed as Tord thrust deeper, letting out a pressured scream as Tord pressed into his sweet spot. He squeezed his eyes shut, only letting them gently flutter back open back open as he felt Tom's hand on his head. Tom was on his knees, his dick in his hand near Edd's mouth. Edd let out a soft moan and nuzzled Tom's hand as Tord pressed deep inside of him. He obediently parted his lips and took Tom's member into his mouth, earning a satisfied sigh from the alpha. Tom gripped his hair and started trusting into Edd's wet hot mouth. Tord started thrusting even harder making sure to get his sweet spot, making Edd nearly choke.

The second he started thrusting again the room was full of moans from all three men and the sound of skin slapping as Tord speed up. Edd bucked his hips and gave a muffled cry as tears of pleasure rolled down his face and he could hardly breath with how much his breath was quivering. Tord let out a small breath chuckle before slamming into that spot again earning yet another scream. He gasped as Tom suddenly stopped and pulled out of his mouth, leaving him coughing a little bit. He didn't have time to prosses anything before Tom came heavily onto his face. Edd whimpered a bit and looked up at the other before yelping as Tord thrust in again. Tom wiped off his face while he gasped and moaned as Tord battered his prostate.

Tom placed his hand in one of Edd's as the small male let his head fall back, pretty much screaming. "Fuck Tord p-please I'm so close I need it so bad please don't stop-" He sobbed, tensing up and gasping as Tord thrust in again. Tord smiled softly, trying to go harder "I got you kjærlighet~" He breathed taking Edd's other hand. It was only a few seconds before Edd came, screaming as he arched his back slightly. Tord climaxed as well "faen-" He breath, his eyes unfocused and hazy for a moment. After catching his breath he pulled out, letting go of Edd's hand. He saw his and Tom's seed slightly oozing out onto the sheet. It was enough to make his stomach churn but not enough to warrant and erection. He was about to say something when again, the door opened.

All three of them when silent when they saw Matt. "There you all are!" He said seeming mildly annoyed. He rambled for a minute about how he just got back and needed help with the groceries but could find anyone. For a second it really seemed like he just wasn't gonna say anything about what they were doing, but then he added "And you guys are just up here playing, aren't you to old for wrestling anyway?" Everyone was speechless. "Uh- yeah, ha, sorry, we'll be down in a second." Tord responded, his cheeks a light red. Matt huffed and closed the door, walking back down stairs. They agreed Tom could go deal with Matt and Tord would take care of Edd.