#imagine fighting crime in jeans

[mostsanescarletspiderfan]

Superheroes who hear just regular clothes to do their job look so stupid, like the other day I was thinking about new avengers and how Luke was literally the leader of the damn team and he still just wore regular stuff, hell Jessica even came back to using her costume for the special like Jesus it's so weird.

Kon-el I'm looking at you.

[recklesssezon]

𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | alessia russo x mma!fighter

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Alessia encounters an unwanted attention and tries her best to hide it from you, knowing that you would absolutely do anything to keep her safe.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 | blood, assault, violence, ptsd, cursing, maybe attempt of murder

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 | ik its been two months almost thre-anyways. this is 9 thousand something words and it took a lot of brain capacity.

The night was young, streetlights lit the city as rowdy adults filled London with joyous laughter. It was like any other Saturday night to most but not to Alessia.

She was leaving you home alone to attend Kyra's birthday party along with the other gunners. Usually, you'd be by her side through it all, but you were still healing from your previous fight.

Patched-up cuts and bruises here and there. None that you deemed bed-rest worthy, yet remained home to steer clear of the scolding you would get from your coaches.

So, here you were sitting with a large bucket of popcorn and the latest season of Love Island. It took a great deal to convince Alessia to leave your side for the night, refusing to go firsthand as the urge to smother you with love and care surged as time went on.

After countless reassurances and kisses, Alessia reluctantly switched out joggers for jeans and a pullover for a top. She stood in front of you, twirling to give you the 360. Deep down, you started to regret inducing her to go. While Alessia had a full blowout, you lounged on the loveseat with shorts and a sports bra. "And to think you didn't want to leave."

Alessia grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it, pointing a non-threatening finger at you. "Do not start teasing me. You were the one who was so adamant about me going. It's your fault I'm in this vest instead of my jumper."

"Love, if it makes you feel any better. I prefer you in nothing at all."

Alessia rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in annoyance. You grinned, beckoning her over, even when you managed to annoy her Alessia could never resist you. She trudged to you, pursing her lip when you patted your lap.

You grunted as she plopped down on you, the unexpected force taking you by surprise. It was Alessia's turn to grin, hooking her arms around your neck, yours to her hips. "I take it you didn't like my joke."

You were unfazed by Alessia's evil eye, more than used to it. "You do not get to make jokes like that. You're forcing me to go to a party I don't want to go to and you're watching Love Island without me. You're being mean." You snorted, and with a click, the game show switched to one of your old fights.

Alessia turned her head away, your fights always made her a bit queasy hence why she never watched them. "Yes, how can I be so cruel to my lovely girlfriend? I should be punished for my crimes." Alessia slapped your chest, not a fan of your mockery.

"Quit the sarcasm. Save that for someone else other than the love of your life."

You pecked her cheek, a quick apology. "You're right. The love of my life only deserves respect and devotion." She nodded her head in agreement, her pride growing as she had the big bad fighter everyone knew lay down the treatment she deserves.

"That is correct but don't think this sucking up made me forget what you've done to me."

You groaned, throwing your head back. "Love, you haven't left my side since my fight, normally I wouldn't mind but you've been cooped up all week. And it's Kyra's birthday, imagine the headaches she'll give you for missing it."

Alessia could already see it, Kyra having a kick at her for not showing up. The Australian was known for her little sister energy that never ran out, much to the unlikes of her teammates. Alessia recalled Kyra's recent mischievous act.

A week ago, Steph forgot to grab Kyra's favorite candy when making a store run and a childlike Kyra took it to offense. She hadn't stopped yapping the entire day, Steph departed training with ringing ears that lasted the next day.

Alessia didn't want to have a similar outcome.

"That rascal hid my boots last time because I refused to prank Katie. A nuisance she is." You smiled, Alessia's annoyance that wasn't targeted towards you was amusing to watch. You slipped a hand under her top, rubbing the warm bare skin a contrast to your cold hands.

"So, what I'm hearing is that I'm right."

Alessia gave you no acknowledgment, gasping when she felt your thumb dip below her waistline. You leaned in for a kiss, though you were met with a flat palm to the face. You pulled back, scrunching your nose. Alessia smiled widely, "No messing up my lip gloss, darling."

For the very first, you scowled at Alessia's bright pink lips. The desire to botch Alessia's perfectly applied lipstick grew by the second. You exhaled sharply, leaning back to put some distance between you and her restricted lips. "That's unfair. You look ravishing and you're saying I can't kiss you? Must you tease me?"

Alessia giggled under her breath; she kissed your neck, unapologetic about her teasing. "Oh, my big baby. Have the consequences of your actions come to play?" You frowned at Alessia's mocking pout, the way she spoke as if she were speaking to a child stirred something within you.

You roughly tugged her closer, inches away from her lips. You removed one hand from her hips, gripping her jaw in a tight-loose hold. Your thumb swiped her bottom lip to the corner. Her once-perfect gloss now smudged and not in the way she would have liked.

You brought your thumb to your lips, putting on a little show, humming at the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Alessia froze, she didn't expect you to turn the tables on her so fast. You grabbed Alessia's phone out of her back pocket, hearing a ping. You opened her phone, purposely ignoring her. "Vic's here. You should get going if you don't want to be late."

Alessia remained unmoved, stuck in a trance you led her into. You chuckled, no emotion behind it, standing up causing Alessia no choice but to do so as well. You took her chin in between your two fingers, "A little quiet, aren't we? What's the matter, Alessia? Have the consequences of your actions come to play?"

Alessia gulped at the bite in your tone, she shouldn't have baited you. It always ended with her pinned to the bed, a position she loved yet a lesson she never intend to learn. Alessia's phone pinged once again, she paid it no mind too focus on your little stare-down. "Better get going before Vic comes up and knocks down our door."

Alessia hesitantly took her phone, squinting as if she was trying to figure out your plan. "Just like that?" You raised a brow, ignoring the pinch of pain as your stitches stretched.

"I can do worse than a smeared gloss, you of all people should know that. I suggest you leave now before you don't at all." Alessia's finger hovered over her lips, she could feel the slight stickiness at the corners of her lips. You hadn't done much to taint them, but Alessia wished you did.

Your eyes began to soften at Alessia's timid stature, tipping her head up with a finger. Wiping away the small mess you created. "Have fun tonight, okay? I love you."

A smile grew on Alessia, puckering her lips for a kiss. "I thought you didn't want to ruin your makeup" She rolled her eyes at your cockiness, pulling you down to finally bring you into a kiss you both craved.

Alessia was the first to separate, "I love you too. Don't wait up." She gave you one last peck, grabbing her purse on her way out. Swaying her hips side to side, mindful of your wandering eyes.

"Not having the time of your life are you, Less?"

Lia winced as Alessia's head snapped to her, "I am. Why do you ask?" Lia didn't believe the young girl and it showed, Alessia stuck herself at their rented-out booth, doing nothing else other than sipping on her club soda.

"You haven't moved since we got here. What? Are you not used to having your little bloodhound with you?"

That got a laugh out of Alessia, Lia grinned cheekily. You were always a topic used to tease Alessia, two total opposites that fit together like a puzzle. She pushed the national captain as she poked fun at her. You were deemed 'The Bloodhound' early in your career by the media after endless fights where you left the cage a bloodbath.

"You can say that. She's still heal-" The boisterous of their teammates cut Alessia off, stumbling and cackling at whatever their drunk minds thought was funny. Leah threw herself next to Lia, pointing to Katie, her finger unsteadied as a result of her tipsiness. "I got it last time, McCard. It's your turn."

The Irish childishly shook her head, throwing up the bird, "No." Leah huffed, her infamous frown appearing.  She turned to the person next to Katie. "Fine. Caitlin, you go."

"She's not going."

The blonde threw her arms up in frustration, so much for being capitan. "Someone had to go, Katie! You've been weaseling your way out of rounds for the last two months!" The said weasel denied it, though the smirk on her lips said otherwise.

Leah's glare intensified, she wasn't a quitter, far from it. Even as a drunk, giving up was never in her dictionary. She stood up, ready to drag the queen of reds to do her go.

Lia, being the only sensible one there, quickly sat the Williamson down, giving her a warning not to start a fight.

"What about our depressed lover over there? She hasn't done anything. No dancing, no drinking. A little mood killer if you ask me." Katie winced as she received slaps from all around, unable to pinpoint who exactly hit her. Alessia cleared her throat, dumbfounded by how she got dragged in.

Lia held out a hand, stopping Katie from going off her rockers and possibly digging her own grave if you were to find out about how she spoke to your fiancé. "Hey, now. Alessia isn't in the mood, we should respect that and be happy she's even here." Alessia squeezed Lia's hand, thanking her for coming to her defense.

However, the people-pleaser side of Alessia won. She moved to stand, but Lia's hand halted her from doing any further. Her concerns made Alessia glad that she had someone in her corner for the wild night. "It's fine. She's sorta right, I've been a killjoy. Maybe this will loosen me up."

"Are you sure?"

Alessia gave Lia the okay, slipping out of her hold, and down to the crowd. Internally gagging at the stench of body odor hitting her unexpectedly. Fresh air welcomed her as she exited the crowd, breathing deeply, the cool air traveled through and around her body.

She rested her arms on the bar, calling the bartender for the round she volunteered to collect. Alessia daydreamed as she waited, snuggling up against you after tonight sounded like the perfect dream to make into a reality.

"Hi."

Alessia didn't flinch at the new voice, too caught up with herself to realize that she was being spoken to. She jumped slightly at the tap on her shoulder, surprised by the close proximity. "Oh, hi." It was small and brief, a simple acknowledgment of him. That's all. At least Alessia thought it was.

"Are you here alone?"

Alessia shook her head uninterested, looking back at the bartender to see if he was preparing her order. He wasn't.

"Who are you here with?"

She sighed, annoyed that he couldn't get the hint. Unbothered to look at him, Alessia answered, hoping the mentioned presence of her team would scare him off. "I'm here with my mates."

"Brilliant. Would your mates mind if I tag along?"

Alessia isn't the type to be easily angered, she grew up with two brothers by force she learned how to have more patience than the average person when it came to men and their small minds.

But something about this stranger irked her. So, she bit her tongue of what she really wanted to say, 'fuck off' and instead said, "They would actually. It's a girl's night and they'll be really upset if it was intruded."

Her saving grave, the bartender came back and he wasn't alone. Alessia quickly picked up the platter, leaving without so much of a goodbye.

There were no cheers or clicking of the shots, as everyone threw their head back to down the hard liquid. Kyra emerged from the crowd, eyes blown and a big smile that stretched cheek to cheek.

She latched onto Alessia's arm, "You're being boring tonight! It's my birthday!" Kyra tugged her to the middle of the room, an area Alessia tried to avoid.

Alessia grabbed onto the nearest person, drawing them along, soon enough a chain of gunners were trailing behind her. Alessia took shot after shot, shortly after, her body relaxed into the rhythmic beats.

She neglected to notice the unexpected hands on her waist as the hands closed around her, squeezing tightly, Alessia instantly knew that these hands weren't a friend of hers.

She roughly pulled away, spinning to see the stranger from the bar. He wore a smirk, smug that he got as close as he did with her. "What the hell are you doing?" He threw his arms to the side, showcasing a little dance of his.

"Dancing, dear. Come back, we were just having some fun."

Alessia shook her head, disgust seeped under her skin. She felt repulsed at some stranger touching her. "No, leave me alone. I am not interested."

"It looked like you were pretty interested. What was that move you did? The one where you were moving your hips side to side. Do you mind doing that again?"

Alessia turned away, thinking it would be best to take her leave rather than speak to him any further. Alas, the stranger couldn't care less. He followed Alessia, shoving bystanders out of his way. "Wait! Do not run off!" She ignored him, scurrying to the booth of gunners.

Just as Alessia was about to reach the table, she was pulled back. She gasped as a huge body engulfed her, Alessia mustered up the strength to push away but the attempt was too futile. "Get off!"

Alessia curled up as much as she could in his hold, his efforts to land a kiss on her neck was challenged by her strong resistance. "I'm a nice lad! Don't be so difficult!" He laughed in disbelief as Alessia struggled, the scene began to gather the attention of nearby clubbers.

"Let me go! Fuckin prick!"

Everything happened in a flash, Alessia was yanked away, bodies meddled between him and her. Mixture of brunettes and blondes filled Alessia's sight.

"You're okay. They're handling it."

Alessia could hardly register Viv's soft voice, the tall Dutch led her out the club, withdrawing from the chaos as the fight got bigger. Viv rubbed circles on her back, trying to calm the shaken girl.

She ignored the security guards that rushed into the building, faint sounds of glass breaking reached her ears. "I'll take you home as soon as Beth is done."

Panic swept through Alessia, red eyes going wide at the thought of returning home. "No! If I go home, she'll know something happened. I can't- I can't-" Viv hushed Alessia, hugging the younger as she spiraled.

Alessia didn't have to specify who she was talking about, only one person was waiting at home for Alessia. That person is you.

"Less, are you scared of yn?"

It was a question Viv didn't want to ask but did. Alessia's reaction to going home wasn't normal especially if it held the person who loved you and you, her. It's a red flag that Viv wasn't so quick to brush off.

Alessia flinched, staring at Viv as if she said the most absurd thing known to man. "What? No! No! Never! I'm scared for her! If she finds out what happened tonight-" Alessia suddenly stopped, she didn't want to believe what happened, happened.

How close he was, how his hands were all around her, how she felt his front pressed up against her. It physically and mentally sickened Alessia to the core.

She collected herself the best she could, staring straight into Viv's eyes. "She'll kill him. Viv, those beatings she does in the cages are nothing. That's her having fun. But this will set her off. You have to promise me that yn wouldn't hear a word about this. Viv promise me."

You couldn't find out, not when Alessia knew the lengths you'd go to protect her. Not when she knew how ill-tempered you were and how easily you got lost in your fit of anger. Alessia was your weakness, she knew that you knew that. Which is why you couldn't know, Alessia had no doubt you'd go on a manhunt to track down whoever harmed her.

Viv gazed into the abyss, unable to comprehend the fear Alessia had for you. You were someone with physical power, that Viv knew, you had the skills and scars to prove it. It was what you trained for, nearly two decades you've been building up your skills to hurt people for a living.

The active terror Alessia showed let Viv know that you were lawless by your own rules. "Okay, okay. I promise. And the others will too." That calmed Alessia down a bit, she leaned into Viv's side watching the passing cars as they waited for the rest.

"Fuck off!"

Katie came out first, followed by the rest of the players and security guards. Yelling and cursing lingered in the air, Viv ignored it, guiding Alessia to the car. "Let's wait in the car. It'll be a while before they quiet down."

The unfortunate events replayed in her mind like a broken record, it kept playing and playing. If she was lucky, sometimes it'd short-circuit. Then, all she could see was you, it felt like a dream. Like you weren't real, and that she was simply imagining someone to protect her to the very end.

But you were real.

You were real and Alessia had a tough time believing that. Believing that you her knight in shining armor. Whispers of promises in her ear at night, how you engraved that into her. But, you were nowhere to be seen when Alessia needed you the most. Instead, you were at home resting.

Part of Alessia wanted to blame you, yet she couldn't, she wouldn't. Not when you were her person, especially not when Alessia understood very well that if you were with her, you'd be in a jail cell by the time the sun rose.

You lost the ability of control when it came to Alessia, if someone were to so much as trip her, you'd return the favor tenfold. The more Alessia thought about you, the more she desired to go home.

"Hungry? We can go to Greggs."

Beth peered over at Alessia, the young striker hadn't made a peep since arriving at the couple's flat and that was hours ago. Beth and Viv stayed up the entire night nurturing Alessia to a certain extent, she allowed. Which wasn't much.

She inhabited the couch corner, not even a slight inch off. She hadn't spoken, eaten, or moved, her brain going haywire, and they couldn't do anything about it.

Beth kneeled, placing a comforting hand on Alessia's knee, gaining her attention without spooking her. "Why don't you take a shower? I imagine sticky sweat isn't the best feeling on the body."

Ease rippled through the couple as Alessia finally moved in the last eight hours, though it was short as Alessia's movements were slow and calculated. Beth patiently waited for her, directing Alessia to the awaiting shower that called her.

The shower did more than just cleanse Alessia of sweat, the overwhelming emotions of the night washed down the drain never to be seen or felt again. Alessia preferred it that way, it was better to believe that it was gone rather than it be stuck on her.

She'd rather be numb than feel what she felt in that dreadful encounter.

Alessia avoided looking into the mirror, squeezing the towel around her tight as she exited the warm steam. The coldness of the early morning greeted her, she walked over to the bed, holding up the Arsenal pull-over Beth set out for her.

She quickly put it on, brushing it down only for her eyes to catch the coloring on her hips. Her fingers lightly grazed the finger-print bruises, her breath hitches as flashbacks of his firm grip on her were physically felt in that second.

Alessia wanted to cry, she didn't want to feel as if someone was standing behind her, she didn't want to feel as if she was being touched like some sort of pet.

Alessia pushed down her tears along with anything else rising to the surface. She walked out the room, the conversation hushed as she came into view, and Alessia didn't care to bring it up knowing fully well it was about her. She sat next to Viv barely returning a smile, "Feel better?" Alessia ignored her, that was the better option.

The truth would raise more questions than she could handle right now. "I'm going home. Yn probably stayed up for me and I don't want to keep her waiting any longer." Understatement of the century. Alessia couldn't grasp the fact that time passed, only assuming, too stuck in her void to feel time's existence.

"Don't fret. I called her and told her you were too tired to make it home. She knows you're here."

Stunned, Alessia sent Beth a nod. "Thanks, but I should really get going." Viv and Beth got the obvious hint that Alessia didn't want to be there anymore, she quickly shoved her phone in her pocket, zipping past them.

The couple hastily followed behind, catching Alessia right at the door. "Let us drive you. We can get Greggs on the way." They didn't give Alessia too much room to argue, Viv grabbed her keys as Beth pushed her out the flat.

"You can ride front seat."

Alessia carefully closed the door, releasing a breath now that she was alone. Beth and Viv had been absolutely sweethearts to Alessia during her stay, but she needed time to herself, time away from eyes that were waiting for her to break.

Slowly and quietly, she shuffled to the kitchen, not a single object out of place since she left. Alessia grabbed a water bottle, the first source of intake she allowed her body to have. The Greggs paper bag perched on the counter, dismissing what Viv had gotten her.

In the safety of her own home, Alessia felt her body ease into itself, the familiarity of these four walls secured her protection and well-being. Something Alessia never thought she'd crave so much.

She went in search of the only person wanted, needed. Weights were lifted off of Alessia's chest when she caught you sleeping in bed, looking ever the most peaceful. A state that she wasn't going to ruin with the truth.

Alessia brushed loose strands out your face, laying on her side, snuggling up in your arms absent from the scary world. Her breath hitches as you pull her closer, "You're back." Your voice husky, eyes still shut half-asleep. Alessia's fingers found your dog tag, turning it over to see the engravement of her name and jersey number. A chain you wore proudly. "I'm back."

"Did you have fun?"

Her fiddling stopped, a small shutter of breath escaped her as the haunting hours came back, this is where Alessia was supposed to spew a little white lie. But she couldn't. Never has Alessia lied to you, never thinking she would need to. This would be a lot harder than she thought.

"Less, is everything okay?"

Your eyes barely opened, the bright light peaked through the curtain nerved your sensitivity. Alessia used her finger to soothe your wrinkles, humming as she tried to lull you back to sleep. "Can't remember much of it. I had too much to drink."

Two lies in one.

Alessia remembered everything and frankly, she didn't drink enough to forget.

You patted her back, comforting, "That's alright. You're home now." Your words brought her more comfort than you can imagine. Alessia was home now; she was home with you, within these four walls. She couldn't be more safer than she is right now.

In your upcoming years as a fighter, you were taught to control your emotions going as far as to eliminate them. The human instinct to feel sympathy for beating another wasn't an option when it came down to winning titles.

By default, you suppressed them to the alternatives outside the cage. Thus, you didn't experience the depths of anxiety or stress like many others did.

But, in recent times it seems as if you're experiencing life in a new manner. You've never been more uneased as you have in the past week. Even minutes before your matches were you never this stressed.

And the main reason for it all is Alessia. The only person in the world to cause you to feel things you normally wouldn't. A blessing and a curse.

Alessia wasn't acting like herself lately, a bit distant something she never was before. Alessia, by nature, was clingy. She clung onto you like a koala does a tree, cuddles, hugs, anything to make your bodies become one, she did. Which is why, her being so distant with you was concerning.

It's been a couple of days since her behavior shifted, at first you thought it was due to the rough start of the week, you were back in camp for your next fight thus your time with Alessia was shorten, she as well was dealing with some tension at work, none she was willing to elaborate.

You figured she needed some alone time to get through.

You tried to be there when she seeked you, yet she hardly did. And you didn't want to push her during a tender time, so you let her be until she was ready. Though, that didn't stop you from actively caring about her, little things such as making her breakfast, washing her uniform, nothing excessive in your mind. Still, Alessia appreciated it all.

Curiosity spiked when she began to wear long sleeves as if it were a second skin, typically you'd brush it off, thinking she hopped on some sort of fashion trend, but the summer heat had her drenched in sweat.

Your attempts to get her into your shirts-which she loved to steal and wear-was useless. Refusing constantly, Alessia stuck to her long-sleeves. You didn't push further, despite your worry each time she went out.

The electricity bill was off the charts that month in turn to keep her cool.

Your agitation heightened when Alessia started to spend more time in the guestroom, it was odd at first considering she rarely stepped foot in the room, in the two years you've lived there.

Guests sleeping over wasn't common therefore your guestroom remained unoccupied most of the time. Not anymore now that Alessia had taken the room for herself.

Aside from the guestroom, it appeared as if you were living alone. You were the only one occupying the common spaces, Alessia nowhere to be seen unless you looked for her. Eventually, your small time together doubled down to nil.

It pained you to see Alessia isolate herself, the last time she acted in such a way was when she was coping with body issues. An unpretty chapter in Alessia's life that none of you spoke about. To prevent a defense lock if confronted, you did whatever you could to build Alessia's self-love without addressing the matter upfront.

It was a bit difficult at first since Alessia's determination to avoid you persisted. You were limited to passing compliments, soft touches, and love letters that you laid in the middle of the bed for her to read when she got home.

Your brief time didn't stop you from showering your girl with the love that she needed and deserved.

The rough week passed and Alessia semi-returned to her normal state. She went back to stealing- your shirts, a more fitting attire for the summer- and her time in the guestroom lessened. She still retreated to the room here and there for an hour or two, nothing you were too worried about now that she seemed better.

Everything was going back to place that is up until, the festival incident.

It happened on a Wednesday afternoon, you and Alessia had gotten caught in the middle of a London festival. One you were aware of too late and thanks to your ignorance, Alessia faced the consequences.

You pushed through the busy festive, pulling Alessia by hand. Bodies pressed up against each other tight spaced, trumpets and cheers blaring in your ears. Rising temper balancing on the cliff's edge as you kept trying to find an escape route, the provoking factors placed you and Alessia on the brink of disaster.

You stood at a whopping six feet using the height advantage to look for an outlet, naive to the shifts in Alessia's breathing. Behind you, Alessia felt her mind and body going haywire.

She could feel her heart beating against her chest, head whipping side to side anxiously seeking for an out. Her throat closed up at the multiple touches on her, she shut her eyes to block out her surroundings but that only made it worse as she instinctively focused on her senses.

Alessia's eyes snapped open, feeling you tug on her. She instantly found your figure, taking her all to concentrate on you. Alessia internally struggled to not think about the prying flashbacks at the back of her mind.

It fought so hard to come forward, to torture her in broad daylight, but Alessia fought harder. She tried to pinpoint the difference between then and now.

The sun was the first she identified, the sun gave her clear view of everyone and everything around her, unlike the colored lights in the dark club. Then there was you. You were the major detail that differed to Alessia, you were there to protect and love her, that's all Alessia needed.

Yet, it didn't stop the strength draining from her body, replaced by what Alessia could distinguish as emptiness. It was in her best efforts to push down the vile feelings, but it was all in vain.

You stumbled back as you felt a cease in Alessia's step. You looked over your shoulder to see her head down, her form shaking like a madman. Without thinking, you closed the distance, calling out to her, but she made no sign that she heard you.

You lifted her head, eyes gaping when Alessia's red teary eyes made contact with yours. Less than a second, you wrapped Alessia in your arms, forcibly pulling her through the crowd, recklessly pushing people out of your way.

You sighed in relief as you and Alessia finally broke free of the bustling street ducking into a small alley. You leaned up against the building, Alessia sobbed into your neck as you settled her. Tears flowed nonstop, you ran your fingers through her hair, humming to tune out the festival's band.

"Can we go home please?"

Alessia looked up at you with her big blue puffy eyes, your heart broke. Your thumb wiped away the lone tear, pecking her forehead. The answer was a no-brainer, you pulled down your hood on Alessia's head, guiding her out the alley and to a taxi, keeping her as close as possible through it all.

For the next few days, you and Alessia isolated yourselves from the world. Alessia didn't want to speak further about it and as much you wanted to, you knew better than to push. You were just glad she wasn't shutting herself in the other room like before.

And Alessia hated it, she hated that you were walking on eggshells with her. She didn't want you to treat her as if she's fragile. Alessia's strong, she knew that she believed it, so why didn't she feel like it?

Instead, she felt suffocated. Alessia began to loathe herself because of it. The constant looks over her shoulder, checking her body as if bruises will appear, it's been two weeks and she can't move on.

A concern started to brew in Alessia's mind, she feared that your relationship may be the cost of her erratic paranoia.

In attempts to salvage or drag out the inevitable, Alessia spent more time with you, she no longer went on your daily walks, but rather to sit on the balcony for her daily fresh air. You didn't mind, she knew that you only went on those walks because Alessia suggested it first, couples' cardio she said.

In all her years, Alessia didn't know what to do, she didn't know how to save herself.

Too stuck in her head to feel Kyra poking her, the Australian entertained herself jabbing the mindless blonde. Giggling when Alessia didn't flinch at the dirty towel thrown at her face.

The younger picked up her water bottle spraying at Alessia, bursting out laughing when she screeched. "Kyra! Go away!" The mischievous player dodged the towel thrown back at her, running away before Alessia could do worse.

Alessia wiped the wetness with her shirt, thankful for Kyra unintentionally pulling her out of her prisoned thoughts. Leah patted the striker's shoulder, pitiful that Alessia had been chosen to be on the end of Kyra's pranks. "So, is the hound coming next week?" Alessia's lip twitched at your alias.

"What's next week?"

"You forgot? The sporting event remember, Jona told us two months ago."

Alessia racked her brain, trying to remember the said event. Then, it hit her, it was a small thing some organization was having to spread the word of football, gain some investors, nothing Alessia wanted to do with. She shook her head, tying up her laces. "I'll skip out. Not in the mood for socializing."

Leah gave her a look, "Mate, it's mandatory. You can't get out of it." Alessia groaned, her plans to laze around with you was a bust. Alessia liked the small bubble, you and her built in your time together, and she wasn't planning on leaving it so soon. But, it looks like she didn't have a choice.

"I'll ask her."

"Is there really a point to? We all know what she's going to say."

Alessia pushed Leah, the captain grinning cheekily at her, a teasing underlining in her words. Everyone who knew you and Alessia's relationship personally knew that you'd do anything she asked.

If Alessia wanted food from a place a town a way, best be known that you're driving all the way there. If she wanted a new car, you're taking her to the dealership within the next hour. In this case, you'd be attending before you were even made aware of it.

"Okay, I'll stop with the teasing...for now. We'll see you there, oh, and it's a white-themed dress code. So, tell the missus, no black. It's not a funeral." Alessia snorted, waving to Leah as she left the locker room. The drive home was about as peaceful as one can be after a long day at work.

Alessia pulled into the lot, funny enough, catching you as you stepped out of your car with a takeaway bag. She kissed you, your favorite way to be greeted by the love of your life.

You swung her gym bag over your shoulder. "What did you get?"

"A protein bowl from that Japanese restaurant down the street and your usual."

Alessia grinned, pecking you on the cheek. "You're the best." You hummed tiredly, holding the door open for her. "I have to speak to you about something." You perked, thinking that she would finally be open about what's happening these few weeks.

"There's this thing, me and the girls are attending. It's obligated that we go but on the bright side, we can bring a plus one. So, darling will you be my plus one?"

You deflated, disappointed but smiled nonetheless. Setting the bag aside, wrapping an arm around her waist, "I would love nothing more. Now, let's eat up. I'm starving."

"It also has an all-white attire. So, no digging deep in your closet for your black suits, darling."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Damn, mami!"

Alessia fought back a smile as you exclaimed loudly, she placed her hand in your reaching one, unable to fight a growing grin any further. She squealed as you spun her, her dress flowing in the air. "You look so good. Are you trying to put me to shame?"

Alessia rolled her eyes, slapping your chest, passing over to the mirror to put on the finishing touches to her outfit. "You flatter me too much." You looked at your girlfriend through the mirror, clearly offended by her words.

"If this is too much, then I'm not doing a good job. Because my girl deserves all the compliments in the world."

You rested on her shoulder, Alessia applied her red lipstick, in your mind she did it too slowly. "You do an excellent job, my love. I can promise you that." Alessia handed you her necklace, beaming at the sight. It wasn't just any necklace, but a 23-karat diamond necklace. One of its kind, personally designed for her.

You gifted to her on your first anniversary, a token that she belonged to you, an object of your love for her.

You clipped it, staring intently as she stroked the diamonds around her neck. Alessia's eyes flickered up to you, blushing, instantly recognizing the emotion swirling in your eyes. You bowed down to kiss upon it, your gloss sticking to her neck painting it with the outline of your lips.

Alessia tilted her head to the side, eyes closing in bliss. You pulled her closer by the waist, your fingertips resting on the zipper. Alessia pulled away when she felt the dress loosen around her, "We can't." You huffed at her breathless words, drooping your forehead on her uncovered back.

"Why? No one will notice us missing."

"Kim will. She'll have me running laps next practice."

You rezip up Alessia's dress, creating some needed distance. "We can't have that now, can we? Let's get going before I rip that dress off." You led her out of the flat, focusing on the numbers as the elevator went.

Internally fighting the urge to drag Alessia back to bed and have your way with her.

You grunted, feeling the hovers of Alessia's fingers dancing across your chest as she played with the buttons on your shirt. You wore a white pantsuit, two out of five unbuttoned, revealing your cleavage and dog-tag.

You looked too good, the longer Alessia studied you, the more regret bubbled in her stomach. She jumped at the elevator chime, you chuckled removing her hand from your chest, intertwining them. 

You opened the car door for her, bending down to match her height as she sat in the passenger seat. The proclaimed passenger princess. "You gone a little quiet, Less." She ignored you, texting whoever was on the other end of the line.

You mockingly pouted, "Don't be bratty with me, love. You're the one who didn't want to take one for the team and run laps." You chuckled at Alessia's silence, walking to the driver side.

You cleared your throat, sipping on a glass of bourbon. Classical music played while businesswomen and men spoke as if they'd do any actual work outside this meaningless gathering. You scanned the room; blinded by the bright white all around. Not an interesting thing in sight.

You concluded that white parties sucked, and parties hosted by old men sucked even more. Them and their greedy ass money, you grimaced as the cheap liquor coated your throat, their inability to buy a good brand irked you.

You hid away in the corner with Alessia and her team, hanging off Alessia's shoulder like a piece of meat. You had no business being there, other than being her eye candy.

Usually, you'd be talking to Katie about her newly collection of red cards that never seemed to stay consistent, but she was too busy sucking up to her girlfriend and there was no way you'll get in the middle of that.

You prepared yourself as your eyes caught Kyra walking over after being shooed off by Leah, the mischievous smirk on her lips let you know that she found her next target, you.

Kyra plopped beside you, instantly ambushing you. You smacked Kyra's prying hands, "Kyra down! Down Kyra!" The little tussle wasn't fair, you refused to remove your arm from Alessia, but even with one hand, you were stronger than Kyra.

The younger girl ignored your demands, continuing her attempts to wrangle your drink out of your possession and into her mouth. "Kyra! I'll buy you a fucking drink! For fuck sakes!" Immediately, like an obedient puppy, Kyra unlatched herself from you, hands intertwined in her lap as she smiled innocently at you.

You whispered your departure to Alessia, well aware that you were doing everyone a favor by taking Kya away. "Follow me, you brat." She trailed behind you, sticking her tongue out at Steph when the older Australian caught her shadowing you to the bar.

As you left with the little troublemaker, the atmosphere in the Arsenal corner became a little calmer. Alessia giggled At Vic's story, the Dutch dodging the slap Alessia delivered, poking fun when she missed.

Vic's laughter died down as her eyes caught on something or someone. Alessia of her own subsided, curiosity knocked on her chest as Vic's body language changed into something Alessia couldn't identify.

"Less, is that the guy from the pub a few weeks back? The one who-"

Vic couldn't bring herself to finish, the effect still remained with Alessia, it was evident to all the girls. Alessia slowly and surely began to act like herself again, but the Arsenal girls knew better. They knew better than what Alessia was leading on.

She squinted as if it would help her see better through the vast crowd, a few bodies shuffled to the side revealing the reason for her all her recent troubles.

London was a big city, the percentage of running into the same people is less than one. The world had to be playing some sick joke on Alessia, as though it wanted blood to be spilled tonight. Something Alessia's been terribly trying to avoid.

Warmth drained out her system, suddenly everything felt chilly yet sweat lingered near her hairline. Alessia struggled to allow oxygen into her lungs, head snapping left and right,desperate to find you.

Vic tried to calm her, speaking in hush tones to get Alessia's attention. But it was useless, Vic called Leah over. Despite yelling for Leah, the entire team heard the urgency in her voice.

They rushed over, huddling over Alessia's shaking figure. Leah kneeled, cupping Alessia's face in her hands, coaching her through her panic. "Less! Alessia! Breath! Mate, breath!"

You shoved Kyra when she blew in your ear, rubbing the ticklish feeling away, never have you met someone so fearless of you. Granted everyone knew you wouldn't hurt Kyra despite her annoying antics. "You little shit, I swear-"

"Are you that MMA fighter? The Bloodhound, right?"

Kyra snickered, you pursed your lips giving her a look, one that meant that you're little fued wasn't over. You turned to the man in suit, he looked like every man in the room...dull. Can no man dress to save their life?

"Yeah, what's up?"

Kyra peeked over your shoulder, wanting a look at who took your attention away from her. Dread, that's all Kyra felt at the sight of him. She couldn't forget him, the bastard that hurt her best friend, someone you didn't know existed until now.

Kyra was aware of Alessia's severe desire to keep what had happened at her birthday celebration a secret.

Steph and Caitlin practically drilled it in her mind, not to slip up when you were around. Kyra didn't expect to see him again, no one did. But, to have him up front and center talking to you freely after what he had done to Alessia, sickened Kyra.

The Aussie searched for her teammates, hoping to catch someone's eye to tell them of the presence of their number one hit list. And Kyra did, however, it wasn't as she had hoped. Laura frenetically waved her over, pointing to you urgently.

"Do you mind if we took a picture?"

Before you could answer, Kyra wasted no time, pulling you away in the direction of her team. You let Kyra do as she pleased, taking in her hurried steps and anxious expression to mind. "Kyra, what-"

"Yn!"

You rushed past those in your way, cupping Alessia's face in your hands. Deja vu hit you like a truck, red teary eyes staring deep into your soul. You placed her on your lap, coaxing her to take deeper breaths. "I'm here, baby. I'm here."

You looked at the Arsenal women for answers, their troubled aura triggered the heap of anger lying underneath your skin. "What the hell happened?"

Some stared at you and Alessia with sorrow, others avoided your eyes, looking at literally anything else.

Out of everyone, the only person who had the galls to look you in the eyes was the captain herself. "Mate, it's not for us to say." Leah glanced over to Alessia, silently telling you that if you wanted answers it would have to come for her.

Leah loved Alessia like her own sister and she couldn't watch her be destroyed by what happened and as your friend, she couldn't allow you to suffer in the dark, clueless.

"Less?"

Alessia's refusal to meet your eyes remained, your jaw clenched. You loved her with all your being, but the anger brewing was too hot to handle. Everyone knew something you didn't, something regarding Alessia, and it didn't take a genius to know that it was serious.

"Alessia." Your voice stern, you were no longer allowing Alessia's excuses to fly over your head. Alessia shook her head, "Please. Please don't make me." Your heart clenched at her pleading, deep down you didn't want to pressure her, but she left you no choice.

"Alessia, what am I missing? What are they hiding? What are you hiding?"

Alessia looked at her friends for help, at the back of her mind, she knew they couldn't. But it was worth a try. Lia nods in encouragement, something so small but so powerful for Alessia.

She cradled your jaw, leaning in your ear, unwilling to see your murderous anger spiral to what she knows will end in crime scene.

The gunners observed as your face hardened, concern switched to rage in seconds. Your brows deepened, jaw and lip tight, what caught their attention was your clenched fists. Veins popped out from your arms to the back of your hand, knuckles ready to take some action.

Alessia pulled back, caressing your pale knuckles. Her lips moved but nothing was coming out of them. You couldn't hear her begging you to not do anything, you couldn't hear her tell you she loved you. You couldn't hear anything but your blood pumping in your ears.

You abruptly stood up, bringing Alessia up with you. You passed your fiance to the nearest person, Beth. "Get her out of here." You pecked Alessia's forehead, ignoring her calls for you to come back. You head to Katie, the sole person on the team who supported violence. "Where is he?"

Wordlessly, Katie pointed him out and what do you know? It's the same dude that asked you for a photo, you scoffed at the sheer audacity of men. You pushed past Katie, sidestepping Leah's hand.

You expertly navigated through the crowd, stalking up to him. Even at a distance, you could make out his figure, he was lean and scrawny, nowhere near your built physique.

You sized him up as you approached, just in time, he turned to notice you, overlooking the smoke coming out of your ears. "Hey! Back for that pic-" His words cut with a right hook to the cheek, and in no time, he dropped to the floor.

You climbed on top of him, balling his collar in your fist, the other delivering strike after strike.

The feeling of your knuckles connecting with his jaw was exhilarating, with every punch you imagine his bones cracking. You grunted as he fought against you, but he was weak.

The first blow was enough to knock him on his back, the countless you landed after offered multiple hospitalization conditions.

You yelled as you felt hands pulling you off. You shoved the random men off you, glaring them down as they took in your physical state. "Touch me again! I'll fuck all of you up!" You momentarily forgot that this was a sports event, the people surrounding you most likely knew who you were.

You watched recognition hit them now that you were in your true form. They heed your words standing back to let you do what you were trained to do. They couldn't save a man getting beaten, but they can definitely save themselves from you.

Huffing, you quickly grabbed the bleeding man by the throat, slamming him onto the bar. The sound of glass pierced everyone's ears, but you paid it no mind. Holding his upper body against the bar, smashing his face in.

You were aware that even your worst opponents didn't get this type of treatment, he was different. He touched your girl, he hurt her, and he was going to pay for it with his life. "Why did you touch her?! Huh?!" An answerless question, you didn't want an answer.

And it wasn't like you were going to get one, the amount of blood flooding his mouth limited him aside from his faint pleas for you to stop.

That only angered you further. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!" You let him fall to the floor once again, neglecting the slippery coat on your hands.

Alessia watched from afar as you mounted the stagnant body, repeatedly bashing his face. Beth tried to drag her out of the venue, but Alessia's too stubborn.

You did so much critical damage in a short span period, even from where she stood Alessia could see the blood streaks on the bar and floor. Leah took off first, Katie, Stina, and Steph following behind.

They all knew that you weren't going to let up any time soon and if you weren't stopped now. You were actually going to commit homicide.

Leah and Katie hook their arm around you, yanking you off. "That's enough! He's down!" It was a struggle for the two, you were too strong for them. Steph eventually aided in holding you back, and Stina helped push you four towards the exit.

Alessia quickly ran after you, the rest of the gooners chasing behind, unable to fight the curiosity to check the result of your wrath. When they got outside, they were met with you kicking a poor trash can into the road.

The four that dragged you out stood a safe distance away. The street bustling with dim lights and occasionally passing cars.

Alessia joined the four girls, knowing better than to interfere in your fit of rage when it was at its peak. Alessia studied your new appearance, growing breathless.

Hair ruffled; shirt wrinkled...stained with red patched. It was what Alessia was afraid of, you covered in red. You had blood splattered across your face; blood handprints swiped across your neck, your fists being the most coated.

You rubbed your hands together as if you were moisturizing, the blood quickly drying due to the cold night air. You sighed, a bit calmer now, muttering nonsense to yourself as you paced up and down the sidewalk.

Alessia took it as her cue to walk over, none of the gunners tried to stop Alessia. Wise enough to know that you would never hurt Alessia even in a foot of rage. "Baby. Baby." Her voice was soft, not to startle you.

Your wide eyes darted to her, unexpected by her presence. You were too lost in your fury to be conscious of your surroundings.

She tried to reach for you, but you retreated, shaking your head. "I'm okay, darling. You won't hurt me." You swallowed the lump in your throat, Alessia tried once more, pleased when you didn't move away.

She grabbed your hands, inspecting the cuts on your knuckles, it was hard to see but Alessia managed to pick out the open wounds.

She ignored the blood on her hands, roughly pulling you into a hug. The weighing of all these weeks came crashing down on Alessia, relief flooded her. However that relief was cut short by the sound of sirens, "We have to go! Now!"

Alessia balled the bloodied clothes, throwing them in the trash, it consisted of your entire outfit along with her dress. Its beauty gone as soon as another color tainted it.

Alessia didn't want a reminder of what happened tonight, even though it represented the degree you'd go for her. You nearly beat a man to death for her, guilt tormented Alessia.

The last thing she wanted was for you to run into problems because of her, Alessia roused from her mind upon hearing the water ceasing. Alessia walked into the bathroom, leaning against the doorway.

You sat in the tub, steam rising from the water. You held out your hand, silently offering her to join.

Alessia didn't think twice before she began stripping from her undergarments. She hissed at the heat, lowering herself deeper into the water until it reached her collarbones. Alessia rested back into you, your arms wrapped around her nude waist, burying your face in her neck.

You two sat in silence, embraced by the steam and contents of the hot water. There were no words to explain tonight, Alessia wasn't going to scold you and you weren't going to apologize. You both knew that tonight was needed for both your sanity.

When you passed Alessia over to Beth, the separation that you placed between you and her signified that you were going to do something she wouldn't like. Your attempts to get her out were for her sake, not yours. You weren't keen on her seeing the monster you become.

"I love you, you know that?"

Alessia rested her head back as you peppered kisses on her skin, her eyes fluttered open staring right in yours. Eyes that held love, more than she's ever seen in her life. "I know."

Alessia didn't need to say those three magic words back, you knew, you always knew. What you need to know is that if she knew. If she knew that you loved her more than the world could imagine. 

[littleslaywrites]

call me if you’re with it | emily prentiss x bau!reader

nsfw, mdni

summary: you can’t seem to get emily off your mind after seeing her bend over during a case. based on guess by charli xcx

word count: 2k

cw: smut, afab reader, friends to lovers, fingering, oral, breast/nipple play

She had no idea. You were sure. You were simply investigating the crime scene, Emily bending over to check out a piece of a jacket covered in blood. Your eyes instinctually traveled to her lower back where her shirt pulled up. Moving down, they landed on her jeans stretched over their hips, when you notice the black lace of her underwear peeking out. Of course you don’t mean to stare, knowing it’s wrong to be looking at your friend this way. But, despite your better judgment, it would take divine intervention to get your eyes off of her. Before you know it, she’s stood back up, and your brain reboots back into case mode.

All day, you couldn’t stand to look at her without blushing. You can only hope that she doesn’t realize that you’re fighting between staring at her and averting your eyes. It sure didn’t help that she was wearing that red top with the off-centered belt. She must have been trying to kill you.

It was just your luck that you’d be sharing a room as the hotel was almost full. The arrangement made sense, considering the whole team knew you were best friends. It just happened to encourage the thoughts you had been attempting to suppress all day.

You get the shower first, as Emily has some paperwork she wants to finish. Water running through your hair, you try not to think about everything you had fantasized about that day. You imagine her just beyond the thin bathroom wall, a certain guilt about the way you’re objectifying your friend. 

Getting out of the shower, you find her sitting on the bed, back to the wall. Maybe you’re overthinking it, but you’re almost sure that you feel her eyes trace from your pajama pants to your legs. 

“Has something been on your mind today?” she asks.

You fumble your words, trying to make up some excuse.

Setting her papers down on the table beside the bed, she beckons you over. You follow her instructions, sitting down in front of her on the bed, cursing yourself for your awkward answer to her question. 

“Tell me,” she leans in so far that you can feel her breath, “are you thinking about me?’

“Maybe,” you nearly whisper.

She chuckles and runs a hand through your hair. “What about me?”

“Nothing,” you answer, probably too quickly. She gives a light tug on your hair, causing a breathy whimper to slip past your lips. You immediately blush, embarrassed by the show of how much you’re enjoying her attention.

“Nothing?” she teases, her hand falling from your hair and brushing down your back until she’s rubbing your lower back. 

Even if you wanted to answer, you don’t think you could. She leans in even closer, her lips brushing yours.

“I think you’ve been a bad girl,” she says, looking into your eyes. “Thinking dirty thoughts about your best friend while you’re supposed to be working.” 

“I wasn’t–” you begin, before Emily cuts you off.

“I think we both know you were.” She laughs. “So what brought this on?”

You were never shy with Emily, sharing every secret. Yet, you were embarrassed by her inquiry. You could tell her about everyone else you met and how you felt about them, but you couldn’t face her.

“You know you can tell me the truth,” her thumb strokes the area just above your pajama shorts. “I’d figure it out anyway. Let’s not pretend we’re not profilers.” 

“I, um…” you trail off, eyes falling away from her smile. “Well, it was when we were investigating the crime scene.”

“Mmmhmm,” she murmurs, tracing the waistband of your shorts.

“And you bent over…” She starts untying your shorts. “And I… well, I saw your underwear.”

Emily laughs at the admission. “Dirty girl,” she’s making a show out of slipping the string out of its bow. “You could've told me to pull my pants up, at least,” she teases, tie fully undone. You think she’s going to take them off, but she instead moves her hand under your oversized shirt. “Or, did you not want to?” she says in the same teasing voice you’ve heard her use in interrogations. “Did you like the show?”

Her fingers graze your breast. “I did,” you whine. Rewarding your confession, she pinches your nipple. 

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed,” she says, acknowledging your flushed face. “I mean, it’s naughty, thinking of your best friend that way, but see how it all works out?”

She removes her hand, touching the edge of your shirt, eyes asking permission. You nod, and she takes it off. Feeling bolder, you reach your hand out to touch her breasts. She takes her own shirt off, revealing her black bra. Pushing you down onto the bed, she then takes off your shorts. You’ve been naked in front of her before, but the context is making you feel exposed.

She’s kneeling in between your legs now, trailing her hands over every inch of your body. Your eyes are trained on her breasts, held back by the bra you desperately want to take off. She sees where your eyes are, and leans down so your chests are touching. “Take it off,” she whispers in your mouth before kissing you. You almost get lost in her lips, but you remember her instructions. You reach around to her back and undo the hooks, letting it fall before tossing it away. 

The feeling of her tongue in your mouth and your bare chests together makes your hips buck into hers. Your hands reach down to her belt, unbuckling it and sliding it out of the loops. You’re one step closer to the underwear that created this whole situation, making you even more wet than before, if that was possible. 

Emily’s hands grab your hips, stilling them. Her fingers finally go to the place you’re wanting it, moving her index finger through your wetness. She smiles, “Got yourself all worked up over me?” You have no answer, her sly smiling erasing your thoughts. “Imagine what the team would think,” she says, pushing a finger into your hole, “if they found out the two of us were doing this.” You take short breaths as her finger thrust in and out, prodding at you g-spot. 

You’re holding onto her shoulders now, needing an anchor. She begins to kiss you again, more tenderly this time. You’re overwhelmed by your situation. You’d thought it’d feel wrong to be fucked by your best friend, but you were mistaken. The pleasure was beyond any other first time you’d had with anyone else. You already trusted her. She knew every part of your soul, so it only made sense that she should also know every part of your body.

She adds another finger, stretching you out more. Her pupils are blown wide with lust, looking down at how your breasts ripple as you move your hips to match her strokes. Feeling the soft spot inside your walls, she curls her fingers, making you clench around her. For a second, she can’t move her hand, locked in place. She leans down, taking one of your breasts in her mouth, sucking at your nipple. You arch your back, and she starts to move her hand again. 

She can tell you’re close by the way your walls are fluttering, and, determined to push you over the edge, begins to circle your clit with her thumb. Your whimpers turn to moans, and she’s stroking your hip lightly with the hand that’s not working on your pussy. She bites down on your nipple, sending you into your orgasm. She takes her mouth away from your breast and kisses you to quiet your sounds.

When your peak is over, she takes her fingers out of you, sucking your release off of them. She’s got her other arm wrapped around you, comforting your trembling body. When the haze in your mind clears, you remember the underwear you’ve been hungry to see again. Sitting up, you reverse your positions so she’s on her back and you’re sitting up on your knees. You trail a thumb from her belly button down to the button of her jeans. You can tell she’s trying to keep her breath steady. You study her eyes as you slide her pants down her legs, revealing the lacy black underwear that have been on your mind for the past 14 hours. 

You pry your eyes away, even though you could probably cum from simply staring at the wetness soaking through the lace. You lower your face, licking up the moisture. Emily moans as you nip and suck over her panties. You want to taste her fully, so you gather up all the will you have and take them off. Slowly, you remove them, thumb stroking the material. 

Even without you touching her, she’s whimpering, her earlier bravado broken by your touches.

“You’ve gotta be quiet, pretty girl,” you say, gazing down at her. She hums in protest, her hips bucking in the absence of you. You gently grab her jaw, signalling for her to open it. Rolling up her underwear, you shove it in her mouth to keep her sounds from informing everyone in the proximity about your activities.

You run your hands down her thighs again, and dive back to where she wants you most. Tongue touching her bare pussy for the first time, she cries out, grabbing at your hair. She shoves your face into her, unable to control herself.

For the first time, it dawns on you that she must have been thinking of you in the way you were thinking of her. This revelation makes you smile into her, and you lightly graze her clit with your teeth. 

Moving your mouth slightly lower, your circle her slit, tongue collecting the wetness. She bucks up into your mouth, and you move to keep her still. Grabbing at the fat of her hips, you thrust your tongue into her. In response, her thighs wrap around your head.

If you weren’t enjoying yourself so much, you might worry about suffocating. At this point, you’re rutting against the bed, turned on by Emily’s evident enjoyment.

Her walls start to flutter and her muffled cries are getting louder. You turn your focus back to her clit, sucking at it once before Emily cums, soaking your face. You work her through her orgasm, reluctantly pulling back when you can tell that you’re overstimulating her.

You move away, hovering over her. Removing her panties from her mouth, you almost kiss her, but hesitate. You’re not sure what the protocol is in this situation. Emily decides for you, wrapping her arms around you. She pulls you down into an embrace, burying her face into your neck. You stroke her hair, playing with it as she gets over her aftershocks. 

You lay there for a moment, savoring the way you hold each other. After a few minutes, you speak up. “I think you might have been thinking of me, too,” you say. You intend it to be a teasing remark, but it comes out soft.

“Maybe,” she says, pulling back to look at you. You try to read the look in her eyes, but you can’t. Your words had the potential to be taunting, but the conversation comes out tender. Your hand stills, unsure.

“Do you think we can ever do that again?” Emily asks, gentler than you can ever remember her talking to you.

“I would like– I mean, only if you…” You trail off, realizing both of you are feeling the same hesitation. Suddenly, you feel guilty that you stopped stroking her hair, and you move your hands down to wrap around her, tighter than your usual hugs.

“I would,” she says, not needing to hear the rest of your sentence. Her leg finds a home in between yours. You kiss the side of her mouth, and she wraps her arms around your neck. You breathe in her scent, your breath becoming steady as the two of you fall asleep in each other's arms.

[humblefryingpan]

I want to see an au where none of the batfam are superheros except for Bruce.

None of the backstories are different and they all act the same but they're just normal people who happen to be batman's kids. Bats is trying his hardest to stop them fighting crime but it is extremely difficult. The police and JLA don't know anything about the family and have absolutely no idea why Bruce Wayne's kids follow Batman around.

More details and scene ideas under the cut!

Batman tries to give reports to Gordon while kid Dick does flips behind him because he got bored and followed him.

Bruce having to lock all the doors and windows before he leaves to stop Dick trying to fight people (sometimes it works but only if Alfred is there to watch him)

B fights joker while little Jason sits in the batmobile waiting because he was sick and got sent home from school early.

(Jason would still die, because the storyline works pretty well even if he isn't Robin and he'd still come back bc Talia felt bad for her ex but he wasn't trained)

Jay coming back and instead of killing people, he's just really bitchy and throws stuff at Tim. He tries to make B kill joker the same way but he's less threatening because he isn't trained and is just wearing regular jeans and a shirt.

Tim making B adopt him because "you need someone to make sure you don't forget to look after yourself and so you have someone to use as a fill-in kid so that you don't go crazy from" which isn't different to the og but it's just some random kid this time, nothing to do with crime fighting.

Tim goes to a JLA meeting (Alfred wasn't able to babysit) and makes fun of other people's ideas. They are all very confused about who's kid this is and how he got there

Steph and Cass just moving into the manor because their families are shit and it was nice. Both have the same backstories but B stops them fighting anyone else. Idk enough about them to make scenes but imagine them.

Damian was raised the same way, when Talia gave him to Bruce he stopped Dami killing but also just stopped him fighting people fully.

Damian going to Kent farm and Superman trying his hardest to hide information from him, not knowing that Dami already knows it all.

Adult Dick and Jason stealing B's equipment so that their sibling fights are 'more fun' and both ending up in the hospital. They claim they found the equipment on the streets because Batman left it behind

Tim and Damian watching B through the security cameras and texting him their ideas. (They'd get along better because no one is Robin but there'd probably still be some sibling rivalry)

If this is a thing please send me fic recs!

[lil-elle]

hi!! I'm not sure if you have this idea requested already or not, but since yujun really likes spiderman I'm thinking spiderman yujun with reader as his gf would be so cute (imagine them doing the upside down kiss that would be soo cutee)

AGYSJOSUVWBU YES.

Spidey-Sense

group: xikers

pair: yujun x fem!reader

genre: fluff, superhero au, established relationship

word count: 1.1k

content: kisses and sweet cuties 🥹

a/n: this prompt is so so cute and fun, I really hope I did it justice 🥹🥹

You tap your pen repetitively against the desk, your head held in your other hand as your mind swims with thoughts. The bright light of your laptop screen in front of you makes your eyes tired and you blink slowly, sighing down at the still blank page in front of you, the header reading: “The Sudden Influx of Superheroes Across The World”. It's a topic that schools were starting to make students study due to the incredible rise in heroes across the globe. It's an interesting topic, you'll give it that, but turning it into lectures and essay assignments made it as boring as any other subject.

Despite that, you're luckier than your fellow students when it comes to assignments like this, considering your dorm mate, and boyfriend, is a hero himself.

You chew on the end of your pen before dropping your head onto the desk in exasperation. You close your eyes, your head completely empty despite how desperately you need it to be filled with smart thoughts right at this very moment, but you just can't seem to find your focus.

It's this distracted state, however, that allows your ear to pick up on the subtle sound of the window across the room sliding open. You don't even have to look over to know it's him. What would he call this? “Spidey-sense”? You smile softly to yourself as you keep your head pressed to the desk, as if trying to pretend that you don't know he's there.

“Huh…”

His soft voice rings out through the small dorm room.

“Is she asleep..?” He questions to himself and you struggle to stifle a giggle. You try and keep it quiet, but know you've failed when he sighs softly.

“C'mon, you dummy.”

You giggle and lift your head, smiling giddily at him. He's wearing his usual get-up; full suit and mask covered with a grey zip-up hoodie and a pair of baggy ripped jeans, perched right on the windowsill in his usual crouch pose.

“What's that face for?~” He asks playfully, making you lean back in your chair with a smug smile.

“Oh nothing~”

His face is masked but you can tell he's smiling under it.

“Sure~ Get over here.”

“Hmmm…nope.”

He gasps mock-dramatically.

“What? Why?”

You giggle at his reaction, your face slowly turning pink and your cheeks beginning to hurt from smiling.

“You called me a dummy!”

“Well, it's a fact!”

You gasp just as dramatically as he did, bringing your hand to your chest in a shocked gesture.

“Well now I'm definitely not going over there.”

He sighs and chuckles wryly before sticking his arm towards you and shooting webs to stick onto the arms of your rolling chair, pulling the chair and you towards him in a flash. You grip the arms tightly, slightly startled, before sighing, leaning back, and crossing your arms.

“Well that's just not fair, is it?”

His sweet giggle rings out through the air, making your smile grow and your cheeks get slightly pinker.

“I'm a superhero. Normal rules don't apply to me~”

He jokes, making you chuckle.

“Is that so?~” You reply, a slightly flirty edge to your words. He hums in response, nodding confidently. You just stare at him with a smile for a moment before bringing your hands up to cup his face.

“Take the mask off, Yujun. Let me see that pretty face of yours.”

He giggles before responding playfully.

“I hate to break it to you, but it's not all that pretty right now. It's all sweaty from all the crime fighting, y’know?”

You chuckle at his joking cockiness.

“Shut up, you…your face is always pretty…”

Silence passes between the two of you as your thumbs gently caress his cheeks. You can feel the skin under his mask begin to heat up, making your own blush grow deeper as well. When he finally speaks again, his voice is noticeably quieter and shakier.

“...Well now I don't want to take my mask off for a different reason…”

You giggle at his cute response before trailing your hands down to the base of his neck where his mask meets the rest of his suit, hooking your fingers under the hem. He pulls his head away slightly.

“Hey, now. What'd I just say?”

He asks with a playful sass to his voice. You reach your hands out again, still pulling his mask up despite his defiance.

“Relax~ I'm just pulling it up to…here!”

You fold his mask up to just over his nose, allowing you to at least watch his mouth as he talks. He giggles and the sight of his toothy smile makes your heart skip in your chest.

“Did you really want to see my mouth move that much?” He questions teasingly and you giggle.

“Partially. But I also wanted to do this.”

Cradling his face again, you lean in and place a tender kiss on his exposed lips, earning a surprised hum from him before he adjusts and kisses you back, one of his hands meeting the back of your chair so he's leaning slightly over you. The two of you keep your lips locked together for what feels like an eternity before he sighs against them in a way that makes you so dizzy that you have to pull back. You don't even need to pull his mask all the way up to see how red he is now, the hue blanketing his whole face all the way down to the base of his neck. You two catch your breath for a few seconds before you speak up with a stutter, trying to break the tension and hide your fluster.

“Y-You should probably go back to fighting crime now mister hero~”

He chuckles breathlessly, his voice slightly raspier than it was before.

“Aww…do I have to?” He pouts and you giggle, nodding.

“Yep. And I have to study so shoo!”

He chuckles before leaning in to steal one last quick peck from your lips. You blush hard from the surprise of it and push playfully against his chest, as if trying to shove him out the window.

“Shoo, shoo! Don't make me get the bug spray!”

He laughs out loud and you catch one last glimpse of his smile before he yanks his mask back down to cover his whole face.

“Later.” He mutters, the smile in his voice obvious. You watch as he leaps from the window, swinging through the buildings with ease. You sigh and lean your head against the windowsill where he once was, watching him until he disappears from sight and a few minutes after that.

Eventually, you roll back to your desk to continue your essay, but it gets completely abandoned for the rest of the day as you stare up at the ceiling, your head completely filled with thoughts of him.

-

♡♡♡♡♡♡

TAGLIST:

@chocoeon @hyunukitty @ihyeokzu @cake1box @chiiyuuvv @shortnstupid @dogyunslover

[bananasomg]

me casually seeing this in your tags from days ago, "#There was before Max and there's now and Charles will never be able to go back." - now totally a normal amount of curious about what this is going to be!! :eyes:

aaaahhhhh oh my gosh 🙈😬 so glad you asked!! it’s from my las vegas 2023 WIP. 🌶️🌶️🌶️

lestappen, sexual tension, eye fucking, elevator makeouts, first time (screaming lol).

umm—yeah it’s nearly there, but i'm taking my time. i don't want to rush such an iconic moment for them. i wanna do it justice.

that said tho, i hope to publish it soon*! 💜 i appreciate your curiosity tysm x

here’s a snippet of that scene, just for you:

Kissing Max is nothing like he imagined. Charles expected it to be like fighting on track—aggressive, intense, right on the limit—but it’s on a whole new level. It’s flying full throttle without a seatbelt, a swoop through the apex, around the curve and flat out into clean air.

Molten heat spreads through his bones, consuming every beat of his giddy heart. It’s Max breathing light rays into his brain, rewiring the synapses until every thought circles around him. 

There was before Max and there’s now, and Charles will never be able to go back. 

The elevator dings obnoxiously when it reaches his floor.

“Fuck,” Max says, lurching back to put a decent amount of space between them.

Charles takes him in, post-kiss. His hair, slightly askew, the pink dusting over his ears, his cheeks, his neck, and finally, his lips. The scene of the crime. Rosy and swollen and so fucked. Charles laughs. They wouldn’t fool anyone. 

“What?” Max asks. He can’t stop fidgeting, absent-mindedly wiping his palms on his jeans, adjusting his watch, running his fingers through his blonde locks.

“You’re nervous,” Charles says.

Max bites his lip with a short exhale. “Maybe. Is that a bad thing?”

“No, it’s cute.” Charles winks, enjoying the way Max flushes even more. 

The elevator opens to an empty hallway, and Charles makes sure the coast is clear before intertwining their fingers and heading down the hall to his suite. He feels on top of the world. Nothing can stop him. Not with Max, warm and pliant at his side.

[chronically-ghosted]

Bite Me

rating: T

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 1258

summary: before a Halloween party, you and Dieter show off your “communal” costumes.

warnings: bad jokes, some sexy make outs, this is just fluff and two idiots in love, this is not kinktober by any stretch of the imagination

a/n: i really wanted to get something Halloween-ish out before spooky season is over and when I saw that text post go around, I couldn’t not think of Dieter. I apologize deeply to Dan Harmon and the rest of the cast of Community for so shamelessly rifting, and honestly, if you haven’t watched Community, do yourself a favor and get on it. Like, now. Reader’s costume comes from Abed’s costume in season 1 and Dieter dresses like Troy in season 2.

On a different note, my computer’s been acting up so I wrote and posted this on my iPad. So if there’s funky formatting or anything, I apologize!

Happy Halloween!

🤍Masterlist

The tip of your nose itches from where the cheap cotton mask dangles from over your forehead. You adjust yourself on the bed, only to catch the cape under your butt and accidentally choke yourself. Scowling, you lift your hips and twist and yank, opting to toss the cape over your thigh like a sexy blanket. Finally in a good position, you lay down, elbow propping up your head, and you tug at the eyeholes of the mask to get the lycra out of your eyelashes.

“Babe, are you almost ready?” You call out, your gaze fixated on the walk-in closet where your boyfriend disappeared thirty minutes ago. Arguably you had the much more elaborate costume and you still beat him getting dressed. He had yet to see the culmination of two weeks of sewing, stuffing (because of course you had to include the fake muscles), and painting, and you fully intended to seduce him with your TV-accurate recreation of a costume from a truly iconic episode. “Dee, we’re gonna be late.”

“Yeah, and you’re gonna see it’s worth every minute,” came his cryptic reply. You roll your eyes. Although, you should hardly be surprised at his flair for the dramatics. “Alright, feast your eyes, babe.”

Dieter steps out of the closet, make-up brush and tanning powder in hand, grinning from ear to ear. The white toilet guard has been cut to (slightly) resemble a collar — obviously including the word “Dracula” just in case anyone could possibly miss the obvious reference. The toilet paper bracelets are taped down to prevent any further unraveling, but you inwardly cringe at what happened to the rest of the no-doubt wasted toilet paper.

His dark jeans are slung low on his hips, the black belt undone preemptively, but it’s the make up job that really sealed the deal. While having had his ass whooped off the couch for a new role has slimmed his waist, Dieter could hardly hope to obtain Troy-Barnes-level of abs.

So he drew them on himself.

“I gotta call Silvia,” he grins manically, twisting and showing you just how “cut” he is from every angle. “She’s gonna be so proud.”

Referring to his make-up stylist and the hour-long make-up tutorial where he paid her to show him the basics of contours and shading, Dieter seems thrilled to have been finally able to put his knowledge to use.

“You look fucking sexy, babe,” you tell him, sneaker rubbing a suggestive circle on the comforter.

“That’s because I’m a sexy dracula.” He winks with his tongue out and then his eyes snap open. “Oh, fuck, forgot something.”

He sprints back into the closet — you hear something fall over — and he returns, mouth full of . . . something . . .

Dieter spreads his lips and drool slides out the corner of his mouth to reveal off-white, plastic vampire fangs.

“Jush in cath no one geths it.”

You nod, sagely, while trying to fight off a howl of laughter. He slips the dripping teeth out of his mouth and wipes his lips with the back of his arm.

“Show me yours!”

Grinning, you leap up onto your knees, knuckles against your waist in your best superhero pose.

“Crime spits and dances on the grave of justice, to the hot beats and infectious rhythms of all that is wrong,” you quote, your voice deep and gravely. “The night beckons. Its black fingers curl and uncurl going like, ‘hey, come here.’”

“Oh my god, baby, use that voice the next time you peg me.” Dieter’s eyes flutter as he stumbles to the edge of the bed, grabbing your waist and pulling you close. You giggle, trying very carefully not to squish the “collar”.

Dieter taps your too-long bat ears with his palm. “You did such a good fucking job with this. Are you sure you still wanna direct? You could go into costuming.”

You wrinkle your nose. “And develop arthritis before I get my AARP card? No, thank you. My hands and wrists are still sore from all the sewing.”

“Hopefully not too sore.” Dieter raises an eyebrow at you, his hands under your cape and investigating your ass in spandex.

“I’m not getting cum on this black outfit—,”

His mouth bites into yours, cutting you off, as he chuckles. His roving hands drop low on your hips, around your ass, then to the back of your thighs. He squeezes and you both inhale.

“I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off you.”

You bite your lip, glancing at the clock over your shoulder. If you left now, you’d get to the party on time, a first for anyone in a fifteen-foot radius of Dieter Bravo, the man whom needs a thirty minute head start for any event—

His lips press warmly into the arch of your neck, teasing up to your jaw, the mask guarding the soft skin below your earlobe that he knows turns you to putty in his hands. His hands, satisfied with their below-the-waist groping, map the curl of your spine, before smoothing over your ribs. He rubs the curve of your breasts with his thumbs and bites gently into the curve of your neck.

“Baby, please tell me this is not a one-piece suit.”

“But we’re going to be late.” Your voice is already a whine, arousal sinking in between your legs. Vaguely, you hope his “abs” haven’t rubbed off on your hips.

“I’m always late,” he murmurs distractedly as his fingers seek out a seam. Dieter Bravo has been, and never will be, above literally tearing your clothes apart to get to what he needs. “It’s bad luck to change tradition.”

His grip more insistent, you fear for the livelihood of your costume so you grab his hand and bring it to a zipper high on your back.

“There’s a clasp—,”

He pulls back, brown eyes heated and sweet. “Yeah? You’re gonna let me fuck you, pretty girl?”

“You’ve made a very compelling case.” You take him by the face and pull him into your mouth, tongue licking his bottom lip at first brush, as he tugs the zipper down your back. “Besides, we’re doing all the Troy and Abed shippers out there a favor right now.”

Dieter’s weight shifts forward as he crawls up the bed, cradling you to his chest with one arm as he lays you down between the pillows, his mouth sucking at yours and settles himself between your legs.

“So you’re saying you want to put this on the internet? You’re so hot,” he breathes on a long inhale.

“I’m saying we’re doing our due diligence to the characters.” He finally pushes that itchy mask over your head and you can feel the static pluck at your hair.

Dieter pauses, blinking, eyes wide and awe-struck.

And then he smiles.

“You make a sexy fucking Batman, you know that?”

With a grin, you rub your fingers against the thin collar.

“You make a pretty good sexy Dracula yourself.” You make a contemplative face. “Batman and Dracula. Bats fucking. There’s gotta be a porno for that.”

Dieter’s grin widens before dipping his head to kiss you again, hips slowly rolling into yours.

Oh yeah, you’re going to be very late to the party.

You lift your shoulder to peel your costume down when Dieter leans back into his knees and pulls something out of his back pocket.

It’s those hideous teeth.

He pops them into his mouth, immediately drooling again.

“The cheap vampire fangth thay ON during thex.”

[silentglassbreak]

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

-

This story is flying out of me folks. Hope the few readers I have so far are enjoying! Again, if you want to be tagged, lemme know.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying, this is a work of fiction. All of my words are my own. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 4 - Never Know

The ride back to Calabasas was surprisingly more comfortable than I expected. Once it was just the two of us, Noah had become rather chatty, going on about the show, the crowd, the lighting that kept pissing him off, the meet and greet.

“It always amazes me how many people walk around with my face on their shirts.” He laughed to himself.

“Yeah, I’ve always found that kind of strange, wearing another human on your body.”

I felt his eyes burning a hole into the side of my head.

“That sounded very serial killer-ish?” His tone was apprehensive and playful.

“Who says that’s not what I meant?” I managed to hold my composure for about 30 seconds before bursting into a fit of laughter, him following right behind.

“Yeah, sure pipsqueak.”

My jaw dropped. “Excuse me! Not all of us are walking Elm trees, okay?!”

“Yeah, and not all of us are shorter than 5 feet!”

My hand batted over at him, his arms flailing in defense while he laughed at me.

“I am five-foot-one, mister!”

He held his stomach, his laughter roaring.

I set my head back on the headrest, my wheels inching forward at a snail’s pace. Normally, a drive to Calabasas from Hollywood would only take about 45 minutes, but a wreck on the 101 Freeway had us in gridlock. We had already been sitting, barely moving for about thirty minutes.

Normally, I wouldn’t mind. We had good music on the radio, it was a cool, crisp evening, and Noah was plenty good company. However, my bladder was going to betray me soon, and I could feel it.

I squirmed in my seat for a moment, trying to arrange my jeans to take some pressure off my bladder. I must have been obvious, because Noah spoke up.

“You okay?”

I stopped wiggling immediately. “Hm?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh, yeah. Just getting restless.”

“You sure?”

I smiled earnestly. “Yeah.”

“Well I don’t know about you but I’ve got to pee like a motherfucker.”

I sighed loudly. “Oh my GOD me too!”

He laughed and turned the heat up in the car. I looked over at him inquisitively’

He put his hands up. “It helps. I don’t know why, but it helps.”

-

Thirty more minutes of traffic and we were finally driving winding roads through neighborhoods I had only dreamed of. I helped sell houses, but not houses like this. He finally directed me to a gated driveway, where he got out and held his wallet up to a small terminal. Slowly the gate creaked open, and he jumped back in the car.

“You want to come in and use the restroom?”

I bit my lip, staring up at the huge house before me. It was intimidating just to look at, let alone imagine myself inside of.

“Erm…” I nervously picked at my fingernail. “That’s okay, I can wait.”

He gave me a look that told me he wasn’t accepting that. “No you can’t, c’mon. No one will be home for a while.”

He hopped out before I could protest further. The call of nature was stronger than my will to fight, so I followed, hastily grabbing my purse and hitting the door locks.

I followed him up a pathway through a large grassy yard, through a door that I couldn’t even guess how tall it was.

When we walked in, I was surprised. It wasn’t how I pictured a rock band to live. He had mentioned him and the entire band lived there. I’m not entirely sure what I expected, piles of beer cans? Guitars everywhere? Random studio equipment? It felt silly now, thinking it back over.

It was normal. Sure, there were guitars hung over the mantle neatly, obviously not played much, with framed records hung between. But the couch looked so comfortable, a throw blanket draped over the back. The staircase wound through the living room, and beyond I imagined the kitchen was somewhere deeper into the home.

“Bathroom’s right there.” Noah pointed to a door just off the staircase. “I’m going to use the one in my room. I’m going to change real quick too. I’ll only be a sec.”

And with that, he was bounding up the staircase, two steps at a time. He really did have to pee.

I cautiously made my way over to the door he pointed out. Inside I found a half bathroom, only a toilet and sink. Black rugs lined the floor and bright red towels hung from the holders. I locked the door and quickly made my way to the toilet.

Washing my hands, I happened to glance at myself in the mirror. Holy fuck, I was a mess.

My eyeliner and mascara were smeared under my eyes, my jet black hair was frizzed, and I had something on my sweater. What the hell did I manage to spill on myself?! Nachos. The god damn nachos.

I quickly took my sweater off, exposing my plain black tank top underneath, tying it around my waist. I pulled my contact case from my purse and easily removed my lenses, before splashing water on my cheeks and rubbing dampened toilet paper under my eyes to rid the excess smudgy liner.

I slipped my glasses on quickly, cursing the metal frames for aging me at least ten years, and threw my hair up in a ponytail, smoothing it out as best as I could.

When I came out of the bathroom, I heard footsteps from the top of the staircase.

“Better?” I looked up at him, hands clutching around the strap of my cross-body bag.

“Much, thank you.”

Noah had a curious smile on his face that made me rebalance my weight in each foot. “What?”

He shook his head and made his way down the stairs. “Nice glasses.”

I instinctively turned my face away. When I looked back, he was next to me. His eyes caught mine in a trance, dark and looming. I couldn’t feel if I was breathing anymore, and I’m not entirely sure if I cared in that moment.

That ‘moment’ went on for longer than I would’ve liked before his eyebrows shot up.

“Sugar!”

This broke me from my daze, confusing me. I raised an eyebrow but too quick, he grabbed me by the wrist and started leading me to the kitchen past the staircase.

“We need sugar.” He let go of me at the counter, opening the freezer drawer of the fridge. He came out with a tub of vanilla ice cream, and loudly pulled two spoons out of the drawer next to me, dropping one in front of me.

Flipping the top off of the tub, he dug his spoon in and stuffed it into his mouth, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. I tried not to stare at him.

“I think I’m okay.”

He shook his head at my argument.

“Nope. You said that as my sponsor, you’d eat ice cream with me if I needed it.” He pointed at the tub. “Eat.”

I raised my eyebrow and picked up the spoon, getting only a touch of ice cream on the end.

“I don’t remember saying exactly that.”

He shrugged, but I still put the sweet, cold spoon in my mouth. It did help.

We sat in silence for a moment, devouring the fresh tub of ice cream for a few minutes before he grabbed it and headed for a tall black table near the countertop. I followed.

We sat adjacent, tub in the center, and continued to gorge.

“So, am I going to get fat from all the sugar?”

This made me chuckle and shake my head. “You’ve got to counteract the carbs. Work out. That also helps because of the endorphins.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.” His tongue was cleaning the underside of the spoon, and I had evidently stopped mid-bite to ogle this, because he smirked at me.

“Sorry.” He sheepishly put the spoon down.

I blinked rapidly and coughed out a giggle. “No, no, I’m sorry.”

Standing up, I turned around and headed for the sink. Quickly rinsing water over my spoon, I set it in the metal basin with a loud clink.

I felt his arm come up beside me, setting his down as well. I hadn’t even heard him walk over.

He didn’t move away from my side, just standing directly behind me. I felt the warmth of his breath on the bare skin at the nape of my neck. His hand was still resting on the countertop to my right and I saw his knuckles turning white where they grasped the edge.

This was bad. I didn’t know what it was, but it was bad.

He did back away after a moment, breathing loudly. I took an extra second to compose myself before turning around.

When I did, there were those eyes again. Boring into me. However, after a second, he smiled, lifting his hand to my face. I was frozen, entirely unaware of what was happening.

His thumb reached up, and swiped across my bottom lip. Is he serious?

When he pulled his hand back, however, the creamy white liquid made me chuckle. I had ice cream on my lip. I reached up and wiped my mouth, while he laughed and just wiped his hand on the sweat pants he was wearing.

“I’m such a mess today.”

He shook his head in response. “I don’t think so.”

And suddenly, the air was thick. Thicker than water. Thicker than syrup. I couldn’t even breathe. His lips were so close. It wouldn’t take much, just a swift movement. A trip? A leer in the wrong direction?

His eyes were studying mine, back and forth. Mine were fixated on his mouth, pink from the cold. Puffy. Absolutely mouth watering.

My body began pulling back, when a hand grabbed me by the back of the neck, fast as lightning, and pulled me in.

His mouth was hot, despite our dessert. His tongue was searching through my mouth, my eyes rolling back behind my lids.

My instincts kicked in and my hands grabbed his shirt, pulling his body closer.

A low, guttural growl escaped his throat before his hand reached down and grabbed my ass, lifting me in the air. He pushed me back onto the countertop so we were at an even level.

I can’t say how long this went on, our mouths fighting each other, my hands gripping his hair. His hands were sliding up and down my thighs, fingertips touching my hips. My body was electric white hot need.

It had been so so long.

But at that moment, that stupid, idiotic fucking moment, my brain kicked in.

He has a girlfriend.

He has a girl-friend!

He has a girlfriend!

YOU’RE HIS FUCKING SPONSOR!

This brought me back, my hands forfeiting his hair, and pushing my body backwards. The back of my head bumped the cabinet behind me, but not hard enough to care.

His pupils were blown wide, making his irises appear to be entirely black.

“Leena…I…I’m so fucking sor-“ But before he could finish, I had hopped down from the counter.

“I have to go.” I padded to the front door, not looking back. I jumped in my truck and nearly peeled away from the driveway, only slowing down to allow the gate to open again.

What the fuck did I just do?

-

I forced myself to sleep that night, refusing to process what all had just happened.

I regretted it the next day, when I woke up with blackened eye crust and stiff from wearing my hair in a ponytail over night.

I had only the forethought to take my jeans and bra off. I cursed myself when I saw my reflection the following morning. It was horrendous.

My hair was askew, half ripped from the ponytail. My eyes were bloodshot, which is odd given I didn’t think I had cried. Maybe I cried on my way home? Who knows. I actively tried to block it all out.

This was unacceptable behavior from me. I’m the responsible one. The older one. The sober-senior, so to speak.

To only add insult to injury, I had forgotten to grab my energy drinks last night, so I was stuck making a good old fashioned cup of coffee with my barely used Keurig.

While I waited for it to brew, I grabbed my phone out of my purse, groaning when I saw it was on 24% battery. I didn’t even plug it in.

I did notice that I had several fresh texts. One from Laura, one from Abel, and one from Noah.

Naturally, I wanted to open Laura’s first, but my morals forced me to open Noah’s first. He might need his sponsor (which is all I am to him).

Noah: Leena, I can’t even begin to tell you how awful I feel. I’m so so so so so so so sorry. I completely understand if you don’t want to sponsor me anymore. Please just let me know you made it home safe.

Fuck that guy, and how god damn sweet he was. He shouldn’t be apologizing, I should. I should know better.

The text had come in at 11:46PM, right after I left. I sighed, typing a fast response.

Me: Please don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry. I can still sponsor you, maybe we just see each other in group only?

I added a smiley face to hopefully convey that I wasn’t actually angry at him.

His response came too fast for me to ignore.

Noah: I understand. See you Tuesday. I’ll call if I need you.

I felt like the message was almost cold, but I ignored it.

I didn’t even bother texting Laura before calling her.

“Hey babes! I’m so fucking tired this morning. I don’t know how I thought I was going to make it through work today. My back is kill-“

I had to cut her off. “He fucking kissed me.”

The other end went completely silent.

“What?!?!” Her shrill voice mimicked my own panic.

“Yup.”

“I fucking knew you liked him!”

I sneered. “Didn’t you hear me?! He kissed me!”

“Oh okay, so you pushed him off?”

I hesitated. I did, just after being an entire fucking moron for at least two minutes. “Y-Yes.”

My voice was such a God damn traitor.

“Oh no, Leena.” Her tone was serious now. I didn’t even have the balls to respond. “This is bad, babe. You can’t fall for your sponsee.”

“Fall for him?!” My turn to be shrill. “I don’t even know him!”

Poor Angel whined at me from down near my legs. I padded to the back door and let him out.

“Exactly! And see how drawn to him you are already! You need to stay away from him.”

“I’m his sponsor, Laura. I can’t exactly ditch the guy.”

She sighed. “No, but you can keep a distance.”

“Yeah. I told him we should only see each other in group.”

“What did he say?” I read her his response. She tsk’ed. “He’s butthurt.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“Apparently one he can’t care about too much.”

I sighed. “It’s the alcohol withdrawal, dude. It makes you do stupid shit. Makes you crave…stuff.”

“Like hot little brunette girls?” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh my fucking god.”

She laughed then. “I’m fucking with you.”

“Please don’t. I’m fucking struggling here.” I groaned loudly. “I want a drink so bad.”

Her tone changed. “Babes?” I hung my head over the kitchen counter. “Maybe you should call your sponsor.”

My head snapped up. “You’re right. I’m going to.”

“Call me later if you want.”

I agreed and hung up. Scrolling through my phone, I called the one person I trusted more than myself.

The phone rang only a second before his voice rang out on the other end. “Hey! You okay?”

“Hey Daddy. No, I’m not.”

-

After a good two hour talk with my Dad, a scalding hot shower, and three pieces of cinnamon toast, I was curled up in bed, arm slung over Angel who thoroughly enjoyed our lazy days, watching The Conjuring. It was nearly 8PM, and I had no other plans. My day off tomorrow would be for laundry and cleaning. Maybe a run? Today was for sulking and healing.

Which I could do, if my phone didn’t start ringing.

Noah’s name flashed across the screen and I groaned before fixing my tone.

“Hello?”

“When does this stop being so fucking hard?” His voice was agitated, and much louder than I was used to. He was worked up, which was dangerous when you’re trying not to drink.

I sat up straight in bed, hitting pause on my remote.

“Noah, what happened?”

I heard him huffing on the other end of the phone. “No, answer that for me. Fucking, please!” He was yelling now.

I stiffened my voice. “Noah, please don’t yell at me.”

I heard him take three calculated breaths.

“I’m sorry. I’m just pissed off.”

I nodded, as if he could see. “It’s okay. Talk to me, what happened?”

“Lily and I got into a fight.”

“Lily?”

“My girlfriend.” I felt my confidence slip.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I tried to tell her I didn’t want to meet her for drinks. That I was still sick. She told me I had been acting so weird and told me I’ve been so off lately.”

I laid back on my pillows, letting him continue to vent.

“Which says a lot because the only difference is, I’ve been fucking SOBER! I’ve been working my ass off to get better, and she tells me I’m essentially boring. Like, I’m a vocalist for fuck’s sake! Alcohol murders my voice! I can’t sing for shit when I’ve been drinking! And I always end up fighting someone. Some rando at the bar, or Nick, or Jolly. It’s a miracle I haven’t been arrested!”

His rant was only getting stronger.

“I want to get healthy. I want to be better. And that’s me being off? She hasn’t even noticed I’ve been sober!”

He made a sound that was something of a growling, which made my stomach flip. I ignored it. But I could hear his breathing slow.

“Feel better?” My voice was small, unsure if he was quite done.

His voice snorted on the other end. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

I smiled, sad. “Good.”

The line was quiet for a few, just breathing from each end.

“Maybe it’s time to tell her, Noah? Maybe you should tell all of them. You’ll be surprised who may support you.” He shrugged.

“I don’t know how.”

“I get that, but you know them better than anyone else. You got this. I’m sure they love you, and will understand.” I’m not sure, but he needs the comfort right now.

“Thanks Mileena.” I had never heard him say my full name. “Sorry for calling.”

I laughed. “Never apologize for needing your sponsor.”

“My friend?”

This made me pause, but I did respond. “Of course.”

[bullet-prooflove]

From the Taylor Swift Midnights prompt list: 72) The first night I saw you with Don Eppes?

Tagging: @kmc1989

WOW this one got completely away from me.

The first night Don Eppes laid eyes on you, you were wearing a little black dress that left virtually nothing to the imagination. Your hair fell across your shoulders as you tipped your head back and laughed with a man twice your age as he placed his hand upon your thigh.

When he leans in close and whispers the most filthiest thing into your ear, Don can’t help but feel revolted.

“That’s certainly creative.” Sinclair murmurs over the comms system as he sips from his coke at the bar.

Don leans back in the plush Chesterfield by the fireplace as he turns the page of his newspaper, his gaze fixed on you.

“The guys a walking sex crime.”

He isn’t wrong, that’s you’re all here tonight. The man you’re sitting next to, the one whose hand is creeping even higher up your dress is suspected of drugging and murdering five women in hotels just like this one. Don doesn’t know how you can stand the feel of him on your skin.

When he invites you back up into his room, they’re all apprehensive despite it being the goal. The only way to nail this guy is to catch him with his tool kit, which they suspect he takes with him on his excursions. It’s imperative they get in there and the best way to do it…

An undercover op.

Don takes the elevator with you, his jaw clenches as he watches Richard Charmain’s hand slip down from your waist, down to your hip and then lower, his fingertips play with the hem of your dress. Your hand comes to rest on his wrist before you guide it back to your hip.

“You promised to show me your room.” You remind him with a chiding tone to your voice and Don sees the moment that switch flips in the other man. His eyes darken as his grip on you tightens.

That’s what his trigger is, Don realises. Women who talk back. He likes the ones he fucks to be pliant. The ones he kills, are the ones that resist.

He busies himself pretending  to be searching for the keycard to the room next door as he watches you step inside. He hears the door shut before he withdraws the gun from underneath his blazer. He lingers outside as Sinclair appears from the second elevator, taking up position on the opposite side.

“I’ve changed my mind.” They hear you say over the comms system and that switch it flips again.

“That’s not how it works sweetheart.”

They hear the slap through the surface of the door, you collide with something and then everything goes silent. It takes them a second to realise that Charmain has busted the mic.

Don’s heart thuds in his chest as Sinclair uses the keycard to open the door.

When he steps through the door, he’s ready to pull the trigger, to defend you. Only that’s not the scene he walks into. You have Charmain in his knees, his hands on the back of his head, a gun jutting into the base of his neck.

There’s blood running down your chin from the busted lip and your eyes are blazing. You look like a Valkyrie, beautiful, wild, furious and so fucking sexy, Don's dick twitches in his jeans.

Sinclair takes over then, handcuffing Charmain, escorting him out. You set the gun down on the sideboard, your hand trembling slightly. The adrenaline, it’s leaving your body, he knows what comes next, what the fall looks like.

“Here.” Don says, stripping off his jacket in the aftermath and draping it around your shoulders. He guides you towards a chair, sitting you down before he kneels in front of you, plucking a tissue from the box on the vanity. He uses his fingertips to tilt your chin up towards the light, dabbing lightly at the split in your lip.

“I think you’ll live to fight another day.” He smiles, his thumb ghosting along the line of your jaw as his eyes flicker up to meet yours.

He’s never seen such a rich hue of colour, so captivating, so dazzling. He thinks he understands now what Charlie means when he talks about the beauty of the stars It’s like someone’s plucked them right out of the sky and put them in your eyes.

It’s Colby that interrupts the moment, he pops his head in to ask if you need a medic and Don draws away tossing the bloody tissue into the wastepaper basket.

The next time he sees you, it’s in another hotel bar, wearing another little black dress. This time you’re alone, sipping from a glass of bourbon. Off the clock, he realises as he slips onto the barstool alongside of you.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He says as you incline your head towards him and that smile, he thinks spend the rest of his life waking up to it.

“Isn’t this how it always starts?” You ask him as the bartender takes his order. “A guy and a girl sitting at a bar, sharing a drink?”

“Yea.” He says, his hand coming to rest on yours, fingers entwining. “I think it does.”

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[nesiacha]

The last hours of the First Printer of National Liberty ( fiction first part)

Warning: this is a mini fiction featuring Momoro, his thoughts before and during his time on the scaffold. There is therefore a mix of fiction (in the absence of certain information it leaves room for at least a little imagination) and truth. So no need to (too much) point out my historiographical errors. I take all criticism, just know that I have problems with the English translation on long texts so be indulgent (or try to be) :D In any case it's not bad to start at worst we fail and we listen to the criticisms :)

The revolutionary, who would soon have turned forty, knew he had little time left before his execution. He was hurrying to write to his wife, his companion, his friend, his lifelong support, Sophie. At first glance, their marriage seemed unlikely. Antoine François Momoro was only the son of a poor shoemaker and a housemaid, while Sophie was the granddaughter of Pierre-Simon Fournier, one of the most important printers in the country. On her mother's side, she was connected to the Gando family, specialists in typesetting for musical scores.

Her family was so well-connected that Benjamin Franklin himself had purchased printing types from the Fournier family. Nonetheless, the fact that Momoro was a printer and passionately devoted to his craft made the marriage possible. Of course, gossipers claimed the marriage was only due to Sophie’s dowry, but in reality, it was a marriage of love, celebrated in the Luxembourg district. Despite her strong character, Sophie remained, in his eyes, the ideal woman of the Revolution: virtuous, worthy of the women waiting for patriotic men to free them from servitude, fulfilling their role with dignity. Sophie had always supported him behind the scenes, and without her, he would not have been able to serve the Revolution and the country as well as he did.

A son was born shortly after their marriage, named Jean Antoine in honor of Sophie’s father. He brought them joy, pride, and love. By mutual agreement, they decided not to have any more children.

When Momoro was arrested by the conspirators of the Constituent Assembly in 1791, after the infamous Lafayette ordered the Champ de Mars massacre, he was taken in the dead of night. Looking back, the absurdity of that arrest made him smile. So many members of the National Guard to arrest one man! He was imprisoned for 22 days for an imaginary conspiracy—his only crime, and that of his companions, was to have called for the removal of the tyrant Capet after his blatant act of treason. Sophie had held up well, understanding why her husband was fighting and always supporting him. Upon his return, she awaited him, and despite their modesty, they rekindled their connection. They shared a great love and mutual respect, though it was not openly expressed, at least not by Momoro.

Since the beginning of the Revolution, he had explained to his wife that after the Republic and the Revolution, she and their son were the ones he loved the most. He had been hesitant at first, in 1789, especially when Camille Desmoulins came to him with his pamphlet. Momoro had advised him to hold off. Yet, he became more and more involved in the Revolution. He who once told Desmoulins that, for France’s sake, there should be no Republic, now realized how wrong he had been. He was now determined to give everything to the Revolution, to make up for his initial weakness.

Sophie understood him well. She didn’t mind living modestly, as long as there was a roof over their heads and food for her husband, herself, and their son. One day, she shared a decision that proved she had also adopted the revolutionary ideals for which he fought: “I have something to tell you,” she announced one evening over dinner, “I’ve decided to renounce superstition.”

- You’re no longer Catholic? asked the printer, incredulous.

-No, I am no longer Catholic, confirmed the young woman, her tone both lighthearted and resolute. That superstition has only served to infantilize the French people and keep them under the yoke of oppressors. Let’s not forget that, not long ago, the Church punished people with death for imaginary blasphemies, while the clergy, far from living an ascetic life, accumulated the people’s wealth. The fight you lead with our patriots is just: de-Christianization is necessary. The Revolution must make reason triumph.

That evening, they had a joyful discussion about how she wanted to help him more. Of course, her priority had to remain the education of their son, so that he could become a good and virtuous republican, but she could help in other reasonable ways, within the limits imposed on a true republican woman.

Momoro did not share the views of his former friend, the current prosecutor of the Paris Commune, Chaumette, whom he found too misogynistic. He believed that women should primarily assist the men who led the battles. They could discuss politics in private, attend National Convention sessions, help their husbands or sons, and play a role in the grand events necessary to safeguard the Revolution, but they should not be given more active political rights, unlike what some deputies like Charles Gilbert Romme thought.

When Momoro realized, during a mission as a national commissioner, that his book Traité had to be printed urgently, he sent a letter to his wife to handle it. He had warned her that he would entrust her with printing manuals or pamphlets he couldn’t oversee due to distance and administrative duties. She carried out the task carefully, as she did in so many areas.

When Momoro’s mission in Vendée dragged on, his wife and son came to join him. She shared her husband’s view that too many mistakes had been made and that some generals, still loyal to the monarchy, were deliberately losing crucial battles for the Republic's survival. She wasn’t surprised to see parts of Vendée in a deplorable state due to the defeats of republican troops, while in Paris, some ignorantly claimed that certain places were secure. He did not hesitate to express his opinion in a letter. Of course, efforts were made by valiant republicans at war, but it was time for the truth to come out clearly and without ambiguity. To conclude his letter, he added that his son's opinion, though he was still a child, already aligned with those of his parents.

When he returned to Paris, his wife played the role of the Goddess of Reason several times, proud to contribute to the Revolution. On the 15th of Frimaire, Year II, she fulfilled her duties at the Temple of Reason. Many praised her grace and beauty, but during the ceremony, she broke her arm after falling from the stretcher. Once the initial shock passed, she did not wait for her arm to heal completely before resuming the atheist ceremonies. Even he was surprised by her determination.

-I don’t see why my attitude would surprise you, she said with a small smile. You constantly say that our Montagnard deputies should be more revolutionary, instead of putting people to sleep, and you’re not happy that a citizen follows your words.

-They’re not my words alone; many of us think that most of them are becoming new Girondins, Sophie, he said softly, thoughtful.

-How could I forget? Hébert even says they’ve become lullers, she responded with a grimace, invoking the name of the journalist.

— Hébert is my ally, replied Momoro. It’s easy to attack him, but have people forgotten his fights against slavery, profiteers, the maximum, and for de-Christianization? He fought for the poor.

— That’s not what I hold against him, she explained. I know alliances are necessary, just as you do. It’s not the language he uses in his paper; after all, Le Père Duchesne is quite successful, though I would have preferred a paper in the style of Marat, who was far better than all the others. The problem is, he’s not honest on certain points. Regarding de-Christianization, he keeps backtracking at times, unlike you, who are the more resolute of the two. He even earns more than you, you who constantly refuse to enrich yourself. And to think he’s become the substitute prosecutor of the Paris Commune... Fortunately, citizen Chaumette is still the prosecutor; otherwise, it would be harder to defend our revolutionary ideas

At that moment, Jean-Antoine decided to join the conversation, wanting to better understand the political issues his parents were defending. They told him it was complex and that he should study first.

« Can I at least attend one of the revolutionary sessions? » he asked, pouting.

-As long as you behave, his mother agreed.

As the conversation wound down, he knew deep down that his wife was right about Hébert. It wasn’t because he had married a former nun. Citizen Marie-Françoise Goupil had a good character and was a dedicated patriot, from what he had seen of her. He had even seen them privately as a couple with their daughter, showing a sincere and touching love between them.

The problem was that Hébert often wavered in his actions. He would sometimes backtrack, particularly on de-Christianization. One day, he endorsed it and recommended it; another day, depending on his interests, he praised “citizen Jesus,” as he called him. Momoro also disliked that in the summer of 1793, while the people of Paris were suffering, Hébert had moved into a more luxurious residence, not to be closer to political clubs or more efficient as a revolutionary, but for personal reasons. Sure, the printing press would have been on the ground floor, but Momoro didn’t see the point, as Hébert already had one near his previous home. He confronted him about it, saying that a man of his importance should live more soberly, out of respect for the Parisian people who were suffering, especially if he aimed for a higher political position. But Hébert laughed in his face, claiming that Momoro needed to be less rigid.

Since those events, Momoro still considered Hébert an important ally, but not as reliable as before. As for Sophie, she had judged him unworthy of fighting alongside them for much longer.

Today, he would have liked to publicly show his disdain for Hébert, for once again trying to retreat during the insurrection that had led them here, when he saw it would fail. To him, it was a great act of cowardice, especially for a man like Hébert, who had such high responsibilities toward the Revolution. But now Hébert was there, in front of him, either constantly shouting or simply pale. So, he couldn’t tell him everything that weighed on his heart. Vincent and Ronsin had already reproached him enough for his behavior in the cell. Momoro didn’t want to add more. He also understood that Hébert was not only crying for himself but also for Marie-Françoise Goupil. Momoro was just as afraid for Sophie, but he knew that pleading for clemency, as tempting as it might be, was not an option. Clemency was reserved for criminals, not for them. They had to carry themselves as dignified patriots until the end, and this obligation applied even more to Hébert, who had sworn to be ready to the next victim after the martyr for liberty, Marat.

Ronsin, who had vowed to die with dignity, remained stoic when he learned that his wife had been arrested two days earlier. It was another blow to the political prisoners, as they had thought Marie-Angélique would be spared, given that she had evaded arrest longer than Hébert’s and Momoro’s wives. She was an enthusiastic supporter of the Revolution, often frequenting circles that many members of the Convention labeled ultra-revolutionary, yet she remained very kind and simple, though sometimes too frank and playful. She did not deserve this.

However, the revolutionary printer knew the commander-in-chief of the Cordeliers well. He saw that Ronsin, too, was downplaying the pain he felt. They had gone to Vendée together, and whenever Ronsin endured terrible ordeals, he hid them well, due to his bravery and fiery temper. But for those who knew him, one could detect some sadness in his eyes.

“No, no, this isn’t possible!” Hébert continued to sob.

“Perhaps we should joke to lighten the mood a little,” Cloots quipped, a highly controversial figure who advocated for the universality of the Revolution while defending colonialism, slavery, and private property. The only thing he shared with them was de-Christianization. Nevertheless, he sought to calm their spirits, knowing he was sentenced to death.

“Instead of watching Hébert in his depression , finish your letter. They’ll come for us soon,” Vincent remarked, approaching him.

“I’ll apologize to Ronsin once I’m done with my letter,” the printer sighed. “We should have listened to him when he said we needed to prepare for the insurrection faster. I listened to Hébert the first time, even though the Convention had already attacked us several times, and he said we needed to delay things. Even Billaud-Varennes and Collot abandoned us, though that was predictable. In the end, we didn’t succeed in easing the people's suffering, especially this winter. I really failed in my task.”

“Ronsin doesn’t hold it against you,” replied Vincent, still calm, though very pale. “You know his temperament. He spoke harshly because he simply wants you to face the guillotine courageously. He knows you did your best, citizen. But he warned me he’d use a stern tone to ensure you meet your end with dignity. If it were to be done over, I’d send you on another mission, with warnings about certain mistakes. As for him,” Vincent added, nodding toward Hébert, who was shaking with sobs, “all his courage has long abandoned him. His inconsistent behavior caused us many problems.”

“I think he did his best,” Momoro replied, simply not to burden the journalist in his final moments, although he was comforted to know that Vincent and Ronsin didn’t blame him. “Let’s not forget his wife has been arrested. There’s a good chance she’ll follow him to the scaffold.”

“Just like many wives of former deputies,” retorted the former secretary of the War Ministry in an annoyed tone. “Do I need to remind you that the wives of the traitors Brissot and Pétion were imprisoned, along with so many others? That our enemy Manon Roland was sent to the guillotine after her Girondist friends tried, unsuccessfully, to send us there first? Hébert knew there was a great risk this would happen, so he shouldn’t complain. Of course, I hope that Marie-Françoise will be spared, as I do for Sophie and Marie-Angélique. But I’ll remind you: you all knew the risks you were taking, and that included your wives.”

“The only thing we can do for them,” concluded Momoro, “is to die with dignity.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Vincent agreed. “Now, you’d better finish your letter to Sophie.”

Sophie… That virtuous citizen, whom he had been lucky enough to call his wife. He couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the day she fulfilled the role she was most proud of: presiding over the reconciliation between former Catholic priests and Protestant ministers. These former religious leaders had agreed that their respective faiths had only been sustained by clerical charlatanism. It was one of the greatest days of his life, seeing both a revolutionary duty accomplished and his wife radiant, a woman he was immensely proud of.

He finished his letter and reread its contents:

Republican woman, preserve your character, your courage. You know the purity of my patriotism. I shall preserve the same character until death. Raise my son in Republican principles. You cannot manage the printing press alone, so dismiss the workers. Hail to the Marat citizenesses! Hail to the Republicans! I leave you my memory and my virtues. Marat has taught me to suffer.

Author's Note:

I originally planned to write a single chapter about Momoro's journey to the scaffold, but I've decided to split it into two parts. The second part will cover the moments from when he joins the condemned on the way to the hairdresser, to the cart, and finally to his execution. In this first part, the focus will be on his reflections on the revolutionary journey he shared with his wife. In the second part, we will delve into his thoughts on his revolutionary actions, including his role during the fall of Louis XVI, his various missions, his early advocacy for a more equitable distribution of property, his friendships with figures like Rossignol, and his struggle against the Convention, the Dantonists, and Robespierre, whom he no longer viewed as truly revolutionary due to a lack of social engagement for him, among other reasons.

(The Hébertists have long been demonized, to the point where popular culture assumes that if they were alienated by the Convention, it was because they were more bloodthirsty than Robespierre, who is already portrayed as a bloodthirsty figure in some caricatured films. This is a myth we need to dispel.)

His downfall was caused by the attempted insurrection he led with his colleagues, his rift with Chaumette, Hanriot, and Pache, and what he thought of the farcical trial and his final journey to the scaffold. We will see both his good and bad actions, his successes and his mistakes. If I have time, I will also touch on the "truce" between the different factions during the abolition of slavery, a moment when people from various political backgrounds celebrated together. This was a beautiful moment and highlights an important, often forgotten, aspect of the revolution that had global repercussions. A true truce (I think those familiar with current French politics know what I mean).

I also want to clarify that Momoro's opinions do not necessarily reflect my own ( as his paternalistic aspect of women for example it would seem that from his writings he has this defect among many others) . I am simply immersing myself in his thoughts.

Regarding Marie-Angélique Lequesne's arrest, it is possible that she was imprisoned two days before the death of her first husband, Ronsin, according to Mémoires, 1760-1820 by Jean-Balthazar de Bonardi du Ménil. It’s also likely that she moved in ultra-revolutionary circles. According to a biography of Dolley Madison , she was very kind, frank, intelligent, and down-to-earth, qualities I have drawn on for inspiration. Washington's political class appreciated her and the future first lady Madison Dolley would be her friend, which shows that she had developed diplomatic skills.

As for Sophie, I imagined that she shared her husband's political convictions, not only because of her strong character, which is evident given the trials she endured, but also because of her loyalty to him, even in the worst moments. It seems she did share his political views, as seen in Momoro’s letter on the Vendée where he refers to her opinions, the fact that he entrusted her with printing a treaty in his absence, her role as the Goddess of Reason, her accompanying him on his mission to the Vendée, and her adoption of his writing style in the assembly.

After Momoro’s death, I considered writing a chapter about Sophie’s life and hardships following her husband’s execution. (This would include another mention of Marie-Angélique, who later had an unhappy marriage with Turreau, though she was appreciated by Washington's political class). I imagined Jean-Antoine, now an adult, questioning his mother about his father's qualities, as well as the criticisms and mistakes that could be leveled against him. (For historical context it would seem that Jean-Antoine he married a woman from Nantes, so in this fiction, I imagine he learned of the criticisms the people of Nantes had of Carrier, who had allied himself with the Cordeliers in Paris, including Momoro, in the attempted insurrection that led to their downfall).

His mother defends his father but acknowledges some of his mistakes. Jean-Antoine is not fully satisfied, even though he remains proud of his parents and the fight they led. He is loyal to them, despite their never being rehabilitated. He simply wants his parents' good deeds to be recognized, while also admitting that, despite the hellish situation they were in, certain actions—such as refusing to disavow Carrier or some of his father's decisions after months of struggling in the Vendée—were missteps. The long-term consequences of de-Christianization also had negative effects.

Of course, this would be pure fiction, but it would be interesting. As a child who did not participate in the French Revolution (just as we didn’t), we can identify with him as someone looking back with the benefit of hindsight, in contrast to Sophie Fournier Momoro, who was right in the middle of the revolution's action.

[bugeyedfreaks]

Imagine the villains meeting ppg! newjeans, they’d probably have a heart attack

I genuinely don’t know what they’d think (did the New Jeans girls even fight crime in the music video? I don’t think they did… so they’d probably get beaten by the villains easily 😆) but just generally about the collab… what a weird collab it was! I can’t complain about it too much because there have been other collabs I’ve liked (like the Love Live! and Vocaloid ones) where there wasn’t any violence involved: a key component of PPG branding (at least it should be), but it does kind of suck when the only collaborations you get are only the ones based off of their cute aesthetic (note to self: would scream with joy if any wrestling thing did a collab with the PPG… wouldn’t that be awesome???). The one thing that I do really appreciate about that music video is that whoever made it paid tribute to some of the older video games, like Him and Seek and Relish Rampage. I really appreciated the Easter eggs!

[stinkysam]

Reiner Braun - Collateral damage

Warning : s2-3 spoilers, slight gore (Marco, reiner)

Genre : angst

Synopsis : the scouts get to forest to recapture Eren and Ymir from Reiner and Bertholdt where the 104th chase after them and MR tries to confront Bertholdt and especially Reiner + during season 3 of the retaking of Shiganshina where the 104th are fighting him and Reiner is trying his best to not hurt MR but ends up hurting him anyway by accident. After the 104th take down Reiner MR tries his best to get him to talk but Reiner can’t manage to say anything.

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : a lot of rewritten scenes (Marco’s death, shiganshina’s fight) // 2,321 words

The moment plays in your head over and over, clearly.

Mikasa had stopped walking, turning around to keep an eye on Eren. He was talking with Reiner and Bertholdt about something she couldn’t quite hear. You had stopped, too, like the rest of the group. Suddenly, the tension breaks. Mikasa throws herself on Reiner and Bertholdt, attacking them both and pushing Eren away.

“Eren, run !” Yelled Armin as light emanated from both Reiner and Bertholdt as they turned into their titan form. Wind pushing you violently, unable to do anything but watch in shock as the armored titan grabbed Eren, and the colossal, Ymir.

A tough fight between the armored titan and Eren erupted, issuing in Reiner and Bertholdt taking Eren and Ymir with them, leaving you and the rest of the group behind either burnt up or concussed.

-

If only your horse could go faster. You could see Mikasa was thinking the same thing as you, barely noticing when she got told to slow down by Hannes. But it was no use, as fast as your horses were, it was too late when you reached the forest, making you use your ODM gear. Deep in the forest, you found Ymir in her titan form, but before you could understand what she was doing, she grabbed Christa, no, Historia and ran away too fast for the group to catch up. You could see the armored titan run with Ymir, Bertholdt, and Eren on his back. Fuck, missed again.

As fast as you left it, you were back on your horse, running closely with the others.

"No hesitation this time, I'll kill them both. And Ymir, too, is she gets in our way. Nothing will stop them from killing them," announced Mikasa, determination on her face.

You understood her but at the same time you wanted to stop her from doing such things. You didn't want to kill them, you just wanted to talk to know why they did all of this.

Mikasa was one of the first to land on Reiner, menacing Ymir and Historia to let her get Eren back. You were on the titan’s head, trying to talk to him.

You tried to get him to talk or at least get a reaction out of him but nothing, no matter what you said, Reiner would not answer.

Oh he wanted to. He wanted to tell you all the things there were outside these walls, the seas and oceans with all those different types of fishes, all those beautiful countries and cities to visit. All the places he wanted to show you. But he said nothing. He couldn’t, as a warrior, reveal those things to you. 

You could hear Jean and Connie talk to Bertholdt, reminiscing their time together. You tried to do the same on your side, anything to get a reaction out of Reiner. But apparently, Bertholdt was the one to break first.

"You really think… we wanted to kill all those people ?!" He cries out "you really imagine we kill by pleasure ?!"

"Then why ? Why do all of this !?" You asked.

"I understand perfectly you blame us to death, what we did is irreparable. But the weight of our crime was too heavy to assume. Acting like soldiers helped us carry it." He paused. "It wasn't a lie, Connie, Jean ! Yes we fooled you but it wasn't all lies ! You really were friends ! I know no matter what we do, we're unforgivable."

"Bertholdt, give us Eren" Mikasa said, impassive.

"No, I can't. Someone… someone has to get their hands dirty !"

Before you could try to get him to talk again, Hannes called for you to get down as Erwin was arriving with a horde of titans. They threw themselves on the armored titan, forcing him to move his hands to fight back.

This gave an opening to Mikasa to get Eren back successfully, thanks to the help of Erwin. Yet you still found yourselves cornered, titans everywhere as the armored was throwing them on the group until they suddenly stopped attacking to throw themselves on one titan, ripping it apart and eating it before attacking Reiner and Bertholdt, leaving you an opening for a withdrawal.

-

Three months have passed since you last saw them. Yet, you still weren’t ready to fight him. You still wanted to talk.

All Reiner had to do was to kill the horses and run away but after seeing Eren’s titan, he decided against it and to follow him instead. Soon a fight began between the two titans and despite being cornered by Eren, Reiner never let him have the upper hand for too long. Until the soldiers came with their new weapon, exploding his eyes and the back of his neck.

“One more time !” Ordered Hange, “Fire the thunder spears and finish him off !”

Everyone froze. “Kill… Reiner…?” They thought. They had forgotten it was what they fought for.

“Guys ! We prepared for that, no ?!” Reminded Jean “So let’s go !”

And with that they went again, sending their thunder spears once again by his neck.

Trapped, Reiner remembered the day Eren closed the hole in Trost’s wall.

“That plan to reseal the hole, this is crazy…” said Bertholdt, “Eren might end up eaten and we won’t learn anything."

“Effectively, if it goes bad I’ll have to intervene with my titan.” Reiner answered.

“But, if it goes well, we will have smashed the wall for nothing !”

“Nevermind that. We finally have a lead for what we searched for 5 years.”

“Guys… what are you talking about… ?” Interrupted Marco, dumbfounded. “Did you say “my titan”, Reiner ? And you Bertholdt, that you smashed the wall ?”

“Marco… it was… a joke.” Reiner said, trying to sound believable. Marco yelled at them to not say such things when people were fighting titans right next to them and flew away. They had no other choice but to go after him, throwing him to the roof of some house.

“He heard us talk, we can’t let him live.” Announced Reiner to Annie before or donning her to take Marco’s ODM gear. She refused, asking why she had to do it.

“You put yourself in danger to save Connie, earlier. Why take such a risk ? You take sides for those demons, maybe ? If I’m wrong, prove it now ! Prove me that you and your father who awaits your return are not like them. Come on, do it !”

“Reiner, the titan is here !” Bertholdt warned, scared.

“Annie !”

Marco screamed as Annie took his ODM gear, yelling his name in pleas.

“Annie, tell me why ?! Annie ! Annie !”

“Here’s the spirit of a true warrior, Annie. I’m proud of you.” Reiner said before flying away with Bertholdt and Annie, leaving Marco alone to his sad destiny.

“Why are you leaving like this ? We still haven’t tried to talk calmly !” He yelled before the titan caught him, eating him alive.

“Why... Marco… is being eaten.” Said Reiner with horror, watching the scene next to his two accomplices.

“We got him !” “We exploded his face !” “We took down the armored titan !” The soldiers cheered as the armored titan had fallen, Reiner was visible out of the titan’s neck. Face cut in half horizontally.

“You were a real pain to deal with but look at you now you evil bastard !” Jean said before seeing you Connie and Sasha crouched down, crying in horror at your actions. It was your friend you just exploded.

“What the hell are you three crying for ?!” He yelled, grabbing the three of you one by one, “c’mon get up, we’re not done yet ! All we’ve done is kill Reiner ! Don’t cry, we’re the one who killed him !”

If it was to cheer you up, it had failed. All it did was make you cry harder.

But when you least expected it, his titan moved again before screaming loudly only to fall down again. You all watched around waiting for anything to happen. Hange ordained to throw more thunder spears, when something went flying down the sky. A barrel most likely containing Bertholdt ready to transform.

“Bertholdt, let’s try to discuss !” Yelled Armin after telling Hange it was their last chance to negotiate.

“If we talk, will you agree to die ?!” You all stopped as Bertholdt spoke, listening “we only have two demands, we want you to give us Eren, and we want all of humanity inside the walls to be wiped out ! That’s just how reality is, Armin, everything has already been decided !”

“By who ?! Who decided that ?!”

“I did ! I decided your lives are coming to an end right here !!”

Armin brought up Annie. How her screams were still echoing down the wall of her prison. But this time it didn’t work as planned. 

“Why did you agree to talk then ?” Asked Armin

“I wanted to make sure…” Bertholdt began, remembering Marco’s crying face. “I thought that when I showed up you might start whining and begging for mercy again. But… It looks like you’re fine now. You’re all cherished friends, and you’re all really trying to kill us.”

Mikasa had to step in, cutting Bertholdt one ear before stopping Armin from following him. She was right to do so as he then transformed himself into the colossal, burning and destroying the area. Armin couldn’t tell what to do now, he had misjudged Bertholdt and had no idea how to fight the giant titan, preferring to leave the lead to Jean for now.

After trying to fight an unfair fight against the colossal, the armored titan was back up. And you couldn’t help but to feel relieved at the sight.

“We let Armin and Eren take care of Bertholdt. And we keep Reiner busy and far from them.” Jean announced “harass him without letting yourself get caught!”

“Understood !”

But Reiner ran past the five of you with ease. Mikasa was the first one to react, throwing herself after him. You were quick behind. She threw a spear in the back of his left leg, sending him falling to the ground, destroying houses on his way down.

“Since the diversion didn’t work, we’ll have to eliminate him for good !” She said, “we have to cover Eren and Armin !”

“But we only have three spears left !” Told Connie.

“No choice left ! Anyways, without a fight there’s no victory !” Sasha reminded

Reiner had no idea what he was doing here. He remembers saying goodbye to Bertholdt and jumping down his side of the wall but that was it. How did they explode his leg ? What happened ? He was lost and low on energy.

He looked over to Bertholdt who walked toward a passed out Eren. At least the plan was going accordingly. And soon they would be back home. All he had to do was to get rid of-

Shit.

You were here too. He had to fight against you. That’s the latest thing he wanted. Fucking hell…

Jean was the first to attack him, jumping on his back to get his attention while Connie and you went in with the thunder spears. But to avoid them he accidentally got hit by one on Connie’s side and touched you, slapping you with his giant hand against the roof of the house to his side.

No !

He tried to check on you but found himself cornered instead by Hange’s arrival with a new thunder spear, sending it right to the right side of his jaw making it hang wide open for Mikasa to send hers inside his hanging mouth, throwing Reiner out of his titan’s form with a big explosion.

You could barely hear what was happening, lying on your back with Connie and Sasha to your sides, your ears were ringing and it was painful to breathe, your lungs and ribs hurting you. You coughed up blood, it left a sour taste in your mouth but somehow it unplugged your ears a little bit. You heard Jean talk.

"It doesn't look like you, Hange. If we let the unknown paralyze us, how can we hope to overcome the titans ?"

Then you heard Reiner cough. So he was still alive. Relief washed over you.

"When will we be able to unlock the secrets of the enemy ?"

You manage to sit down, not without coughing up more blood.

"Reiner, you really won't say anything ?" You asked. "Even after everything we went through together, you still can't let us know anything ?"

But Reiner remained silent.

Hange ordered Mikasa to check on Eren and Armin while you stayed there with Reiner.

"If all our discussions meant anything, why suddenly not discuss anymore ? We're understanding, why are you doing all this ? What is outside these walls ?"

"[Name], you should rest. It's no use." Said Hange.

Reiner's jaw was tightly shut. He couldn't say anything. Fuck. He wanted. You had so many things to know about the other world. So many things to discover. He wanted to see your face once you found out about photography. Cars. All those recipes you're missing out on… ice-cream.

He wanted to take you on a date to do all those things. And discover the fair they held each year with those machines and roller coasters. He wanted to offer you one of those cliché plushies you could win. Making you meet Gabi who must've grown out quite a bit. And his mom. God he wanted to say "my boyfriend" when talking about you.

But he didn't have the time to try to even think about saying anything as the four-legged titan came, taking him from Hange's grasp.

[lyledebeast]

Men at Play: the Painful Middle of The Patriot

Whenever I rewatch The Patriot, I always complain about how much the middle of the film drags. I understand the middle to be the stretch that takes us from the meeting where General Cornwallis tells Colonel Tavington no more war crimes to the meeting where he reverses that order. This is the part where the militiamen are camping out, destroying supply trains, killing surrendering British soldiers . . . it's like summer camp, but with murder! The problem is that absolutely nothing that happens in this stretch of the film has much impact on the outcome of the war, certainly not the Battle of Cowpens, which is the last major action in the film. I suppose the militia is able to buy the Continental Army time while they wait for the French to arrive, but we don't see the French until Benjamin Martin's long-ass voiceover monologue that takes us from Tavington's death to the end of the film.

Rather than focusing on what the militia is able to accomplish from a military standpoint by working together, the film centers the personal bonds between these men, who are mostly fathers. It's less like a military operation than an Evangelical Christian men's retreat, but with murder! We've got Gabriel assuring Occam that they are fighting to "build a new world," possibly the most unintentionally ironic exchange in a film full of them. We've got Martin and John Billings reminiscing about their dog-eating past to get a rise out of the minister. Most bizarre of all, we have a conversation between Martin and Jean Villeneuve where the latter loudly describes his personal tragedy to justify his critique of Martin's ban on shooting wounded soldiers. The scenes that do not feature boding between Patriot men show interaction between the militamen and their families (except for Occam because this film utilizes Black actors like it had to pay them all Mel Gibson's salary).

By centering the relationships within Martin's merry band of family men, the film obscures the profound conflict of interest between the men's personal goals and their military ones. Their mission is to do all they can to keep the British in South Carolina, which means the crimes Tavington commits all fall on their families and neighbors. They succeed in the military goal while failing abjectly at the personal one--Martin and Villeneuve in particular put more effort into avenging their children who are dead than protecting anyone still alive--so why isn't military success the main focus?

That it is the main focus among the British characters may be owing to none of them actually having families with them . . . or indeed friends in most cases! A clearer reason, though, is that the British are here to work, even it proves to be "an ugly business." It's easy to see O'Hara and Tavington as the angel and devil perched on Cornwallis's shoulders, trying to steer him in moral or immoral directions respectively. Both have the goal of victory, but it means different things to them, and they pursue it in different ways. When O'Hara stops Tavington from drawing his sword on Martin at the prisoner exchange, he first reasons "If you harm him, you condemn our officers." I'm not sure why that works given that Tavington has just arrived and knows nothing of Martin's claims to have British officers in his custody, but when Tavington replies that Martin has killed as many (???) officers already, O'Hara holds firm. "He has shown no aggression here; hence he cannot be touched."

What follows is one of the best moments in the film for a number of reasons, but one I haven't addressed before is the role O'Hara plays. Even though Tavington pursues Martin again, albeit with his sword sheathed, O'Hara does nothing to stop him. The camera does not show him again, but it's easy to imagine the same look of smug enjoyment we see when he describes Martin to Tavington as "your Ghost" when Martin turns and leaves Tavington practically panting with frustrated desire. I'm tempted to evoke my beloved General Hux from the Star Wars Sequel trilogy here: O'Hara doesn't care if the rebels win; he just needs Colonel Tavington to lose!

But, of course, O'Hara does care about winning. He tries to restrain Cornwallis from sending the rest of his force after Tavington when he prematurely charges at the militia, and even after defeat become obvious to Cornwallis, O'Hara is still suggesting strategies to undo the damage. The last time we see O'Hara, he is again pleading with Cornwallis to do the right thing and surrender himself, but once again the major general's ego prevails. Cornwallis never considers defeat a possibility; his concern at the Battle of Cowpens is that Tavington will steal his glory. It is the same concern he shows at their first meeting (in the extended version) after the Battle of Camden where Tavington also led a premature charge. In two different scenes--both cut from the theatrical release, this one and the private meeting just prior to Cowpens--Cornwallis accuses Tavington of seeking glory and Tavington replies that all he wants is victory. I believe Tavington here. He wants to start over, and if his reputation is one that strikes fear into the surviving colonials, he can certainly live with that. It is Cornwallis who wants glory, and his projection of this desire onto Tavington leads to some devastating decisions on his part.

Ironically, because Corwallis's concerns about Tavington are so well-established so early on in the film, it is easier to understand his response than the utter shock and dismay of the militiamen when they find families they did absolutely nothing to protect killed on the orders of the British officer who has been targeting families from the beginning! Whatever military success they are able to achieve, they do so at the cost of their wives and children's lives, and it still contributes less to the Continental Army's win than the dysfunctional relationships between British officers.

[homosociallyyours]

10&30

THANK YOU FRIEND!!! This got LOOOOOONG so I put it behind a cut. The crime stuff should be better but guess who's not in the right mindset to invent a frame job? It's me, hi.

Framed for a crime they didn't commit/only one bed

OK, it doesn't quite fit but immediately my brain jumped to the Belle & Sebastian song, "White Collar Boy" that describes a guy who stole from his job trying to do his community service until the woman he's chained to decides to escape and drag him along.

In this AU, Harry is the white collar criminal-- he was working at the Gucci store and taking a few goodies for himself when he got caught. But listen, they were damaged, ok?? Like. If you're paying Gucci prices there shouldn't be any loose threads or similar, right? And yeah, sometimes Harry was the one who pulled loose the threads. But in fairness, that sweater looked really good on him!! So did those trousers, I mean-- yes, the squats have done wonders for his arse but those TROUSERS, they took it to the next level!

Unfortunately none of that convinced his manager or the judge, and he considers himself lucky to get assigned to pick up trash at the local pier. At first he gets to do it alone, but after a few weekends he's told he's gonna have a partner. Who he's gonna be cuffed to. The indignity!

But then he SEES said partner.

Louis is all shaggy hair and cigarettes and somehow making the coveralls they have to wear actually look good, and Harry would be smitten with him if not for the fact that he keeps trying to move them further down the pier toward the docks, where they've been told not to go.

It all comes to a head about half an hour before they're supposed to be done for the day. The cop in charge of them comes to herd them back to where they should be and Louis, using the dull end of his plastic trash grabber arm, whacks the cop in the head and bolts, leaving Harry no choice but to follow. When Louis jumps into the trash barge that's headed out, Harry takes the leap too.

Harry freaks out, of course, and they fight about it a little bit before settling down and stewing for a while.

---

"You're not ugly, really," Louis says, chin resting in his hand as he studies Harry in the waning daylight. Harry looks back at him with a withering glare before rolling his eyes and huffing as he tries not to wonder if the trash bag he's lying on just moved, or if it was his imagination.

"Wow, thanks for the compliment," he deadpans.

"I just mean-- you could kiss me if you'd like. Might help the time pass."

Harry scoffs. "My time would be free right now if it wasn't for your shitty little stunt back there, so pardon me for not being entirely thrilled by the idea of snogging you." He squirms into a sitting position, tugging at Louis' arm until he adjusts his position. "Why would I kiss a criminal, anyway?"

"Oh! So you think you're better than me, hm?"

Harry swallows, mentally kicking himself for walking right into that. "Well I'm not the one who-- did whatever you did." Nice one, Harry. Really.

"Mm, that's right. You," Louis studies him for a moment, reaching out with his free hand and picking a bit of trash from Harry's hair, "stole something, didn't you? Nothing much. Bit of petty cash, maybe? Ooh, or a little returns scam at a high end shop." Harry scoffs, looking away from Louis' too blue eyes as he feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment. Before he can deny it, Louis laughs. "I'm right! Aren't I?"

"Yes," Harry says, kicking at the fast food cup that's sticking out of a nearby trash bag and studiously avoiding Louis' gaze.

"And me? What did I do?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Harry asks, picking at a hole in his jeans. "Not a professional criminal who can tell that kind of thing with a look."

It's Louis' turn to scoff. He wrenches his arm away, sending Harry scrambling to keep himself sitting upright. "You're a right prick," he says, crossing his arms over his chest in spite of the fact that it means he's got one of Harry's hands captive there with him, dangling just over his stomach.

"So," Harry says, edging closer. "What did you do, then?"

"Nothing," Louis says simply. Harry shakes his head, gearing up to call him an idiot and a few other names, maybe, when Louis holds a finger up to silence him. "I was framed."

---

So it turns out Louis shared a locker at work with a guy who seemed nice enough, but was actually using the business as a way to build a network of stealing and selling prescription meds and some harder drugs. He'd put a false back into the locker that Louis hadn't even thought to look for, and then when law enforcement figured out where the drugs were coming from, the guy tipped them off.

Louis' escape had actually been planned for a while-- he and his best friend Liam have come up with a way to expose the guy who framed Louis, and he picks them up on a little boat that Louis and Harry have to swim to just as night falls.

They end up having to shower together at Liam's house and share a bed that night, and Louis is actually a very good cuddler, it turns out? Plus he laughs at Harry's dumb puns. And even when Liam's roommate shows up with a saw finally get them (kind of) out the the handcuffs, Harry decides to stick around.

He even takes part in the scheme to catch the guy who framed Louis by pretending to want to buy drugs from him and getting the guy to admit everything on tape. It takes a couple of months, but Louis and Harry do get free and make a nice little life together that's mostly crime free. Unless Harry really needs a little designer shirt, in which case...he might still try to scam it.

[gcat01]

thank you for validating my jean boxer-nose vicquemare visions. I know I could personally make an argument against it considering jeans relative height (you'd need to punch *up*- perhaps the insistent breakage is pre-growth spurt? but I enjoy the thought of gangly preteen jean way too much-) but it feels fitting, the characteristic look of a nose many times broken for him, right? -toolateforus

He grew up in a giant ghetto where crime is rampant so I'm sure he's been in lots of street fights growing up. Also, no one likes the RCM so I'm sure plenty of suspects (and maybe even a few witnesses) have taken a swing at him. Lastly, Harry. I can't imagine these two being through all their shit together and NOT getting into a fistfight with each other at some point.

So yeah, he's definitely had his nose broken before.

[iphone18pham]

New jeans, do you see?

Disclaimers! Bad grammar, Not Proofread,Probs Cringe

Paring: NWJNS x Sick!reader

Masterlist: GG,   BG, Get Up Ablum M.list

Genre: fluff,angst

Synopsis: The reader thinks that Newjeans powerpuff girls are real and that the reader is the bunny and their fighting crime together, but sadly she was told the truth about what happened to them in real life.

requests are open!!!

You woke up feeling a bang to your head and see 5 faces infornt of you. It was your best friends Minji, Hanni Dani, Haerin, and Hyein.

”What happened?” You asked them as you sat up.

“You turned evil and we saved you.” Danielle answered as see was the first to hug you as the rest followed after.

“ Turned evil? What are you guys wearing?”You said as their hair and clothes look different than before.

“ You don’t remember anything?”Haerin asked you as you shaked a no.

“You were hypnotized by a weird doctor person.”Hanni started.

“And were the powerpuff girls your wearing the exact same thing” Minji finished. You looked at yourself as you were wearing a white/grey version of the clothes. You were about to scratch your head as you felt long fluffy ears on your head.

“What's on my head and why is it not coming off ?!” You yelled.

“You don’t remember? You were hit by a radioactive weapon on a mission and you became half human and half a bunny.” Hyein said as she pet your bunny ears to calm you down.

“We should get back home now it's getting late.” Minji said as You guys started flying to your guys house.

“Come on Y/n let's go to our room.” Danielle said as she grabbed your hand and  rushed you to your guys shared bedroom.

Its been a few months with Newjeans and you love it with them. You keep getting flashbacks to your friends in a car with black normal hair but you didn’t think much of it. You decided to sneak up on the members in the living room but you heard them talking about you so you stopped to listen to what they say.

 “We can’t leave her here she has to wake up soon.” Dani said sadly.

“I know but I want her to stay with us it’s way better here than the real world.” Hanni said as she side hugged Danielle.

‘Real world?’ You thought as you started to get a headache

“ Maybe we should tell her the truth.” Hyein suggested.

“No. We don’t want to hurt her more.”Haerin answered.

“Haerin right we can’t just tell her that we are a figment of her imagination and nothing here is real.” Minji said as the others nodded.Your head started to hurt even more, so much that you fell to the ground.

“What was that?” Minji asked as they all stood.

“OMG Y/N! ARE YOU OKAY?” Dani said as she ran to you.

“Yeah but what do you guys mean by not telling me the truth and the ‘real world’” you said as you held your head. Your flashbacks came more clearer, you see five girls laughing and singing in a car.

“Y/N CAN YOU HEAR ME ?” Some member said it as you got another flash back. Five girls on their bikes wearing school uniforms.

“Y/n you need to keep talking to us.”Minji said as she put her hand on your cheek as a tear fell down. Another flashback, you see five girls holding plushies you also holding one.than it switches back to the car. The car stopped unexpectedly; you crashed.it turns black. You see a place with people around you, your vision is blurry and everything hurts . You were being carried in your gurney to a room to help you.

“She’s returning back to the real world” Hyein said trying not cry while hugging you. The rest of them start hugging and encouraging you. You are now getting flashbacks to other stuff like first tooth falling out or first day of middle school, then it turns black. You wake up in a hospital room has the doctors look at you.

“ WHAT HAPPENED AND WHERES THE REST OF THE MEMBERS!?”

“ Y/n I’m sorry but you were the only survivor in the car accident all your friends have sadly passed away while you had a concussion.” The Doctor says.

“N-no T-they’re still here. I-i know they’re still here.” You started crying while yelling. You got out of control so they put anesthesia on you and everything went black. After waking up and calming down you finally took in the words the doctor said. So they’re gone, they would’ve wanted you to live on for them right?

A/N: omg I’m finally done, should i make pt.2. I’m probs gonna cringe at myself when reading this cuz i kinda rushed it but oh well, and don’t worry hopefully my I.n fix will be out soon. Also I’m thinking about getting a txt and enhypen album which albums do you think are worth buying bye!!! Request are open!!!!