#in regards to windows running like shit

[pumpkinstep]

I use this software.

It's an easy way to turn off settings in windows that you'd normally have to put a bit of effort in to find. Settings like trackers and a bunch of other stuff.

It works for windows 10

Revo Uninstaller is a great program for force uninstalling programs you couldn't uninstall otherwise. Like Microsoft Edge.

If you use it to uninstall edge and its not finding the program when you search for it, you'll have to open edge, then use the target mode which allows you to select desired programs manually.

target the opened Microsoft edge window and it'll start the process.

The cool thing about this program is that is does a hard uninstall, completely wipes out everything related to the program and it's stuff in the registry.

might I add, if you uninstall Microsoft edge, it will remove copilot as well. I've done this and it's been a few months since then I think. I've updated my laptop a few times and it hasn't come back. though if you want to avoid edge from coming back with an update, here's a vid on the more indepth process of its removal.

Something I usually do is go into my app manager or program manager window and read through what all is installed. I delete anything I didn't install myself and doesn't have a purpose. If you're not tech savvy, have a web browser open to search for programs you don't recognize. if it looks necessary, leave it alone. Usually windows is pretty good about not letting you uninstall important programs but it's good to play it safe.

Doing this whenever you notice a sudden dip in pc performance is a great way to catch unwanted programs that may have slipped in with something you downloaded recently. Paired with a good anti malware program like Malwarebytes, youre pretty much golden.

last tip.

It's a pretty good practice to Optimize and Defrag your harddrive regularly. It basically does a clean sweep of your harddrive by deleting unnecessary files.

Here's a link to instructions on how to do that. When you set about this process, you should have an option of to what degree the clean up is done (meaning what files is targeted), how regularly this process happens.

It usually deletes residual files, stuff in your downloads folder, trash folder, and stuff like that. you'll get to see what all is there when you do it before you confirm the clean up.

After doing all that, you've got yourself a nice and clean pc that should work better than it did before.

All the programs I linked to are free and can be used without paying for them.

I've been super into computers since I was kid so these are pretty solid methods of pc maintainance on the virtual side. If you have a proper box pc, and I guess if you're feeling brave enough to open up your laptop, don't forget to clean use an air duster to clean out your consul.

I promise you, nothing will help more than a clean pc and cooling fans.

i thought my laptop was on its last leg because it was running at six billion degrees and using 100% disk space at all times and then i turned off shadows and some other windows effects and it was immediately cured. i just did the same to my roommate's computer and its performance issues were also immediately cured. okay. i guess.

so i guess if you have creaky freezy windows 10/11 try searching "advanced system settings", go to performance settings, and uncheck "show shadows under windows" and anything else you don't want. hope that helps someone else.

[pinkprettycure]

i didnt realize there were so many ppl who like, stubbornly were still on win7. and i gotta ask at that point why not just jump to linux 😭 like I get not wanting to deal with modern windows just why r u still on an OS from 2009???

[foldingfittedsheets]

The location of the sex shop I worked was a haven for spiders. We had tall ceilings and skylights and unused storage rooms. It was a spider paradise. We quickly sussed out which coworkers to call on in case of emergency. The Dorito lady was a solid ally for spiders but absolutely petrified of moths.

But there’s actually a hierarchy of fear. Most people don’t realize. The person least afraid is the one forced to deal with the bug in question. If coworker B was scared, but coworker A was petrified, well coworker B was gonna have to screw their courage to the sticking place because by the law of fear they were the most competent person on scene.

Thus enters Rick. Rick first appeared in the back storage room. This room doubled as a second bathroom so we went in on a semi frequent basis. The girl who’d gone in to pee shot out again gibbering with fear about the biggest spider she’d ever seen had just run across her boot.

We sicced Dorito lady on it. She returned, shaking her head. “He was squatting on a power cord where it plugs in. I couldn’t get a clean shot at Rick.”

“Rick?”

She shrugged. “Spiders that big need a name. Seemed like a Rick.”

Rick, freshly named, became a store menace. I’d normally say this was probably a case of multiple spiders being mistaken for one but everyone who encountered him swore up and down there could be no mistake. This spider was massive, fast, and distinct. A gladiator among arachnids.

I never encountered Rick. His exploits grew in the telling but the theme was consistent: no one could kill him. He’d hunker in places that no one could reach and dart away when a strike missed. He also chased off the more faint hearted, charging them in bold dashes. There could be no benign cup transplant to remove Rick from the premise. He was not leaving.

The saga of Rick continued for two months. Not seeing him was almost worse, a fearful wariness when going to the bathroom or stepping into quieter areas. I waited with dread, hoping my eventual run in would have me on shift with Dorito lady to protect me.

It was not to be. There was a girl the same who hated my one moment of singing that was absolute piss-herself scared of spiders. She’d slam straight into a panic attack and couldn’t think or speak. And so it was that one night on shift, I heard her scream.

It was unmistakable. I was in the front window turning off the open sign. Through an obstacle course of mannequins and lingerie I performed an acrobatic sprint out of the window, darting up to find her quivering at the front counter, fully crying. I radiated calm at her and said, “Just point.”

I knew it was Rick. Our destinies were intertwined and we had always been pulled toward the inexorable battle that was drawing nigh.

Her hand raised to point to our sandwich board sign at the front of the store. So Rick had the metaphorical high ground. There was no quick easy strike on the slanted signs surface.

I armed myself and marched into battle, my knuckles white on my chosen weapon. I would do this, because I must. Because there was no one else. And because I wanted to close and go home.

I saw Rick immediately and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger spider since. Outside of a tarantula, he was truly the most massive spider I’ve ever beheld outside a zoo enclosure or terrarium.

We regarded each other. Rick launched off the sign toward me and I stomped my foot reflexively, making him pause in his charge. Then I raised my weapon. Anything else, I believe Rick could have evaded. He’d bested most of the store thus far. But I had chosen chemical warfare.

I doused the shit out of that spider with cleaning spray, stunning him with a barrage of chemicals. While he froze, choking on the unexpected deluge, I dropped a paper towel over him. My foot came down.

I felt his exoskeleton crunch and I can feel it still to this day. The shattering was as of bones and I truly mourned that we had been forced into senseless war. If only he has cleaved tighter to the shadows. If only he’d crawled willing into a cup for relocation. I released a full body shudder of horror, fear, and adrenaline as I stepped back.

I took several quivering breaths. I donned a veneer of calm and tidied the battlefield of it’s corpse then went to reassure my coworker that all was well, while internally I still shook.

You fought well, Rick. I hope you sired many more monstrous children to haunt retail workers in the years to come. Rest in valor, you monster.

[mostly-imagines]

Things About My Jason

aka things that might weasel their way into details of stories one day, might not

your boy is clocking in at 6’4 + 3/4 inches and about 245 lbs (he’s the only batkid to be taller than bruce). 

he cusses a lot it, usually doesn’t correlate w anger or intensity its just how he expresses himself. he’ll cuss at you sometimes but not at you and he tries his best to never do it out of anger.

he’s never said it out loud but he would drop all the vigilante shit for you in a heartbeat if you wanted him to (i think he’s also the only batfam member who would do that).

you have an agreement in place to never make any big decisions in the middle of the night/post patrol—this came into place after a few too many bad nights had him coming home shaking and panicked about your safety and convinced he needed to leave you alone for good. 

he kind of zones out sometimes, its bordering on dissociation.

you have a black cat, salem, that’s been around since before you and jason had even met. his yellow eyes pierce you in a way that feels like he’s glaring straight into your soul and judging what he sees. he was suspicious of jason for a while but over time has come to love and protect jason almost as much as you.

he has a lot of nervous habits that have built up over years of stress and trauma. he’ll often double or even triple check locks and cameras. his hand tends to go to where his gun holster would be, regardless of whether or not its there. he’s very conscious of your breathing, especially when you’re asleep, and when he’s stressed or upset he’ll try to align his breathing with yours. he worries that you might get annoyed with how often he checks up on you, be it asking directly, texting you, or just looking you over to make sure you’re doing okay, that you’re happy. he’s also made a habit of standing directly behind you when you’re wearing anything short, especially skirts or dresses. You’re not entirely sure if it’s intentional or not.

day to day, he runs on very little sleep naturally so he’s awake early goes to bed late. he used to not focus much on making meals that actually taste good and have thought put into them until he started dating you. he started catering his grocery trips specifically with you in mind and the things you might like. he actually prefers going on grocery trips and little mundane errands with you bc he had no idea that these tiny aspects of life could bring him so much joy and peace. he also buys you new towels and updates your first aid kit constantly, though the latter is more out of his necessity than yours. depending on his mood, he’ll usually either take scalding hot or freezing showers. 

he’s 100% down to let you decorate the apartment however you want, even if you move into his place. his only ask is that he’s left with space to put his books (of which ne needs plenty). if he had to choose, he probably likes a warm atmosphere best, in terms of like lighting and colors. he’s really just not a fan of anything that feels cold or impersonal like the manor can sometimes seem. other than that he doesn’t really have opinions on it, whatever makes you happy he’ll like. but he’ll still happily go shopping with you to find stuff. but really that’ll just look like you saying “ooh look at this” and him saying “great, lets get it” at every single thing you pick up. 

there are unloaded guns and ammo hidden around your apartment and also stocked generously in a closet or two. he cleans them regularly, you think he does it partially as a kind of stress reliever. before you he didn’t have too much regard for his own safety, so he would sleep with one under his pillow. 

he does everything he can to keep you safe and he’ll insist on adding extra locks to the doors and windows, ones the landlord wont have keys to. yeah he’s paranoid so he’ll keep the bed as far from the door as possible and is unrelenting in his insistence that you sleep on the wall side. if you’re too tired to move, that’s okay, he’ll gently move you over himself. honestly though, your apartment is just as secure, if not more, than any of his safe houses. as such, he absolutely can and will easily hack into the lobby security cameras to check up on things. if he has to go away for a while he’ll send one of his siblings to stop by to check on you and make sure you're okay. 

he prefers to wear layers, it makes him feel more secure and comfortable. he does like cutoff sleeves sometimes but only because you like them on him. aside from that, he’s usually not such a fan of showing much skin because of a) his scars and b) he feels exposed to attacks. he has so many long sleeved and warm clothes in his closet that he heavily encourages you to bundle up in some of them when its cold. 

he goes through phases of bad sleep and they can vary greatly in severity. there’s nights he just physically cannot sleep and this usually originates from intense anxiety. these are easier to ease him back from and some simple comforting will be enough to get him to at least try to sleep. most commonly its the nightmares that make it hard for him. it’ll usually be a one-off that he just can’t fall back asleep afterwards. the worst is when he goes through phases of frequent nightmares, like every night, multiple times a night. when that happens, he will do everything in his power to stay awake for as long as he can. you’ve yet to find any techniques that hands down prevent or even slow the nightmares, but you’ve been able to find some remedial measures that work pretty well.

kissing him helps get his mind off scary thoughts (but not joker related) but not just like single peck it’s got to be a whole session to really work. the one that works best is having a hand on one of your pulse points while you sleep, or directly over your heart. unfortunately this did lead to him to accidentally choking you after a particularly bad nightmare. he was absolutely horrified and removed his hands from you completely the second he gained recognition. he actually fully got out of bed and backed away from you. he wouldn’t even hear you out about him not sleeping on the couch and continued to not budge on it for over a week. 

him punishing himself like that made you feel extra bad because that had occurred during a round of the relentless nightmares and you were sure he was still waking up panicked constantly without you there to help soothe him. you actually know for a fact he was because every couple of hours the bedroom door would creak open slightly before shutting again like he was checking to make sure you were there and okay. you ended up having to literally lay on top of him on the couch and refuse to leave him for him to agree to sleep in bed with you again, although he was still not willing to fall asleep with his hands on you for a while. 

he always needs it to be quiet when he goes to sleep so he can stay on alert which usually leads to him waking up to the littlest sounds, which is technically the point. if there’s any kind of white noise he’ll force himself to stay awake. if he does get woken up he’ll go from 0 to 100 like that. he also needs the door to be shut, non negotiable, and really prefers the apartment to be colder > hotter. it also helps that you’ll cuddle into him for warmth.

all of these things are things he did before you met, but he’d also developed some new habits after you got together. he used to sleep in the middle of the bed but now he absolutely insists that you sleep on the wall side so he can act as a protective barrier between you and any incoming danger. unless its after a rough patrol, he tends to wait to sleep until after you’ve fallen asleep. he doesn’t really have a reason for this, it just makes him feel better.

his relationship with bruce is complicated, of course. in my canon, the extent of it is that bruce didn’t kill the joker, prevented jason from doing it, and has made many attempts to stop jason from killing at all. obviously it’s not the fact that batman won’t let anybody die that broke jason’s heart, it’s that his father couldn’t let go of his moral code for a second and avenge his murdered son. the resulting anger stems from so much sadness and grief over his own death and it caused him to isolate himself even further from bruce. on a conscious level, he wanted to be far away from him emotionally as possible to protect himself while still enacting his own kind of revenge towards bruce. and so yeah, he did try to kill batman a couple times, whatever.

on an unconscious level, he’d hoped that bruce would take the initiative to try to close the space between them and apologize, and while jason didn’t know it yet: that was all he really wanted from him. inwardly, he still cares what bruce thinks and wants his approval and affection but its so conflicting for him. it also doesn’t help that it took bruce such a long time to swallow his pride and even consider that he was wrong before he could apologize. a lot of negotiations had to take place before they could even begin to really reconcile. 

about a year later they’d come to a steady, solid agreement that mostly worked for both of them. jason was allowed to kill, but only within his territory in gotham and only under agreed upon circumstances. there’s also a separate rule that jason’s not allowed out on patrol when the joker is loose—it used to be a whole thing before you’d met and oftentimes several bats were assigned to keep him away. even with these guidelines in place, things were still rocky between them and jason had only just started to come back around the manor when he’d met you. honestly you and bruce meeting was a major step in this process and everyone could feel the shift.

his relationship with his brothers is different, but just as complicated. he kind of views dick as being perfect in spite of also acknowledging his flaws. in his head, its sort of like, in comparison to himself, dick had the perfect life with perfect versions of all the same pitfalls jason had to go through. he knows its not really fair to think of it this way, but it’s hard sometimes. all in all though, he does look up to dick a lot. 

with tim, he thinks he’s a crazy rich kid—which, fair—but also in a weird way holds a lot of respect for tim for not being afraid of him. realistically, the way jason showed back up and his relationship  with tim started is insane, so its even more insane that tim was like ‘yeah, chill’ and that probably jump started their bond as brothers more than anything. 

for as much shit as he gives him, he honestly feels really bad for damian and all the shit he was raised believing. he couldn’t quite explain why, but he does see a lot of himself in damian, even past the surface level anger. 

he’s not good at resolving fights, his mind tends to jump to the absolute worst and he assumes you’re done with him, you resent him, it’s all over. it was really bad at the beginning of your relationship when he hadn’t even begun to consider that you love him half as much as he loves you. now, you’ve been able to help him understand that you still love him, even when you fight, and fighting does not equal breaking up. however, he still has trouble taking initiative in making amends. not because he doesn’t want to but more so because he feels vulnerable in ways that terrify him, having to acknowledge and speak into existence that he’d done something wrong feels like setting himself up to be exposed with no defense. 

another part of him feels like he already hurt you and if he tries to remedy things with you, he could just make it worse. So for a while at least, you’ll have to be the one to start the conversation, though not necessarily meaning you have to apologize first. 

as we know, Jason’s not immune to bouts of fear and stress. there’s times when he panics and there’s times when he has full blown panic attacks. the panic attacks are rarer, but much more severe. he’s known to lash out (especially when he’s not at your apartment) and has definitely broken a nose or two of people who got too close/tried to touch him. you’re not sure if it’s an intentional action or not, but he tends to claw at his skin or hit himself in the head when he’s very upset. after going through a couple of these with him, you’ve compiled a thorough list of DOs and DONTs for these times. DONT hold his wrists, move suddenly, touch him without warning, or corner him. DO keep your touches light, words soft, rooms vacant of other people, and loud noises. slowly but surely they’re getting less severe and overcome quicker.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Chocolate and Cream

Eddie x Venom x Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, SMUT, inappropriate use of chocolate, Venom's tongue should be a warning on its own, oral (Fem Receiving), piv sex, creampie, protected sex (personal headcanon that Venom can make it so the baby batter don't bake ;)), Venom is a great source of birth control, a bit of fluff, food play(?), Eddie and Venom love you so much, spme anal, squirting, Eddie and Venom definitely bang too tho IMO (PSA: PLEASE DO NOT PUT CHOCOLATE ON YOUR KITTY LADIES THAT'S HOW YOU YOU GET INFECTIONS)

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Woo! My first Eddie/Venom fic! (Technically) This is based off a private fic an old friend of mine requested that I wrote years ago, adjusted more for a curvy reader, part of some of my self-indulgent fics regarding us gals on a thicker scale :)

🖤📷🖤📷🖤📷🖤📷🖤📷

You took one last look in the mirror, proudly nodding your head at your handiwork. It was a pain in the ass, for sure to get done, but with the help from some people in an anonymous kink forum, they were able to help you get this surprise for your lovely boyfriends.

You see, one of your boyfriends had this "thing" for chocolate. He needed to consume an insane amount of it or he'd have to resort to... other methods of gaining a certain chemical to sustain himself...

And of course, that's how this lovely idea came to be. Edible panties were soooooo boring!

Your body covered in chocolate-based body paint however...

You had painstakingly painted cute little hearts over your body, with some artistic swirls for extra flair. You kept your apartment freezing to avoid your body heat melting it too much, or while you painted around your nipples, the rolls of your belly, and of course somewhere far more intimate...

Then came the waiting game. You didn't know when they'd be home from running their "night errands". You knew full well what that meant, and you didn't really focus too much on that fact. It helped you sleep easier at night

You should have thought this through, though. If you sat down on your couch, the chocolate would stain it. You could sit on one of your dining chairs, but the surface was far too cold for your poor bare ass to handle right now.

Shit. Well, you could always--

You jumped back with a shriek, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and held it out, obscuring the view of your body from the hulking dark mass that squeezed through your apartment's window.

You relaxed slightly, your breath escaping you in a sigh.

"Venom!" You scolded. "You gave me a heart attack! Why can't you and Eddie use the front door?"

The large creature grinned, revealing jagged fangs that sent shivers of excitement up your spine. Or maybe you were just cold.

"It is faster, this way." Venom replied.

He tilted his head at you, and how peculiarly you were holding the blanket, concealing yourself from him. Then... He tipped his head back, sniffing the air.

"We smell chocolate." He growled, his voice excited as he tilted his head at you. "Are you baking, sweet thing?"

You suddenly felt very small, very awkward. Like a bunny caught in the trap about to be devoured by a hungry wolf. You'd be lying if you didn't feel a little turned on.

You also felt very stupid. God, this was so silly. Why did you...

Venom began to stalk closer, having to lean down to avoid hitting his head on your low ceiling.

"What are you hiding, sweet thing?" His voice rumbled lowly.

"Uhm..." You peep, squirming backwards, awkwardly looking around for a way out of this stupid situation you got yourself into.

"What." Venom said, each word punctuated by a step. "Are. You. Hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything!" You lie.

"Really?" He purrs, his tongue laving out to taste at the air. "Because it smells like you're hiding something delicious from us."

"I..." You take a step back further, only to bump into the wall, squealing when your bare back makes contact with the cold drywall.

And in a blink of your eyes, Venom was there, his large, opalescent eyes narrowing at you, his maw curling into a lascivious grin.

Yeah. He was definitely salivating.

"What are you hiding behind the blanket, sweet thing?" He purred once more, his massive paws gripping the plush knit quilt.

"Uh--"

"Last chance."

"It's... Uh...." You flounder for an excuse.

In the span of a few seconds, the blanket is ripped away and you squeak, your arms locking and Venom's eyes get big and his head rocks back as he looks down at you.

(Holy shit.) Eddie's voice breathed from inside his head.

Venom's grin spreads even wider as he tilts his head slowly in the other direction. "I knew you were hiding something delicious."

"I just... I wanted to, uh..."

Venom pressed his mouth to your throat, and you could feel his heavy, wet breaths as he inhaled your scent, his large hands gripping the upper parts of your arms as he held you there, against the wall, just breathing.

It felt like forever you were standing there, the feeling of him just... breathing on you was enough to get you hot and bothered.

"You smell delicious." He grumbled against your throat, opening his mouth to let his tongue slide out.

The moment it wrapped around your throat was electric. It sent a throb of arousal straight through to your core.

You let out a watery sigh, your breaths leaving you in trembled gasps as his tongue slides lower, through the chocolate on your sternum, and wrapping around your pebbled nipple, the chocolate melting and smearing under his hot breath and saliva.

"Did you do this for us, sweet thing?" Venom asked as he pulled away, looking down at you. "You wanted to surprise us? Hmm?"

"I... I got the idea online, and..." You said, somehow finding it within yourself to still be embarrassed.

"It is a tasty surprise." He said lowly, curving a taloned finger along your cheek. He leaned in and placed a small, unusually chaste kiss to your cheek.

"But you definitely taste better." He whispered into your ear.

You couldn't suppress the little noise that comes from your throat.

"Let us clean you, sweet thing."

Fuck, why did his voice have to have that bone-vibrating frequency? Why the fuck did it have to be so sexy?! Him and Eddie both! Especially Eddie's morning voice! Ugh! It wasn't fair how easy they could just render you stupid.

Venom got on his knees in front of you and brought his mouth to your chest, swiping his hefty tongue through the chocolate, a low rumbling emitting from him the whole time, sending those wonderful tremors through your very bones as he took his time cleaning you, licking up every drop of chocolate from your body, moving lower and lower...

Fuck, you'd swear Venom's purring would be a great substitute for a vibrator. Not that you ever needed one. The moment Venom could pick up on your scent and told Eddie, they were all over you. It was especially bad when you were about to start your cycle. Venom would go feral and pounce on you the moment he picked up on your hormones.

Your train of thought derailed somewhere around the thought of that one time Eddie woke you up with his hand between your legs and crashed into the station of Venom's tongue plunging through your now-soaked folds.

"We were right. You do taste better." Venom purred right into your cunt, making you gasp and cry out. "Though the chocolate compliments your taste well."

"Fuck!" You cry as he hoists your legs over his shoulders, pushing you up the wall with how forcefully he was thrusting his tongue inside of you; his massive arms caging you in and his hands groping and squeezing at your breasts as he voraciously ate you out.

You felt his tongue press against that wonderfully world-spinning spot inside your spongy walls, drawing out and drinking down more and more of your slick as he snarled into your puffy folds.

Your nails clawed at his arms, doing no damage to his odd "skin", and if anything it was encouraging him to go further.

You felt the tip of his tongue press on your cervix before rolling back around and curling, the pink muscle writhing and wriggling inside of you like it was fighting desperately to become a part of you.

You had half a thought to let Venom bond with you for a little while and do something like this with Eddie...

You practically sobbed when Venom brought one of his hands down, squeezing the plush rolls on your belly, kneading them lovingly before pressing down beneath your belly button, where he could feel his tongue bulge and roil inside of you.

The orgasm that you were starting to feel build exploded, going off before you had a chance to prep, your eyes rolled back and you arched your spine, your mouth opening in a silent cry, your body unable to find its voice as everything came crashing down onto you; his tongue eagerly lapping up each drop, every bit of your sweet cream.

The moment his tongue slid out of you, you felt empty, bereft of his contact. You whined when he pulled away, and he kissed your neck, licking the skin again.

"Don't worry, sweet thing. Eddie just wants his turn with you, now." He snarled, easing you down onto the floor, his hands caressing your legs gently as he stood.

As his head reached height with yours, his scary, alien visage peeled and melted away, revealing Eddie's gorgeous eyes, full lips, and patchy stubble.

"Hey, baby." He chuckled, giving you a kiss as he pulled you against him.

"Hey..." You said, your voice weak and shaky.

"Nice surprise, by the way." Eddie smirked at you, his hands going down to grope and squeeze at your plush ass, his thumbs tracing every dimple. "Vee loved it."

"I could tell." You smile up at him.

"So... Let's move the after party to someplace more comfortable, huh?"

🖤📷🖤📷🖤📷🖤📷🖤📷

God it always surprised you. It didn't matter which one of them fucked you, but somehow they always did it in a way that made you feel like they were trying to bully their way into your guts with their cock.

You whimpered as Eddie hugged your legs against his chest, snapping his hips up into you with so much vigor that he kept rocking you up the couch cushions. Hell, one of the cushions was a few thrusts from being pushed off the couch entirely.

"Fuck you're so fucking tight." Eddie groaned, looking down at you as every soft part of your jiggled and bounced with the force of his thrusts. He loved how you looked when you were utterly fucked out. Venom did, too. Venom's favorite "hobby" that Eddie teased him for, was how he loved to grab you and squish you in his hands, and move you up and down on his cock like a sweet, soft little toy.

Of course, you enjoyed it, too.

Eddie moved your legs so they were on either side of him now as he leaned down and kissed you hard, his plush lips and tongue greedily dancing with yours, your soft hands sliding up his back, feeling the droplets of sweat roll off of him.

Eddie had hips, and he certainly knew how to use him. The way he arched his back and gyrated them, you were tempted to joke and say he should start pole dancing. Maybe you'd bring it up with him when he wasn't currently stuffing you nine different kinds of full with his fat cock.

The tickling of the short hairs at the base made contact with your clit at every thrust, sending little flames of pleasure licking up your spine.

"Eddie..." You moaned, gripping hard at his shoulders and squirming your hips against his.

He gritted his teeth and groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. "Fuck, baby." Eddie hissed, "You gettin' close?"

"Mhmm--" You say, nodding with a weak mewl.

You feel him grin against your throat and he sucked on your skin, leaving a nice, dark present on your skin. He pulled away, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Oh-kay--" He grunted, leaning back as he slowed his thrusts almost torturously slow.

The black mass that is Venom slinked around Eddie's torso, thick tendrils moving out and gripping beneath your knees, gently forcing them as comfortably close to your head as possible, your cunt fluttering gorgeously around Eddie's cock so well that you felt Venom shudder.

Eddie stopped moving for a second that felt like hours, before he leaned over, one hand on the back of the couch and the other gripping the arm of it behind your head before sending on hard, brutal thrust down.

The moment he did that, you shrieked so loud you were sure your downstairs neighbors could hear you--hell, maybe the people down in the street heard how well Eddie was fucking you (with Venom's help, of course).

The sinful sound of his cock sliding in and out of your hole, your slick-coated skin slapping against each other was deafeningly loud to your ears as he fucked you with his newfound leverage over you, hitting your g-spot at just the right angle it had your brain going almost numb from the pleasure.

When you cum, you cum hard. You soak Eddie's stomach and your thighs as your pussy clamps down on him. You got so tight that Eddie's pace stuttered and almost stopped, a gravelly whine crawling out of his throat.

"God... Fuuuuuck, baby..." He panted hard, grinding his hips down into yours, bringing his knee up and pressing one of your thighs tighter to your body.

"E-Eddie--" You mewl.

"Just--Just a bit more, baby, I promise." Eddie hissed, his eyes closing in pure bliss as he fucks the absolute heaven that is your sweet little cunt.

"God--damn!" Eddie practically squeaked.

You see Venom's head materialize over his shoulder and he grinned down at you through your glazed-over eyes.

Oh god. That was a favorite trick Venom liked to pull. Whenever Eddie was close to coming, sometimes Venom liked to force a tendril up his ass, squirming and tickling his prostate.

"Vee, you little shit--!" Eddie moaned.

"Keep fucking her, Eddie." Venom purred, his tongue sliding around Eddie's throat.

"Gonna beat your fucking--" He hiccuped, his hips stuttering and jolting into yours. "--beat your ass for this..."

"You say that every time. NOW KEEP FUCKING HER." Venom snapped, forcing the tendril deeper into Eddie's ass, this time pressing with more force on his prostate, eliciting a broken moan from him as he slapped his hips harshly into yours, your sweet cunt leaving a nice creamy ring around the base of his cock.

"Fuck, baby..." You whine, feeling tears burn in your eyes as your second orgasm starts to build.

Venom can sense it, and you were fucked the moment his head snapped to look at you.

Completely, utterly fucked.

A smaller tendril splits off from the ones still pinning your legs up, and latches onto your clit, pulling and tugging and rolling in a way that has the air knocked out of your lungs.

"Oh shhhii-iIiIII-iit..." You sob, clawing desperately at Eddie's shoulders, feeling Venom's tongue wrap around one of your wrists, eagerly lapping at your skin as if he could taste your nectar from that alone.

You and Eddie cum almost simultaneously, your orgasms slamming you like a runaway freight train.

You once again soak Eddie's stomach and crotch, your spray and cum dripping down to soak the couch cushions as Eddie's hot seed floods your soft, now-pliant walls, groaning as Venom presses inside of him, making his hips jerk until he's fucked every last drop into you.

Venom finally releases the two of you and Eddie collapsed, Eddie laying across your plush body, your rolls, and cute squishy fat being the perfect pillows for him. (Your breasts too, as he buried his face in them.)

The two of you breathe hard, your sweat mingling between your bodies as you cool off, shivers causing goosebumps to rise up and down Eddie's back as his heart slowed, the heavy echoes still pattering against yours.

"Eddie?" You breathe.

"Yeah." He grunted, voice muffled by your breasts.

"I think we're going to need to steam clean the couch."

Eddie and Venom both broke out laughing.

And here you were, worried about chocolate staining your couch. Turns out it was the cream that was the problem.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

So Hear My Voice Remind You Not to Bleed

Pairing: Daryl Dixon and Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Injuries; angst

Summary: You're injured and benched, unable to go with Daryl on runs. When someone else is brought in to take your place, it does not go well.

A/N: for @darylsgarden. I had mixed feelings about this and had a couple of wonderful friends ( thank you @shadowcitrine and @enlightndone!🩵) read it and help me out. I hope it's at least close to what you were looking for 🩵

*gif is not mine

“It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Uh huh.” Daryl stopped preparing his bag and stepped across the living room, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. “Then walk over here without limpin’.” You narrowed your eyes and pushed yourself up off the couch, setting your jaw. 

You didn’t even make it a single step before falling forward with a choked off shout. 

And, of course, he was there to catch you as you crumbled. 

“Thought so.” He said with a hint of a smirk, depositing you back onto the couch. “Doc said ya gotta stay off’a it a couple’a weeks an’ that’s whatcha gonna do.” You whined and flopped around like a fish out of water. “Stop.” He chuckled, grabbing his bag. “Got paired up with someone who just got here ‘til ya get better.”

You stilled, brow creasing. “You got a new partner. Who said? Rick?”

Daryl continued to shoulder his bag, then his crossbow. “Deanna.” Why would Deanna step in? “Said she needs to see what the woman can do to help. She’s s’posed to be good with a bow but I dunno.”

Woman? Bow? You already didn’t like this suggestion. “Oh.” It was all you could think of to say. You didn’t want him to go before when you thought he was going out alone. Now that you knew he was going with a strange woman, you really didn’t want him to go. But why? Daryl was your best friend. You didn’t have any say in his comings and goings, and why should you? 

A knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts, Daryl watching you with a flat expression. 

“Guess that’s her. See ya.” He started toward the door, and you found yourself leaning nearly off the couch to see who was on the other side. When he opened it, your breath caught. 

Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, a bow and quiver somehow anchored to her back. She was almost as tall as Daryl, lean and curvy in all the right places. Shit. She was gorgeous. 

“Uh, bye.” You muttered. Daryl didn’t even regard you. Maybe he hadn’t heard. Or maybe he was too busy ogling the beautiful woman in front of him. You couldn’t tell from his position. What you could see was the woman giving your run partner an appreciative once over before smiling. 

“Hey! You must be Daryl. I’m Angie.” She held out a hand, which the archer ignored with a grunt, pushing his way past her to walk to his bike. He was taking the bike? You sighed. You weren’t supposed to care. Daryl was your friend. Not your—he was your friend. 

And you just kept telling yourself that. 

Even a week later, when you were able to be up and about but not without difficulty, things felt—different. Daryl was always gone with Angie, like he was at that very moment. Now that you could actually move, you went about slowly cleaning up the house the two of you shared and started making something for dinner. You could leave Daryl’s in the oven for him to eat later. 

You had just finished your own when you heard the roar of the bike, saw the headlights illuminate the walls inside the dining room window, sending the shadows scattering. You found yourself excited to see him, to show him you were mobile. Hobbling over to the window, you felt silly for the ridiculous smile splitting your face but you didn’t feel that way for long. 

Angie was standing in front of Daryl at the bike, her bow in her hand at her side. He had already unlatched his crossbow from the back of the bike and had it across his back. She was smiling brightly with her perfect teeth and small creases next to her bright blue eyes, looking every bit like a model in the middle of the apocalypse. And Daryl—his lips were turned up on one side, a very Daryl smile that he gave when he was relaxed and in a good mood. 

You had known the man since the quarry and it had taken months to earn that smile. Angie was getting it in less than a week? 

You should have turned away. Spying on them wasn’t right. Daryl wouldn’t be pleased if he caught you, no matter what he was doing. He never liked feeling as though he was being watched too closely. 

You should have turned away but you didn’t. 

And then you wished you had. 

Angie reached out as she spoke, her words muffled and distorted through the glass. Her long, slender fingers wrapped around his bicep and squeezed, her thumb stroking the skin there. Daryl glanced at her hand but that was it. He didn’t ask her to remove it, didn’t step back to increase the distance between them. 

You didn’t want to admit that you were jealous. Even as your mind and heart both screamed only I can touch him that way—for two entirely different reasons—you refused to grant it a name. 

You couldn’t take anymore, limped away from the window and climbed the stairs with more than a few whimpers of pain. Daryl would usually help you to your room at night and back down in the mornings. But you didn’t want to see him, felt an anger toward him that was just as confusing as it was unjustified. You felt the same anger toward Angie, a woman you knew nothing about beyond the things Daryl would tell you. 

And he didn’t tell you a lot. 

You still should have been happy that Daryl both wanted to share something with you and that he had found someone that seemed to make him happy enough to gab about them, limited as it was. 

But you weren’t happy. 

It hurt. You hurt. Your heart felt constricted, wrapped in a cord that would tighten with each breath, faster and faster with each moment you spent thinking of him just outside, smiling at her. 

She didn’t deserve his smile. 

She hadn’t been there when Merle was left behind in Atlanta. She hadn’t been there when Sophia went missing and Daryl ran himself ragged trying to find her. She wasn’t the one to care for him after he’d fallen and was shot. She hadn’t been the one whose arms he’d finally chosen to let hold him when Merle died. She hadn’t run to him and felt his relief at being reunited after Terminus. She hadn’t walked along with him and coaxed him to drink just enough water to stay alive on the road. And she damn sure hadn’t stood up and told everyone he needed his own place in Alexandria so he wouldn’t feel more trapped than the gates already made him feel. 

That had been you. Always you. 

The door opened and closed downstairs, your name being called. You could hear the concern, knew it would be there at not finding you downstairs. You shimmied out of your jeans and climbed into bed—your back to the door—and just listened. Daryl methodically looked around, his voice carrying from different rooms throughout his search. Your room would be last because it would be the last place he’d think of you being. Not without his help. 

The oven door opened and closed, too quickly for him to grab the food. He was checking to make sure you had been there. Likely spotted your used dishes as well. You barely heard his boots on the stairs. Daryl, for all his height and muscle, moved like a spirit. Still, you knew his gait, what to listen for that signaled his approach. 

You drew up the comforter just as the soft knock came and a quiet call of Y/N? that you decided to not answer. The light from downstairs was pale in your room, starting on the floor and soon bathing your bed and walls. He didn’t say anything, simply closed the door and descended the stairs just as quietly. 

And somehow, that’s what made the tears come. 

There were two days of tense air in the house before Daryl’s next run. Your ankle had improved but you were still unable to put weight on it. Denise advised you to stay off of it but you had waved her off with a yeah yeah, absolutely zero intention of heeding her advice. 

When you arrived at your home, Angie was already leaning against Daryl’s bike like she belonged there. The sight infuriated you. Your attempt to pass her by was quickly foiled by the woman herself, her hand coming up to tap a finger on your shoulder. 

“It’s Y/N, right?” 

Sighing, you turned, sitting your bad foot up on the toe of your boot to keep the pressure from taking you down. “Yeah.”

“I’ve been dying to meet you. Daryl’s told me a lot about you.”

“Funny. He hasn’t told me much about you.” She didn’t seem fazed. I’m glad he’s so chatty with you. “Nice to meet you.” You said in place of your inner monologue. “Excuse me.” You started to turn when she stood straight. 

“Hey, uh—I was just wondering. Are you and him a thing?” She flipped her hair—braided today—over her shoulder. 

“A thing?” You knew exactly what she meant, but feigned ignorance. It was not a conversation you wanted to have. 

“Yeah, you know—a couple.”

Closing your eyes, you inhaled through your nose and exhaled through your mouth. “No. Why?” You didn’t even realize you had clenched your fists until her eyes flitted down and back up, forcing you to relax lest she tell Daryl you were being hostile toward her. 

“No reason. He’s a great guy, isn’t he? Handsome too.” Now she was just trying to push your buttons. 

“Yeah. The best, actually.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, do not cry. “Don’t hurt him.” You said flatly—a clear warning—and limped your way up the steps and inside. 

“Where ya been?” Daryl’s voice greeted you before the door had even closed. He was on the couch, lacing up his boots. You regarded him silently for a moment, allowing Angie’s words to sink in before setting your jaw and squaring your shoulders.

“I’m going with you today.”

His hands stilled, frozen for a moment before he sat back a little and placed his forearms over his knees. Piercing blue eyes scanned over you before settling on your bum ankle, the urge to place your foot flat on the floor too intense to disregard. “Nah. Y’ain’t ready.”

“You don’t get to make that call.” You snapped, more harshly than you had intended, but it got your point across. His eyes narrowed, his own jaw tightening.

“Maybe not, but I do get to say who goes with me an’ it ain’t you. Not today.” The archer went back to his boots while you gaped at him, lacing the right one up before getting to his feet and grabbing his things.

“Why not? Because suddenly Angie is better than me?”

Daryl scoffed. “Stop.” He went for the door, opening it a couple of inches before your palm landed flat against the surface and shoved it closed. “The hell ya doin’?!”

“I won't stop.” You mocked, drawing your lips back in a snarl. “You’ve been up her ass since you met her. Hardly ever here and when you are, you don’t even talk to me.” 

“The fuck you on ‘bout? We go on runs, get the things people need. Ya forget food an’ meds ain’t just down at the convenience store anymore, Y/N?” He pulled the door open again, and again, you pushed it shut. “Let go.” His voice had dropped into that serious tone, the warning before the anger.

“No. I’m going with you. I’ll let you open this door when you agree to that.” You stood straighter, tucking your lip between your teeth to stave off the whimper when you dared place your weight on the healing ankle. Of course, Daryl and his hyper awareness caught it.

“Guess it ain’t openin’ cause y’ain’t goin’.” He tried once more with the same result, this time letting his burdens fall to the floor in order to face you, nearly nose to nose. “Alright, ya got my attention.” He growled. It had been so long since he had spoken to you with such enmity, you couldn’t suppress a jarring flinch. 

Swallowing hard, you attempted to control the wobbling of your bottom lip. “Please, take me with you.”

“How many times I gotta say no?! Y’need to take your ass to that couch an’ let your damn ankle heal ‘fore I even think ‘bout lettin’ back out there.”

“Daryl.”

“No, Y/N.”

With a deep breath through your nose, you stepped backward, freeing up the space. “Fine. But maybe you should stay with Carol for a while when you get back.” Giving him your back, you didn’t bother to hide the limp. 

“Y’don’t mean that.” 

You needed to force yourself to keep walking when you heard the dejection in his tone. “I do.” You didn’t. “I don’t need you here.” You did. 

“Y/N—”

“Angie’s waiting.” You detoured at the last second and veered into the kitchen, seeing him from the corner of your eye, his hand lowering as if he had been reaching for you. Your heart was beating in your ankle by the time you were leaning heavily against the countertop. 

When the door closed, the floodgates opened. 

Two days. Daryl and Angie had been gone for two days. It wasn’t anything new to be held up on a run, but there were always close calls involved and you couldn’t imagine Daryl battling his way through herds or humans without you at his side. The two of you predicted one another’s movements, flowing and fighting together like a well oiled machine, always ending up victorious and on your way home. 

Did he have that with her now? 

“You know it’s not like that with the two of them, right?” Carol looked up from beneath her lashes as she chopped up the herbs and available vegetables for the stew. You knew it was more of an admonishing statement and not entirely a question.

“I don’t know that and neither do you.” You replied bitterly before tipping your glass to your lips. Carol smiled, that suspicious grin like she knew something you didn’t. 

“I know Daryl.” She picked up the cutting board and used the knife to scrape the occupying ingredients into the pot. “Why does it bother you so much anyway?”

“He’s my best friend.” The answer came out a little too quickly.

The other woman chuckled. “Is that all?” 

“Yes.” You countered almost gibingly. She only spared you an arched brow before turning to place the pot on the stove. You decided to ignore the intensely foreign fluttering in your chest and began spinning the glass between your palms. “Do you think they’re okay?”

“I—”

The knock at the door was sudden and urgent, repeating after only a few heartbeats. Your questioning expression met Carol’s. Spinning on the island stool, you eyed the door until it was opened. Carol’s hand on the edge tightened until her knuckles were white, but you could only make out quiet words and someone’s heavy breaths. Hobbling from your perch, you grabbed the door and pulled it back further. 

Angie was a mess, covered in dirt and blood and walker innards. “Y/N.” She panted. 

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. “Where’s Daryl?” You didn’t remember ducking beneath Carol’s arm or pushing past Angie. The pain in your ankle became a mere afterthought as you walked backwards toward the steps, awaiting information. 

“He’s in the infirmary. He’s asking for you.” 

You didn’t wait, running with only the slightest hitch in your step. Daryl was more important than any amount of discomfort. Your mind was running rampant with scenarios. What if he was bit? Dying? What if he died before you made it to him? The last thing you had said to him was that you didn’t need him. 

And it was such a lie. 

“Y/N, wait!”

You tried to ignore her, the infirmary within sight. You needed to get to him so that you could breathe again. 

When her hand caught your shoulder, you reacted almost violently, throwing her away from you and almost to the dirt. “What?!” You bellowed. “What could possibly be more important than Daryl right now?!”

“Lana is!” She answered quickly. “My Lana!” Breathing heavily, you shook your head and threw out your arms, a silent but gestured question. “My wife.”

You felt like the wind had been punched right out of you. “Your—your wife?” Damn you, Carol!

“Yeah. I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”

“You’re telling me.” You muttered, looking toward the infirmary with an expression of remorseful longing. 

“I asked those questions because—because that man is so obviously head over heels for you that it’s absurd he hasn’t made a move. I thought maybe—maybe I could push things along.” She rubbed at the back of her neck, her eyes brightening at something she saw just over your other shoulder. When you turned, a dark haired woman was making her way over, a toddler on her hip. “I just—he’s not much of a talker—until I mention you.” Another glance at the other woman. “I’m sorry.”

When she started to leave, you reached out a hand, the new information still pinballing around in your head. “I’m sorry.” You had treated her—thought of her—so unfairly, and still, she smiled at you. 

“Go on. He’s waiting for you.” And then she was walking away to kiss her wife before converting to a motherly gentleness, her lips pressed to her son’s forehead.

God, you were an asshole.

To her. 

To Daryl. 

Your ankle only received a moment to remind you it was still weak before you continued your journey to the infirmary. 

“M’fine! Quit proddin’ at me!”

The sound of his voice gave your heart permission to beat again. You stood at the door, listening to him argue with Denise until the woman finally gave up with a huff and a clang of metal. Opening the screen door, you limped inside with a hiss, the adrenaline draining out of you, no longer blanketing the pain. You would definitely be set back a week or so after this. 

Daryl was on the exam table, filthy and cut up, shirt open and left foot propped up on a pillow. You could have laughed at the irony if you weren’t so relieved at seeing him there and breathing and whole. Alive. 

His ranting came to an abrupt halt when he noticed you in the doorway, eyes softening. His entire body seemed to visibly relax with an audible exhale. 

“Y/N.”

You didn’t even try to control your quivering lip this time and rushed to cross the distance even with Denise scolding you in the background. 

Your arms wound around his neck and his around your back. “Daryl. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it—I didn’t—”

“S’fine. Know ya didn’t.” He whispered against your temple. Denise cleared her throat behind you and the weight of one of Daryl’s hands disappeared before returning with renewed pressure. The sound of the door opening and closing signaled that he had—in one way or another—told Denise to get lost. Neither of you spoke until you pressed your face into the side of his neck and began to sob. “Hey, m’okay. Just fell on my ass.”

“How?” You sniffled. 

“Window was in my way.”

You laughed wetly, his shoulders bouncing with a breathy chuckle of his own. 

“Idiot.” You chided, pulling away to wipe at your eyes. He watched you gather your bearings, blue eyes dancing between yours. “Are you really okay?”

“Yeah.” His hand was so gentle against your face, thumb sweeping over your cheek to wipe away the tears. “Need to talk to ya ‘bout Angie.”

You shook your head but placed your hand upon his so that he didn’t dare move it. “She beat you to it. I’m so sorry. I was being a jealous asshole.” He tilted his head and squinted. 

“Jealous cause I was spendin’ so much time ‘round her?” It was like he knew the answer that you hadn’t quite accepted as truth yourself. 

“Among other things.” You rubbed your lips together and ducked your head. Daryl hummed in question, his hand sliding down to your jaw, thumb absently stroking across your bottom lip. Your voice instantly decided to become lost in your throat, your mouth opening when his hand fell away. “Daryl, I—” You almost bolted, felt the insane urge to run begin to vibrate throughout your legs from a nervous twitch that started in your stomach and spread throughout your chest.

“That man is so obviously head over heels for you—”

Your lips were on his before your brain had even fully given the order for you to move, likely startling you just as much as it had him—if the sharp inhale through his nose was anything to go by. So, you stayed there, frozen with your mouth against his, neither of you moving until it was so awkward that you thought more than once of how great it would be for the earth to open up and swallow you. Humiliation coloring your cheeks, you began to pull away—and then his mouth moved over yours, his warm palm coming to rest on the side of your neck. Brilliant as you were, you pulled back in shock, wide eyes blinking at him. Cerulean pools were shimmering with horror and shame.

“That bad, huh?” He asked, dropping his hand and picking at a patch of dry skin on his palm. His eyes lowered to follow the movement.

“No!” You blurted. Daryl actually flinched and reeled back. “No, no. It wasn’t—there’s no way it could be—ah, fuck it.” Your hands cupped either side of his face, pulling him to meet you in the middle. There was no hesitance on either side, mouths moving, tongues dancing, a delicate exploration of new territory, both literally and figuratively. His hands settled on your ribs, fingers flexing, trying to pull you closer when there was already so little space between you. 

When you parted, it wasn’t from a lack of oxygen, but from Daryl attempting to alter the angle, forgetting that you were no longer alone in the land of bum ankles.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

You pulled away and jumped back, hands in the air to ensure he knew that you were no longer touching him—as if he weren’t already missing it. “What? What happened?”

“Ankle.” He hissed, gingerly placing his foot back on the pillow. Once the pain had ebbed, he chuckled and beckoned you back over with a wave. “Looks like we’ll both be trapped at home, sunshine.”

“There are worse things.” You brushed a strand of hair away from his face. “We have to talk about this.” You knew you sounded scared, and you were. Everything had just changed in the blink of an eye, the man you knew as your best friend had just suddenly become more, and it was terrifyingly exciting.

“Yeah, I know. Couch ain’t big enough for both’a our lame asses.”

You giggled and shook your head. “Guess it’s off to Carol’s extra bedroom.” When he arched a dark brow, you etched the most serious expression you could summon onto your face. “Strictly for logical reasoning, Mr. Dixon. We can’t climb stairs. She has one bedroom on the first floor. Lecher.” 

“First time I been called that.” He gave you that smile, the one that was so special, and seeing it then, you realized that he hadn’t given Angie that smile at all. It was yours and yours alone.

And you’d need to thank the gorgeous woman with the bow.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {7}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Your mother finally gets the truth out of you regarding Max. Warnings: 18+ only, swearing, angst WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight

The double bed was definitely not made to accommodate three people, even if you were all spooning, so you found yourself sneaking out at sunrise. You hadn’t been able to sleep with the thoughts running through your head, wondering why Max couldn’t have been more like your mother. You weren’t worried about waking Lando as you climbed out from between them, since you didn’t have an air horn on you, but you were careful not to jostle Charles who was a much lighter sleeper.

After changing into a pair of leggings and a sports bra, you found your airpods and shoved the Aura ring back on your finger before taking a lap of the village. You quickly settled into a good pace, feeling the rhythmic slap of your trainers on the pavement and timing your breathing to match. It cleared your mind and gave you a focus on something other than everything else that was happening around you. For those precious minutes you didn’t think about Max.

So far you had managed to avoid talking about him with your mum, though that was mostly thanks to being blindsided by your relationship status - it had been enough to distract her for the rest of the day. You weren’t so sure that luck would last another 24 hours but you would certainly try.

“Just leave her be, she’ll come in when she’s ready.” Your mother had been watching you all morning from her spot on the window seat, a cup of tea in hand. After Charles had woken up he had joined her and watched curiously, wondering why you were in the garden. “Avoiding me,” she said with a knowing smile. “It’s funny that the only times she would willingly do her chores were when she was trying to hide. It was a dead giveaway, but I never said anything. It was just nice to not have to ask her to do them.”

Charles chuckled as you battled to trim the agapanthus with a pair of rusted and blunt shears. “Should I offer to help?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head, checking the time on her watch. “She’s nearly done.”

Charles quirked an eyebrow as he looked at the progress that had barely started to make a dent in the long drive.

“Fuck,” you hissed as you the slimy residue that leaked from every cut leaf made your hand slippery and the shears fell from your grasp, narrowly missing your foot. You went to wipe a wayward hair that fell onto your nose but the sun caught the shimmer of slime and you jerked back with a groan, instead trying to blow it out of your face. You grew more irritated as the hair remained where it was tickling your nose and the urge to sneeze built up. “Fuck this shit.”

Abandoning the garden, you marched up the path and kicked your filthy shoes off before storming through the house.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mother greeted jovially. “Lovely day for a spot of gardening.”

“I’m calling Mr Newberry,” you grumbled on your way to the bathroom. “He can sort that mess out.”

You felt slightly calmer after washing away the slime and the chlorophyll that stained your fingers green and that feeling only grew when you found Charles waiting with a coffee made just how you liked it. “Busy morning?” he asked after handing over your elixir of life and taking his payment with a quick kiss.

“I’m just trying to help out,” you said with an innocent shrug. “I made a list of things that need fixing around here and if I don’t make the phone calls they will never get done.”

Charles tried to hide his amusement but when you narrowed your eyes at him he couldn’t stop the smile from breaking through. “Your mother knows you so well,” he laughed as he leaned in to whisper, “She knows you are avoiding her.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Yes, she does,” he assured you, running his hands along your sides before he kissed your forehead. “Just talk to her, amour.”

A shirtless and sleepy Lando stumbled his way into the room, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he made a beeline for the two of you. You placed your mug on the table before he reached you and let him fall into the middle of the embrace as his eyes fluttered shut again. He must have been burrowed under the blankets because the heat radiating off him was almost hotter than the blistering shower you had taken.

“Why are you awake?” he mumbled against your neck.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“She’s being a coward and avoiding her mum.”

That made Lando battle his exhausted state and force his eyes to open as his forehead crinkled with a frown. “Why?”

“I’m not.”

“Because she wants to know why that person-we-can’t-mention-for-another-eight-days keeps calling her.”

“You can say his name,” you grumbled. “Max Verstappen, World Champion, Number One. Prodigal Son. Cunt.”

Your mother gasped as she entered the room with a fresh brew of tea. “I should wash your mouth out with soap, young lady.”

You winced at the reprimand. “Oops, turns out we can’t say his name.”

“This has gone on long enough, take a seat - family meeting,” she ordered as she pointed to the table. Lando and Charles took a step towards the door but your mum tutted. “You’re a part of this family now too, gentlemen.”

“Should I put a shirt on?” Lando asked as he looked down at himself. “Or shorts?”

“Please don’t.” “Please do.” You spoke at the same time as your mother, both of you sending each other slightly irritated looks. 

“Two Spitfires, Char, there’s two now,” he whispered under his breath as he went to get dressed. He obviously had been in a rush and blindly pulled clothes out because the tense atmosphere wasn’t enough to stop Charles from grinning at the sight of Lando in his Ferrari shirt.

Seated at one end of the table, you faced your mother while your poor boyfriends were the buffer between. Lacing her fingers together, she stared back at you and made that heavy sigh that every parent could which immediately induced waves of guilt. You didn’t even have anything to be guilty over, but it happened anyway.

“What happened with Max?”

You crossed your arms at the direct question. “This is why I don’t bring people home.”

“What happened with Max?”

“Nothing.” You dropped your head to the table with a thud as her penetrating stare became too much to look at.

“What happened with Max?”

“Fucksake,” you groaned as her persistence won over your impatience. “He called you a whore…well technically he called me one too, but it doesn’t matter. He disrespected you, mum, so instead of calling you what he can do is he can take his phone and go fuck himself with it.”

Lando covered his mouth as a quiet squeak slipped out behind his apologetic smile and you reached out with your foot, running it up and down his leg. You felt bad for subjecting him to this drama when he was as introverted as they come - not that anyone would guess after seeing him on tv. Charles seemed to just take everything on the chin and not a lot fazed him at all, but like you he was reaching out to soothe Lando under the table too. 

“I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry,” you said as you started to push your chair out.

“Wait, please,” your mum asked quietly as her face softened. “He shouldn’t have said that, sweetheart, and I’m sorry that he did. I’m assuming it was after he found out about the three of you?”

You all nodded sullenly and she sighed. “It’s a shock, that’s no excuse, but it was a big shock. Maybe you should talk to him? It’s been a few days, he’s had time to think and reflect. You might be surprised.”

“Have you ever heard Max apologise?” you asked Lando and Charles. Both of their eyebrows furrowed in thought before they shook their heads. “See, Max doesn’t apologise, and I have no interest in hearing anything else from him.”

“As long as you’re doing it for yourself, honey, and not on my behalf. I have been called every name under the sun, but it's water off a duck's back. Don’t miss out on the opportunity to repair the relationship for some vindication for me. He’s your brother and you have missed so much of each other’s life already.” Your mother sighed again as she saw you had heard her words but they hadn’t broken the wall you had built. “Just think about it.”

She rose from the table, walking around it to rest her hand on your shoulder. “Just think about it,” she repeated before she left the room as you sagged in your chair like a puppet whose string had been cut.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you pulled it out to see your reflection broken on the screen. It still hadn’t been repaired from the last argument you had with Max when you accidentally cracked it. Perhaps it was a good reminder to keep.

Unlocking the device, you saw the notification from family share - alerting you that your location services were in use. 

“Fucking cunt,” you groaned before hearing your name from the other end of the house. “Sorry! Can I call him a prick?”

Lando laughed and this time Charles joined in as your mother ranted to herself about your language. You couldn’t help that you grew up around mechanics and drivers, they were the most foul mouthed bunch of people. 

Reaching across, Charles took a look at your phone before updating Lando. “He tracked her.”

“What do you want to do?”

Five minutes ago you would have ditched the phone and packed the car. Five minutes ago you might have threatened harassment. Five minutes of talking with your mother changed everything. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you dropped your head in your hands until they were pulled away. You could wear a blindfold and still know exactly who was holding your hand, recognising their touch and feel with the familiarity of intimacy. “What do you think I should do?”

“I’m not ready to forgive him for how he spoke to you, amour,” Charles shrugged. “If he was my brother, I honestly don’t know if that would change anything.”

“I’ll follow your lead, baby,” Lando said as he lifted your hand to his lips. “Whatever you decide. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you look really good in that shirt,” you said as you looked at Charles for confirmation, his smirk evident. “Really, really good.”

“I always look good. Stay focused.”

“I am focused. I am going to call the gardener, and someone to fix that bloody pavement. Then, maybe, I’ll think about what to do next, it’s not like he’s going to be knocking down the door right this minute.”

Both of them turned to the door expecting to hear it knock and you rolled your eyes. “He’s not the bogeyman. He just likes to think he is.”

You took your phone back and opened the family share app, selecting Max’s phone and watched as it zeroed in on the pin drop. “Shit,” you sighed as the blue dot moved along the street. Leaning back in the chair, you craned your neck to see out the window and caught sight of an Audi SUV pulling in the driveway. “I take that back. Can we run?”

Click here for chapter eight.

[samoankpoper21]

JJK Men as Passenger Princesses

IMAGE CTTO!!

Summary: Their car is in the shop and have no means of getting around until you offer to be their personal uber driver for the day. It strikes them that they've never seen you behind the wheel before, always opting to pick you up. What kind of chaos will ensue?

A/N: In California there's an unspoken rule where a yellow light translates to green 🤣 Don't ask me why 🤣 Also I do not condone/endorse speeding or reckless driving but my dad swears I am a reckless driver 🥲 As always the reader is a chubby!/POC! reader~! Enjoy~!!

Gojo Satoru: "Haaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiii babe," leaning over he pecks your cheek, rubbing his hands up and down the length of his thighs. He's giddy with anticipation: this is the first time he's ever seen you drive! "Got your seatbelt on?"

"Of course." Putting the car in drive you slowly peel away from his apartment complex easing into traffic as conversation ebbed and flowed like water. He hadn't realized how relaxed he was until you put your hand on his thigh smirking. Jokingly he peels your hand away from his thigh throwing it back to you. "Excuse me! I am not some hussy where you can easily put your hands where your please."

"Breh really?"

"Don't 'breh' me. I am a princess today." Giggling you ask, "Well princess what do you feel like eating? I'm starving."

"I don't know you pick."

"No because every time I pick you disagree with it so where do you want to eat?"

"Are YOU part of the menu?"

"I meant food babe sheesh."

"I can't help it if you're sitting there looking like the finest chocolate pudding I've ever seen."

"Ew what," you giggle. "We're going to In-N-Out that's final." With Target being the last stop you pull into his parking spot where Satoru was going to instruct you to pull in but you surprised him when you put the gear in reverse, one hand on the back of his headrest, the other on the wheel reversing perfectly into the designated area. Putting the car in park you look at him scowling and say, "Alright baby let's-"

"Who the fuck are you fucking besides me?"

"Excuse me?!"

"How did you learn how to reverse perfectly like that? Is it Nanami? He's the only one I know who reverses like that?"

"Breh really?" 🤦🏽‍♀️

Kento Nanami: Nervous was the last adjective he would use to describe the nerves that were running through him at the moment. Anxious? Most accurate. He has never once been a passenger, always opting to give you the princess treatment regardless of his fatigue. "Come oooonnnn Nanamiiiiiiiii let me do this for you. It's the least I can do since you're always driving us around." Sighing in defeat he reluctantly agreed leading him to his current predicament; you zooming on the freeway as he gripped your door handle. Glancing over he watched your right hand on the wheel, the left propped up on the window sill holding your tilted head when it dawned on him that you were unaware of how fast you were actually going. This is how she normally drives?? Would he describe you as reckless? Slightly. No regards to anyone's life except your one? Leaning toward it. "Darling," he hisses out through gritted teeth.

"Yeah?"

"You do realize the speed limit is 65 right?"

"Yeah why?" Looking to your speedometer you gasp out, "Oh shit!" you were pulling 90 and not a cop car in sight. You sheepishly glance in his direction and say, "At least we didn't get pulled over."

Geto Suguru: Having the music low enough as to not disturb Nanako and Mimiko you and Suguru chatted quietly about all types of random topics. Being stuck in traffic always brought out the worst in every human and today was no exception. Bumper to bumper there was finally a break as the line of cars started flowing. "Finally." you huff out. As you pressed on the gas to accelerate a bit more a car cut in front of you jumping to the next lane over making you stomp on your brakes. "Mother-!"

"Babe the girls."

"That doesn't give him the right to drive like a maniac!"

"I'm just glad that we're all safe." At the top of your lungs you yell out while pointing at them, "You're lucky I have my kids in the car with me!"

"Babe the windows are rolled up." 🤦🏽‍♀️

Choso: "Babe is it alright if the kids come along?"

"Yuji, Megs, and Nobara?"

"Yes, they won't stop hounding me about watching you drive."

"Y'all need to chill" you laugh out speaking into the steering wheel. "Y'all make it seem like me driving is on the same level of the Mona Lisa."

"Well it kinda is."

"And who's fault is that? Every time I offer to meet you at whatever location you refuse saying and I quote, 'You're a princess and deserve to be treated like one.'"

"But you are."

"Cho," you squeal. "That's beside the point." Chuckling you couldn't help but blush at the deep timbre of his voice. "Well get the kids ready. I'm 5 minutes out."

"Ok. See you in a bit. Be safe."

"Always."

Pulling in front of the Itaodri house you found a lone, pale figure with a scar spreckled across his cheek surrounded by 2 overhype teens, one silently judging them. Rolling your window down youyell out, "Uber for Choso and co?"

"Here, here, here!" Yuji yells back. Parking the car you unlock the doors telling them to squeeze in the back, Choso sliding in beside you kissing your cheek. "Hi babe." the baritone in his voice making you internally shiver.

"Hi handsome. So where we off to?"

"Groceries, game stop for Megs, Target for Nobara, and maybe a gym store. Yuji wants some boxing gloves."

"Okay. But y'all better not judge me." Rolling her eyes Nobara asks, "Why would we judge you?" Offering her a sheepish grin while eyeing her in the rear view you answer, "I play my music real loud, sometimes have my own concerts and it's on shuffle." Dismissing your answer with a wave of her hand she retorts, "Please. Your shuffle can't be that bad."

"I listen to everything."

"Said by everyone." The drive to Target was approximately 20 minutes; within those 20 minutes your passengers went through a range of emotions: ready to fight (Set It Off - Lil Kayla), paying tribute to a late grandmother (Helena), felt like they were part of a rave (rampage), lost in translation twice (SKZ and a Samoan song), rapped along to Ice Cube, and finally belting out Keyshia Cole's Love. Parking the car you shut it off taking in your passengers. "Wow," Nobara breaks the silence. "You really do listen to everything." Laughing you look to Choso who quietly says, "You should sing to me more often."

Toji Fushiguro: "You're not gonna make it."

"Oh so you're doubting me now?"

"Look doll I've been driving longer than you have."

"Longer driving experience doesn't equate to greatness." You were doing 50MPH in a 35MPH trying to get to the green light before it turns yellow. The problem? You would need to make a wide left turn to continue about your ways. Stomping your foot on the gas the light turned yellow. "Y/N!" Toji hissed. Smirking you crossed the thresh hold while the light remained yellow; easing a bit you flicked the steering wheel to the left lifting off the throttle making the car careen smoothly into the lane. Quickly and simultaneously releasing the throttle and straightening the angle of your wheel you continued smooth sailing. A beat of silence passed before Toji huffed out, "That. was. FUCKING AWESOME! Where did you learn that babe?"

"Fuck you dawg you thought I wouldn't make it."

"Fuck babe that just turned me on so bad." Giggling you flick your head ahead. "There's an abandoned alleyway straight ahead. You can put that doubtful mouth to use."

"Yes ma'am."

Ryomen Sukuna: 3PM - 5PM on a weekday is practically the cursed time for anyone operating a vehicle: school buses fill the roads, drivers are trying to maneuver around other cars by any means necessary, taking short cuts or trying to wedge themselves into cramped spaces, horns blaring. Offering to take Sukuna to run his errands you now found yourself stuck bumper to bumper with rapper Mozzy playing in the background. You pressed on the gas inching forward a little when a tan colored mini coup cut you off, making you slam on your brakes and begin to fervently press your horn. Rolling down your window you yell out, "Don't know how to fucking signal asshole?! Use your fucking eyes next time!" You swerve into the left lane where you manage to pass the mini coup flipping the driver off in the process. Stunned Sukuna bellows out, "Remind me to never drive in front of you."

"Oh so you were thinking 'bout leaving huh? Because if you are I swear to god I will drive this car into incoming traffic and we both gon' be goners, how 'bout that?"

"Jesus chirst woman where did you even get that logic?! You're insane!"

"Okay and? You love my insane ass." Smirking he clasps your thigh squeezing it in agreement. "Damn straight I do."

©ALL WORKS BELONG TO SAMOANKPOPER21; ANY INFRINGEMENT OR PLAGIARISM WILL BE REPORTED!! DO NOT STEAL MY WORK!!

[formulaforza]

hi mack !! may i request a fluffy blurb with ‘gazing at them from afar because they're just so...’ for carlos? thank you !! <33

—when you're ready pairing: carlos sainz x female reader wc: 800ish summ. in which, carlos has never been able to keep his eyes off his best mate's pretty friend.

To the people that know Carlos, there are three constants in life: the sun sets in the west, summer follows spring, and Carlos is pathetically in love with his best friend’s friend. Ask anyone who knows Carlos, except you—his best-friend’s friend. 

You, who, at least tonight, are too preoccupied by the shots on the bartop, the game of darts Lando needs to lose, and the split ends of hair at the ends of your carefully woven braids, to notice Carlos. Carlos, and the way his eyes seem to find you even when he’s not really looking, who waits to laugh at his own jokes until you begrudgingly crack a toothy smile, who notices the little piece of glitter that’s perched on your eyebrow. 

It wasn’t always like this, he used to carry a certain level of subtlety, the ability to deny accusations without burning bright red and spewing half a dozen piss-poor excuses like a flustered boy on the schoolyard. It wasn’t always like this, not when he saw you for the first time, caught your eye and exchanged a smile with who he’d assumed was his teammate’s girlfriend. You were sat on your phone beside a sleeping Lando, who was curled up on the common area sofa. Your legs were long, crossed over each other beyond the hem of your dress. Your eyelashes were longer, watching him hurry past you. His first thought in regards to you was that Lando was a lucky fucking bastard. 

His second thought in regards to you, upon a proper introduction later that day, was that Lando is a fucking idiot for not managing to bed his “friend since primary school, or something.”

And that was the relationship you’d maintained for two years. Him, on his side of the garage, with his girlfriend. You, on the other side of the garage, not Lando’s girlfriend. Two years of short dresses over long legs he couldn’t touch and long eyelashes he couldn’t stare at. For two years it went like that, and then he signed a contract with Ferrari and he broke up with his girlfriend and he and Lando only seemed to get closer. 

And, to be close with Lando was to be close with you, which is when you became so much more than something he wanted to touch, a prize he could never win. 

It was easy to fall for you. Easy like breathing, like blinking, like letting hot water run down your back. It was easy, when you would instigate the shit-talking about Lando’s golf swing, the same way it was easy when you would steal a drink of his beer and let him spin you around a mutual friend’s backyard wedding—you wore your hair down that night. He still remembers the way the wind spent the entire evening blowing it into your face, into his face. It danced on its own, moved separately from everything else about you. He spent half the night wondering if he was drunk enough to grow a pair and tuck it behind your ears, and the other half wondering if you were tipsy enough to let him.  

Tonight, like all the other nights, he watches you. You down a shot after every round of darts, even though the original bet you’d made with Lando was that the loser needed to take a shot. The deal solidified with a firm handshake was tossed out the window by both of you after two shots each. His eyes follow you, your hand—freshly manicured nails and two sparkling rings—bringing the shot glass to your lips—soft and plump and the perfect shade of pink. He watches as your head falls back, hair falling from your shoulders, necklace shining in the barlight, the clear liquor disappearing from the glass. You wince, turn down the chaser, and call Lando a pussy when he downs a matching glass of crystal light. When you set the glass back on the bartop, even across the room, he swears he can hear the thud of the glass. It makes him shudder, snaps him back to reality. 

When you’re back in front of him, laughing at some undoubtedly stupid joke Lando had told you, you’re pointing a finger in his direction. “You—” you laugh harder, voice impaired by the smile that misshapes your lips. Your fingertip pushes into the middle of his chest. “You’re not drunk enough.”

 He laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender. “And what are we gonna do about that?”

“You,” you say, pushing your finger against him harder, and then removing it all together to bury it in your own chest, “and me. Loser—you,” you laugh “—has to take three shots.”

Carlos nods, holds out his hand to shake on it. “Deal.”

“Really?” You smile, like you thought he’d say no to you. “Okay, deal. I’m totally going to kick your ass, though.”

[corroded-hellfire]

I’m dying for an AYW fic regarding the proposal and or wedding!!

A proposal you say?

@munson-blurbs and I are very proud to present to you the proposal of these two love birds. And how else would Eddie do it but with music? We hope you enjoy 💜

Words: 2.8k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie had hoped that this would be the most perfect day you’d ever had in your life. Well, it was off to a shit start. Both you and Eddie were supposed to be attending a Billy Joel concert that night; something that you’ve been over the moon excited about for months now. Eddie was also excited, but it was for different reasons than seeing We Didn’t Start the Fire being performed live. He had come up with an elaborate plan to take you to dinner, the concert, and then just as it seemed as if the excitement of the evening had come to an end, he was going to propose. 

Unfortunately, Lucas had put the kibosh on that when he phoned and told Eddie that the outdoor venue where the concert was being held said the show was a no-go due to inclement weather. Lucas works AV at the venue so was able to get the word out to you before the general ticket holders were notified. Eddie hated seeing the disappointed look on your face. He tried to comfort you, giving you sweet kisses and wrapping you up in his arms, all the while trying to figure out how he could salvage this proposal. The makeup date for the concert would likely be many months out and Eddie was damned if he was going to wait that long to ask you to marry him. 

It had been a plan for you to go out with Nancy early afternoon to get your nails done together. “So they look good at the concert!” Nancy had said to you. “So when we take pictures of her ringed finger and when people keep wanting to look at her hand, she won’t be irked that her nails don’t look nice,” is the real reasoning Eddie gave to your friend. When you debate on whether or not you should even go out with Nancy still, Eddie urges you to.

“It’ll still be nice to have a girls’ day with Nancy,” he told you. “Go out, have fun. Get pampered.” So I can figure out what the hell I’m gonna do.

As soon as Eddie watches your car pull away from his spot at the apartment window, he’s pacing the living room and running his hands over his hair.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“Oooh,” Luke says as he comes down the hall. “Another quarter in the swear jar!”

Eddie turns to his youngest son and realizes he can use the boys to his advantage here. What would be needed to make a romantic evening here at home? Candles? There were plenty in the hall closet. Rose petals? Yes, they had been purchased for your anniversary last year. Eddie had his guitar; he could stage a mini concert for you. Yes, he could pull this off. He would need help from his mini-me’s for that, though.

“Alright, boys,” Eddie says, loud enough that Ryan peeks out of his room to see what his dad wants. “I’m gonna need your help with something big.”

“A monster truck?” Luke asks. Ryan rolls his eyes at his little brother as he comes to join them in the living room.

“Uh, no,” Eddie says. “Guys…I’m proposing.” 

“Like, you’re finally gonna ask her to marry you?” Ryan asks, a sparkle gleaming in his eye at the question.

“Yep,” Eddie confirms. “Or, I was, but now the concert is canceled—wait, what do you mean ‘finally’?”

Ryan shrugs. “You asked us a million years ago if we’d be okay with you and her getting married.”

“Hold on,” Luke pipes up, putting his palms out to pause the discussion. “They’re not married?”

“Christ on a cracker.” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and gives it a tiny massage. He’s so frazzled he can’t even tell if Luke is just trying to mess with him right now or not. “No, we’re not married. But I’d like to marry her, and I was hoping you two could help me decorate so this can still be special.”

With that, Eddie and the boys get to work to transform the apartment into a romantic oasis before you get home from your nail appointment. Thank God for Nancy Harrington.

Eddie strategically places candles throughout the bedroom, giving Luke strict orders not to light them. At this rate, the kid shouldn’t be allowed near an open flame until he’s forty. Instead, Eddie puts his sons in charge of sprinkling a trail of rose petals from the front door to the room. Ryan’s mastered the art of “sprinkling,” but Luke’s contribution looks more like small piles. 

Oh, well. It’s the thought that counts. 

It’s Ryan’s idea to make paper hearts and Scotch tape them around the apartment; ever his shadow, Luke joins him. 

Eddie has his acoustic guitar laying on the bed, tuned and ready to go. He puts the ring box in his pants pocket and rechecks it approximately every thirty seconds to make sure it’s still there, as though it could slip through the fabric and into an alternate dimension. 

He rushes to the door when he hears the buzzer ring, tucking his shirt into his pants, not sure if that’s how he wants it or not. When Wayne’s voice comes over the intercom, he breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Boys! Grandpa Wayne is here!” he calls out, grinning when he hears their thunderous footsteps. 

“Daddy,” Luke says, holding out a fun size piece of candy, “give this to her. Girls like chocolate. It’s romantic.” 

Eddie tries not to chuckle as he inspects the melted Twix bar. “I’m sure she’ll love it. And I’ll make sure she knows it’s from you.” Like it could be from anyone else, he thinks amusedly. He tucks it safely into his pocket as he heads over to open the front door. 

As soon as Wayne steps foot into the apartment, he’s bombarded by two excited children. 

“Grandpa, Grandpa!” Ryan chants as Luke clings to the older man’s side.

“What is it, pal?” Wayne asks.

“Daddy’s gonna propose!”

Wayne was already aware of this fact, and that he was taking the boys for the night for this very reason, but he acts surprised for his grandkids’ sake.

“Wow! That’s real excitin’, isn’t it?” Wayne asks.

“Yes!” Luke replies.

Eddie’s uncle chuckles and ruffles both boys’ hair before taking a step closer to the soon-to-be-engaged man. “I’m real happy for ya, kid. She’s a good one.”

“Thanks, Wayne.” He claps a hand on the man’s shoulder. 

The front doorknob jiggles and all four Munson men turn towards it in complete synchronicity. Eddie quickly presses a kiss to each of his sons’ heads and whispers for them to behave tonight before he ducks into the master bedroom. 

Just in time, as you step through the door not a second later. Your eyes land on the trio in front of you and you give them a smile.

“Hey, Wayne! How’re you?”

“I get to spend time with my favorite guys,” Wayne says, resting a hand on each boys’ shoulder, “so no complaints here.”

“We’re staying at Grandpa’s so Daddy can—” Luke starts, but is quickly hushed by Wayne leading him quickly towards the front door. 

“Okay, time to go! C’mon you little knuckleheads. See ya later, hun.”

“Bye Wayne. Bye boys! Love you!”

There are muffled calls of “bye” and “love you too” but it sounds like Wayne is speed walking them out of there. You chuckle to yourself and drop your bag down on the counter. No sign of your boyfriend in the living room or kitchen. Brow pinching together in confusion, you sigh and rest your hands on your hips. 

“Eds? The boys left; you can stop hiding now,” you tease, frowning when you still don’t see him. “Eddie?”

“‘M in here, babe,” he calls from the bedroom. There’s a waver in his voice and it has you moving even faster towards him. 

He’s sitting on the end of your shared bed in black jeans and a maroon button-down shirt, untucked. His acoustic guitar rests on his lap as he strums idly. You barely have time to take in candles and hurricane of rose petals before he says, “Figured I’d bring the concert to us.”

The opening chords of Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are” reach your ears and it instantly has you getting choked up. Hot tears press at the back of your eyes as you remember dancing in the kitchen to this with Eddie before Ryan’s birthday party all those years ago. 

Under your breath, you begin to sing along. It is a concert after all, but you want to keep your voice low enough that all you can hear is still Eddie’s. You lean back against your dresser behind you, looking deep into Eddie’s eyes as he serenades you. There don’t have to be words spoken, you know he understands what you’re saying with just your eyes. I promise I will always love you just as you are. 

The next song in your personal concert is “You May Be Right.” Eddie gets into it, head rocking as he sings out the lyrics, even inflecting his voice on the word “lunatic.” It’s silly and sweet and everything you love about Eddie personified in this moment between the two of you. 

“She’s Always a Woman” is the next song on the set list. This one has the tears that were behind your eyes now making their way forward. The moisture gathers at your lash line as you watch your boyfriend with absolute adoration. Once the song is finished, Eddie gives you a wink.

“Last song and then I’m gonna kiss you, I promise.”

Uptown girl

She’s been livin’ in her uptown world

I bet she never had a backstreet guy

I better her mama never told her why

You had no doubt that Eddie would finish with this song. Your song. How it started from teasing and joking to now being the song that makes the two of you look at each other as if there’s nobody else in the world for those few minutes. 

Once he finishes the song, Eddie gently sets the guitar down and you rush into his arms. Your tears drip onto the maroon polyester of his shirt as you bury your face in his shoulder. Eddie rubs his hand softly up and down your back and presses a kiss to the top of your head. With a small sniffle, you look up at Eddie with wide, watery eyes.

“This is the sweetest thing ever, Eddie. I can’t believe you did this for me. I’ve been so bummed all day that the concert’s been postponed and I—”

The rest of the sentence gets silenced as Eddie presses his lips against yours. It’s partly because he wants to stop your rambling—and he wants to kiss you all the time in general—but also because the nerves are getting the better of him as every second ticks by. He has to ask you or he’s going to combust on the spot. 

With one large hand cupping your cheek and the other wrapped around your waist, Eddie slowly and subtly moves further away from the bed, so he’ll be able to get down on one knee when the time comes 

“I’d do anything for you, my love. You know that,” he whispers against your lips. 

Eddie tries to recall the speech he had prepared in his mind, only to have nervous sweat begin to break out along his hairline. It only takes a few moments before you notice, because you always notice what’s going on with Eddie. The concerned look that mars your features suddenly has all of the tension releasing from Eddie’s body. The nerves are gone without a trace, replaced by warmth and love for the beautiful, amazing woman standing in front of him. How could he have been nervous about this to begin with? It’s you. You are the love of his life and, though he still can’t comprehend why or how, he’s the love of your life, too. 

“Uptown Girl has kind of followed us on our journey, hasn’t it? From you playing your Billy Joel tapes when you were babysitting the boys and I’d come home and pretend to be all annoyed by it. But then one time I remember really listening to the lyrics and having this epiphany. You’re uptown girl, I’m the downtown man. Uptown Girl, you know I can’t afford to buy her pearls. But maybe someday when my ship comes in she’ll understand what kind of guy I’ve been and then I’ll win. I’ve always wanted to give you the world. I always wanted you to see me, silently dying for your attention on the inside. Because when you walked through the front door that first day…baby, you’ve never for a moment left my mind since then. I went from thinking you were this unattainable fantasy that I would have to be content with to admire at a distance to…this. The life we’ve built, the love we’ve shared. Princess, I wanted to give you everything but instead you gave that to me. I have everything I could ever want or need when you’re here in my arms. I still can’t believe how unbelievably lucky I am to call you mine. Every day I wake up and thank God when I see you laying next to me, all huddled up in the blankets. It feels right. More so than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. I’ve always told you that you’re my forever, baby. And I meant it.”

Slowly, Eddie lowers himself to one knee and the realization of what’s happening hits you with a sharp gasp. Is this really happening? you think. Or am I dreaming again? The beads of water that had been quelled for the most part start flowing again, leaving tracks down your cheeks. Eddie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box. He takes one more deep breath before lifting the lid and revealing a shining silver ring with a princess cut diamond sitting atop it. Because he calls me princess, you realize. 

“My love. My princess, my angel, my sweet, sweet girl. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Stunned isn’t a look Eddie has ever seen on you before. It feels like an eternity that you just stare at him, saying nothing. In reality, it’s probably less than ten seconds, but Eddie’s mind is currently working in slow motion. Finally, you nod your head and time is back to normal in Eddie’s world. The teary laugh you give him as you keep nodding has a smile forming on his face that he’s sure will be there for a while.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Eddie.”

At hearing the words come from your mouth, his smile grows into a grin that’s enough to light up an electric grid. He plucks the ring from its satin cushion in the box and slowly slides it up your finger. As he stands, he’s expecting you to admire the ring, inspect it and be giddy about the jewelry. But the moment he’s steady on his feet, you’re grabbing Eddie’s face between your hands and planting a fierce kiss on his lips.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you mumble against his mouth before pressing another kiss after kiss there.

“Can't believe you want to be my wife,” Eddie says in amazement as you finally part.

“I’ve wanted that from the moment I laid eyes on you. I never knew my schoolgirl crush would become my husband.”

Eddie leans in to kiss you again, smiling against your lips. “I’m so fucking happy that you’re gonna be my wife.” He pulls your body close against his and buries his face in your hair.

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

“Is there something in your pocket?”

“Huh?” He digs into the denim to pull out a half-melted Twix bar. “Oh, right. A gift from your future stepsons.”

At the word “stepsons,” an entirely different wave of emotions crashes over you. A different kind of love envelops your body and it might just be the warmest and fuzziest feeling you’ve ever felt. 

“Holy shit. I’m going to be their stepmother.”

Eddie isn’t sure if you're happy or scared about it by your tone, but then you well up with tears again and a grin rivaling his own lights up your face. 

“I’m gonna be their stepmom!”

Eddie chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“They are so lucky to have you. We all are. Now, uh,” the tips of his ears turn pink, and he clears his throat, “you mentioned a schoolgirl crush?” One hand snakes around your waist and lowers to grab your ass. “I’d like to hear more about that.”

“Whatever you say, fiancé.”

[comatosebunny09]

what’s done is done (and done again) | leon k.

summary: somehow, you figure you've been here before. and, somewhere far off, he knows you've been here before, too. genre(s): romance, drama, angst, modern au warning(s): female anatomy described, mentions of bodily fluids, dry humping, explicit language, profanity, praise kink, implied character death, mentions of decay and blood notes: it's a fuckin’ time loop. based off this post i made a little while ago. inspired by the time traveler's wife and happy death day. thank you for reading, darling! now playing: if you let me - alina baraz

You’re in the briefing room, fighting for your life. 

Almost face-plant into your notebook a few times. Doesn’t help that it’s warm and dim, and you haven’t had your coffee. 

Your supervisor decided it would be an excellent time to bore you all half to death as if you weren’t already constantly putting your lives on the line. Something about Operational Security violations running rampant throughout your organization. 

Blah, blah, blah.

Of everything you’ve faced thus far, death by PowerPoint would be such a way to go.

“Long night?” bleeds in a voice from your right. Your savior. 

You look at Leon, all wild-eyed, like you’ve been caught doing something nefarious. He smiles in reply, all boyish and unguarded. Watches you like you’ve said something funny or like he could just eat you up. Whatever the context, you enjoy the attention. You always do when it comes from your partner. 

Your face begins to tingle with warmth. But you mask your embarrassment with a half-smile and an elbow to his rib. 

“You would know,” you mouth back, careful not to alert your supervisor. 

Leon smiles a little wider. Chuckles low and abrasive, leaning back in his chair with folded arms. Gives you a nice little view of the veins that live there and the muscle lurking beneath the cuffed sleeves of his shirt. 

He catches you staring in his peripheral, and the smugness he radiates is palpable. No one’s the wiser when he grazes your leg with his under the table. Sets little goose pimples alight on your skin when he pitches himself forward to grip your quad.

You take to messing with some frayed edges of your notebook, tucking your goofy, lopsided smile within its pages. Mind suddenly colors with memories of last night. Labored breaths, sweat, heat, and your tongue coiled around his name. 

Your body hums, and you pinch your thighs together to ward off the pleasant rush of endorphins between. He squeezes and winks, smile lines bracketing his mouth as he returns his attention to the mindless dribble of your boss.

What a long night, indeed.

“Dinner?” Leon simply asks over the blue light of your monitor. 

It feels like more of a statement than a request. Like he knows you’d never deny him as he presses the lid of your laptop closed with a definitive click!

You sit back in an easy slouch in your rolling chair. Cross your arms, looking every bit of smug-read-annoyed, and you eye him warily. 

“Only dinner?”

That grin is back. All dimpled and crinkly-eyed as he props himself against the oakwood of your desk. Bathed in the ethereal glow of the setting sun bleeding into your window, he laughs something guttural. You’re the cheekiest little shit when you wanna be.

“No promises,” he admits with a shrug. Exudes sex even without trying. 

You regard him for a moment. Keep him on edge, though both of you already know the answer. Doesn’t mean you can’t make him squirm with the prospect of your potential rejection. 

You clear your throat after a brief stare down. Feign indifference as you smooth out your sleeves and trousers. 

“Your place or mine?”

Like you’d ever say no.

Your place.

It’s always your place, but you can’t complain. You live on the quieter side of town, tucked away from the cacophony of the city and your nosy-as-all-hell coworkers.

Besides, it’s all cozy inside. Decked out with mood lights and earth tones and enough plants to rival a greenhouse. 

Leon likes it this way. How it distracts him from the bleakness of your jobs. The ever-looming premise of death and decay and corruption. So, you never bother to change it. It’s his little piece of heaven. 

You’re his little piece of heaven. 

Speaking of which—

“Stop it!” you half squeal, half giggle, spatula in one hand, a fistful of soft blonde in the other. 

The sound of your collective merriment carries from the kitchen. Sepia-toned with smooth jazz leaking from the soundbar. 

Leon’s chuckle vibrates your skin. Hands are a searing hot and homely pressure, perched on your waist. Lips blister kisses down the slope of your shoulder, and his hair tickles your neck. 

“Can’t help myself. ‘sides, you had a little sauce on your neck. Had to—” Kiss. “—clean it up for you.” Suck.

“Bullshit.”

“Mmmm, honest,” Leon drawls in a way that makes your knees shake, and you feel the sound of it pooling in your loins. 

He proceeds to do terribly distracting things with his mouth on your neck whilst his hands embark on a journey down your thighs. They bunch up the lace of your dress on their excursion, making way for his fingers to tiptoe between your legs, gripping meaty thigh until your flesh craters between. 

“Leon.” 

You huff out something between a laugh and a pleasured sigh. An eager hand instinctively curls around his nape, and you find yourself mindlessly grinding against him. Eyes shutter closed, head falls back into the pocket of his shoulder. Around a smile, you breathe, 

“I worked really hard on this. You don’t let me finish, I’ll kick your ass.”

That doesn’t deter him. Not in the slightest. Never does, and he snickers something sinister. Eases his grip on your thighs northward until the knuckles of his thumbs graze the seat of your panties. You shiver. Almost say, fuck dinner.

“Thought you were on the menu.”

You snort, gripping the counter’s edge for leverage and shoving back. Leon stumbles a few steps away, all blown wide pupils and a peachy color dusting his cheeks. Looks at you like a kicked puppy. That wobbly lip nearly does it for you.

“Later,” you promise.

Leon has a sweet tooth. You  always  give him dessert. 

It’s a mire of sounds.

Your voice, high and light. Leon’s, deep and abrasive. Your collective laughter and pleasured sighs intermingle in your bedroom whilst music croons in the background.

He’s got you where he wants you. Straddling his lap on your bed like a good girl, swathed in the subtle moon glow of the room. Has his lips latched onto your throat and his hands eagerly mapping out the contours of your body.

Your dress is bunched around your hips. Straps spilling down your arms, head thrown back, lids shuttered. He has this way of whittling you down to incoherencies like no one ever has. 

Who would’ve thought your goofy little Leon could be such a sex symbol?

He grips your waist, encouraging you to grind against him. Hard and heavy, and he radiates heat through the confines of his slacks. He feels so good and big, and you might just cum from the sensation alone. From the proximity. From the dangerous gravel of his voice as he murmurs every level of filth into your ear.

So good for me. 

Already wet, and I haven’t even taken your panties off. 

Naughty baby. 

You might cum before I even get it inside.

You would fully surrender yourself to him—to his palms kneading your breasts and the calluses of his thumbs scraping pleasantly over your nipples—if not for a series of buzzing sounds emanating from your nightstand. 

Again.

“God dammit,” you sigh, trying to catch your breath.

“Fuck that,” Leon husks, licking up the column of your throat. Desperation wades beneath the surface of his tone. Possessiveness. Desire. “Fuck the phone. I want you. Need you.”

It’s hard to argue when he gazes at you like that, with hooded eyes and furled lashes. And he’s drunk off the feel of you. Begging. Dipping his head down to close his lips around your pebbled nipple, and it’s like you’ve been struck by white lightning. 

“Fuh-huck!”

He groans against your tit in reply, matching the undulation of your hips with a roll of his own. You cling to him for dear life, fingers buried in his hair, pussy leaking and swollen against the seam of his trousers, mouth parted, and lips shining with spit. 

Try as you might to ignore it, the insistent humming of your phone leaks through the static of your brain.

“Fuck, Leon, I gotta…I gotta take this,” you gasp, scrambling for the nightstand. Whoever’s calling doesn’t know the meaning of peace. 

Leon doesn’t relent. Has a mouthful of tit, flittering his tongue over your nip and eyeing you wantonly and fucking groaning like you’re the tastiest morsel to ever grace his tongue. 

A familiar voice bleeds through the receiver as you bite your lips against a whine. 

“Hey!” trills your coworker, all shrill and uncomfortably cheery despite the hour. Cheryl from HR. You should’ve known. 

Play it cool. Though it’s exceedingly difficult with the object of your desires fucking you through your clothes. 

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Girl, I think I left my purse in your car.” 

You blanch. 

You picked her up for lunch. Of course, she left it. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Think my ID’s in there. Can’t get into the office in the morning without it. You know they’re tired of me losing that thing.” Sigh.

A groan swells in your chest. You’re at odds with yourself. Slap a hand over your forehead, cursing whatever higher being decided to bless and punish you tonight.  “I’ll go check the car,” you relent. Leon releases a chagrined sound in the background. Pins you with incredulous eyes as he releases your tit from his mouth with a wet pop!

Fitfully, you wrestle yourself free from Leon’s arms. Giggle as you stumble off the bed, and Leon lunges for you. You easily dodge, tiptoeing towards the entrance of your bedroom. Give him a placating smile halfway through the threshold, silently promising to finish what you’ve started once you’re done.

Hurry back, he mouths around a pout. Makes little grabby hands at you, and the furrow of his brows almost makes you clamber back onto his lap. But you’re a Good Samaritan. Sometimes. And you’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t find Cheryl’s purse.

Soundlessly, you whisk through your home towards the garage after fixing your dress. Ease into the driver seat of your car, the door slamming shut behind. You locate her purse on the passenger side floor with laser precision. Hard not to see it when it’s gaudy and pink like that. 

You rummage through it, mindful of its contents. Find her ID soon after, turning over the cool plastic in your hand to confirm. 

“It’s in here.”

She releases a weighted sigh on the other end of the phone.

“I can meet you at the front gate in the morning to give it to you.”

“Girl, thank you! You’re a lifesaver!”

You tamp down a smile. Tuck your bashfulness into your shoulder. Cheryl’s infectiously chipper. A nice change of pace to the depressing humdrum of your profession. 

“Yeah, yeah. See you in the morning.”

“See ya!”

When she hangs up, you ease her purse into your glove box. Nestle it between pistol mags and your badge for safekeeping. 

You glance at your phone. Squint against its brilliance, and it’s a quarter to midnight. Fuck. Another late night.

A quiet smile crests over your lips when you catch sight of your home screen. Of course, it would be Leon. With an adorably cheesy dog filter, and he’s all baggy-eyed and uncharacteristically happy on the screen. You’ve gotta get back to him. Left him all hard and leaking in your bed. 

So, you reach for the crisp door handle, mind abuzz with thoughts of Leon, Leon, Leon.

But then, there’s suddenly an explosion of colors. Yellow and orange seeping into red. A sound that’s deafening and robs you of all thought. White hot pain wading over your skin. And then…

Well, then, there is nothing.

[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser — Pissing on Romance's Grave

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Humor, Established relationship WARNING(S): tw Kaiser

Today is worse than a plague.

Well… Exaggerated inner turmoil aside, you’ve been having an awful day. It’s like you’ve been waddling through a swamp of bullshit. Even now you’re climbing up the stairs to your apartment because the stupid elevator broke. Could’ve been worse, you suppose — at least you weren’t inside when it malfunctioned.

The feeble attempt at optimism, however, isn’t easing your hatred and misery at all. Proof of your ever present anger is how you almost rip the door off its hinges after you unlock it, barging in, then closing it with a bang again.

While taking off your shoe, you register a strange smell. Of something burnt. Maybe you’re resigned to the fate that it’s probable you’ll die today, so while you are alarmed, it’s not enough to make you hurry and run with your other shoe still on. Even when you do begin your trek with heavy footsteps, your pace is brisk at best, following the scent right to your bedroom.

You don’t hesitate, but perhaps you should’ve, since it would’ve given you a moment to brace yourself. Still, nothing could’ve really prepared you for the sight that greets you once you enter.

“I can explain,” Kaiser says with wide eyes, reaching out his hands in front of him in case you try to lunge at him and go in for the kill.

Your bathrobe looks burned. Usually this isn’t an observation you’d be making, but you’re forced to now, what with Kaiser wearing it… for some godforsaken reason. Your bed is in even worse condition, tattered and covered in soot, melting candles knocked over. Wax sticking to the ruined sheets. Rose petals are scattered all over the floor. Many of them are ashy like they got caught up in whatever incident occurred. Three more candles dripping over the flowers and the carpet, all these things culminating in a giant mess.

What the actual fuck are you looking at?

“Open the window!” you scream at him then gesture towards it, maybe in case he doesn’t know what a ‘window’ is. It wouldn’t surprise you at this point with the way things are going.

“I did!” Kaiser says, annoyed, as if he has any right to be giving you an attitude in this situation. Though, recognizing the murderous intent in your face, he fumbles to reach out and open it. “I did, but I got cold, so I closed it.”

“Yeah, speaking of, why the hell are you wearing my bathrobe?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring mine-”

“Why do you need to be wearing a bathrobe. At. All.”

“For the atmosphere.”

“For the atmosphere?” You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. “For the atmosphere?! There’s no atmosphere, this is just a fire hazard!”

“It was going to be romantic-”

“Why did you close the window even though the room hasn’t aired out and stayed inside? Why were you even- What if something happened to you?!”

Kaiser smirks at you, content all of a sudden, before he crosses his arms. You could punch him in the face. “Oh, so you’re worried about me. You’d be sad if I died.” He says all this in the tone of announcing a triumph he’s holding over your head.

You ignore him, stepping over one of the roses. Kaiser regards the action with mild offense, which you don’t notice, since you’re too lost in the haze of your rage to even comprehend what’s going on. “How did you even manage this?”

“There was a miscalculation.”

“What does that mean?”

“I, um, I… tried to pose on the bed,” says Kaiser. This is the first time you’ve seen him look shameful during your entire time together, averting his gaze away from yours and all. Which is one way to affirm his statement and plan are particularly stupid, since he’s the type to stare at you straight on, unflinching, and smirk at you while telling you the dumbest shit.

“Pose?”

“You know. You know what I mean, right? Like a French girl? Yeah, like that.” The more he explains it, the more pathetic his mumbling is getting. To think even Kaiser, who’s obsessed with the sound of his voice, is capable of an inside voice.

You’ve never been so tense in your life. You might be developing a hernia in your neck. “Oh right, of course. Right! Because why wouldn’t you do that while wearing something flammable? I’m so stupid, how didn’t I think of that? Also, why in the world were you trying to LIGHT UP THE CANDLES AGAIN?! Like, let them rest, they’re already fucking done for! I saw you!”

“For the- for my artistic purposes. Of course. A real visionary doesn’t just give up after a small mishap.”

“And! The key I gave you is for emergencies! Not for you to-”

“But it was!!! A fucking emergency!”

“-set fires in my home! What are you even doing here?” You finish off your speech with a huff. Your tantrum has exhausted you, but at the same time it’s convenient you can use Kaiser as a verbal punching bag because of his lunacy.

Now he’s channeling his kicked puppy eyes. Like, he’s trying his best to force himself to cry, you can tell by the way he’s squinting at you and straining. When the effort proves futile he gives up and settles for glaring at you. “Alright, I know I messed up, but it’s obvious I was trying to surprise you for our anniversary.”

You blink at him. Then stay quiet.

“You forgot!” he accuses, trying to distract you from being mad at him by creating some fabricated emotional torment. Then he tries to force himself to cry again, and all you do in response to the display is roll your eyes.

Damn, you can’t believe your day has been so awful, your one year anniversary slipped your mind. These people are working you to an early grave.

“Whatever,” you say, before making a vague motion all around. “Clean up.”

His jaw hangs open as if he’s scandalized. “What? You want me to clean this shit all by myself?”

“You inflicted this on my poor bed alone. Clean it, now.”

Seeing that you’re apparently not dying of guilt, Kaiser decides to switch tactics. “But! My beloved, light of my life, fire in my groin-”

“That’s-” you interrupt your own sentence with a groan and resist the urge to either sock him in the jaw or find a way to knock yourself out through some obscure pressure point. Then you shake your head. Unfortunately it does nothing useful like for example maybe erasing the last twenty-four hours from your mind and instead remains as a meaningless gesture. “Not how it goes.”

“I know,” he says, satisfied with himself and his ridiculous antics. At least you think he must be from his annoying, smug grin. Though immediately after Kaiser appears to get a mood swing because his lips twist down again. “I can’t believe you forgot about our anniversary, though. And now you’re making me act like a maid. Do I mean nothing to you? You’re breaking my spirit here and this is an unethical dynamic-”

“Micha, I don’t give a fuck about your guilt tripping act. Just clean this up so we can enjoy the rest of our day.”

“Fine. Whatever. You win. You win! Your heartlessness wins against my romantic soul. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You grit your teeth. “Shut up and get on with it.”

“Okay.” He deflates like a particularly depressed balloon.

You then proceed to watch as Kaiser makes his way around and acts like gathering and throwing away rose petals is the most difficult thing anyone has ever done. In his mind, this experience must be the most suffering anyone’s ever endured — but who knows what goes through his head. Several times, he offers to buy you a new apartment because he ‘doesn’t feel like dealing with this’ and since it’s ‘below him.’

And the whole time you’re observing him and his behavior, you can’t help but wonder what mental institution this man must’ve crawled out of to then find his path leading to you.

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x fem reader

(honey I’m home master list)

Summary: eddie waits for results and gets a heart to heart from Wayne. Recovery is tough road, but the sun shines.

triggers: dealing with ptsd and learning to heal.

Special thanks to @sweetsweetjellybean for helping me through this one! + all the others. Only 2 more chapters to go! 🥹

  “This is it,” Eddie says, swiveling in his seat to look over at you, the rings on his finger tapping gently against the steering wheel. 

  Smiling softly, you look through the smoke stained windows of Eddie’s van up at the big brick house. He wasn’t kidding, Steve lived in a mansion compared to the small ranch style you had called home for the past few years. 

  You scrunch up your nose, “jeez Steve couldn’t afford anything bigger than this? Must be going broke.” Your humor was coming back in small spurts and Eddie grinned ear to ear. 

  “I know,” he agrees, throwing open his door and going around the front of the van to open yours, “.. ugly isn’t it? Poor bastard has no taste.” His smile is wide and toothy like it always was, but somehow more handsome. “This is okay right? I mean just gimme the word babe and we can stay with Wayne or somethin’.” 

  Placing a rogue curl away from his face you twist it around your finger. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to the feeling of being his, but you couldn’t wait to start a new chapter in your life. 

  “I’d live anywhere, as long as you’re with me,” you say sweetly. 

  One of his big warm hands finds your cheek, wafting the familiar smell of old spice and Marlboros to you and bringing your face up to him, “you really are the most  beautiful girl, you know that right?”

  Steve and Leighanne had been expecting you, checking in with Eddie to make sure you would feel at home for your stay… however long that may turn out to be. They refused to accept any money from Eddie regarding rent. “It’s no good here Munson…Leighanne and I are just happy you two are safe.”

  “..and you sir,” you say, working your fingers along the cotton of his shirt, a smile pressed to your coy lips, “are so full of shit.”

  His eyebrows pull together and release once you stick out your tongue in a tease. A smirk replaces his concerned expression and he pulls you up into him. 

  His lips enclose yours and you can’t stop the smile spreading across them.

  “You ready, baby?” 

  For the first time in three months, you had something to smile about, to look forward to, but the weeks leading up to this were not paved in gold. 

——

  Eddie paced the tiles of the waiting room, nails bitten and bleeding on his left hand, threads ripped and torn in the holes in his jeans. He was a wreck. 

  The brief conversation with the doc while you were being prepped for surgery gave little to no relief. Few words sticking with him and running like ticker tape across a news station channel screen in his head.

   “high risk” 

“Possible death during childbirth” 

  He held your hand as long as he could before you were wheeled into the operating room, apologies falling from your lips, followed by screams of pain. Eddie was terrified but assured you everything would be okay. Even if his bravado was fake, his mask held strong on his features. Calming you instantly. 

  He doesn’t break until the swinging doors close and he’s standing alone in the cold hallway, the pads of his fingers pressed to his lips. A silent scream trapped in his lungs. But the salt of his tears paint his face and wash away the mask, Awww

  He just got you back, and now your life possibly hung in the balance, again. He just found out he was going to be a dad, and now the baby he never got more than a week to love, was gone. 

  Is this what it was to love him? Everyone he ever loved left in one way or another. The punishment of loving an unlovable man meant losing your life in terms of Eddie Munson. 

  His mother. 

His child.

  It was a curse. An eye for an eye. He had killed and now he was reaping what he sowed.

  What kind of sick twist of fate would allow this to happen? Would allow a pregnant woman to be beaten nearly to death? To have a child ripped from his mother as she took her final breath? 

  Eddie started questioning everything he had ever done to deserve such cruelty bestowed onto the ones he cherished.  

  What else was there to sacrifice? He’d gladly die if it meant bringing them back to him. He would take their place, cold and frigid in the ground, a soft pillow in a satin box. Six feet under. 

  His fingers press into his eyes until he sees stars. The grief swallowing him whole into a tangled web of desperate pleas to a higher power he wasn’t even sure he believed in and mixed humidity from sweltering heat of hell. 

  He wasn’t strong enough for this. And if you died during the procedure? He’d certainly crawl up and perish like the weak man he was.

  His boots are heavy and squeak annoyingly all the way to the empty waiting room. The calming color scheme offers nothing but a chilled brush of fear to his neck as he fishes out a quarter from his pocket when he gets to the pay phone. Messages scratched against the paint, “welcum to h3ll” “pray for me” “for a good time call Barb”. 

  His fingers find home on the silver buttons, clicking the number to the plant where Wayne works, only dialed when he was in too deep. 

—

The monotonous dial tone seemed to go on forever, before a gruff voice out of breath voice answered, “this is Earl.” 

  Eddie kept his composure through the four word sentence asking if Wayne Munson was there. A grumbled remark and a slam onto the metal counter echoed through the receiver. 

  Seconds turned to minutes and minutes fade to what felt like hours before the familiar calloused tongue rang through the other end. The dam Eddie was holding back broke as Wayne said his name, and through one sob after another Wayne told him to hold tight and he’d be right there. 

  Wayne left the plant in record speed. Grease smearsleft washed clean down his face from the tears that fell on the drive from the plant to the hospital, breaking all laws to get to there as fast as he could.

  When Eddie’s eyes met Wayne’s he sobbed like a child. Clutching onto the man’s work uniform like it was the only comfort he had ever been offered. 

  A lifetime's worth of tears stream down the Munson’s faces. And Wayne eases Eddie into a chair in the waiting room. 

  “She’ll be alright, Ed.” Wayne offers, a rough comforting hand rubbing Eddie’s shoulder, “she’s a tough one.”

  Eddie shakes his head, “she shouldn’t have to be,” his hands cover his face, he’d take the pain for you if he could, “if I would have told her sooner… if I didn’t freak her out when I did, m— fuck.. maybe, none of this would have happened.” 

  He had run a million and one scenarios over and over in his head on how this could have been changed if he could turn back the time and do things differently.

  Wayne drags a rough hand down his face, smearing the grease from the machines at work and scratching the itch is his wiry unshaven face. To him, Eddie was still that same little boy, eyes bigger than the moon, and the weight of it all on his shoulders.  

  “Son, I know this is hard, but you gotta stop and think for a minute. Ain’t no way tellin’ if this could’ve been prevented.” He stops to clear his throat, years of cigarette smoke raw on his throat.

  “Sounds like that som bitch was keepin’ her on a tight leash, just waiting’ on her to be alone.” Eddie winced at Wayne’s honesty, had Chad really been in the shadows? He keeps going, “You gotta open your eyes and realize what you do have and stop frettin’ bout woulda coulda shoulda.” 

  Eddie hung his head low, shoulders shaking with every sob he willed to swallow down, “I didn’t— fuck man, I didn’t even get a chance to love my own kid— and n— I promised myself I wouldn’t end up like him.”

  He regrets it before he’s even done saying it. Truth was, he loved that baby the minute the nurse blurted out to a room full of friends that you were pregnant. He was heartbroken that he never got to shatter the Munson reputation and show himself and this fucking town how good he could raise a child. 

  Wayne nearly jumped out of his overalls with fury at Eddie’s speech, “Did you hurt that girl? Nearly kill her and your own blood? Out of some jealous whiskey infused rage?”

  “No,” Eddie says, knowing he’s being scolded for saying something as dumb as what he just did.

  “Your daddy was meaner than a Texas rattle snake. Fucker didn’t have a good bone in his body—mama always said he was born like that. Piss and vinegar blooded.” Wayne shakes his head at his own childhood memories of a brother who showed no remorse. “You think I’m yellow bellied enough to raise a man just like ‘im? Boy I thought you knew better than that.”

  Eddie shrugs his shoulders and wipes a traitorous tear away.

  “That,” Wayne says pointing to Eddie’s face, “you might have the Munson last name but son you are so much like your mama, think that som bitch ever shed a tear over someone other than ‘imself? Think again, boy.”

  Eddie looks at Wayne through thick wet lashes.

  “You’ll be a good daddy when the time is right. These are the cards you’re dealt with and they ain’t all pretty right now, but hell, a full house ain’t nothin but a few cards that look the same, no royalty needed.” 

  The hillbilly way of explaining things was Wayne’s greatest achievement, it gave Eddie a sense of calm, understanding. He was a good man. He had proved that time and time again. But hearing it and believing it— were on two different plains. 

  Dr. Newby found Eddie in the waiting room with Wayne, hung head down and knees bouncing. He had explained that everything went as well as it could have. You were stable. 

  Wayne asked the questions that Eddie couldn’t pluck the letters to form the words to generate the sentences to ask. He clung to the fact that you were in stable condition. 

  Fading in and out to catch bits of the doctor’s answers. 

  “The last ultrasounds she had done when she arrived here, showed a very irregular and faint heartbeat….body was in shock and the stress and trauma put her into early labor…”

  “…there was never a guarantee that the baby would have even survived to the end of this week.” 

  The only question Eddie could muster, “when can I see her?”

—

  The effects of the anesthesia wore off, dwindling like dandelion heads in the breeze in the summer. Blown away slow and easy. 

  You wished you could float on one of them, gentle and sweet fluttering around and not having a care in the world. Blown by a sharp gust of wind and landing daintily somewhere new, spreading the seeds of your fortune to a new land. 

  But the cold press of sheets and steel sides of the hospital bed bring you back to reality. 

  Not wanting to open your eyes and face the true cusp of the hell you were stuck in. Not wanting to see those same dark eyes swell with tears. Eddie’s heart ache seeped into your own, pulling the threads of the sewn stitches around it with each wet tear that fell down his face. 

  Would you ever bring him something other than turmoil? Could he find peace with you? The devil himself laughed at your pleads and you didn’t blame him. 

  You needed only a few more seconds, minutes, to yourself. Collecting your thoughts and trying to be strong for him. 

  He had promised to never stop loving you— would he still? Would he be able to look at you the same? Love you the same? 

  The comfort of your closed eyelids proved better than facing what lay ahead. But you couldn’t hide from him forever. 

  The void was suffocating, emptiness choking you and leaving you a shell of yourself, but it all faded away when you opened your eyes, and saw him. 

  —

Upon waking you both sobbed into one another, mourning the loss of the little family you both so desperately craved to belong too. 

  “I’m sorry Eddie, I’m so so sorry.” you had cried into his shirt. 

  Eddie held you to his chest, his arms holding you tight and his chin rested on the top of your head. “None of that, angel girl, you hear me?” He prodded, shattering the doubt and guilt from your mind, “we have each other, always.” 

  Days after, your body still felt hollow, empty and sunken. And the stress you had endured hung like a gown on a poorly constructed hanger around you. A dark cloud. 

  The doubt and demon truths sauntered their way back into your mind. Lies of telling you Eddie didn’t love you, didn’t care about you, could never be with someone responsible for what happened to his child or himself. 

  That was when the nightmares started. 

  —

  “She seems good today,” Nancy chirps, her stylish heels click against the sidewalk outside of Roane County hospital, Jonathan keeping up with her quickened pace, holding his fingers tight between hers, thankful for every single day that she chose him, no matter his faults. 

  Eddie walked them out to their car, the sunny April morning brought birds and the promise of spring, “she’s always happy to see familiar faces, you’re like a sister to her.”

  Nancy smiles with tears in her pale blue eyes, “she’s like a sister to me too, Eddie.”

  “So you guys are staying with Steve and his girlfriend?” Jonathan asks, wrapping his arms behind Nancy and resting his chin on her shoulder.

  Eddie sighs and leans a denim hip onto Nancy’s car, his arms crossed over his chest, a weighty sigh falls from his lips, “yeah, for a bit at least. I don’t want her to go back into that house.” 

  “Oh absolutely not,” Nancy agrees, nodding along, her curls bouncing, voice small, “I didn’t want to mention this to Tooty, but my mom and dad, and Jonathan’s mom and Hopper volunteered to clean it. Rip out the carpets, replace what’s broken—whatever needs to be done.”

  Eddie is stunned at the support, but feels guilty all the same, “they don’t have to do that, I— once she’s clear to go home I’m gonna go over there and clean it all up myself.”

  His heart ached and burned with the thought of being handed more charity. 

  “Dude, Jonathan started, “you’re our friends, we’re here to help, so let us.” 

  An exasperated breath leaves Eddie’s mouth, vibrating his lips on the way out, “alright.” 

  He’s overcome with emotion at the sentiment, and almost bites his lip in half to stop the flood of overwhelming tears from bursting. 

  “Now the only thing to figure out is… would you both move back in there?” Nancy asks timidly, her features soft and concerning, skirting on frazzled nerves, “Steve said something about finding someone to rent it out, that way she could have some sort of income..”

  “I knew a guy from the paper who needed a place to live, but when I mentioned the house…he uh— well he quickly found something else,” Jonathan muttered partly into Nancy’s collar, “ arms tightening around her slender waist. 

  No doubt finding someone to rent the house would be difficult. The entire town was still reeling with what happened, somehow the only thing that anyone seemed to care about was Chad’s death. Never mind his crimes. 

  Eddie’s head spins, a headache brewing between his brow, and he closes his eyes to push it away.

  “No rush!” Nancy says, her hand laying gently on Eddie’s arm, “we will all get it figured it out, okay?” The blue of her eyes twinkling with a pure presence of honesty, and hope. “Just focus on our girl in there, she really seemed to be doing well today.”

  Most days he looked haggard, dark circles colored his under eyes, worry streaking down his face in thick fatigue, still he pushed forward, bit the bullet and attended therapy sessions with you for domestic violence survivors, and his own sessions for a fancy named disorder he didn’t care to understand. 

  He’d take care of you just like he promised.

  Eddie opens his eyes and forces a smile, “Night and day difference compared to how she was the day of,” his dark blood shot eyes swim with his admission, “but we’re hopeful.. I mean things can only get better right?”

  —

  The first night at your new temporary place was perfect. You and Eddie were both welcomed with open arms literally, from both Steve and Leighanne. They showed you around, telling you everything that polite and generous hosts would. 

  After bringing in the few bags and boxes in from the van that were deemed needed and not marked to be brought to storage, your hosts leave you and Eddie alone for time to unpack and relax.

  Time that you both took advantage of by immediately stretching out and taking a nap in the big king bed you had shared all those months ago. A bittersweet nostalgic memory, tinged with pain. 

  The love that was made, the life that was created—seemed like a different life time ago. Trauma and stress had changed you both. 

  And when you wept, Eddie held you close, his own tears tickled your hairline, and you both held onto the promise of unspoken devotion and undying love for one another to get through to another day. 

  When you woke from your slumber, Eddie wasn’t in the bed, and it left you in a small state of panic. The unfamiliar walls closing in like a trap. And you used your therapist’s tips to ground yourself; the repeated mantra, the breathing exercises, and if necessary, a shower to metaphorically rinse your mind of unwanted thoughts.

  Finding the toiletries in your bag, you pad across the hall and step into the tiled shower. The hot steam coaxing the pressure off your chest. Relaxation floods your body almost instantly. 

  A soft knock on the door followed by Eddie’s voice, quiet and calm. The drag of the shower curtain brings your eyes up to find Eddie on the opposite side, “you okay?” 

  He was gentle, always. And you nodded. You would be okay, you would always be okay with him. Nobody ever made you feel safe like he did. 

  An unspoken agreement that neither of you were ready for anything intimate, seemed to break. Seeing him in light other than the harsh fluorescent ones in the hospital had you reaching for him.

  His hooded eyes understood, and he pulled his shirt over his head, catching on the cast on his right arm. 

  He was beautiful, the dark lines of tattoos and smearing bruises complimented his pale skin, and a deep feeling flooded you. Only having felt it once before, the night of his concert… right before he kissed you. 

  The wet tile warmed his toes as he slid in beside you. Facing you and forgoing the doctors orders of not getting his cast wet, he asks just like he did that night. 

  Sharing kisses in the hospital and holding each other in the hospital was the most intimate you had been since that night. 

  And something that brought fear was once again replaced by the gentle touch of his hand. Running down the expanse of your back. Fingers moving down your spine in memory. His forehead pressed to yours. 

  “You’re perfect,” he soothes, running his fingers around  to intertwine with yours, “I’m so goddamn in love with you.” 

  The tears tread down your cheeks, and he kisses them away, making your heart swell, and you muster out a blubbery, “I love you more.” 

  You both stand and hug until the water chills. Exiting the shower and wiping the condensation from the mirror. 

  The swelling around your face had gone down significantly, and even though you didn’t recognize yourself, Eddie reassured you that you were the most beautiful girl in the world. 

  “My girl,” he promised. 

  The days got easier, friends visited and cheered you both up. The hope for a better tomorrow came with the sun and pressed daintily on your skin, healing wounds deep within that in the early days of waking up screaming, you weren’t sure you would ever come back to see again. 

  —

“Does Eddie like tomatoes?” 

  The large knife moves through the juicy tomato with ease under Steve’s hand. You were perched on an expensive barstool, elbow digging into the granite counter tops as he prepped the salad for tonight’s dinner. 

  A smirk licks your lips, “no, he claims he’s allergic; calls them ‘ketchup testicles’”.

  Steve cocks an eyebrow and blows a raspberry, “What a moron.” 

  “You don’t have to cook for us, y’know?” you say, picking the dry skin from your lip. 

  He shrugs, “it’s just a little salad, Leighanne made the alfredo lastnight, and if I follow the instructions right,” he says picking up a piece of notebook paper, including little hearts you can see through at the bottom in a very pretty cursive handwriting, “we’ll just have to heat er up.” Steve says, pushing a rogue hair from his forehead, “besides, I actually like to cook; she spoils me and doesn’t let me help.” 

  “I’m happy for you,” you say with a small smile, “you deserve it.”

  “She’s the one,” Steve grins, love sick pupils widening at the thought of her, “but hey, you and Eddie finally pulling your heads out of your asses is the real winner— should have slapped you both for being so damn dumb.” 

  The middle finger you hold in the air just makes Steve laugh.

  Who knew the prince of rebellion and chaos wore his heart on a leather sleeve only for you? The blinders you wore to convince yourself it wasn’t real were finally tossed aside. 

  He loved you, and you loved him. End of story. 

  Before you could answer, the mayor of mayhem announced himself back from work, keys jingling and whistling a tune you didn’t recognize. And when his dark eyes catch yours, they swim and shimmer in adoration. 

  Dimpled cheeks dip onto his toothy smile, “there’s my pretty girl,” he sings, coming behind you and hugging your waist. The smell of cigarettes and motor oil stuck on his curls. Chapped lips on your temple, “how was your day?... you okay?” 

  Eddie hated leaving you alone, taking his lunch break to come back to the big house and check on you, using his smoke breaks to call whenever he could. 

  You nod into him, “better now,” leaning your head back to press your lips to kiss. 

  An annoyed groan follows from across the kitchen island, “let’s keep it PG in here okay? I know you guys finally admitted you love eachother but that doesn’t mean I want to see all of that.” 

  Eddie’s chuckle fans over your cheeks and he answers Steve but his eyes lock on yours, “big talk for a guy who could make a deaf man blush.” 

  Steve guffaws and stops slicing, “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Eddie grins and whispers finally looking away from you, “Quiet neighborhood… thin walls… you wouldn’t even need to ask who occupies this house with the way Steve whimpers Leighanne’s name… every night, they’re like rabbits.” 

  You both giggle at Steve’s expense when his cheeks turn crimson and the tomatoes he’s cutting end up mutilated. 

  — 

Living with Steve and Leighanne was surprisingly easy. Their routines stayed the same, and Eddie went back to

work for Boom after you had settled in. 

  He was a saint. 

  He held you when the nightmares started again. Sweat pooling on your shirt waking only to find Eddie’s arms wrapped tight around you tethering you back to reality when his thumbs swept over your cheeks, and his lips kissed away your tears. Quiet whispers and soft hums of his voice lulled you  as he pulled you deeper into him.

  Eddie and Steve kept up the light jokes and cracks at one another all the time. it was good to be around close friends and laugh again— something both you and Eddie had missed desperately. 

  Laying in bed one night, you walk your fingers up his bare chest tracing the lines of his tattoos, snuggled up into his side like a cat.

  His nails scratch at the fabric on your hips, “still not used to how good it feels to stretch out like this,” Eddie exhales, “I don’t know about you sweeteheart, but one more night in that hospital bed and I was going to ask Dr. Newby for fucking life alert.” 

  You giggle into his smooth skin, “twenty-six with life alert? Gonna thread that onto your pick chain necklace huh?” 

  “Shit,” Eddie chuckles, “I’d make it look so good babe, Ozzy himself would start wearing one.” 

  Hearing him joke around was a huge win. His bruises were fading too. But his wounds were deeper, wedged into the grim corners of his mind. Keeping him up most nights, afraid of falling asleep. 

  But each day the sun rose following the pattern of the moon, and another day passed.  Eddie started sleeping at night again, your nightmares dormant. Medicine and therapy working into the perfect cocktail to deter his own demons. 

  The two of you clung together. Molded into one another like playdoh, forming a new hue after mixing your colors together. It changed with your moods, vibrant and sunny on good days and moody and dark on the bad ones. Interconnected by the fragile trauma that weaved its way into your life. 

  The laughing fit you are both in is partly from lack of sleep, but feels too damn good to stop. Snorting and dripping tears from your eyes, your roars turn to giggles and hiccups as you wipe your eyes. 

  “Didn’t know if I’d ever hear that again,” Eddie admits while rubbing your side, placing a kiss on your head. 

  You lean on his chest and look deep into his coal eyes. 

  “We’ve been to hell and back, babe… but with you, it’s, I don’t know… I just know that we will be okay, does that make sense? I’m not worried about anything because I have you, and I couldn’t do any of this without you Eddie, and I mean that. You’re all I’ve got.” 

  Eddie rolls you over and tucks a wet lock of hair behind your ear, “I’d do it all again if I knew I’d end up with you as my girl.” 

  The tears start but they aren’t sad, they’re slow and happy, grateful for having him in your life. He wipes your tears and kisses you softly, humming the same song he sang like an idiot to you in your car all those months ago.

  The calloused hearted trailer park prince had won over the icy soul of that stubborn mouthy girl. A perfect pair, tarnished crowns and stitched lips. 

  To hell and back. 

[maxwell-grant]

The Penguin Ep3 - "Bliss" Breakdown

oh

(Episode 1) (Episode 2) (Episode 4) (Episode 5) (Episode 6) (Episode 7) (Episode 8)

So that's what Victor's image in the credits was meant to represent the whole time. A still of him inside the last memory he has of his home, his perspective on the window before it all went to shit.

I get that it might have been obvious the opening was a flashback given the election was still ongoing and given we get to see Vic's friend, the one who was shot by Sofia, still alive, but they also peppered enough bits that hade me fully convinced we were just watching Victor's present life when he was out of earshot from Oz. The bombs were a genuine shocker.

Credit to @davidmann95 for pointing out that the rooftop pebbles are Victor's equivalent of the Crime Alley pearls, an extremely important detail to add to the other Batman parallels Victor's gonna be shown having in this episode.

I'm loving a lot of the choices that go into Oz's outfits and specifically what kind of outfits he wears around specific characters, the whole chameleon thing he's got going personality-wise reflective in his choice of wear, and I like how this extends to the people around him and his choice of vehicle and base and everything. He may not wear fine suits everywhere and for all occasions, but this is very much a Penguin concerned about fashion particularities and branding and ways to dress up himself and the people acting in his behalf.

This scene where Oz pays Victor is funny, but it importantly sets up an element that's gonna come into play regarding their relationship by the end of the episode, that is how hard Oz projects on Victor and how much of his insecurity and need for affection comes through in his attempts to deal with the kid. Two episodes in after all the shit Victor's done for Oz and it's the first time we're seeing Oz talk about giving him a salary. It's not an unusual comedy beat, sadly not a real life one either, but the thing is, Oz is not a cheapskate, far from it. Across the last two episodes, he's been very quick to fork over cash to smooth over negotiations, and he's more than happy to pay the kid and praise him for demanding double (even if he shuts down the idea), it just genuinely never occurred to him until the moment that, right, the kid whose job is driving me around and burying bodies and putting his neck on the line for me needs a paycheck, of course, he's gonna get a nice thousand per week because I'm a good boss who does that kind of thing.

Nice little reminder of the class disparity element of the show, in how Sofia looks at Oz's set-up and dismisses as tacky garbage, while Graciela calls it bougie and thinks Victor's basically set if his boss is letting him crash in a place like that. Also illustrated in the money scene earlier, because from what I've researched, a thousand per week is an average salary for a driver in New Jersey (which is where this Gotham is located), and despite Oz calling it a start, Victor's already shocked at how much money Oz is paying per week. Just these totally different conceptions of what money and good living entail across the board for our characters. SPEAKING OF totally different standards,

So it turns out that Sofia has been planning her own meteoric ascension into ruler of Gotham for about as long as Oz, and more effectively at that, and if there's anything this episode will establish for sure about her, it's that Sofia Falcone is an actual supervillain the way Oz is still some ways from being. Alberto's shipment wasn't the ticket for the two of them, just for Oz, and Sofia just needed him to drive her around and open the door once more.

Oz the whole time basically happy with running a club and pushing dope out of a warehouse to the point of crying to her in the end that it was the best thing that ever happened to him, while Sofia here casually unveils a Gus Fring hidden meth lab with a mushroom forest full of Arkham Super Drugs and another Batman Villain working out in the backroom to produce them. Oz spent the last years ass kissing and spinning plates and seizing his own little levers of power all over Gotham, while Sofia was enduring soul-redefining torment entrenched inside the Supervillain Factory of the world where she would discover and pillage the tool that would let her conquer the city in one swoop.

A tool that she debuts before the underworld with an intimidating yet casual speech, above the city writhing before her and falling by the minute into her grasp, before casually leaving and telling her grunt to wrap up negotiations for her. The Riddler showed Gotham what a supervillain is and can do, a call to the maladjusted victims and freaks everywhere to grab their masks and bombs and get in the action because this is how the world works now that Batman exists, but Sofia here shows us not just a different way the rot spreads across the city, not just a way in which Arkham can become the other force filling in the power vacuum, but that being a supervillain is also a business model every respectable criminal in the city is gonna have to get on board with real fucking quick.

I love/hate that we get to have a few scenes of Sofia and Oz working together and how good they are, glad they could at least give us those before everything gets turbofucked forever further.

I definitely encourage you to keep up with the Penguin podcast, and particularly the latest episode where they talk with Rhenzy Feliz and fluency consultant Marc Winski, where they go over the thought and care that went into depicting Victor's stutter and incorporating it into the character and show, it's a very insightful conversation.

Oz's empathy for people with disabilities shows up in him complaining at the waiter for speaking over Victor, and later in their scene with Johnny Viti when he berates him for calling her a psycho, and is consistent with lots of other little moments where it's come up. I like that this is a consistent thing with Oz, and not just one of the things he does for show - even when he's complaining about Sofia to Victor, he never disparages her based on mental illness, he calls her uptight and elusive and a problem he wants off his back, but he never insults her the way all the other mobsters do.

Even in the bathroom scene by the end of the episode, where he does lose his patience and rushes Victor to explain himself, only happens after they've reached a boiling point. I do think it's important, for his character and role, that Oz maintains some important principles, even if they are still self-serving.

Again, love how the show knows just when to drop the Penguin name to maximize hurt on Oz.

What a fucking show Farrell and Miloti and Feliz give us in this episode.

I said back when the trailers dropped that Sofia Falcone looked like she was going to be the prestige crime drama protagonist that this show would have if it wasn't about The Penguin, and that's the vibe you get out of these two together. She is the tormented HBO leading lady and he is the charismatic side character, he is her driver with a wacky voice and face that bites it tragically to motivate her revenge / bites it after the reveal of how he backstabbed her. Which is exactly where the Falcones liked him, that funny guy in a supporting role who drives them around and runs their club and digs up their graves, and it's partially how their last scene in the episode plays out.

"Yeah I know I ruined your entire life and led to irreparable damage to your mind and sanity and reputation and all that, but I really wanted a little piece of the action as a nightclub owner, is that so bad?" is a confession that Oz only survives because he's the main character. In any other show, him bearing the depths of his embarassing pathetic soul to Sofia like that would be the last thing he does before dying, tragically or cathartically.

But to his credit, it worked. Sofia actually sheds a tear for him. It's the first time Oz has seemed genuinely honest with her, and more importantly, it's the first time anyone has been honest with Sofia ever since she got back from Arkham. She really has no one else she can possibly trust but the least trustworthy person on the planet. Who on Earth could possibly be willing to make an ass of themselves before her like that if they weren't being truthful?

Lauren LeFranc: You know, I think Oz is a bit of a walking contradiction and I think he deeply believes what he believes in that moment. I think he genuinely feels that way. Also understands the benefit of her being on his side at the same time. Right? Like, if she doesn't believe in him, their operation currently goes to hell. Not to say that he's playing that up, I think that is a moment of genuine emotion from him. But I also think for a man like him, he's not quite sure where it begins and ends. He doesn't believe that it's bullshit. That doesn't mean that it's not. Like, I don't know if he can even identify it or if, honestly, if Oz takes the time to unpack that. He's not a guy who's like, "Hmm, let me think about my actions today.", you know? - The Penguin Podcast: Episode 3

I'm extremely curious as to what the Sofia-Oz dynamic is gonna look like in the rearview. Does he have enough of a lid on his temper to fake that masterfully being offended on Sofia's behalf while playing her attack dog? Does he genuinely regret that she got sent to Arkham over whatever he did? I think this and the ending scene go a long way in pending towards either way and that's interesting to me. Even if 90% of what he says is bullshit there's some of that regret / kinship that feels genuine

I am very curious to see what becomes of Eve and what more will we learn about her. She seems to be Oz's second-in-command when it comes to businesses he does with her and the girls, and I like that the girls and Victor form a personal squad for Oz (and crucially, he's promising all of them a bigger slice of the pie when he becomes a big shot, and just as crucially, all of them have massive targets on their back right now).

It is genuinely funny how appalled and offended Oz is, at the idea that maybe the kid he roped into this with a gun to the head only stuck around out of fear, not because the kid thinks he's a great guy giving him a chance. I call him the Michael Scott of crime and I mean it. But like most funny things about the Penguin it also has something sad and lonely and pathetic and human about it, the ever present disconnect between the gentleman he wants to be and the thug he acts like.

Like with the salary thing, it just did not cross his head at any moment prior to this, not when he threatened to kill the people he cared about or openly argued with Vic whether to shoot him and stuff him in a trunk, not when threatening to gut him like a fish for messing up or spilling his secrets or telling him to lie with corpses, that Vic was sincerely scared of him and his power and did not leave because he feared this known gangster would do exactly what he said he was going to do. To Oz, doing those things to "his guy" now would be unthinkable, but the question that Vic wanted to leave never even popped in his mind.

And it makes him genuinely upset. That scene at the bar, where he is fully alone, sad and tired with his drink, tired from all the plates he's had to spin and all the indignities he's endured and still endures, tired from all the hats he's had to wear, and sad because the only person so far he's been able to let down his guard around, the one person with whom he could at least wear a hat he liked just bailed on him.

Of course he'd never kill Vic for just wanting to leave, once he realizes that this is actually a factor in how Victor views him and obviously he'd be a bad boss if he did that. Of course he gets angry at Victor for wanting to throw away an opportunity given to him that Oz would have (and probably has) killed for, he's giving Victor the kind of help he desperately wishes he got and he's gonna throw it away? Of course he gets shocked at being reminded Victor is a guy with needs, a guy that Oz holds lethal power over, and not just a kid version of Oz that he can live out his Rex Calabrese fantasy by helping out and mentoring. And of course, none of the cruel and hurtful things he says to Victor before he leaves would sting if there wasn't just enough of a bitter truth to them, or at least, enough of it to stick with Victor.

What an excellent scene Victor's panic attack was, totally get why it was the editor's favorite

I was waiting for a Victor-centric episode and was not dissappointed, this is the episode where he first comes on his own as a character and we see how crucially important he is to the show, the from-the-bottom ground floor perspective on everything that Reeves and LeFranc have repeteadly defined the project around. I love getting to see such an on-the-ground perspective of how fucking monstrous Riddler's plan was, and the kind of lives it ruined. This poor kid thrust headfirst into a Batman/Robin origin story and situation.

It's like Feliz said in the podcast, the end of the episode is the first time we've ever seen Victor, and maybe the first time Victor's ever seen himself, outside of survival mode, outside of simply living to try and get to next hour and do what his parents/Oz tell him to, which is a painfully real state to be in for anyone who's dealt with poverty growing up or is dealing with poverty right now. It's the first time he really has an opportunity to decide on his own what he's going to do on his own. As much as we may know he's making a doomed choice, that he really should just hop on the first bus out of Gotham and join his girlfriend in the sun, well, he's a Batman character, he doesn't get to do that.

Victor wants to live his life and protect himself and the people he loves and make good choices and be a good person, but on a deep fundamental level, he just wants his family back, he wants his dad back, he wants to do right by them more so than by himself, even if that means doing things they would find detestable. Like the son of a doctor, a son who now chooses to inflict violence every night if it means he can avenge their memory, here we have the son of a nurse presented with a choice: He gets to honor the intentions of his parents by dying as a well-meaning decent nobody like they did, or he gets to make up for the shame of how they died by living a good life, one which was denied to them, by surviving and thriving as a criminal. He gets to honor their ideals, or get back at the shameful cruel reality of how they died, but he cannot do both. So he makes his choice.

Oz, in this episode, burns nearly every single bridge he has: with the Falcone family, with the Maronis, and with Sofia, and he even does it with Victor. If Victor hadn't come back, Oz would have died on that parking lot, and still Oz is ecstatic that his guy's come back, because all he wants is for someone to like him enough to stick around with him. Victor is not so sure he's not in for a horrible time now, but in his own way, he also burned his bridges, and he also got what he wanted.

Okay Vic, you wanted dad to not take shit from others and shoot for a better life, you got a dad who will teach you to do just that. You wanted to pal around with small-time criminals you were friends with even if your parents insisted otherwise, well, the king of hoodlums is the only guy you have left in your life now.

You have committed yourself body and soul to a dangerous life within the city you love, spurred on by the tragic injustice that took your parents in an event that destroyed your entire world? Great, welcome to Gotham, here's even a new name you get out of it.

[seung-mong]

shoot to kill - bangchan

includes: ex (?) bf! chan x fem reader, ANGST idk im in the mood to break hearts ig, fluff at the end, soft smut, mostly chan reassuring and praising reader

"alright fuck, then maybe we should just take a break."

the words leave chan before he can really think about it, hanging in the air like a knife that's been thrown and stops midair, your gaze ice cold and freezing it in it's track.

"really. thats your solution? a fucking break?" you scoff, your (chan's) shirt that usually hangs loosely suddenly suffocating you, wrapping you in a snake-like grip and making your head feel like you're going to explode.

"yea, i just dont think us being together is good for us anymore."

chan has a bad habit. he says shit he doesnt mean, blames the anger that builds in his chest and spits out words he knows will hurt. because thats what he wants to do. he knows its wrong, fucked even. the way he wants you to hurt the way he hurts.

"christopher."

its a plea. take it back, please. you stand there in front of him, defenseless. the way his full name falls off your tongue sounds wrong. it's devoid of all the emotions you'd usually call him with. where's the gentleness, the softness you usually regard him with?

"maybe we just.. need to stay away from each other right now." chan's voice is steady, betraying the way his insides seem to shake, he's not sure if he's shivering from the cold, or the way your eyes seem to look at him as if you're seeing him for the first time.

"you can't be serious." it hurts to speak, your words squeezing out of you as you struggle to breathe, tears freely flowing.

he should turn this around. surrender. no, he isn't serious. he's so stupid and he loves you and he's just so hurt by what you said a while ago and he's tired and- "i'll sleep at changbin's tonight."

your chest hurts, physically feels like its being ripped apart as you stare at your lover with empty eyes. "thats your solution? to run away? over such a stupid-"

"stupid?" chan laughs hollowly, running a hand through his hair, feeling all the anger rise in him again. "it isn't stupid, y/n. you're the one who keeps running away. you're the one who keeps pushing away this conversation every single time i bring it up." he's raising his voice now, can see how tense his body is from the reflection on the glass window.

"you're asking me to pick up my whole life and move to seoul with you. this isn't some silly request like asking me to pick where to eat for dinner, it's my whole fucking life, chris!" you raise yours in response, taking a step closer to him.

"that's what i did for you! i dont understand it, y/n. i moved to chicago. for you. picked up my whole fucking life and moved because i loved you. so why can't you fucking do that for me? this is my work, y/n." he takes a step, towering over you.

"no, don't twist it like that. we made plans, chan. we talked about it for months. it wasn't some spontaneous decision. we both wanted this-"

"well maybe i dont want this anymore."

oh.

...

"you don't mean that."

...

"channie? please. you don't mean that." your voice is breaks, shaky as you step away from him, clutching at your chest.

he can feel guilt eat at his stomach as he watches you, whole body shaking as sobs rack through your frame. he needs to apologize, he knows it. but you've hurt him too.

"i just... i need a break, y/n."

you sink into the couch behind you, shaking your head when chan hesitantly approaches you, kneeling on the floor in front of you. he places a hand on your knee, and his chest tightens when you flinch away from him.

"love-"

"don't." you spit the word out, refusing to even look at him.

"love, please-"

"a break's what you want? you fucking have it. tell changbin to expect you." you push his arm away when he makes a move to reach for you. you unfurl yourself from the couch, stepping aside from the man who holds your heart, ignoring his calls of your name as you walk into your shared bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

sleep comes quickly when you cry yourself to sleep, curled into a ball in your bed, heart empty as the overwhelming scent of chan sticks to his pillows. you faintly hear the soft click of the front door, and then complete silence.

it's hard to remember how you fell asleep, almost as if there was a smooth transition from sobbing heavily into your pillow and breathing into a deep sleep. your head is pounding when your eyes open, puffy and sore from your tears. your throat is dry, stomach aching, and heart heavy.

there's a chance chan will never sleep beside you again.

you push aside the bitter feeling, letting out a painful groan when you stretch your limbs, swinging your feet off your bed. the floor is cold, and you have to tiptoe to the bathroom to freshen up.

you look as horrible as you feel. you try not to spend too much time looking at yourself.

the thought of spending your whole day alone in your big apartment makes you uneasy, part of you wishing you could stay cooped up in your room forever. but you know deep down that's not what's truly bothering you, not when the uncertainty eats at you from the inside.

how is he?

is he thinking about you?

why hasn't he messaged you?

...... is it really the end?

you walk to the door, taking a deep breath as tears brim just below your waterline, promising to be productive today, and not to wallow in self pity all day. your scream leaves you before you can register what exactly is sitting by front of your door, large frame leaning against the door toppling over in his sleep.

"what the hell!" you scream, heart suddenly beating too fast at your liking as you finally take the scene in.

"baby?" chan's voice is croaky, as if his throat had been scratched raw. he's still wearing the clothes from last night, shoulder leaning against the doorframe before you swung the door open, causing him to lose balance.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you sigh, guilt tugging at your heart when chan stands up, groaning and rubbing at his back.

"i- i didn't...."

you stare at him in silence, unable to control the way your brows furrow in anger. he stares back at you, lips suddenly going dry when he sees the way that you look at him, as if he was a bother.

"i thought you went to bin's." you push past him, heading straight to the kitchen as if you had no worry in the world, pretending to busy yourself with dishes despite there not being a single dish in the sink.

"i..... i couldn't leave you." his voice cracks as he takes another step toward you. you turn your back to him, denying him of your attention as you pretend to busy yourself with breakfast, pulling open drawers and taking out pots.

"wow. that's rich." your voice is laced with pure venom when you bite back, sinking deep into chan's heart as he shuffles awkwardly to stand by the kitchen counter.

"you locked the door."

you only hum in response.

"i.... i tried to go in, thought i'd apologize to you but.... it was locked."

"yea. you don't really expect anyone to go in your room when you're on a break."

the silence is heavy on your shoulders, but you know if you say any more the tears will start pouring. you're too mad at chan to break down in front of him, pride and ego wrestling as you maintain your unbothered facade, working your way around him as if his presence meant nothing to you.

"i turned down the job offer last night."

you drop the spatula you were holding in your hand, letting it clank against the metal pot.

"you what?" you finally turn to face him, disbelief etched onto your face.

you finally soften when you see chris mere feet away from you, eyes red and puffy a sign that he had been crying too. his hair is a mess, and his clothes from last night look rumpled, as if he had been restless all night.

"i- you have to know, my love. i will always choose you, nothing else. i was stupid and-"

"christopher, i never said no." you feel irritation rise in you again, but you take another step closer to your lover. "i never said i didnt want to go. i needed time to think, chris. time. to process. and now you've turned down your dream job and i-"

"i know, i know." chris reaches out to you, letting out what you think is a breath of relief when you dont push him away as he wraps his fingers around your wrists. "but i.... this job, it's going to be demanding and i'm constantly going to have to move and.... look, chicago is your home." he raises a hand to cup your face, wiping away the stray tear that had slipped down your cheek.

"and seoul is yours." you argue back.

"no, you are."

you let out a sob at that, allowing yourself to fully melt into chan's warm embrace. he immediately scoops you into his arms, pressing your face into his chest as he kisses the top of your head repeatedly, patting your hair down.

"it doesnt matter what im doing or where i am, as long as you're there." chan starts to choke up, pulling your face away to properly look you in the eyes. "i dont know what the future holds for me, love. all i know is that i want you by my side. in ten, twenty, thirty years." he plants soft kisses all over your face as you sniffle.

"but i- i feel so bad. i dont want to stop you from doing what you want." you groan, but chan simply giggles lovingly at you.

"i dont want you to think that, i dont even think that. its just a job, y/n. its not even a job i really want. it pays well yea, but it's not something id drop everything for. especially not you." he wipes away the tears that are still falling, cooing at you when you hiccup.

"i love you, chan. i'm so sorry." you sob, pushing your face into his shirt.

"don't apologize. i should be the one saying sorry. i was such a dick last night, i-" he sighs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "you know i dont mean what i say, right?"

god he hopes you say yes, he prays to any god, even those he doesnt believe in that you know he never means those things. he doesnt think theres anything worse than the possibility that you could actually think he doesnt want you or a life with you.

"i- i know. but... still hurts when you say it." you sniif, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand.

chan pulls away to look down at you. "i know, my love. im sorry. i'll work on that, i promise. can't stand it when you're sad. i hate knowing im the one who hurts you." he leans down to kiss you, the salty taste of your tears making his chest hurt.

"let me love on you, yea? let me take care of you baby, please."

you nod, jumping up when chan taps at your thighs. he catches you, wrapping his hands around your thighs as he carries you to your bedroom. "need to feel you," you sigh when chan gently places you on the bed.

he stands in between your spread legs, quickly throwing off his hoodie and letting it fall to the floor, leaving him half naked. he leans down to hover over you, lips instantly finding yours in a messy, heated kiss. his hands find their way under your shirt, tips of his fingers grazing your underboob.

"wanna fuck you in my shirt." chan hums against your cheek, squeezing your sides when you squirm against him.

"wanna feel your skin on mine though, please baby?" you beg, holding onto chan's shoulders as he kisses down your chest. he hums in agreement, rolling his shirt off so it sits on top of your breast.

"i'll give you whatever you want, baby. just ask me. promise i'll give it to you, i'll take care of you." he presses soft kisses across your stomach and chest all the while, only pulling away to lift the fabric off you. chan eyes you hungrily, only dressed in your underwear.

"you're the most beautiful girl ive ever seen, my love. so perfect for me." he sighs, fingers tangling in your hair as he kisses you deeply.

"want your pants off, need to feel all of you." you whine, fingers already flying to undo his pants.

"such a good girl, using your voice. you know id do anything you asked." he hums, kicking everything off until he lays bare against you, cock already hard as it rubs against your thigh.

"enough with the teasing, channie. need you in me."

"there's no rush, baby." chan hums, fingers dipping down to see how wet you are, surprised to find you already soaking.

"huh. guess she was crying for me too, hmm?"

you lightly slap at his shoulder, fighting the scolding smile that threatens to paint your face. "just put it in already, please."

"hmm. since you asked so nicely." he kisses your cheek, lips still against your skin as he pushes in you, holding your legs as par apart as he can. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of him stretching you, fingers digging onto his broad back as he settles deep within you.

"feel good?" he asks, pillowy lips trailing across your face.

"so deep- love you, channie." you babble, and chan can't help but giggle. he presses his bare chest against yours, feeling satisfied when every inch of his skin is met with your own. his hands find yours, interlocking them before he dips down to kiss you on the lips.

"lets go slow, kay baby? need to feel all of you. every inch." he coos, hips slowly pulling back before he sinks back in, keeping the same torturously slow pace.

you whin when it starts to get too much and yet not enough at the same time, heels digging into his lower back to push him in quicker everytime he pulls out. "please, channie. need it faster."

"greedy," chan tuts, rubbing his nose against your jawline. "but, what my love wants, she gets."

his pace starts to pick up, lewd sounds of skin against skin filling up the room aside from the occassional moan you let out. chan grunts against your ear, letting out deep sighs and high pitched whimpers everytime you clench around him or reach up to kiss at his neck.

"m close," you whine, throwing yoru arm around your lover's neck to pull him closer. he easily complies, keeping the same rhythm as you press yourself against him.

"wanna feel you cum, baby. wanna feel that pretty pussy clench around me." he groans, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles on the bud.

you let out a silent scream when you cum, legs shaking against chan's waist as he fucks you through your high, letting out a breathy whimper when he feels how tight you've become.

"fuck! love you so much, channie." you sob.

that's what pushes him over the edge, shooting his load deep inside you as his hips stutter, groaning lowly with every thrust. he buries his face into the crook of your neck as you hold him, back sweaty from all the movement.

your breathing seems to sync as you both calm down, chan's hands rubbing up and down your sides as yours curl into his hair, holding him snuggly against you.

"i love you more than anything, y/n." chan suddenly breathes against your neck. he pulls away to look at you, and your breath catches in your throat when you see his eyes are brimming with tears.

"channie?" you pout, gently carressing his cheeks with your thumb. he leans into your touch, quickly kissing the palm of your hand before he nuzzles into it.

"don't wanna lose you. hurts so fucking much just thinking about it."

you're caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability, but you coo at him all the same. "you won't lose me, baby. we'll get through everything." you promise, heart squeezing when his tears start to fall.

"almost did. hate myself so much for hurting you." he sniffs, quickly wiping away his tears.

"baby, listen to me, okay?" you sigh. you try to sit up to look at him better, but chan whines, resting his head in between your chest and tightening his hold around your body. you giggle at him, hands quickly finding its way to his hair as you play with it. "you won't lose me. we just gotta... talk through everything, okay?"

"but i hurt you.... i dont think when i get mad. say things i dont mean."

"and you said you'd work on it. i trust you." he lifts his head up so he looks up at you, chin resting on your stomach.

"i love you. i hope you believe me when i say that. honestly, i dont think those three words can even begin to describe how i feel for you." he sighs, pinching at your side.

you giggle at him, thinking back to how he called you his home.

you push away the curls that cover his eyes, smiling down sweetly at him. "i know what you feel for me channie." you reassure him, pulling him up by the shoulders so he hovers directly above you.

"'s exactly what i feel for you, my beautiful boy." you coo, pulling him down for a kiss.

taglist: @abcdefgiwsmcty@n034sy@148-seungmin

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Princess

Azriel x f!Reader

One of the series I’m currently working on. Enjoy!

Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse, trauma and death, swearing

Masterlist.

Princess Masterlist.

Chapter 9

“He really said that?” Aeden gaped at you, and you nodded before grabbing your glass and gulping down the wine.

“Why did that bitch tell him?” He exclaimed.

“Don’t call her that!” you gasped “They all consider each other family I was stupid for telling her”.

“I guess you’re right…” he hummed “I can’t understand what’s his problem”.

“That makes two of us” you sighed and poured more wine in your glass. “What are you planning to do?” he asked.

“Hide here for as long as I can and keep training by myself. At some point I must return there, I don’t want to offend the High Lord and his hospitality. But when I return, I want to be stronger, to be able to fight for myself.” You explained and he nodded with a proud smile.

“If you need a sparring partner I can ask Clover, he has fought in two wars”.

“Thank you” You smiled and moved closer to the fireplace but froze when you saw a shadow slithering by the window.

“Shit” you breathed and hid behind the couch.

“What?” Aeden glanced around.

“Shadows” you whispered “Window.”

Aeden got up slowly and approached the window leaving a gasp as soon as he peeked outside.

“What?” you scream-whispered.

“They’re everywhere, you can’t even see the street. Oh shit the sky too” he exclaimed wide-eyed.

“I’m screwed, he will find me” you whined a bit louder.

Aeden shushed you and you slapped your hand over your mouth and nose trying to stay as quiet as you could. The adamant wall around your side of the bond was still intact but you could feel Azriel trying to claw his way through.

“When I tell you ‘now’ I want you to run and hide in the closet” Aeden said.

You hummed and waited, staring at the bedroom door.

“Now!”

You got up and ran like your life depended on it, you opened the closet and jumped inside slamming the door shut and controlling your breathing. You could hear Aeden running around, tidying up the place and spraying his perfume. Suddenly the door opened, and he gave you a pleading look.

“No matter what you hear don’t come out. If you care about my life don’t do it.” He said breathlessly and stared into your eyes.

“Why?” you asked.

“When you said ‘he will find me’ some shadows pounced on my window, I think they heard you but even if they didn’t, they saw me and I know that the shadowsinger will come here.” He explained. “Even if he starts beating me don’t come out. If he finds you here I’m dead.”

“I’m so sorry” you teared up and he smiled softly.

“It’s okay dollface that’s what friends are for”.

He closed the door again and left.

Your whole body trembled, and you sat down pulling some of his clothes on you to cover your scent.

Suddenly a crushing noise filled the silence and you flinched.

“Where is she?” Azriel’s deep and raspy voice boomed through the small apartment.

“What the fuck?” Aeden shouted “Who?”

“Don’t play games with me blondie!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, if you explain I might be able to help” Aeden snorted.

“Where the fuck is y/n?” Azriel growled. “In the house of wind? That’s where she usually is” you knew that he had furrowed his eyebrows.

The door of the closet cracked open, and a shadow slipped in, caressing your cheek and slithering back out.

“No come here”. You pleaded and almost gasped when it did.

“Please don’t say anything! I just need some time to think. I will come back when I’m ready.” You whispered and the shadow darted out.

You were on the verge of tears until you heard Azriel.

“If she comes, please tell her that I only want to talk with her. I won’t force her to come back.”

It didn't tell him. You thought. “Of course.” Aeden said.

You heard the door close and started removing the clothes.

“You can come out” Aeden said and knocked on the door.

You exited and started fixing his stuff.

“Thank you so much.” You spoke.

“I didn’t do anything and to be honest I’m surprised he didn’t beat the fucking shit out of me” he chuckled.

You opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it when you noticed a shadow slipping through the door.

“Oh shit” Aeden cursed but you shook your head, for some reason you knew it was the one that found you in the closet. It approached you and climbed your body to rest on your shoulder and tickle you behind your ear.

You giggled and whispered “You’ll stay with me?”.

It caressed your cheek as if to say yes.

“That thing is your friend now?” Aeden exclaimed and you nodded. "I don’t think they allow pets in here. What does it eat?”

“It’s a shadow” you quirked your brow.

Tell him that I eat souls. A cold voice rang through your mind, and you flinched, the shadow seemed to freak out as well as it floated away.

“WHAT? Did it bite you?” Your friend freaked out. “No it informed me that it eats souls” you snorted.

“It eats WHAT?” Aeden took a few steps back almost tripping over the couch.

“Oh come on it’s a shadow don’t freak out.”

“You better keep this away from me.”

“Okay” you sighed and sat on the couch with the shadow on your shoulder again.

You can hear me?

“Yes” you said.

But you’re not a shadowsinger.

“I know… Azriel is my mate though.” You shrugged.

I’m here to protect you.

“I know”

“Are you having a conversation with it?” Aeden asked and the shadow hissed.

“Yup and it doesn’t like you” you stuck your tongue out to him, and he made a vulgar gesture.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I can’t fucking find her Rhys” Azriel paced in Rhysand’s office “What if someone took her?”

“We’re in Velaris Az.” The High Lord rolled his eyes.

“That didn’t stop Hybern’s army. What if the Illyrians took her? They are still bitter about letting the women train. That bartender used to hang out with some Illyrians during the war and his brother fought by their side if I remember correctly, maybe he told them about her and they took her.” Rhysand had never heard his brother talk so much.

“Okay you can search the camps, do you want me or Cassian to come with you?” he sighed.

“No I’m good.” The shadowsinger exited the office with a determined expression and Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Three days passed, Aeden took care of you, and you managed to work on your fighting and self-esteem.  You were stronger than before, you could take your own decisions and talk back but still there were some moments that you hesitated. You knew that you had to work harder but it didn’t stop you from celebrating the small victories. Azriel was on your mind constantly and you blamed it on the bond, and the shadow who was constantly by your side.

Aeden came back from the store, his face was pale and his hands were shaking.

“What happened?”  You gasped and hurried to grab the bags from him.

“Someone burned down five Illyrian camps, we don’t know who.” He said and sat on the couch.

“What? How do you know?”

“Me and my brother have some friends there….” He rubbed his face.

“Who could do something like that?” your breath hitched at the thought.

“We don’t know yet. Y/n you have to go back and ask the High Lord to do something… please.” Aeden looked devastated and your heart ached. You didn’t want to go back but your friend needed you and you couldn’t say no, not after everything he did for you.

“Okay, I will.”

“I’m sorry for asking you to do this but…”

“It’s okay” you smiled and gathered your few stuff. You hugged him goodbye and left.

For the first time the streets weren’t busy.

They probably heard about the camps. The shadow whispered and you nodded.

“There’s the shadowsinger’s whore” a deep voice sounded from behind you. You span around and were met with the sight of two huge illyrians and Clover. The shadow floated in front of you and hissed at them.

“Well maybe we should burn her like he did with our camps” the other one smiled and Clover nodded.

“Clover…” you whispered.

“Your mate murdered my friends” he gritted his teeth.

“Please…” you whispered again and took a few steps back.

“No one can help you” the tallest one said and pounced on you. You dodged him with a grunt and elbowed his side.

“You whore” he snarled and the other one ran towards you, the shadow covered his eyes buying you some time to punch him.

“Come here” Clover screamed and grabbed you from behind. Your body moved on its own, all the advises Cassian gave you rang in your mind and you hit his nose with the back of your head, his grip loosened and you kicked his crotch before running away.

“You’re not going anywhere” the first one growled and hit your head with the handle of his sword. You saw the shadow splitting in half, one part darting away and the other slipping in your shirt before passing out.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You smelled oil and suddenly an excruciating pain, you screamed and opened your eyes. Horror, your blood froze as you watched your hands burning, the flames wild and angry. You watched the shadow frantically patting the flames trying to extinguish them. Someone poured water on your hands and then patted them with a blanket. “Good you’re awake” he smiled wickedly.

“Now they will match” another one spoke, and you watched your flesh coming off and landing on the floor in front of you. You were tied on a chair with your hands stretched in front of you with chains keeping them steady.

“He burned five of our camps.” The first one said.

“Yeah, I guess we have to burn more of her to call us even” the other snorted and moved closer with the bottle of oil.

"Please find me" you whispered and opened your side of the bond.

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