#like you’re sitting there telling these old stories looking all sympathetic and then you see max in the paddock three days later

[f0point5]

Idk if this is going to be an unpopular opinion but does anyone else find it weird how comfortable everyone and their mother is talking about Max’s childhood?

Everyone’s clutching their pearls but no one wants to have some respect and keep their mouths shut?

[zweetpea]

Mrs. "Wayne"

Part 2

Content warning: Swears, Arranged Marriage, murder (Not by Bruce because he doesn't kill), threats

This chapter is a bit shorter than the last but I think this is a sweet ended to this story. (For now... If I think of something to add to it I'll make a proper finale).

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

You awoke with a bag over your eyes, a rope around your wrists, and a killer headache.

Bruce ripped the bag off your head. “You’re lucky I have a no kill policy. But trust me when I say that if you’re going to wish I did.”

“Scary.” You mocked in a smooth and dull voice. “Does that work on all the drug addicted mental patients in spirit halloween costumes that you beat up?”

He grabbed your chin and pulled you forward a bit. “Don’t play with me, little girl.”

“Don’t call me little girl, old man. What do you want?” You asked boredly. 

He glared at you. “I should be the one asking that.” He spat.

You looked at him anammused and unenthusiastically said, “I’d like to be let out of the chair.” He tips the chair back slightly over the edge of this cliff in the cave. “Okay! Okay! I want the divorce to be quiet! I won’t take a small settlement! In fact I won’t ask for any money or assets! I-! Um… I want a pony? WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY!!” You started to panic. There were a lot of things you could do, but surviving a 10-20 foot drop into a moat, while being tied up was not one of them.

He tips the chair back onto solid ground and grabs both of her shoulders. “You want a pony in exchange for your silence about the bat cave and my family?”

“Oh that’s what this is about?” The fear on your face dissipated. “I don’t really care about this.”

Bruce took a step back in shock. “What?”

“Yeah. This place is honestly amazing and I’m actually very impressed at what you do.” Your voice was genuine as you looked up at him.

He seemed skeptical. “You are?”

You smiled slightly. “Well, yeah! You fight 2 meta-humans, a bunch of psycho clown gymnasts, two guys in super suits, and just a bunch of other freaks every other week! Are you some kind of immortal being or something?” You geeked out a bit.

He looked at you surprised. “You know a lot about me.”

“Well, in retrospect, no offense but it’s kind of sad… and pathetic.” She looked at him sympathetically

He scoffs. “How?”

“You spent 14 years training to avenge your parents murder and you didn’t think to see a therapist?” 

“Point taken.” He started to untie You. “So you promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Yeah. I’m not about to get dragged into this! Regardless of the truth behind our relationship, bad guys are going to come for me if I start blabbing about you guys. Not only that but the cops are going to hall me off to jail too if you get caught for vigilantism.”

“Oh… I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry…” He sits down on the cliffside with his head in his hands. “This whole thing has been a disaster.”

You sat down next to him. “Bruce?” You looked over curiously.

“Yeah?” He muttered.

You hesitated. “Why did you marry me?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Kid flash made a joke about my irresponsible love life and I guess I took it to heart.” He confessed somberly.

You patted his shoulder comfortingly. “All teenagers suck. It’s just growing pains.”

“I don’t like being bullied by an 8th grader.” He looked over in what you want to describe as a pout but that can’t be right. This is batman! Batman doesn’t pout! He broods!

“Imagine how Damian is going to be at that age.” You giggled. He growled and looked away. Oh my goodness. Batman was pouting. You burst out in laughter. “You are too special, Bruce.” You gave him a quick side hug and pulled yourself up. “Come on. Let’s go order take out and laugh at how stupid Villains are.”

He smiled at you slightly and pulled himself up as well. “Yeah… They are pretty stupid.”

“I mean it took me two months to find this place when they haven't come close in 2 decades!” She laughed and took his arm in hers. 

“Well Condiment king found this place a decade ago. But no one’s heard from him since so the villains stopped trying.” Bruce smirked.

You looked up at him worriedly. “I thought you didn’t kill.”

“I don’t, but my ex-special forces of a butler does.” He closes up the door to the batcave.

“...oh…”

He kissed your forehead and ushered you out of the library. “Nothing you need to worry about. Now let’s go order some takeout!”

You two ordered some Chinese food and lounged on the couch watching whatever was popular on Wayneflix. Bruce ordered shrimp fried rice and egg rolls while you just got a little of whatever caught your eye.

You pulled a throw blanket over you both and ate straight from the take out containers. It was weird being so close to him.

“I thought you didn’t like me touching you.” He reminded you of what you’d said less than a few hours ago. Seems like he noticed it too.

You shrugged. “I don’t like you feeling me up but I don’t mind cuddling. I suppose I should get used to it considering the fact that you’re probably going to keep me under lock and key for the rest of my life.” You shuffled closer to him.

He was silent for a moment before he spoke in a reassuring tone: “It’s not forever. Just a little while. I need to be sure you don’t plan on running off to the alps of Switzerland or something.”

You rolled your eyes. “No! Don’t be ridiculous! …Still can’t believe that the world hasn’t figured out you’re Batman yet. It’s so obvious in retrospect! Is that just my hindsight bias showing?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s the fact that a few tabloids are still floating around the idea that Batman is some kryptonian pet that Superman brought with him that gained a high level of intelligence.” Bruce practically shovelled his portion of food down his throat. 

“Pace yourself!” You scolded him. “And there’s no way anyone actually believes that.”

“Yeah well there’s also no concrete proof that links me to my alter ego.” Bruce pointed out in a playful tone.

“Yeah but… people don’t even float around the idea you're his sugar daddy-” You were interrupted by a certain tween.

“Father! Todd has informed me that he will be over shortly- Are you two cuddling?” Damian sounded repulsed by the idea.

You looked up at him. “Hey terror tot.” You greeted, flatly.

“Damian, I saved half my shrimp fried rice for you.” Bruce offered rather uncharacteristically warmly.

Damian turned away in a pout. “No thank you father. I hope you and your mistress have fun on your date.”

You interjected. “Firstly, super not the mistress. Secondly, it’s not like a date date so you can join us if you want. Thirdly, growing nestlings need to eat to build strength.”

Damian froze as Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. “What did you just call me?”  Damian's voice was mostly steady but there was undeniably a hint of fear.

“Damian, she knows about the bat cave.” Bruce calmed the boy.

“YOU SHOWED HER THE BAT CAVE!!” Damian screamed in shock and fury.

“Damian, compose yourself!” Bruce stood up. The two stared each other down from opposite sides of the couch.

“So are we abandoning movie night?” Your question went unanswered as Damian started ripping into Bruce about how irresponsible it was for him to show it off to “Impress her” (his words); and how hypocritical he was.

Bruce finally grabbed Damian’s shoulders and got him to quiet down. “She found the batcave.”

“A likely story.” Damian crossed his arms and grimaced at you.

“History of taxes, fifth shelf from the bottom, middle-right to the left of the big bay window in the library, dewey decimal number 336.20.”

“It took you two months to find the bat cave?” Damian raised an eyebrow at you.

You looked back at him. “In all honesty I just wanted to read something you guys hadn’t. Some books might be boring but it’s better to actually read the books to you rather than flaunt them, like some wannabe Jay Gatsby.”

Damian stood there in shock. “You’ve read The Great Gatsby?”

You scoffed. “Everyone had to read The Great Gatsby. I had a terrible teacher that basically told us Daisy was the victim throughout the Novel. Which I would understand if she was drawing that conclusion from synchronizing her with Fitzgerald’s actual wife Zelda but she wasn’t.” You paused the movie for a second. “The Great Gatsby is a weird novel when you actually understand the story of the people behind it. Fitzgerald is Gatsby and Zelda is Daisy. However the entire book portrays their relationship as a fantasy. Gatsby grows to regret it. He lusts for her beauty and wealth while Daisy almost comes off as superficial. The rich stay rich and the poor men who try to make a name for themselves are naive fools. It really paints a bad light on how he viewed his own wife.”

The two men looked at you in utter shock. “What’s hilariously sad is the fact that Fitzgerald based a lot of what he wrote around Zelda’s diary entries. Daisy is horribly depressed in her marriage, and she hates her husband. You’d think that Fitzgerald would realize how much his wife despised him and how unhappy he made her but he seemed oblivious to that fact.” You grabbed the container of shrimp fried rice and handed it to Damian. “So if you’ll excuse us, I'd like to get back to bonding with my husband so we don’t end up like Zelda and her vile husband.” You pulled Bruce back onto the couch and gave him what you had left of your take out.

“You don’t have to-” Bruce tried to protest and give you back your food.

“I assume you’ll be out late. You’ll need energy if you’re going to be staying out till dawn.”

“I just want to take a nap…” He mumbled and held you close like a child holding a plushie.”

You fixed the blanket over you both again and got comfy in his arms. “Get some rest Bruce. You need it.”

[gainercontent]

We need to talk about your weight, Part 1

A conversational-style gainer story.

Alex: (laughs) Dude, is that really you? I almost didn’t recognize you!

Ben: (grins sheepishly) Yeah, it’s me. Been a minute, huh?

Alex: A minute? More like 2 years! Man, I’ve gotta say... you’ve changed. gestures at Ben What happened?

Ben: laughs nervously Well, you know, life and... a lot of pizza. Fell off bit.

Alex: raises eyebrows No way, you’re telling me you’ve been eating pizza? Last time I saw you, you were locked in, bro!

Ben: shrugs Yeah, about that... Work, stress, sitting around... I just crashed out.

Alex: laughs Man, I was gonna say you definitely fell off, let yourself go. pauses How bad is it?

Ben: looks down at his stomach Uh, pretty bad. I’ve gained like 40 pounds since we last hung out.

Alex: Whoa... I gotta admit, I didn’t see that coming. I thought I’d be the one who looked different. gestures at himself

Ben: eyes widen Wait, you? What are you talking about?

Alex: grins You remember how I was back in the day—gestures to his past self—the "couch potato" vibe? Well, things have... changed. I’ve been hitting the gym, eating better... lost about 60 pounds since last time.

Ben: blinks For real? laughs So you’re like the opposite of me now? What’s your secret?

Alex: Secret? Honestly, just locking in. I started small, cut out the junk, and actually made time for workouts. I wasn’t in a rush. Slow and steady.

Ben: Damn, I need to hear more about that.

Alex: nods sympathetically I get that. It’s tough. But you’ve been fit before, right? You know the feeling of being in shape. Just start small. Maybe don’t run a marathon next week, but a walk around the block could be a start.

Ben: smiles Yeah, you’re right. pauses Alright, I’ll give it a shot. And I’m not gonna lie, it’s kind of inspiring seeing you like this. I need some of that energy.

Alex: grinning Dude, come on. You're not that bad. flexes jokingly

Ben: laughs Compared to you...

Alex: mock offense I’ve dropped 60 pounds, bro! We are basically a walking before-and-after photo. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been killing it lately. I hit the gym like it’s my job. My scale’s practically scared of me now. I used to stand on it and it’d just say, “Are you sure?” laughs But now? Now it just says, “Congratulations.”

Ben: groaning Ugh, don’t remind me. I got on my scale last week, and it was like, “Error: too many pounds.” It just blinked at me like, “You’re beyond saving, buddy.”

Alex: laughs louder Bro, your scale’s basically judging you! That’s crazy. But hey, look, you’ll get there. I didn’t lose all this weight overnight. It took a lot of late nights at the gym and cutting out all the pizza and late-night grub.

Ben: smirking Oh, I remember the pizza. The “late-night pizza” era. You, me, a pizza, and a Netflix binge. Classic.

Alex: laughs Yeah. But now? I look at pizza and think, “That’s like a week of hard work on my waistline.” I used to just sit on the couch and eat chips like it was my job. grinning But listen, this is the perfect time to lock in, right? You’ve got a solid base to work from.

Ben: nodding Yeah, yeah. You’re right. Let’s do it. But you’ve gotta promise me something—if I hit the gym, you’ll join me for one more pizza... just for old times’ sake?

Alex: laughing Fine. But only if you promise me you won’t eat an entire pizza by yourself. Come to the gym sometime and let’s get you back to “Fit Ben.” I’ll even give you a few tips on how to avoid turning into “Ben and Jerry's" again.

[A few months later...]

Alex: grinning sheepishly as he points at Ben's middle Alright. I think we need to talk about this.

Alex: looking up from his Nintendo Switch Wha?

Alex: motioning to Ben You see this? pats his belly I swear, you've gotten even bigger since the last time we hung out.

Ben: laughs Bro, come on. It's not that bad.

Alex: pauses for a second Well, I’m not going to lie, I noticed you’ve put on a bit more weight. But hey, no shame I guess. shrugs Look, it’s not too late to turn it around again.

Ben: sighs deeply Yeah, I keep telling myself that. But the more I eat, the harder it is to stop. I mean, remember how I used to joke about having an emotional connection to pizza? Well, I think I’ve found true love in extra cheese and ranch dipping sauce. laughs awkwardly

Alex: laughing but with a hint of concern I get it. You’re not the first person to fall off, and you won’t be the last. But you’ve got to lock in, bro. You can’t keep punishing yourself with food.

Ben: shrugs Easy for you to say, Mr. Six-Pack. glances at Alex’s abs Every time I see you, I’m reminded of how much of a crash out I've had. Like, I’m stuck here, and you’re out there thriving.

Alex: sighs I don’t want to rub it in, but I’ve been locked in. I didn’t just wake up like this. But you know what? I remember how it felt when I was where you are now. So don’t think I’m looking down on you.

Ben: grimaces It’s hard not to feel like you're judging me, though. I used to be in your shoes. I was the guy with the abs, the guy who could run a 5K without breaking a sweat. Now, I can barely walk upstairs without being out of breath.

Alex: pauses, then smiles softly Dude, I won’t let you quit on yourself. Not when I know how good it feels to glow up. standing up and motioning toward the bathroom Alright, man. Day 1. Let’s see what the scale says. You first or me?

Ben: shrugging You go first...

Alex: grinning Alright, fine. walks to the scale and steps on it, eyes narrowing as the numbers flash

Ben: peeking over Alex’s shoulder What’s it say?

Alex: pauses for a second, then smirks 185. Exactly where I want to be.

Ben: whistles 185, huh? That’s crazy, man. You’ve really kept it together. So what’s the secret, huh? No pizza?

Alex: laughs Not quite. The secret is consistency. But I’m also not living the “no pizza” life. pauses I’ve found the balance, you know? I have my moments. I’m just more mindful of what I eat and when.

Ben: nodding That’s impressive, man. Alright, alright, now my turn. hesitates, then steps up to the scale, bracing himself

Alex: watching closely Don’t sweat it, bro. It’s just a number.

Ben: winces as the numbers flash Oh… looks at the scale in disbelief 243.

Alex: raises an eyebrow, trying to hide his surprise Whoa... alright. That’s... more than I expected.

Ben: chuckles bitterly Yeah, I guess I’m a little more than expected. I didn’t think I’d actually gain more weight after we talked about it, but here we are.

Alex: pauses, then pats Ben on the back It’s okay, man. Honestly, we all go through stuff. Just means it’s time for a reset. But 243... that’s a bit of a jump, huh?

Ben: rubbing his belly Yeah, well, when I think back to when I was running marathons and keeping my weight under control, I never imagined I'd be over 200...

Alex: chuckling Yeah, I hear you. For me, I never imaged I would feel my ribs. Like, when I lean over, I can actually touch my abs without feeling like I’m about to suffocate.

Ben: laughs Damn, that sounds like a luxury. I’m over here trying to find my waistline under all this, like, "Is it even still there?"

Alex: pauses thoughtfully It’s there, man. You’ve just got a lot more to uncover. I remember when I started, I could barely see my feet. laughs And now? Well, I can see the abs, but more importantly, I can breathe easier.

Ben: looking down at his stomach I can't believe I look like this when I was ripped 2 years ago....

Alex: I didn’t get to 185 in a month. It was a whole journey. glancing at Ben as he stands up from the scale, eyes lingering for a second Bro, Is that your shirt, or did you borrow it from someone else?

Ben: looks down at his shirt and grimaces Oh, uh… yeah, it’s definitely mine. Not sure why it feels like it's been painted on, though.

Alex: grinning Dude, I think it’s having an existential crisis. It’s like the fabric’s just trying to hold on for dear life.

Ben: mockingly Oh, look at Mr. Chad over here.

Alex: laughs harder Hey, it’s not my fault I’ve got the body of a Greek god now. You’re just stuck in the before photo, my dude.

Ben: groans Ugh, don’t remind me. Not going to lie, my pants are getting so tight, I’m worried I’m going to have a wardrobe malfunction.

Alex: grinning widely Oh yeah. I can already picture it—your pants just snap like a slingshot, and it’s like, “Boom! The transformation begins!”

Ben: laughs and pats his stomach Bro if I inhale too deeply, I’m going to rip the fabric like the Hulk.

Alex: teasing Well, at least you’ve got an excuse to buy a whole new wardrobe. And hey, you could always go for the “oversized” look. I’ve seen people rock that style. It's like, “Hey, I’m not overweight, I’m just on trend.” grinning You know, man, I’ve got a bunch of old clothes from when I was in your... uh, previous state. You want some? You might find them more comfortable than what you’ve been squeezing into.

Ben: raising an eyebrow Wait, you’re offering me your old fat clothes?

Alex: laughing Bro, seriously, it’s either that or you keep risking a wardrobe malfunction every time you sit down. Plus, the stuff I’ve got is super comfy. It might make the whole “getting back on track” thing a little less... restrictive.

Ben: shrugging Well, at least I’ll be comfortable while I work on getting back into my old stuff. I guess I can’t argue with free clothes. So, yeah, I’ll take some.

Alex: chuckling Alright, alright. But hey, I’m feeling a little hungry myself. What do you say we get some pizza... you know, to motivate you into working out again?

Ben: eyes lighting up Oh, now you’re speaking my language. Pizza’s a great idea.

Alex: grinning Perfect. One pizza, coming right up. But... holds up a finger Just one slice for me. I’m sticking to my meal plan. The rest? All yours.

Ben: looks at Alex, trying not to laugh Wait, you’re serious? raises eyebrow You’re going to order a whole pizza and only eat one slice?

Alex: nodding firmly Yup. Just one. One slice won’t kill me. But I know you’ll need more than that.

Ben: smirking Bro, you're a real one. You know, you could’ve just let me eat the whole pizza, but instead, you're being all generous, like, “Here, have the whole thing while I just have a taste.”

Alex: laughing Hey, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t fall off completely. You can’t have an entire pizza by yourself.

Ben: grinning Oh, trust me, I could probably take down two pizzas right now. stomach grumbles loudly

Alex: mock serious Alright, but remember—one slice for me. You don’t want me turning into before Alex again. That’s a slippery slope.

Ben: watching Alex bring the pizza in, the smell wafting toward him You’re really going to be the hero of the day, huh? grinning But I’ll let you have your “one slice.” I’ll take the rest.

Alex: laughing I’m a man of my word. sits down, takes a single bite of his slice, then looks at Ben Enjoy, my friend. The pizza’s all yours.

Ben: takes a big bite, sighing with contentment Oh yeah. This is it. This is what dreams are made of.

Alex: taking a slow bite of his own slice, watching Ben devour his You know, I might’ve overestimated how strong my willpower is. Just watching you eat that pizza is like torture.

Ben: looking up with a mouthful of pizza You know, if you really want to break your rules, I’ll let you have one more bite. grins mischievously I promise I won’t tell anyone.

Alex: laughing Oh, I’m sure. pauses dramatically I’m sticking to my one slice. But man, you’ve earned this. watches Ben keep eating

Ben: licking his lips Damn right, I have. Now, when do I get my second pizza? Because we both know this isn’t gonna be enough.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello the wonderful and amazing Vod'ika!! I hope you're having a good time with the 800 followers event, because you deserve it! Also, congrats!!!

I have a potentially messy one? Feel free to yeet it in the bin if it doesn't really work for the event.

Buuuuut a couple months ago, you wrote a story with Bacara, Neyo, the reader, and a little munchkin.

For the event, could you do that trio and the kiddo going on a hay ride? Nice and wholesome 🥰

Again feel free to yeet it if a poly isnt the vibe for the event 💜

Being Together

Summary: After a long day at the orchard, your small family decides to end the day with a hay ride.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader x Commander Neyo

Word Count: 944

Prompt: Hay Ride

Warnings: None

A/N: Thank you for your request! I'm more than happy to write for this little family, so I'm glad you asked for them! This is a companion piece to THIS fic

Click HERE to be added to the taglist

“Can we go on the hay ride before we go home? Please, mom?” Little Niko asks as she tugs on your hand, “You and me, and Daddy and Papa?”

You smooth your hand over Niko’s head, “You still have energy? You’ve been climbing trees all day.”

“A hay ride doesn’t cost energy!” Niko declares with all of the authority that a 6-year-old can muster.

“Oh? Is that right?”

“Please, mom? Please?”

“Oh, alright. Since you’ve been so good today.”

“Yay!”

“What are we ‘yaying’ about?” Neyo asks as he walks over, his hands now empty of the many bags of apples that the four of you managed to pick today.

You’re going to have so many pies and tarts and jams—

“Papa! We’re going on the hay ride!” Niko releases your hand and runs over to Neyo to take his hand, “Where’s daddy?”

“I’m here,” Bacara says from the left, he’s holding a tray with four styrofoam cups, “I got some hot drinks for us.”

“You did!?”

“Calm down, Bug.” Bacara chides as Niko gets a little louder in her excitement, “There’s no need to yell, we’re right here.”

“Oops, sorry.” Niko runs over to him and takes the smallest cup from him. “Mom said that we can go on the hay ride.”

“I heard.” Bacara glances at you and flashes a sympathetic smile, “Mom’s a little exhausted it looks like.” He hands you a styrofoam cup, “Herbal tea for the lady, and then caf for us, vod.”

“You’re the best, Cara.”

“I see how it is, I get stuck as a pack mule and Bacara is the best.” Neyo’s voice is lightly teasing as he takes his cup from Bacara and then slides his free arm around your waist.

“Well,” You smile up at him, “Everyone knows Cara is the cute one.”

Neyo chuckles and lightly kisses your temple, “Sure, sure. You keep telling him that.” His hand moves to stroke your back, “You good?”

“Exhausted,” You admit honestly, “Running around after a 6-year-old isn’t easy.”

“Well, the good thing is that the hay ride is nice and relaxing,” Bacara says as he makes sure that Niko isn’t planning on running off by holding onto the hood of her jacket.

“Speaking of the hay ride, there it is.” You say, glancing to the side as the cart comes to a stop not far from where the four of you are standing.

“Hay ride! Hay ride!” Niko cheers as she tries to run towards the cart, only to get scooped up into Bacara’s arms, “Hey!”

“You know better, Niko.” He warns, “If you don’t start behaving we’re going home.”

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Trade you, vod. You’ve been on Niko duty for the last hour,” Neyo says easily as he releases you, takes Niko from Baraca, and then heads toward the cart.

You watch as Neyo and Niko get settled on one of the hay bales, with Niko kneeling on his knees so she’s able to look over his shoulder out the cart, and you lift your comm to snap a picture. 

General Gallia will never believe that Neyo is a good dad, so picture evidence is important.

“You’re turn, cyare.” Bacara offers you his hand to help you onto the cart, and then he steps up as well. He sits next to you on a bale and wraps an arm over your shoulder, tugging you in so that you’re tucked against his chest.

As the cart starts moving, you snuggle closer to Bacara’s side and close your eyes. With Cara pressed against you, Neyo’s feet tangled with yours, and your boys having a low conversation about something unimportant, you can almost pretend that you’re back home.

Well, save for the chill that is determined to cut through your jacket. That kind of ruins the daydream.

You open your eyes when you feel Bacara laugh. You glance up at him, and then follow his gaze to a long-suffering Neyo, who is balancing both his caf and Niko’s hot chocolate, as well as Niko herself, who has fallen asleep against his chest.

“Ah, she overdid it.” You lean forward to take Niko’s cup from Neyo and then settle back against Bacara.

“Well, she has been going at full speed since we got here this morning,” Neyo points out as he adjusts Niko so she’s settled a little more comfortably against him, “I’d be more surprised if she didn’t fall asleep.”

“Well, I can understand why,” You admit with a shrug.

“Oh? Care to share with the class?” Bacara asks as he plays with the ends of your hair.

“Mm, you both were gone for four months and when you came back she had to go to school. This is the first day where she’s been able to spend all day with you in months.” You smile at them, “She missed you both. Almost as much as I did.” Your men favor you with soft looks, looks that are reserved for you and you alone, and you grin at them. 

“We didn’t plan to be gone at the same time,” Bacara mutters.

“I know, and you’re back now. Four months just seems like an eternity when you’re six years old.” You shift to kiss Bacara’s cheek, and then you reach over to Neyo to squeeze his hand, “But enough of that, let’s enjoy the hay ride before we go home, yeah?”

Bacara squeezes your hip and Neyo squeezes your hand, both of them saying, without words, that they love you, and then you settle back against Bacara and join their quiet conversation.

This really is the best way to spend time with your family, even if it’s exhausting.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

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[reinvent-and-believe]

7 for Roy x Jamie. Also, I adore your writing! ❤

7. love at first sight

--

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Georgie says, looking at the pair of them from across the dinner table with a crooked little grin that means trouble, a grin Roy’s intimately acquainted with on a slightly different face. “Love at first sight, weren’t it?”

“Mummy.” Jamie is the palest Roy’s ever seen. “Do not.”

“Don’t be rude to your mum,” Roy scolds, his full attention fixed on that familiar grin. He rests his arms on the table and leans in. “What were you saying, Georgie?”

“Well look at you, coming to my defense,” she teases. “Can you believe it, my Jamie ending up with such a gentleman?”

“It’s lovely to see,” says Simon, setting a tray of fresh cookies down on the table and giving Roy a genuine little smile.

Roy doesn’t know much about Simon; Jamie’s not talked about their history, other than to hint that a teenage Jamie Tartt was as much of a fucking terror as one might imagine and Simon was a prime target. But Roy likes him. Likes how he looks at Georgie like she hung the fucking moon. Likes how easily his love extends to Jamie.

“Mummy.” Jamie’s blushing now, a deep, fast-spreading red. It strikes Roy, not for the first time, that Jamie’s fucking gorgeous when he blushes. 

“Love at first sight? Is that what you said?” Roy asks.

Jamie elbows him. “You ain’t helping.”

Fuck football, this is Roy’s favorite game now. “Who says I’m trying to?”

“Right then.” Georgie winks at Roy as Jamie rubs his forehead. “It must have been, what? 2006? When did you move to Chelsea, Roy?”

“2005."

“2005.” She nods. “Chelsea were here playing City, so of course we had it on telly. And all the announcers could talk about the whole game was the new hot player at Chelsea, making quite a name for himself after only a few games. So of course the camera cut to him over and over, I swear half the game was a closeup on Roy Kent.”

“Mummy, you have got to stop,” Jamie groans.

“This one,” she reaches across the table and pats Jamie’s hand, even as he scowls, “was all of eight years old. You might be a gentleman, Roy Kent, but you’re also a bit of a cradle robber, aren’t you?”

It’s Roy’s turn to freeze. “Right.”

“I’m 25 years old, Mum, I’m fucking grown,” Jamie huffs in an exasperated voice that sounds suddenly 15.

“Of course you are, love.” Her smile loses its bite, fond and soft. “I think you’re lovely together and I’m thrilled for you two, swear down. But I am gonna give this one shit about the fact that he and I would have been in school at the same time and you were eight when he got his big break.”

“Fucking hell,” Jamie says as Roy says, “Fair enough.”

“So Jamie was just a tiny thing, sat in front of the telly as close as he could get, eyes wide. After the first half, he stood up and looked at me with that little look he gets. You know the one. When he’s made his mind up about something and you’ll be wasting your breath if you try and stop him.”

“I know the one.” Roy puts a hand on Jamie’s knee and squeezes gently.

“He turned to me and said”—she pauses for dramatic effect before starting the recitation—“‘when I grow up, I’m gonna be a pretty footballer like Roy Kent.’”

Jamie buries his head in the curve of Roy’s neck. “This is not a cute story,” he insists.

“Keep telling yourself that, love,” Georgie coos sympathetically. “And so began the Roy Kent years. What does he ask for for his birthday? A Roy Kent poster. What do we have to get when we check out at the shop? That magazine with Roy Kent on the cover. What’s he want for Christmas? A Chelsea kit, for Christ’ sake.”

“Now, Georgie, you’ll embarrass him,” Simon chides mildly.

“Yeah, that ship has fucking sailed, man,” Jamie pouts. “When Roy leaves me because he thinks I’m a fucking stalker, it’s gonna be all your fault, Mummy, is that something you want to live with?”

Georgie shakes her head, laughing. “Roy, you’re not allowed to leave Jamie over my cute story. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“I’m just saying,” she says, sitting back and looking at her son with a love so palpable it makes Roy ache, “it’s not like this is exactly a surprise. If anyone knows how to go after what they want, it’s my Jamie.”

It’s fucking weird, hearing about little Jamie’s crush, but it's not like he didn't know most of it, and it's not like they’ve ever really had the most normal of relationships; Roy accepted that pretty early on. He puts an arm around Jamie, smiling when he immediately curls into Roy. “Well, I think you set your sights too low,” he says with a gentle brush of the lips against Jamie’s temple. “You turned out to be a way prettier footballer than Roy Kent.”

“Uh, yeah, obviously,” Jamie scoffs, rolling his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches towards a grin as he pulls Roy into a kiss.

[cowgurrrl]

Je te laisserai des mots

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: just a tiny sweet thing to preface the wedding stuff coming soon :D

Summary: In which you and Joel realize forever doesn’t sound too bad [~800]

Warnings: brief mentions of hospital settings/sickness, June projects her hatred of mushrooms, fluff :-)

The first time Joel realizes he’s gonna marry you, it’s in the hospital. He’d considered it before, and you guys had discussed a future together. You’re not with someone for three years without thinking about what you want your life to look like. Still, Joel is very stubborn and needs things to slap him in the face before he can process them. Sarah’s roommate calling from the hospital with a severe case of the flu is that slap.

You answer the phone first even though it’s midnight and you’ve been working all day. Joel blinks awake when he hears you calming Sarah’s roommate down and sliding shoes on. “What hospital is she at?” He heard you ask, making him sit straight up in bed. He gave you a confused look, and you put a hand over his to comfort him until you could get off the phone. “Okay. Thank you, Taylor. We’ll be there soon. Alright. Bye.” You threw your phone down and turned on the bedside lamp, already jumping into action.

“What happened?” He asked, copying your movements.

“Remember how Sarah wasn’t feeling well?” You asked, and he nodded. “Taylor said she came home, and Sarah was pale and burning up, so she took her to the hospital. Apparently, she passed out on the way there, but she’s hooked up to an IV, and they’re taking care of her.”

“Fuck.”

“I know.” You agreed. Joel scrambled around for the insurance information, a blanket for Sarah because she’s constantly cold, and even grabbed an old stuffed animal from her bed. While he ran around, you tiptoed into Ellie’s room, told her what was happening, and reassured her you’d be back in the morning. She just nodded sleepily and rolled over after you kissed her forehead. You held Joel’s hand as he sped down the highway, internally panicking about his baby girl.

When you arrived at the hospital, Joel was a nervous wreck and could barely focus long enough to look at the nurse at the front station. You subtly guided him with a hand on his back and smiled at the young woman. “Hi. We’re looking for Sarah Miller. She was admitted about an hour ago.”

“What’s your relationship to her?” She asked, typing in some information you couldn’t see.

“We’re her parents.” You said, and she nodded before telling you where Sarah was. When you walked into her room, she immediately burst into tears. You made a sympathetic noise and wrapped her up in your arms without hesitation. Joel watched you rub her back and whisper little things to calm her down and knew at that exact moment he was gonna marry you. You comforted him, checked on Ellie, claimed Sarah as your own, and didn’t even pause at the door despite her being contagious like it was second nature.

Once Sarah was feeling better, he took the girls out for lunch while you were working and asked them what they would think if you guys got married. “Wait, are you serious?” Ellie asked, and he nodded, fighting a big smile.

“Would that be okay?”

“When would you propose? Have you looked at rings? What’s the plan?” Sarah asked, more than excited at the idea of you becoming a permanent part of their lives.

It was much quieter the first time you realized you were going to marry Joel. You were out to dinner with the girls and Joel and ordered your plate without reading the menu close enough. Your plate arrived with big sautéed mushrooms on top. Your smile faltered just a bit, but you wouldn’t send the dish back because you couldn’t read. You were a waitress for long enough to know better. But Joel knew how much you hated mushrooms and quickly switched food with you. He didn’t even look at you as he did; he just did it. You squeezed his hand under the table and went back to listening to Ellie’s story.

After that, more than ever, you started thinking about your future with him. You think about summers spent at the ranch; winters spent visiting New York, cooking dinner together, and even having more kids. You were never sure if you wanted to have kids, but Joel is such a great dad, and you’ve had so much fun parenting the girls with him. When Carolina had Victoria, you and Joel visited, and watching him interact with Elizabeth and Victoria made something deep within you ache. He was so gentle and sweet, and you couldn’t even lie to yourself about how hot he looked taking care of a newborn. Stupid caveman psychology.

So, for the first time, you realize you could marry Joel Miller. You could even have a baby with him. Maybe a few. You just didn’t know he was also thinking the same thing and would propose to you not even a month after that dinner.

But that's another story for another time.

[midwestmade29]

*Currently doing a happy dance*

CHAPTER 1 💕

I somehow managed to break through my writer's block and put together the first part of another Christian Cage story! Let us all rejoice 😂 With this story, I'm kinda taking it in a different direction compared to my last one. This story dives a little deeper into a version of Christian that I imagined if he had taken a lot of the criticism, negativity and hate that he received during different points of his real life career, (from fans, writers, coworkers, etc.) and had a very hard time dealing/coping with it, and choosing to let it consume him. The story may start off kinda slow, but I hope you'll give it a chance! (Don't worry...there will still be spicy content in it as the story marches on 🔥)

If you are not 18+ years old, please KEEP SCROLLING. Do not interact with any parts/chapters of this story.

Due to the explicit nature, this story is NSFW or minors.

It is written from the POV of a female character and has dialogue between her and Christian Cage. As I continue writing, I may change the POV to Christian’s from time to time!

Some topics/actions/theme(s) of this story may not be suitable and/or triggering for some readers. Foul language, alcohol consumption/use, drunkenness, arguments, “sexual dirty talk.”

Word count for Chapter 1: 1,354

*As always, I would love to hear from you! Constructive criticism, suggestions,feedback,thoughts…tell me all the things!😌*

So, without further ado...here is Chapter 1 🖤

Earlier today, Christian sent me a text and told me to meet him at our favorite restaurant downtown at 9 o’clock for dinner. I was so excited to see him after being a part for 12 days due to his travel schedule for AEW, that I even went shopping to pick out some new lingerie and a dress to wear for him. I couldn’t wait to feel his arms wrapped around me and to kiss his full lips. The thought of him discovering my little secret I was hiding under my dress caused my core to heat with excitement. With one more spritz of my perfume and a quick touchup of my lipstick, I was ready to go see my guy.

I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes late due to my Uber driver getting us stuck in traffic, and thankfully the hostess sat me at our reserved table anyway. Christian hadn’t arrived yet, but the waiter greeted me and asked if there was anything he could get me while I waited. He nodded and walked away when I only ordered a glass of ice water for now. I sat in the dim lighting of the restaurant and stared out the window, watching people pass by holding their umbrellas, protecting them from the rain that had started to fall. I studied the menu from front to back, checked my phone more times than I’d like to admit for any notifications, and eventually ordered a glass of wine. Time continued to tick on, and Christian was now 40 minutes late for our date. A sense of uneasiness settled in my stomach.

I felt bad for holding up our table while other patrons continued sauntering into the restaurant. The waiter was very understanding when I tried to attribute Christian’s tardiness to a possible flight delay due to the rain, or maybe even traffic, but when the front door of the restaurant burst open, I was sadly mistaken. Judging by the look on my face, the waiter gave me a sympathetic smile and hurried away to check on his other tables. I watched Christian stumble in, drenched from the rain, about to knock over a potted plant on his way to the hostess station. My eyes grew larger the closer the hostess and Christian got to the table when I was finally able to take in the full sight of him. I stood and thanked the hostess before she walked away, and helped Christian sit in his chair before he knocked it over or missed it completely. “Hi baby. You’re looking mighty fine tonight. Did you dress up just for me?” Christian slurred. Before I could reply, the waiter came over to the table once he noticed my less than punctual guest had gotten settled. I quickly tried to shoo him away, but it was too late. “Good evening, sir. How are you this evening? May I get you something to drink, or perhaps start you two off with an appetizer?” the waiter offered, looking back and forth between Christian and I.

I slid down in my chair, staring daggers at Christian, just hoping and praying he would behave, only to have him smile back at me mischievously. “Actually, my good man, a drink sounds delightful. Whiskey, neat. No cheap shit.” “Uhm, do you think that’s a good idea?” I shot back immediately. “Judging by the swagger you displayed walking in here, it would appear that you’ve already had enough.” The waiter stood silently, unsure of what to do. He started rocking on his heels the more Christian and I stared at each other, silently arguing. Christian finally caved, downgrading his order all the way down to a water while rolling his eyes. “We’ll also have some of the house bread with the assorted spreads, please.” I added. “What’s that for?” Christian asked. I tried to reel in my frustrations before responding, but I think it still came out a little snarky. “One, you could use something to soak up whatever alcohol you have in your stomach, and two, I’m starving. I’ve been sitting here practically drooling all over the trays of food that have passed by me the last 40 minutes.” This time, Christian was the one to slide down in his chair a little. “Not happy to see me, baby?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face, but the alcohol made him break out into a small fit of giggles. He looked up at me with his piercing blue eyes and lips in a full pout before giggling again. If I wasn’t so concerned and frustrated with his current state, I would’ve joined in on his laughter because he looked adorable with his pouty lips and his smile was radiant.

“What’s going on, Christian? Is everything okay?” I asked softly. “Nothing’s wrong, baby. I had a few drinks on the plane. Maybe a couple after we landed too. Just lost track of time. What makes you think there’s something wrong?” “Because I know you, Christian. You show up 40 minutes late to our date that you put together, you haven’t drunk like this in a while and the last time you did was when you and Adam had a huge fight. I know how hard it is for you to get out of your own head sometimes. So please, don’t lie to me because I can see right through you. This is more than “just a few drinks.” “You’re killing my buzz, being so serious. I thought we were here to have a good time. Not to try and fix someone that’s unfixable.” He replied condescendingly. “Now, are you going to finish your wine, or can I have it?”

I smacked his hand away as he tried to grab my wine glass. “Spoilsport.” He groaned, crossing his arms. “If anyone is spoiling anything, it’s you Christian. You can’t say things like that and not elaborate. I just want to help; I’m not trying to fix you. It hurts my heart to hear you say such things about yourself.” “Well, the truth hurts, baby. And the truth right now is that I don’t need your help, or anyone else’s for that matter. So, let’s cut the shit and kiss and make up. I’ve missed your sexy lips while I’ve been gone. I can think of a few things I’d like you to do with them...”

Usually him talking dirty like that would ignite something deep in my core, but right now his words were just igniting my anger. “Fine, Christian! You don’t want to talk, so we won’t talk. In fact, I think I’ll leave you and your secrets to enjoy your drunken state since that seems to be what’s important to you right now. I can’t believe you were late getting here because you were drinking! I’ll see myself out.” I scolded before standing. Even with his head swimming in all the alcohol he had obviously consumed, I think he finally started to realize how quickly our conversation (and night) had taken a turn for the worse. This was hardly the first time I’d seen him like this, and definitely not the first night to go this way either. Christian remained seated as I grabbed my purse and jacket off my chair. “What about dinner?” he murmured. I couldn’t help but scoff at his question. “I’m not hungry anymore, but you go ahead and enjoy. I hear it’s one of your favorite restaurants. Goodbye, Christian.” I weaved through the sea of tables as fast as I could, trying my best to avoid bumping into anyone or knocking anything over. The cool, damp night air filled my lungs as I took a deep breath once I was outside. Reality hit me fast when I remembered it was raining, and that I had taken an Uber to get to the restaurant. My heels I was wearing were not ideal to walk in, but I had to get out of here. I stepped into the downpour trying to shield my phone from the rain so I could make a very important phone call...

If you read through the entire thing, THANK YOU!!! I appreciate it more than you know!

Chapter 2 coming soon��😘

[atopvisenyashill]

That’s a really good meta son the Sansa sister comment thank you 😭 I was the original anon there. You explain it so well and it makes so much sense like that because that really is how Sansa contextualizes her grief. The thought of Sansa grieving and wishing she’d been closer to Arya is very tender. Generally I wouldn’t have even called it an example of Sansa being “cruel” because like. It’s a thought. Not an action or something she said. Like people love to cite her wishing to slap SR and say it’s cruel but like she didn’t even say that. She thought it. She’s a kid being forced to play mother to a very demanding child. Of course she’s going to feel frustrated sometimes. I also do think many fans go with the least sympathetic interpretations of Sansa and Arya’s relationship. Like the staunch refusal to acknowledge that Arya remembering knowing a girl who loved lemon cakes was her thinking of Sansa. Arya fans insist she was thinking about herself but she doesn’t refer to herself as someone she knew. It seems painfully obvious to me I don’t get how people misinterpret that unless it’s on purpose. But anyway rock chewing anon I get your frustration I do but I got exactly the analysis I needed to understand the passage plus it was never meant to be like. “This is an example of Sansa being cruel” more just like. This seemed out of character because I do NOT think about her like that

yes i fully agree that just bc you think something uncharitable doesn’t mean you’re ~bad~ especially if you don’t say it out loud. we all think real shitty stuff from time to time, especially when we’re already upset, what matters is how you react to the situation. And like you said re: sweetrobin - she doesn’t slap him! she’s not even mean to him and in fact when he’s terrified as they’re going down the mountain, she makes him feel better by building up his confidence and letting him hold into her instead of telling him to man up or something similar. Sansa can be incredibly bitchy in her thoughts but she's always very aware of what she says out loud and how it will affect the people around her; she's a grump like any 13 year old lmao, but she's a conscientious one! I find it sweet of her that even when she's sitting there thinking "damn this kid is so fucking annoying" she's always aware that just saying that is cruel.

and YEAH i absolutely agree that a lot of fans will look at their interactions and just take the absolute most uncharitable read of whatever Sansa is doing re: Arya and completely exice Arya's love for Sansa from her thoughts. And it's just crazy to me because imo the only other person Arya longs to see more than Sansa is Jon and that's her absolute best friend. For both girls, I think their grief over each other is just so obviously present; they were so different, always missing what the other really means, never able to truly understand each other, and now it's just too late (or so they think) to ever make it up each other. I think Arya longs just as desperately as Sansa to meet again and attempt a more meaningful understanding of each other, I really think for both of them, that's one of their top hopes! Return home, see the sister they never understood but spent the most time with, and love her again no matter how weird she may be. When you cut that out of both of their stories, I think it really weakens their arcs and weakens the longing to go home. Their grief isn't just about the family members they had perfect relationships with; it's also about the fact that they could have one day had a better relationship and now it will never happen.

and yeah lmao that's why i wasn't trying to drag you too much with rock chewing anon, i do get the frustration people have with how much people just refuse to understand what Sansa is going through and how her thought process works, but she is admittedly kind of a hard character to dig into because of how internal she is as a character. but that's why we analyze and pick them apart to understand them better!

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 92-94

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here.

Days 89-91 here

***

2. “I’m not sharing you with anybody. You’re mine, and mine only, and I’m going to make you remember that.”

55. “Only I get to touch you like this, okay?”

123. “Are we— are we really going to do this here?”

131. Hands firm on their thighs, keeping them from snapping them shut.

***

They ambled outside with deliberate ease, made it three doors down, and only then did Tim allow the breath to leave his chest in a massive whoosh.

"Oh my God, that was rough." Stephanie gave him a sympathetic squeeze around the shoulders.

Tim shook his head, nauseated and disappointed with himself about it. He was too dizzy to keep walking. Leaning one hand on the brick wall nearest him, he dropped his head low and focused on breathing.

After a second, Steph's hand rested between his shoulder blades, patting in sympathy. "It's okay. You handled it so well. I don't think he had a clue how hard that was for you."

"I don't know what my problem is," he wheezed. "I've moved on. I'm fine. We're friendly. But seeing him is—" He swallowed down the sick saliva pooling beneath his tongue.

Stephanie sighed, but her voice was warm with sympathy. "Yeah, you're fine, all right." She rubbed his back a little harder. "You just haven't seen him much since everything blew up in your face. It was a surprise, that's all. I think it would throw anyone off to see their queer awakening walk up to them at lunch and announce he cooked the food. It doesn't mean you're wrong."

Tim finally felt steady enough to walk to a nearby bench and sit down to lean his elbows on his knees. Steph wasn't wrong, but she didn't have the whole picture of exactly how shitty he'd been to his ex. Bernard's voice played on a loop in his mind, not relaxed and sociable like he'd been today, but furious, with an edge of tears lining the words: Of course I know! I kept waiting for you to trust me but you never will, will you?

To which Tim of course had replied, It's not about trust, it's about protecting you!

It's about prioritizing Batman and his mission above literally everything and everyone else. Keep telling yourself it’s to protect me, Tim, I'm sure the cause'll keep you warm once I'm gone. Fuck this.

That hadn't been the end. The end had been worse because Bernard had been so calm about it. Tim had been forced to be mature, and logical, and clear-thinking, all the things he was best at, in the most painful way.

Stephanie sat beside him, a hex wrench in her hand, and began working out the screws in the anti-homeless bar between them. He started laughing, glad for the distraction. "That's vandalism, ma'am. Pretty sure I should bust you for that."

She grinned, proud of herself. "Fuck anti-homeless architecture. You okay?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Like I said, I'm fine."

"Good, because Damian's texting me wondering what's wrong with you. I guess he's at the restaurant across the street and they seated him at the window because they're douchebags. I hope he doesn't go back."

Tim resisted the urge to look over and see if he could spot him. "Pon la Mesa always does that, so he only goes there when he wants people to see him. He's getting info for that human trafficking case that me and Jason have been working with him on."

"Well, he's worried about you." Stephanie gave him a searching look as he sat up straight. "When Cass sent me that pic of you two sleeping in the same bed, I thought it was just an accident because you had been keeping an eye on him after he got hurt, but he never used to worry about you. Wanna tell me something?"

Tim shot to his feet and strode away, determined to look one hundred percent okay to any watching eyes. "Nah, I'm good, thanks."

Stephanie hustled after him, dropping the divider bar into a nearby trash can as she went. "Oh, that is a fascinating reaction."

"Yeah, well, you can draw your own conclusions, Ms. Big-Time Field Agent," he shot back over his shoulder.

A plume of smoke flowed into the air precariously close to the garage where he'd parked, followed shortly after by a muffled boom and a blacker cloud following the first. A bright yellow figure leaped overhead toward the explosion as the shrieks and horn honking started.

"Shit." Tim drew to a halt and shaded his eyes, trying to pinpoint the source. "Think Duke's got this?"

Stephanie copied the action, bouncing on her heels. "I've got my communicator in. We'll know if he needs backup."

Tim fished around in his pocket for his own comm. Flashing her a grin as he put it into his ear, he said, "I'm gonna miss having you around, Batgirl the Purple."

She waggled her eyebrows. "Not as much as you would've if you didn't have a certain someone to keep you company, am I right?"

He was saved from replying by Duke's voice, clear in their ears, saying, "Oh my God, I think I see Tim's car in this parking garage. Dude, are you okay?"

"No names over comms!" at least four voices chorused, but since only one of them was Bruce all the rest were laughing about it.

"I'm fine, by the way," Tim added.

"Sorry, sorry." He didn't sound too sorry. "Can I get some backup? It's just, two of these bank robbers are metas but there are like ten regular humans in the gang too."

"On our way," Stephanie replied, and dragged Tim into a nearby alleyway so they could change.

***

Around 4 AM, when Damian texted him sleep well, Tim realized he'd been coming over every night. He hadn't noticed before because Damian’s presence hadn't felt like an impingement on his mental space the way other people’s did.

He got ready for bed but didn't lie down, wandering around his apartment and tidying up various flat surfaces, then moving on to the kitchen counters. When he caught himself considering descaling the coffee maker he finally admitted to himself that he was stalling. Frowning, he pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the message thread with Damian.

You've got me messed up.

A few seconds later, Damian called. “Why are you still awake?” he asked, sounding offensively alert himself.

Tim shrugged, remembered Damian couldn't see it, and said, “I dunno, it's weird, but I think I'm having a hard time because you're not here.”

A pause, then Damian said, “I can only see one solution then. I'll have to be sure to be with you whenever you're ready to sleep.”

Tim grinned. “Does that mean you'll hop on an elevator at WE and come hold my hand while I take a desk nap?”

Damian breathed out a laugh. “No, it means you can come to my office and use the couch there while I work.”

That actually sounded great. Damian’s glass walls could of course be turned opaque with the press of a button and no one bothered him unless it was absolutely necessary. It wouldn't help tonight, though. 

“If it weren't so late, I'd drive to you now.” Tim wandered into his bedroom and hopped onto the bed. “I think you've turned into my—” lovie, he almost said, but switched words at the last second, “—comfort object. I'm like a little kid who's lost his favorite stuffed animal. Which raises the interesting question of what type of stuffie you'd be."

"Tt. A dragon bat, obviously, like Goliath. No other creature would be worthy."

Damian spoke in lofty tones, but Tim had to restrain the urge to giggle. It wasn't often that Damian's playful side peeked out from under the reserve. And when had he started considering Damian's idiosyncrasies cute?

"Oh yeah, obviously, I don't know what I was thinking." Tim turned off the light, pulled the covers over his head and snuggled down.

"Neither do I. Clearly my absence has a deleterious effect on your brain."

He had to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. Damian's idea of flirting made him sound like a Victorian professor, but Tim was into it. "Can't have that. You'd better come over tomorrow night or I won't be able to work my case load anymore."

"Gladly." That made Tim blush, but before he could reply, Damian continued, "For now, you should get some sleep."

"I'll do my best, but no promises. If I come see you tomorrow at work you'll know why."

"I hope you do." And that had no facetious edge whatsoever.

Tim let the following silence stretch out just a second too long before he experienced the horrified realization that he didn't want to hang up first. Sputtering out, "Okay see you later bye!" he hit the end call button and rolled onto his back, gusting out a sigh.

The bed felt too big.

***

Tim made it all the way to one o'clock before he gave in to the urge to go visit Damian's office. He did grab a condom and a couple of packets of lube from his spare utility belt that he kept in a locked drawer first, though, because it paid to be prepared. 

Damian’s administrative assistant waved him in with a smile. "He's in a lunch meeting now, but he'll be back in a few minutes. He said you might work here for a bit today," she said, hustling to hit the button to whiten the windows. "Let me know if you need anything, okay? I'll be at my desk."

"Thanks, Adriana," he said, perching on the edge of the couch like he wasn't going to pass out on it in five seconds flat as soon as she left. Once the door clicked shut behind her, he shoved off his shoes and stretched out on the leather cushions.

Just as he was about to drift off, his phone chimed with Stephanie's text tone. Grumbling under his breath, he picked it up to read: well, shit.

That never boded well. He opened the link she'd sent. It was an Pixtagraph post from appetite_gotham, a local foodie scene account, detailing the new menu at Chez Vous. There were ten pictures on the post, mostly of the revamped interior of the dining room, the lunch entrees, and the dishes they'd ordered, but the eighth one was what Stephanie had linked to.

Tim sat up, staring at the picture in growing dismay. It was of Bernard, Tim, and Stephanie, taken from behind Tim so only his blurry back showed as he hugged Bernard. The angle made his embrace look a lot more enthusiastically full-body than it had actually been. Bernard's smile also appeared to be brighter than it had in reality—he always did photograph well.

The relevant part of the caption read, 8. Chez Vous's new sous chef, Bernard Dowd, gives a warm welcome to Tim Drake, one of Bruce Wayne’s assortment of adoptees. At least three highly-liked comments below excitedly recalled seeing Tim and Bernard together in the past at a few Pride parades. Apparently Stephanie didn't warrant any identification.

He tapped back to messages and texted her, shiiiiiiit that looks rly bad steph

She replied, it does! and they've got like a million followers. someone else linked to their own creeper shot of the three of us hanging for that whole five minutes saying I'm your new beard which is hilarious for a bunch of reasons. idk you might wanna talk to bruce's pr team about this one even though I know you usually fly under the radar.

Tim scrolled through the comments in a state of mild horror, not least because less than half of them were about the actual restaurant that was supposed to be highlighted. Bernard was going to want to kill him. Ugh. He was supposed to be the least interesting Wayne kid. No one in the media ever recognized him or cared unless he was with Bruce or Damian.

Damian. Oh shit.

Tim hopped to his feet, ready to get his shoes on and run for it until he could figure out a plan of action, but before he could leave Damian stormed into the room, phone in hand, color high on his cheeks. He drew to a sudden halt at the sight of Tim, spun around, and softly closed the door behind him.

Tim bounced on the balls of his feet, identifying alternative exits although he kind of hated himself for the automatic impulse. "Before you say anything, I can explain," he blurted, waving the phone in his own hand as if that would tell the tale.

Damian paused, then flipped the lock in the door. "Explain, then," he said, without turning to look at Tim.

Who narrowed his eyes in sudden suspicion. "Hold on. What are you mad about?"

Damian faced him, jaw set in the way that meant he was truly furious. "I just had to give a mid-quarter report to some board members, one of whom is on Katarina's list of clientele. Looking into the face of that smug pervert and pretending I'm not going to punch his nose flat at the first opportunity has put me into a temper, I'll admit. So, say what you're going to say. It's already been a shit day."

Great. Excellent timing all around. Tim bit his lip and wordlessly held out his phone.

Damian took it and looked at the picture, first with a frown of confusion and then with no expression at all. The redness faded from his face, leaving him pale. He scrolled down a bit, then handed the phone back to Tim and stood straight, stance wide and gaze direct. "I take it this post is a surprise to you."

Tim nodded. "Yeah, I didn't realize anyone was taking pictures. He really was only with us for a few minutes, and we left right after."

"Yes." Damian's fingers gave a restless tap on the biceps they held. "I saw you on the street afterward, if you recall."

Where he'd spotted Tim having a mini-breakdown that he now knew was over his ex. Tim slid his phone back into his pocket and reached to touch Damian's elbow. "I was taken by surprise. I haven't seen him in over a year."

"And are you sorry about that fact?"

Tim wrinkled his forehead at the question. "I mean . . . I guess? Because that means I didn't do a very good job of staying friends with him."

Damian's whole body jolted as if the answer had hit him with an electric shock. He strode to his desk and rested his hands flat on the oak surface, pressing so hard Tim half-expected to see dents appear in the grain. "So I should expect more photos of you being friends with your first boyfriend in the near future. Understood. No further explanation is required, so you should go."

Tim ignored that last as inconsequential, suddenly struck by a conjecture that seemed too good to be true. His heartbeat sped up, until his voice felt thin in his throat. "Wait. Damian. Would you not like that? Like, would it bother you?"

Damian shifted to grip the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles whitened. "Of course not. Why should I mind if someone I . . . someone I . . ." He growled in frustration. "Why should I mind if you meet with and touch the man who was your first male crush, your first male kiss, your first male everything, not to mention your first live-in relationship? It's meaningless as long as you say so, correct?"

Tim swallowed, mouth dry. He couldn't miss the implications. But at the same time, “I've had to watch a gorgeous blonde hang all over you for weeks now for the fucking job and you're telling me you're bothered by me hugging my ex after an accidental run-in? That's not really fair.”

“I'm not interested in being fair,” Damian gritted out. “And yes, for the fucking job. Did you expect me to do anything other than my best acting knowing the success of a case we’ve worked on for months depends on it? Believe me, I'm not getting nearly as much out of Katarina as you did from that asshole Bernard Dowd.”

Despite himself, Tim bristled a bit. “One, not an asshole, and two, I've seen your face when you look at Katarina. Don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you don’t like her.”

Damian waved that away, impatient. “Of course I care about her. Why shouldn’t I? She’s a sex trafficking victim showing extraordinary courage without any training. And he absolutely is an asshole. He knew your vigilante identity and familial obligations and instead of accepting your need for privacy for what it was—protection for him—not to mention your preexisting commitments, he chose to tax you with them as if they were a betrayal. When in reality, it was simply two teenagers having outgrown their relationship, as is perfectly normal.” He paused. “Or so I’ve been told. I myself am far more single-minded than a typical person. In any case, I despise false reasoning and blame shifting and he’s guilty of both. Therefore: asshole.”

Tim had to think for a moment, unaccustomed warmth at the sideways defense suffusing him. (Although how Damian knew all that would necessitate further thought.) “I . . . okay. I see your reasoning though I’m not sure I can agree with it. But, I promise I didn’t know he was there yesterday. Steph just really likes French food and neither of us had been keeping track of his movements. And I’m sorry that it bothers you. It's okay if you’re jealous."

"I don't need your permission for jealousy," Damian spat out, spinning to give him a baleful glance. He reached out one long arm and grabbed Tim by the wrist, yanking him close. 

Tim didn't bother trying to avoid his grip. “I know. But, like you said to me, it’s kind of flattering. For the record, I never felt jealous about him like I've been over you.” Mostly because he'd never wondered where he stood with Bernard until it was too late to fix said standing, but it was the truth.

Damian shook his head, eyes glittering with anger and something else Tim couldn’t put his finger on. "Very well then." He seized Tim's waist and sat him on the desk, then shoved his thighs apart with firm hands and stood between them when Tim would have snapped them shut. "Since you've so kindly given your approval, I'm going to make my opinion on the matter very clear. I’m not sharing you with anybody. You’re mine, and mine only, and I’m going to make you remember that."

He kissed Tim, hard enough to lean him back onto his elbows, teeth a mean edge against his lips as his tongue demanded entry. Tim unbuttoned Damian’s blazer and waistcoat, and slipped his hands inside to crumple the fine linen shirt in his fists, pulling him even closer. His legs were shaking, so he hooked his ankles around Damian's thighs to hide it.

“Yeah? Well, likewise, you cocky bastard,” he snapped out, fighting to keep his tone cutting when really all he wanted to do was lie down on the desk and give in. He slid his hands down to grip Damian’s ass. “Only I get to touch you like this, got it?”

Damian’s hands made quick work of Tim’s tie and shirt buttons, yanking his shirttail from his pants and flipping the button at the waist loose. “Got it.” He bent to suck a bruise into the delicate skin over Tim’s collarbone.

"Dami," he moaned, then flushed in embarrassment at the sound of his voice, already gone weak with pleading. "Are we—” He cut himself off with a muffled exclamation as Damian gripped his waist.“Are we really going to do this here?"

Damian looked at him as if he were insane. "Do you want to wait for the end of day?" He dropped a hand to Tim's crotch and palmed his rapidly hardening erection. "I don't think you do."

"No," Tim agreed. He pulled Damian's head down again by his tie. "I really, really don't," he whispered into his mouth, and kissed him again.

day 95 here

[skzhocomments]

The Boundless Sphere of Fate - Lee Taemin - Chapter 11 - The Curse

General masterlist

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad + AO3

Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

---

Chapter 11 - The Curse

word count: ~1k words

Truth is, Blair really is nervous. It’s the first time since the ritual that she’s been away from Taemin for more than a few hours, and she’s scared of how her body might react.

She’s now sitting in the bus, almost back to her hometown, wiping the blood spilling from her nose.

When she reaches the bus stop and jumps out, she knows she has to walk for about 20 minutes, but with how hard she’s dragging her feet around, the 20-minutes’ walk turns into 40.

The only good thing about this is that she sees a familiar face she’s really missed, who runs up to her immediately.

“Blair!” Mira exclaims happily. “You’re back?!”

“My mom died.” She says and chuckles slightly. “I’m really happy to see you, but I’m sad that you’re still here.”

“Well, can’t really cross over until this whole family dies. Only the eldest son to go, and I’m free.” Mira replies and looks back to her house – the place where she died.

Now that Blair thinks about it, Mira and Taemin are quite similar in this aspect. Both wished ill on the family of the people who murdered them. Mira’s also been around for many, many years, and apparently, the grudge fuelled by hatred she placed on that family was so huge, no one was able to escape its grasp. She wished for all the members to be unhappy for the rest of their days, until eventually the whole family wipes out, and they were never able to find happiness, so most ended up either committing suicide, or unintentionally overdosing and killing themselves.

“I guess so…” Blair replies after a while.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something feels… different. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like… you’re not fully here. You’ve changed.”

“I guess I have.” Blair smiles sympathetically, before feeling another rush of fatigue brushing over her. “Listen, it was great seeing you, but I have to go in.”

“Good to see you, kiddo. I’m glad you’re still out there somewhere, and I’ll be rooting for you, always.”

“I hope you’ll get to cross over soon.” Blair says, then makes her way towards the house.

Once she goes in, she’s shocked at how weird it feels to be back. She hasn’t been here since she was 18, but nothing’s changed: the wallpaper is still the same, the rugs are old, her mom is in the kitchen-

“Mom?!” Blair exclaims in shock. “What the fuck!”

“Blair! Oh, wow. No way! You came!” Her mother turns around as soon as she hears her voice.

“Of course I did, you died! Why are you still here?!”

“Thank God you’re here. Otherwise… I would’ve never been able to leave.”

“What the heck. Okay. Wow. I was not expecting our reunion to go like this. I actually expected no reunion! I thought you'd already crossed over!”

“I’ve had a lot of regrets when it came to us, so I just… couldn’t. Not unless I talked to you.”

Blair sighs. A part of her feels happy – the young girl who craved her mother’s love –, but another part of her – Blair, the adult – finds it hard not to resent her for putting her through hell and abandoning her as soon as she became of age.

However, she really wants to hear what could possibly keep her mother on Planet Earth still, so she sits down at the kitchen table and hears her out.

“First of all, I really want to apologise for… not believing you. It’s obviously true that you’ve been seeing ghosts now, and that you weren’t crazy…”

“Thanks for believing me.” Blair responds mockingly.

“Look… a part of me always knew you were telling the truth, but… I really didn’t want to accept it. I wanted you to be normal, not… ostracised by everyone else. I wanted you to break the curse.”

“The curse?”

“Listen, Blair… there’s something you don’t know. I hoped that by ignoring it, it’s gonna go away, but it obviously hasn’t…”

“Ok, Mom, stop beating around the bush and tell me.”

“Many, many years ago, your grandfather did something unforgivable. He… took someone else’s life. A young man’s…”

“What?!” Blair’s eyes grow wide. She certainly didn’t expect that. She doesn’t remember her grandfather well, as he died when she was still really young, but…

“He got away with it, but he paid the price so much more harshly… as you know, he had 4 other children. 4 other sons, to be exact.”

“Yes… but they died quite young, didn’t they?”

“Mhm. On his deathbed, my father… your grandfather confessed his crime, and told me something terrifying. The young man he killed… placed a curse on him. May all your offspring be cursed. May all the men that share your blood die painful deaths at a young age. May all the women that share your blood lead unhappy, unfulfilled lives, ostracised by everyone else.”

“That’s terrible…” Blair shakes her head, remembering Mira’s curse on the family next door. Maybe the man her grandfather killed is still out there, somewhere. Maybe she can meet him and help him cross over.

“I truly didn’t want to believe that bullshit, but seeing that all my brothers were dead, seeing that I can’t get along with anyone and I’m never feeling happy… and seeing you, ostracised by everybody because you could see ghosts… I couldn’t take it, Blair. I ended up taking it on you for no reason. I’m so sorry. I drove you, who were clueless and innocent, away…”

“Mom… What was the name of the man grandpa killed?”

“You will receive a newspaper from my solicitor. It has the man’s story… Perhaps it will help you, and you will break the curse. Blair, I think it’s time to go. I’m truly sorry, my baby. I love you.”

“Ok mom… yeah, you can… you can go now.” Blair smiles weakly as she watches her mother disappear.

---

Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

[byebyebyeuterus]

the beginning of the end.

I’ve always found comfort in writing. There’s something therapeutic about it. Being able to put your thoughts down on paper, releasing all that’s scrambling around in your head - it’s nice. It also helps to organize my thoughts and to process them too. So, that’s what I’m going to do - put my journalism degree to use (finally!!!) and write. There’s been a lot going on in my life lately and I need to get it all out of my head somehow. So here we are - a new blog. I don’t think I’ve had a blog since I was in middle school or something. Remember LiveJournal? Is that still a thing? 

Anyways, If you’re uncomfortable with the female anatomy and its functions then please move on, this story or this blog isn’t for you. 

But, I’m finally at the beginning of the end. The end of monthly pain that I’ve suffered from since I was about 13  years old. The end of torturous periods. The end of sleepless nights doubled over willing and praying that the cramps would stop. The end of sitting at my desk during work, sweating my ass off because my body is in so much pain and it’s taking all that it can out of me. The end of wondering if I can make it through a social event without feeling like I want to die. Hoping and praying that I’m doing enough on the outside to mask the pain - making sure that everyone else around me has no idea that I’m hurting because I don’t want to be a burden or ruin anyone’s plans, moods, etc.   The end of spending money on feminine products, spending money on heating pads, remedies, medications - all of which never really solved anything. 

How did we get here? How did I get to the beginning of the end? Well, about a year ago I started experiencing some strange pains in my stomach. Pain that kept me up at night. There was nothing that made it better, but nothing that made it worse either. Just a constant pain lingering on the lower right side of my abdomen. I thought it could have been appendicitis. Or, perhaps it’s just some gas? Or - maybe something is up with my gallbladder. Maybe my IUD was out of place. But no, none of that. Nothing ever showed up on X-rays, tests, ultrasounds, or blood work to indicate an issue.

So, I carried on. 

Until about a month ago. 

One morning in October, I woke up with the worst cramps I’ve ever had in my life. We’re talking 15/10 on a scale of 10. The pain had me pretty messed up. I know I logged into my computer to work that day - but I also remember only laying down on my beanbag chair in my office and squeezing a pillow so tightly, hoping the pain would go away. After laying with a heating pad and loading up on a large amount of ibuprofen, I was finally able to call my OBGYN’s office. All I wanted at that point was to talk to a nurse, to have it documented that I was in a lot of pain and to make sure it was on my record so that my gynecologist and I could talk about it during my annual wellness exam, that was only a few weeks away. The nurse couldn’t have been any more sympathetic to what I was going through. She could tell in my voice that I was uncomfortable. She took down my information, wrote down all that I was dealing with, and then spoke to my doctor. My doctor recommended an ultrasound - mostly to check and make sure that my IUD was in its right spot, but to also see if something else might be causing my discomfort. 

So, a week later, I had my ultrasound appointment. 

Now, this isn’t any normal ultrasound. This was a transvaginal ultrasound. Doesn’t sound fun, does it? 

It’s not. 

Let me break it down for you. It’s a stranger, with a wand, probing around your private parts for a good 45 minutes and taking pictures of your insides. She’s not really explaining what she’s looking at, but instead trying to have a discussion about what halloween costume she’s going to wear that weekend. It quite frankly was the worst 45 minutes of my life. I hated every moment of it. While the tech was trying to make it as easy and comfortable as possible for me - it wasn’t. It was painful. All I could do was stare at the ceiling and try my hardest not to react to any movements by her or cry. 

Once it was over, the waiting game began. 

I had an appointment scheduled with my gynecologist a week and a half after that ultrasound took place. It was a long 10 days. But that appointment literally changed EVERYTHING. 

My doctor and a surgeon reviewed my ultrasound. They were able to determine a few things. First,I had 2 different diseases that I was diagnosed with - endometriosis and adenomyosis. Second, I likely would never be able to have children. Third, what I thought was ‘normal’ (aka the horrible cramps and all the other exponentially worse experiences of being a woman on a monthly basis) - was and is not normal at all.  But, with all that bad news, I FINALLY had answers on why I have been suffering most of my life. 

For those of you who don’t know, endometriosis is a disease where the lining/tissue of your uterus grows outside of your uterus. The tissue can be found in the fallopian tubes, on the ovaries, on many different parts of your body. Every month, when that tissue sheds from the uterus (your period), the tissue everywhere else in the body has nowhere to go to escape, causing pain. The hormones released by your ovaries triggers the endometriosis, causing pain. Adenomyosis takes it a step further - that same tissue - (again, which should ONLY be in your uterus) actually grows within the muscles and walls of the uterus. So every time hormones are released, or your uterus contracts (cramps) - it squeezes that tissue in the muscles making the pain 1000000000x worse than ‘normal’ period cramps. (or so I’m told. I can’t tell you what a normal period cramp feels like.) 

So great. I finally have a diagnosis. It actually gave me some relief. I suddenly have an explanation for what I’ve been going through. I no longer feel crazy for complaining about how bad my cramps are. I no longer have to gaslight myself (I’m really good at this) into thinking that it’s all in my head, that it’s not ‘that’ bad, etc. I actually have a medical diagnosis to explain all that’s happening. I have tons of research to do! I can learn how to live with this and have a normal life! Right? 

Well… sort of. 

You see, while medications can help with endometriosis and you can even have a surgery to have it scraped away from your body and get some relief - the relief may not be permanent. The only way for it to totally go away is naturally, through menopause. Which in reality could be 10, 15, 20, maybe even 30 years away. But, there is no medicine to help fix adenomyosis. Again, I could wait for menopause for the adenomyosis to go away too. 

But, the only way to fix adenomyosis is through surgery. 

By removing my uterus. 

A hysterectomy.  

Hysterectomy. That’s a pretty big word. That’s a pretty big deal. There’s a lot of finality with a hysterectomy. No more periods - which in turn means no more pain. It also means never being able to have children. That’s okay too - I never had a desire to have children, and thankfully neither does my husband. But in a weird way, it also feels like a bit of an identity crisis. Like a loss of a part of my femininity. And that’s been a bit of a struggle. And I think I’ll eventually talk about these things in other posts in the future. 

But I was faced with this decision - do I medicate the endometriosis and deal with the adenomyosis until menopause, or do I get the hysterectomy and live my life free from monthly pain?  

For me, it was a simple choice. I chose hysterectomy. 

My hysterectomy will be scheduled soon. I met with my surgeon a couple of weeks ago.. He’s really great. I feel comfortable with him and I feel comfortable with my decision. This decision will ultimately improve my quality of life. It will make my life a hell of a lot easier and will allow me to enjoy life to the fullest.

I never would have imagined going through this surgery, especially at 35 years old. There have been many times when I’ve had cramps where I’ve thought “can’t I just get rid of it all?!” And now, finally, I can.

You might be wondering why I am sharing this. Well, to be completely honest, I hope that I will be able to help others who are going through the same thing or, receive this diagnosis. Especially younger women. I hope that I can help them stand up and advocate for themselves and their health. I’ve been dealt a bad hand when it comes to doctors as of late and if I didn’t advocate for myself and also take the time to research doctors to make sure I have nothing but the best from here on out - who knows where I would be. I also hope that this will help me to connect to other women who may have already gone through all of this. To find others who UNDERSTAND. It can feel very isolating when you’re sick or have a sickness and no one really understands. I also hope it will help me process all of this. This is a major surgery. I’m having multiple ORGANS removed from my body. That’s crazy. That’s something that I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around. 

So, I hope being able to write about this, the process, my feelings, my recovery - will just help to make it that much easier for me. I have a lot on my mind surrounding this procedure and a lot that I want to discuss.. There’s a lot of what ifs and there are a lot of fears. But there’s also hope. So while this is the beginning of the end of my relationship with my uterus, it will also bring a new beginning to my life. 

Excited to start the countdown til I can say, “See you later, ovulater!” 

[runningthegalaxies]

A Skit About Battling Your Own Mind Across Time

Here is a skit. A skit about battling your own mind across time. It doesn't matter how old we get, there is still something in your heart and brain tugging at each other. They just won't align. the heck is up with that? We always think we aren't good enough. We always think we come up short with anything we do, even if we know we are really good at that type of thing. I don't know why our brain is out to get us, nor why it feels natural to hate ourselves.

I wrote this skit because of those reasons. I want people to know they are not alone when we struggle trying to make our dreams come true. It totally sucks to look at others through social media and seeing that they are doing such a good job living their dreams where everything seems so perfect. It must be so nice to live your dream as your alternative 9 to 5 job. We get in trouble when we compare ourselves to other people and covet what they have, though. Compare and despair rhyme, so it must be true. What I want to accomplish for readers looking at this skit is this: I hope that with a skit like this, I could bring out the awareness that we are all good enough and we will find our way as we try to follow our dreams.

Check out RTG's other stuff here: https://runningthegalaxies.square.site/

Future Self Meets Past Self

An emotional story about comfort in the present... INT. HOUSE - DINING ROOM

(FUTURE SELF walks into the room and sees PAST SELF sitting at the dining table and quietly goes to sit down.)

FUTURE SELF

Hello.

PAST SELF

(shocked to see F.S.) Hello. Who are you?

FUTURE SELF

Don’t you know? I’m you from the future. 

PAST SELF

What are you doing here?

FUTURE SELF

You’re struggling right now, which is why I wanted to talk to you.

PAST SELF

What do you have to say? That it’s all going to be okay?

FUTURE SELF

Yeah. That pretty much sums it up.

PAST SELF

Why should I believe you?

FUTURE SELF

Because I’m you from the future.

PAST SELF

(choked up) That’s not good enough.

FUTURE SELF

I can see why you think that.

PAST SELF

Am I happy and a huge success in the future? Are you going to tell me how exactly I can change my actions now so I could reach that point in my life where everything is okay?

FUTURE SELF

(sympathetic) I can’t.

PAST SELF

(angrily) Then what is the point of you?

FUTURE SELF

(doesn’t know what to answer)

PAST SELF

You’re from my future. I would think you could tell me. 

FUTURE SELF

Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.

PAST SELF

(rolls eyes) You’re here for a reason. So, come on, what should I do? What would make things okay?

FUTURE SELF

I don’t know if it would be wise of me to tell you what to do. Actually, I’m kind of debating whether or not it’s better to just leave things as they are so that we can get here now.

PAST SELF

Oh, thanks.

FUTURE SELF

Sorry.

PAST SELF

You don’t know what to tell me to make things better, but you came here because you wanted to make things better.

FUTURE SELF

Yes.

PAST SELF

A freaking good job you’re doing.

FUTURE SELF

Hey, I’m trying my best. It’s all I ever did, but nothing I’ve ever done was ever good enough for anyone, not even you.

PAST SELF

Talk about being your own worst enemy.

FUTURE SELF

Yeah, that war never stops.

PAST SELF

I wish it did. I would have accomplished so much more in my life.

FUTURE SELF

I still feel that way. 

PAST SELF

Oh great. So, basically, you’re telling me I haven’t even done anything I wanted with my life yet.

FUTURE SELF

I didn’t say that.

PAST SELF

I’m so worthless.

FUTURE SELF

No, you’re not worthless. If I’ve come to have the opportunity to say anything to you right now, it would be to not give up. To love yourself. To not settle on your dreams. To stop listening to what others say your life should be.

PAST SELF

That’s easier said than done!

FUTURE SELF

I know.

PAST SELF

I don’t know how to do that.

FUTURE SELF

You’ll figure it out. You’re good enough as you are.

PAST SELF

I hope so…

FUTURE SELF

You are. Believe me, you are.

PAST SELF

Okay, but how do I do this? I don’t know the first thing. And it seems like everyone else has everything figured out.

FUTURE SELF

You gotta remember, they started somewhere. You’ll figure it out too. In a way that works for you. 

PAST SELF

Thank you. For being kind to me for once.

FUTURE SELF

Yeah, it feels good, doesn’t it?

PAST SELF

I’d like to feel that way more often.

FUTURE SELF

(smiles) Good.

PAST SELF

Good.

FUTURE SELF

Well, I gotta go.

PAST SELF

Wait, now?

FUTURE SELF

Yup.

PAST SELF

Will I ever see you again?

FUTURE SELF

You’re going to be okay.

PAST SELF

(smiles) Thanks to you.

(FUTURE SELF smiles back, gets up, and walks away.)

THE END

Check out RTG's other stuff here: https://runningthegalaxies.square.site/

[talenlee]

Pride of Frankenstein

As a child I did not get much to engage with popular culture of the 80s and 90s. It wasn’t until the late 90s that I was able to watch most mainstream television or listen to music from popular media without treating it like contraband. Things that were current were suspect, things that were my father’s childhood were probably okay, and things that were old, well, they were classic.

I read a lot of old pulp. I read Sherlock Holmes and I read Robert Louis Stevenson and I read Dumas, and one afternoon, visiting my grandma, sitting on her back step, away from the conversations she had with my parents, I read Frankenstein.

I don’t think, at that age, that I read it right.

First of all, I didn’t find the monster horrifying. Why should I? Was I supposed to? In the book, the monster’s face and features are not given much description by a neutral, meaningfully mentally well Frankenstein. What we get as a description was:

His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.

Frankenstein, Chapter 5

When I first read this, as a kid, I remember putting the book down and sthinking about that descirption for a while. Like I came back to that paragraph and kept reading it, and checking it again. Now part of that is the natural moment of seeing my imagination defied. This wasn’t some blocky, heavy-set cereal mascot looking dude you’d see made into a suit on It’s a Knockout!, this description was of a human with a beautiful face, white eyes, black lips and long black hair. His body is then described, athletic and long-limbed, muscular, with skin that just barely covered his muscles, which to me, implied that his skin was really taut over powerful muscles.

He looked, in my mind, like a gothic superhero with lovely hair!

As Frankenstein recoiled from his creation, as his narrative explained the terribleness of what he’d done, the horror he saw in the flesh and shape of him, it seemed to me that he was, well, he was saying a bit much. Surely it wasn’t that bad. After all, he’d described him, and he sounded hot. He sounded hot like I wanted to be hot. It was all kinda this negotiation with the guy, in the story that okay, I understand you’re upset by him, because of what he represents of how you’ve done something, but I didn’t do it. I don’t have to feel that way. Heck, if I’d awoken on a table with pearly white teeth and lustrous black flowing hair, perhaps I’d actually be able to see a way to be cool with having a weird dad.

It was just a fundamentally more sympathetic position towards the monster, and the way that Frankenstein kept harping on the way he found the monster revolting, even before the monster did, y’know, any murdering, sounded unconvincing to me, because the whole story feels like someone who did something bad, reconstructing the story after the fact. The horror is not in the monster, but about remembering the monster. His is a testimony, a story meant to convince, and justify.

I heard a lot of testimonies. They were always by the people who had found their way to the Church to be the ones who got to purge their souls by sharing their testimonies. The people who weren’t there didn’t get to be heard, and that meant that anyone talking about you, as tragically as they did, weren’t necessarily telling the truth.

There’s a tradition in protestant media, the media fixated on the Bible as your template point, of fathers creating sons. In Genesis, Adam is the source of humanity, the first person who was used to create the second person, and that second person was a woman. To me, it’s the first great act of misogyny in the Bible, to take the most obvious, simple, primal description of a thing women are known for doing, and remove it from them, and instead centre that source of humanity on the man. There’s a lot of different ways a myth can come, and a lot of cultures have creator goddesses, but in the protestant tradition, built out of the Bible, Adam is the father of humanity, and it’s from him everything else gets created.

Frankenstein mimics this path – a father creates a son wrong, then punishes the son for it. The monster did not ask to be, does not know why it could be wrong, and only learns of violence because it is what it is told it must be. There is shame to him, to his existence, and what he craves, in order to assuage that shame, is love. Not love from his father, he kinda works out that that’s not happening, but he petitions his father-and-god, for someone to love. What he is given is almost there, he is shown what he can almost have, and then it is taken away, again, by the father who cannot abide the shame of letting him exist, a father who lashes out and destroys what he was working on, what was supposedly meant to help his son!

Created wrong, desperate for love, and rejected for it.

It is very easy to feel constructed as a queer person. Neurodivergence is rife in the queer community not because queer people are necessarily more likely to be neurodivergent, but because neurodivergent people are more likely to consider the systems they’re trying to work within and how they don’t necessarily work coherently. That means that in queer spaces, there’s a lot more analytical and reflective text on just being queer. Queer discourse has a lot of consideration of the building blocks of ‘normal,’ and the behaviour of parents who don’t necessarily understand or know how to reflect an experience.

My parents have no idea what to do with a bi kid. The good news, for me, in the long term health and safety of me, is that they did make sure I was so scared of how I was made that nobody found out until I was basically an adult, and even then, I wasn’t doing a good job of it. I didn’t know how to ask for what I needed because I didn’t know what what I needed even was.

Before I had studied anything at university, before my schoolbooks were even trying to get me to engage with work critically – because at church, those books did not want me doing that at all – Frankenstein had taught me about unreliable narrators. Before I knew I was queer, Frankenstein had taught me about being made wrong. Before I had escaped church, Frankenstein had taught me about men who make their children wrong, and demand they fix themselves.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Media

[bylightofdawn]

Okay it's WIP Sunday again. This scene I technically wrote last night at like 1 am so it was TECHNICALLY Sunday. I really have only written like 1,300 words today and am smack dab in the middle of a JasPlo scene which sadly is not complete enough to make sense. So you get a special treat. A very important conversation between Jango and Mij where Jango admits perhaps for the first time out loud that he doesn't really WANT to be Mand'alor but doesn't want to disappoint Jaster by telling him that.

I'm constantly battling with myself when it comes to writing Jango who definitely feels way more mature for a 14/15-year-old like we see in Open Seasons. But that's just Mando (I don't know if tumblr auto-correct that but it was originally Mango culture and I am ded) culture and he would technically be considered an 'adult' by their standards. Even if I do think he's still a teenager and his brain isn't fully developed and would prolly still struggle with typical teenage things like fear of disappointing his parents and the like. So I try and write him like he's mature but also a kid still in some ways if that makes sense? Blah blah, rough draft and will need to be edited at a later date warning as always.

I also love that Mij has accidentally become the agony aunt of the Mereel/Fett household. I mean, doctors often act as the first step into a patient's mental health journey but gods love him. I don't think Mandalorians and mental health care are on very strong terms. They don't strike me as bastions of mental health awareness in a lot of ways. Pfffft. Long story short, he does not get paid enough for this shit.

The doctor moved to sit down on the other end of the couch. “You’ll have plenty of time before you have to worry about him needing to really consider who all he wants to take up the title of Mand’alor. Don’t listen to the osik people like Montross say.” 

He carefully chose his words when he said that but Jango still shot him a wary, suspicious look. 

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Jango? You’re a bright kid and you’re definitely more mature than a lot of people your age so I’m going to do you the courtesy of treating you like you’re an adult. Do me to courtesy of not treating me like I’m a blind idiot, okay? It’s completely normal that you’d be anxious about that. It’s a lot of responsibility and pressure to put on anyone’s shoulders. Especially a teenager. Which is why Jaster is trying so damned hard to not make you feel pressured to make that choice if you don’t want it.” 

“I don’t...think I do want it is the thing. I like being a soldier, but I don’t think I want to be the Mand’alor.” Jango couldn’t explain why exactly those words flew out of his mouth. Why he’d suddenly uttered something he’d been clinging to tightly like some kind of shameful secret to Mij Gilamar of all people.

Maybe because he didn’t have that same emotional connection to the man? Maybe because he did come across as somewhat easier to talk to than Jaster when it came to this? Or maybe it simply burst out of him like a boil that desperately needed to be lanced. Because if he kept it inside of himself for another day, he might go crazy. 

To his credit, the doctor didn’t look triumphant or exultant that Jango had confided in him. If anything, the older man’s steady gray eyes looked understanding and maybe a little sympathetic. As if Jango had simply confirmed something he’d already known. 

“I don’t think most people would choose to be either if I’m being honest. It’s a lot of hard work and a pretty thankless job in a lot of ways.” 

“Exactly. Have you seen the way they treat Jaster at times? I just want to–I want to punch Kyr Ordo in the face sometimes. So yeah, I think I’d be a terrible Mand’alor”

“Then tell that to Jaster, he’s not going to judge you or place some kind of guilt trip on your shoulders.”

“I don’t want to disappoint him,” Jango admitted quietly. 

“I don’t think it is possible you can disappoint him. You would really have to kark up for that to happen. Short of you murdering a whole host of people or doing some serious war crimes, I don’t think you need to worry about that. And even then, he’d probably try and stand by you because that’s who he is.” Mij snorted softly. “He will however probably internalize all kinds of guilt and act like a real di’kut if he thinks you did something you don’t want just to try and please him.” 

“Yeah, that sounds like the kind of stupid thing he’d do.” The teenager agreed with a wan smile. 

“The most brilliant idiot I know.” The doctor agreed with a matching smile. 

“Oh, I like that, I’m going to have to remember that one.”

“Sure, take all my best material. I might have to start charging you.” Mij teased. “Look, real talk? I admire the hell out of Jaster. We all do which is why we’re half a damned galaxy away from home and our loved ones trying to make this crazy dream of his happen. I would literally not be here if he had not personally asked me to come. Because I’d much rather be back home right now with my lovely wife, you know? But I know if I’d told him no way, he wouldn’t have held it against me, wouldn’t have done anything but thank me for my time and it would have never been brought up again.”

“Yeah, what’s that got to do with this?” 

“It means, if he’s not going to hold something like that against me, someone who has only known him for a few years and isn’t even remotely family then you definitely don’t have to worry about him holding it against you.”

“It’s a bit bigger than just asking you to come with us on some mad jaunt to Coruscant.” 

“Is it, though? Isn’t he asking you if you want the job and you can decide if you do or don’t want it? Talk to him and tell him. The quicker you get it off your chest, the better you’re going to feel about it and the quicker he can start trying to cast about and find someone crazy enough to want to take on the gig.” 

“Yeah but what if he asks someone like <I>Montross</I>. He hasn’t exactly been subtle in his hinting he’d take it up in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t think there’s enough traumatic brain injury Jaster could suffer where he would think that was a good idea. I mean, maybe once upon a time when Montross wasn’t such a chakaar. Supposedly, back in the day, he wasn’t this much of a bastard but these days, I don’t think he’s exactly winning the hearts and minds of most folks. Maybe the more stubborn and hidebound types but I’d like to think that breed is dying out. Usually, because they literally are too stupid to live to old age.” 

“Two words: Kyr Ordo. He’s not going to do anyone a favor and die anytime soon I’m sure.”

“Ordo is definitely stubborn and can definitely be hidebound but he’s more cagey than I think you give him credit for. He sees which way the wind is blowing and I think he’ll probably surprise you. There’s no way you get to be the leader of that clan without knowing how to spot a serpent in the grass. I think if Montross pushes things too far, he might find himself in for a surprise in how few people would be willing to follow him.” 

Jango frowned as he pondered Mij’s words and every way he looked at it, there was a lot of common sense in the older man’s statements.  “I don’t know if Jaster can see it though. I think he’s got a huge blindspot when it comes to Montross.”

“That’s what happens when you serve with someone as long as those two have. You’ll just have to be there to watch his back. I don’t think Montross is going to try and stick a knife in it, but who really knows what’s going on in someone’s head? Who knows, maybe if he thinks he doesn’t have to compete with you for competition, he’ll calm down now.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t even bother trying to disguise his doubt about that. 

“All you can do is watch his back like you’ve been doing. And once you two talk and Jaster knows where you stand, you can help him try and find the ideal candidate.”

“And what if someone tries to challenge him for that spot? What if Montross decides instead of sticking a knife in Jaster’s back, he wants to try and take the title of Mand’alor by force?”

“What if an asteroid crashes down on Jaster’s head tomorrow? Or he chokes on a warra nut? You can’t twist yourself up into knots over what-if scenarios. If someone gets it into their head they want to challenge Jaster for Mand’alor then it’ll play out how it plays out. I know Jaster has said in the past if someone really did want to push for the proverbial crown and he thought that person could do a better job than him then he wouldn’t even fight for it. Hell, he’d probably welcome it at this point.”

“Give him all the time in the world to work on his pet projects, yes I’ve heard that line before. More like he’d have all the time in the world to drive us all crazy. Do you think the True Mandalorians would follow this new Mand’alor or do you think they’d follow him?”

“Kark me, now you’re really asking the hard ones, aren’t you? I don’t know, kid. He was a True Mandalorian before he became Mand’alor, right? I suspect, if we’re talking hypothetical scenarios here, some would follow him no matter what. There’s no way someone like Myles would ever serve anyone else. Same for most of the old-timers. Where it would get interesting might be with some of the new blood.  Some of them grew up True Mandalorians but others like me? Vau? The ones who joined up later in life and maybe don’t have the same ties? I dunno. Me personally? I’d stick with Jaster because I know what kind of leader he is. And because there’s no way I would be able to convince Tani to join some other group. I guess we’ll have to see how things play out.”

“Yeah, I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” Jango didn’t sound very happy about that. 

“I think that’s also a thing you should consider talking with Jaster about as well. Now, come on. You need your rest and I need to go check in on Jaster because I’m laying pretty even odds on him getting distracted or roped into someone’s osik and I’ll have to drag him to bed by his ear kicking and screaming.” 

“A non-compliant patient? In this household?” 

“Wayii! You’re one to talk, young man. Get before I start snatching ears.” Mij mock threatened and made a claw-like pantomime movement like he was going to reach for Jango’s ear. 

The teenager sprang to his feet with a laugh and fell into a play-fighting pose. “Try me, old man.” 

“The disrespect, I swear. Get out of here and go lay down so I can use your compliance as blackmail material for your father. If you’re cooperating then I can remind him his kid is a better patient than he is and it’ll make my life all the easier. I might actually get some peace and quiet for once.”

“I don’t think you’d know what to do with it if you got it, Mij.”

The medic grimaced at that. “Out of the mouths of babes as the saying goes.” Mij snorted and climbed to his feet as well. 

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, Mij? Thanks, for the talk. And uh...keep what we talked about under your bucket for a while? Until I can actually talk to Jaster?”

“Of course, kid. My lips are sealed.” Mij clapped Jango on the shoulder as he left. 

[cicimunson]

Sweet Child of Mine

Series Summary: You’re Eddie’s former best best friend. The two of you drifted apart freshman year of high school and now you’re more enemies than anything else. Despite the hostility between the two of you, you still come around to help out with his eleven-month-old sister, Emma, who he and Wayne keep most of the time due to his father being in jail and his mother being an addict.

Also, I know Sweet Child O’ Mine didn’t come out until 1988, but the song is just so perfect for the story.

Pairings/Characters: Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Wayne Munson, OC characters Emma Munson, Wendy Munson and Greg Thompson.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Eddie is high/drunk, baby is upset, Eddie’s mother is an addict, implications that Eddie was abused/neglected as a child, verbal abuse from Eddie’s father. (sort of in a flashback) I think that’s everything, please let me know if I missed something!

Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6

“Thank God you’re here, she’s been crying for an hour.”

You offer Wayne a sympathetic smile and take the screeching toddler from his arms. “Go get some sleep, I got her.”

He pats your shoulder before heading to his room.

You walk Emma around the living room, patting her bottom and singing softly. She continues to cry, rubbing her eyes with her little fists. She smacks at your chest, clearly trying to communicate some need that isn’t being met. You offer her some juice, check her diaper, and continue to walk her around whispering soothing words of comfort.

After a half hour of trying to calm her, you’re feeling a little bit like crying yourself.

“Shh, sweet girl, it’s okay." 

You check her temperature, no fever.

Sometimes kids cry just to cry. You remind yourself.

You sit on the couch and rock her back and forth. She’s overly-tired and fighting her sleep, closing her eyes for a few seconds and then jerking awake to sob some more.

Eddie stumbles through the front door, bloodshot eyes landing on you.

"What are you doing to her?”

You glare at him. “Nothing! She’s been crying for a while now is all. She doesn’t want to fall asleep.”

“Give me my sister.” He reaches for her but you lean back from him.

“You’re high and probably drunk, too. I have a contact high just smelling you. No way you’re holding her.”

“Judgy bitch.” He mutters.

“Go take a shower and get some sleep, I got her.”

He scowls at you. “You’re not my mother.”

“Someone here has to act like an adult.” You retort.

Eddie flops down on the couch beside you and cradles Emma’s head in his hand, tracing a finger over her cheek. He starts singing softly, smiling down at her.

Whoa, sweet child of mine.

Whoa, sweet love of mine.

Emma is asleep within minutes, her head dropping to your shoulder.

Eddie looks up at you with a smirk.

“Shut up.” You mumble, not letting him see how grateful you are.

You carry her down the hall and put her in the crib, smoothing her dark curls out of her face.

Eddie stands in the doorway watching you.

“Night-night, Em.” You whisper softly. You switch on her nightlight and tiptoe out of the room.

Eddie grabs your arm as you walk past. “You don’t have to keep coming over here. Wayne and I can handle things just fine.”

You snatch your arm away. “Your uncle is the one that called me, asshole. You weren’t here to help and he needed some sleep before work.”

“My plans ran long, is all. Not that I have to justify myself to you.”

“Never said you did.” You march past him and into the kitchen, starting water for the dirty dishes in the sink.

“You can go. I got it.”

“Your uncle pays me to cook and clean and help with Em, Eddie.”

“I told you, we don’t need your help.”

“Then tell your uncle to fire me. Until then, I work for him, not you.”

You can feel him staring holes in the back of your head. You turn to meet his gaze.

“Do you really hate me that much, Eddie? I’m literally here to help out. You think you’d want that, someone who cares about Emma and wants to take some of the weight of everything off your uncle. Are you really that selfish?”

He looks murderous.

You turn back to the sink and finish up the dishes. 

“Tell your uncle I’ll be over right after school to get Emma.”

“I can get her.”

“Will you be sober?” You deadpan.

“Fuck you, Y/N.”

“I’ll be here at three-thirty.” You leave before he can say anything else.

__________

You carry groceries into the trailer, calling out a greeting to let Wayne know you’re there.

To your surprise, Eddie comes down the hall, holding a finger over his lips.

“Shh, Em just laid down for a nap.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here. So the question is, what are you doing here? I told you I’d watch her today.”

“You were low on milk last night, and baby wipes. I got Emma some more apples too, she’s been really into them the past week.”

“You could have just made me a list or something, you don’t have to shop for us.”

“It’s not for you, it’s for Em.”

“I can buy her what she needs.”

“Gee, thanks Y/N. Oh, you’re welcome Eddie. Happy to help.” You roll your eyes.

“Anyways, what do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Just tell me how much the damn groceries cost.”

You ignore him and stick the milk in the fridge.

“Are you sure you got her, Eddie?”

He scowls. “She’s my responsibility.”

“Actually, she’s your mom’s responsibility. She coming to get her this weekend?”

“Who knows?”

“She doing any better?”

“None of your fucking business, Y/N.”

You drop the subject immediately. Eddie has always been very touchy about his mother, even before when you were friends. He rarely opened up about her. 

You knew that she was a recovering addict, that she’d only agreed to letting Wayne and Eddie keep Emma through the week because she was too high to take care of her. She got Em on the weekends sometimes, giving Eddie and Wayne a much-needed break, except they would worry and miss her the entire time she was gone.

You hear Emma start to fuss and hurry down the hall to her, Eddie on your heels.

“Hi, babygirl!” You pick her up and snuggle her, savoring her sweet baby smell. “Did you get a good nap?”

“She was only asleep for like twenty minutes. I don’t know why she isn’t sleeping good.” He looks worried.

“Babies do that sometimes. It’s probably just a phase.” You reassure him, propping Emma on your hip.

“She’s so tired, though.”

“You all are.” You murmur knowingly.

He nods, reaching out to tweak Emma’s cheek. She instantly reaches for him and he grins triumphantly at you, lifting her from your arms to blow raspberries on her neck.

“That’s right Em, I’m your favorite.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll go cut her up an apple.”

Eddie plops down on the living room floor with her, handing her a stuffed bear.

“Mr. Beary is very happy to see his best friend.” He says in a gruff voice.

“I hope that’s not what he sounds like cause that’s terrifying.”

He laughs, the first time you’ve heard him laugh in awhile.

You peel the apple and cut it into tiny pieces, smushing them a little with a spoon. 

“I got it.” Eddie takes the bowl from you and starts feeding her.

You sit on the couch and study Eddie’s features. No bloodshot eyes, no hint of weed lingering in the air.

Eddie was a great brother to Emma, you knew that. He adored her. You start to feel guilty for your little dig about him being too wasted to care for her last night.

Emma drools onto Eddie’s hand and he wipes it on his shirt, making silly faces at her.

“Sweet girl but sooo messy.” He teases, kissing her plump cheeks.

You smile softly. This was this Eddie that you knew, the soft-spoken, kind-hearted Eddie. Not the abrasive Eddie from school that was loud and obnoxious and had a permanent scowl etched on his face.

You supposed he had to be that way. He was constantly on-guard at school, with the bullies, with the teachers that didn’t like him. He never relaxed.

But before high school, he’d been more like this. Sweet. Adorable, even. Then you had gotten into sports and started dating a guy from the football team and Eddie suddenly didn’t want to be friends anymore. It was as if you’d become enemies overnight.

Eddie catches you staring and frowns. “You can go, you know. I told you I’ve got her.”

“Maybe I wanna spend some time with her, too, Eddie.”

“Get your own sister.” He quips.

“Why would I need my own sister when Em is just so cute?” You croon, reaching down to smooth her curls.

He smiles. “She is the best, isn’t she?”

There’s a knock from outside and Eddie tenses. You immediately know it’s his mom at the door.

You scoop Emma up. “I’ll get her changed and get her stuff together.”

You carry Em to her room and change her diaper, sitting her on the floor with her teddy bear while you collect stuff she’ll need for the weekend.

Extra clothes, she always comes back looking dirty. I wonder if Wendy has any milk.

You sigh when you hear Eddie and his mom start arguing. The few times you’ve been around for Emma’s trip to Wendy’s, you’ve heard her and Eddie battle it out.

Not that Eddie isn’t completely justified in his anger towards her. When his dad went to prison, Wendy had a chance to step-up and do better for Eddie. She failed him at every turn.

You stick your head in the living room. “Hi, Wendy. Here’s her bag.”

Eddie turns and glares at you. “She’s not going. Mommy dearest is as high as a kite.”

You study Wendy’s face. She’s crying softly, but she doesn’t look inhibited. You don’t smell anything on her, don’t see any track marks on her arms.

“Eddie, I’m clean. I swear. I just want to see my little girl.”

You touch Eddie’s sleeve. He grabs your arm and propels you down the hall into Emma’s room.

“My sister isn’t going anywhere with her.”

“Eddie, she looks fine. I didn’t see anything to indicate that she was high.”

“She tried to hug me. She’s high.”

You wince. Eddie had hated physical affection as long as you’d known him. You knew it was because his dad had been so rough on him. His little sister was the only exception. Eddie smothered her with kisses and hugs, never missing an opportunity to love on her. You knew it was because he was denied the same affection growing up.

Don’t cry. Don’t be a little pussy. Real men don’t need their mommies to hold them. Grow up.

“Get her out of here.” His voice wobbles, and he sits on the floor beside Emma, picking her up and hugging her close.

You go back into the living room.

“Wendy, I’m sorry, it’s not a good time. Maybe next weekend.”

She nods, looking remorseful. “I don’t know why I tried to hug him. I knew better.”

“I know.”

“But he’s doing good? And my Emma?”

You nod. “Everyone’s fine.”

“Thank you for taking care of my family.” She says softly, wiping tears off her face. “I’m gonna get better for them, I promise.”

“I believe you will, Wendy.”

She leaves and you go back down the hall.

Eddie is sitting in the beat-up rocker Wayne had thrifted, holding Emma to his chest. You see that she’s finally starting to sleep.

Eddie meets your eyes, and for a brief moment you can see relief and gratitude on his face. It quickly changes to an expression of annoyance, and he motions for you to leave.

You make Emma up a bottle for when she wakes up and stick it in the fridge before leaving. You straighten up the living room and pick up the few toys scattered in the living room and carry them down the hall.

Eddie is asleep in the rocker, holding Emma tightly. You ease her from his arms, worried that he might drop her. You lay her in her crib and then drape a blanket over Eddie, shutting off the overhead light as you leave.

[togrowoldinv]

Ruining the Friendship

Florence Pugh x Female Reader

Florence takes you to go to visit her family with her. Will you leave as more than friends?

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please!

Note: So, I was thinking about Flo and wanted to do some friends to lovers with her. There’s a lot of fluff and a tiny bit of angst, along with the first smut I’ve done for her. I’m nervous about that, but I think it turned out well. I hope y’all enjoy it!

Florence Pugh Masterlist, Main Masterlist

“My parents are going to love you, y/n,” Florence says as she puts the car in drive.

“I sure hope they do,” you say nervously.

“Oh, they will, darling. Trust me, you’ll be like the celebrity in the room around them,” Florence says. She reaches for your hand across the center console and squeezes it softly before letting go.

You are in London to film a movie and Florence has quickly become a close friend of yours. And sometimes you think you might like her a little more than as a friend, but you haven’t dared to say anything to her about that.

Still, you jumped on the idea of joining her for a trip to visit her home, Oxford. She’s told you plenty of stories of growing up there and you are excited to meet her family. And a little bit nervous.

It’s not a far drive and it flies by with Florence singing along to the radio and making you laugh with her impressions of the artists.

“You’re home!” You hear a woman’s voice ring out when you step out of the car.

Florence runs to her mother and hugs her tight.

“I missed you!” Florence says.

The others join her outside and Florence hugs each one with all of her heart.

“Everyone, this is y/n. Y/n, this is everyone!” Florence excitedly says.

“Hi, nice to meet y’all,” you say and Florence’s mom reaches out to hug you.

“Welcome to our home,” her dad says.

And her siblings offer you smiles. You can tell they are all very kind people, much like Florence.

You go inside with them and Florence shows you her teenage bedroom. It’s still decorated with posters and music. Her old guitar sits in the corner on a stand and you smile at the idea of her sitting on her bed recording her old YouTube videos. Florence notices the instrument has caught your eye.

“If you ask super nicely, I might play for you later,” Florence says with a grin.

Before you can respond, she grabs your hand and pulls you back to the living room area. She sits down on the couch next to her sister, Raffie, and you sit next to her.

“What are we watching?” Flo asks.

“Oh, Pops wants to watch some game,” Raffie says.

Florence laughs and tells you about the woes of her family trying to watch tv together. She animatedly talks and keeps a hand on you almost at all times. It makes your heart flutter. And it warms your heart to hear of the affection that she grew up with.

At the dinner table, you all talk about random topics until Raffie breaks into the conversation to steer it to you.

“I’m interested in learning about our guest.” She leans over Florence and smirks at you.

“Don’t bother them,” Florence says she knocks her sister’s shoulder with her own.

“I just have one question,” Raffie says.

“Raf no-“

“Yeah, what’s up?” You interrupt her.

“Do you like Mamma Mia?” Raffie says and everyone laughs.

“I practically have those movies memorized,” you say and she gives you a nod.

“I like this one, Flo,” she says.

“So, I have a question as well,” Florence’s mom says. “How long have you two been together?”

“I’m sorry?” Florence wonders if she’s heard the question correctly.

“Dating. How long have you two been dating?” She clarifies.

“Oh, um-“ Florence begins.

“We’re not together,” you explain. “We’re friends.”

You swear you see a momentary frown flash on Florence’s face before she nods in agreement.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I just thought the two of you seemed to get on so well and you look great together. I’m sorry,” her mom apologizes profusely. She gives you a sympathetic look as she sees you look a little upset at the situation.

“It’s okay,” Florence says. “So, Pops, how are things at the restaurant?”

She changes the subject but the awkward air hangs around the rest of the night. Even during after dinner drinks and card games, things feel like they’ve shifted.

You two go to her room for the night and you wonder if maybe you should ask to sleep somewhere else, but you don’t want to make things worse.

You lay down next to each other. Physically you aren’t that far apart, but you feel emotionally distant from her.

When she turns to look at you next to her, Florence breaks the silence first.

“About what my mum said, she was just assuming things. I’m sorry,” she says.

“Oh, that’s okay. I guess I just- never mind,” you stop yourself from saying the words that scare you.

“Hey, look at me,” Florence says, her hand caresses your face softly. Her touch feels different than ever before.

“Say what you were going to say, please.” Her voice is soft as she pleads to you.

“I’m scared,” you admit. The air in the room feels still and you begin to tear up. You’re filled with so many emotions right now.

“Please,” she practically whispers.

“I’m in love with you,” you say.

You feel your words hang in air, almost like they take physical form and you can see them floating around the room. The intimacy is tangible.

“I’m in love with you too,” Florence says.

“You are?”

“I am,” she confirms. “I am so in love with you. I have been pretty much since I met you, y/n.”

“I feel the same way, Florence. I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I care about you so much and I just didn’t want to jeopardize any of this,” you say.

“Can I kiss you?“ Florence asks. You search her eyes for any hesitation, but you see none.

“Please.”

With that, Florence closes the distance between your lips. It’s everything you could have imagined and more to feel her soft lips against yours.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” Florence says. She rests her forehead against yours as the hand not on your face comes to rest on your hip.

“Me too, Flo,” you say.

This time you lean in and kiss her lips. It intensifies quickly and your hands find their way under her shirt.

“Is this okay?” You ask her, breathless from kissing her.

“Yes,” Florence says.

You pull her shirt over her head and admire her beautiful body. It’s perfect in every way.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” you say in awe. Your hands roam over her breasts and the moans at the contact. She shifts to straddle you and takes off your shirt. She kisses your body from your lips down to your waistband as her hands slip your sleep shorts off. Your underwear follows quickly after.

“You’re absolutely perfect, baby,” Florence says. Her lips hover over where you want her most. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t imagined this moment before.

Your fingers tangle into her short blonde hair as she licks through your folds. Your head goes back in pleasure as your other hand grips the sheets.

“Florence, oh my god,” you say as her tongue touches you just right and you come undone underneath her.

She moves from between your legs and kisses your lips. You moan at the taste of yourself on her lips.

It’s your turn to slip off her pants and underwear. You’re about to turn her over onto the bed when she settles with your thigh between her legs. You both gasp at the feeling.

“Fuck y/n,” Florence says. She’s breathless as she starts to ride your thigh. You hold her hips as you kiss her neck. The sounds she makes as she moves her body faster against you and comes hard almost make you reach your high again.

“I love you so much,” you say as Florence catches her breath.

“I love you too, baby,” she replies. She leans into your chest and you hold her against you.

For rest of the night and when you wake up in the morning with Florence clinging to you, you are beyond thankful for going home with Florence.

And you will be for years to come when this place truly becomes another home to you because home is wherever Florence is.

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