#makes me worried about who knew what was going on

[nerdygirlramblings]

implied poly!141 x fem!reader

pure fluff, abrupt ending

They were smitten the first time they saw you, some new civvie working in the admin building. Price saw you first and was taken in by your open, friendly smile. You were sweet every time he had to come in, always saying hello and asking how his day was. He couldn't help but talk about you to his boys.

Gaz was next, finding reasons to drop by with a question for your boss or "remembering" paperwork he had already brought to someone else. He always seemed to pop in when your boss was out, though, so he had to talk to you about it instead.

Soap noticed how often Gaz was slipping off to your building. He knew Price was smitten; the man had all but admitted as much. But it seemed Gaz wanted to keep his interest in you a secret. Soap never could let a secret go, so he followed Gaz, found him flirting with you, watched you give him soft touches and shy smiles. He couldn't remember the last time Gaz had lost his sharp edges.

He told Ghost what he saw, and the two began watching you.

They saw how you always dropped by medical on Wednesdays with a bakery box in hand. They learned Tuesdays - the first full day of training rookies had - was always busier for medical, so you brought them a pick-me-up after a hard day. They watched you stop and chat with every invisible employee: groundskeepers, maintenance, custodial staff. You made it a point to acknowledge those who were often overlooked. Soap and Ghost didn't interact with you personally, but they fell for your kind heart nonetheless.

It slowly became clear that there were others as enamoured with you as they all were. Flowers on your desk they knew Price didn't send. Lunch delivered when you'd clearly brought your own. A few other officers who stood a little too close and for whom your smile was tight rather than inviting.

They tell all this to Price and Gaz who bring it up with you in their own way.

Gaz asks about the bouquet behind your desk. You tell him they were a gift, and when your tone seems strained, he presses for more, finds out they came from an officer who didn't believe you meant no. Price stops in after a lunch delivery and jokes about you having two meals. Turns out you're allergic to what was delivered (someone obviously did not do their homework), but it was a favorite of the same soldier who sent the flowers.

This man was making their bird uncomfortable, and they wouldn't stand for it.

Slowly, things take a turn for this poor sod whose main flaw was an overbearing interest in you. His reports come back flagged for missing information, and he gets reamed out by his superior. (Gaz hacked the system and deleted things. Don't worry, he fixed it later, after the damage was done.) His flowers get delivered to married women, which raises an HR concern. (Ghost offered the florist double the cost of each bouquet to send them to a list of other people. He told them you didn't want people jealous of your relationship with the soldier and to spread the joy.) He finds himself called to the head of medical about the legal issue of accidental poisoning. (Price dropped by with your ill-delivered lunch to chat with the head and accidentally let it slip how this delicious food was sent to a civilian employee deathly allergic to some of the ingredients.)

The boys could have gotten dirty and taken matters into their own hands, but they wanted to be able to keep themselves clear of the fallout. To be there for you in the aftermath.

It took about two weeks, but eventually the officer was demoted and transferred. Word gets around the other soldiers how the 141 was protecting its own. They staked their claim on you before you ever realized it.

Two days after the incident, Price shows up with a vase of your favorite flowers (courtesy of Soap's intel). Later that day, Gaz invites you to your favorite restaurant (thanks to Ghost's observations) for dinner, "no strings, doll, just a nice meal." You show up in a cute but classy dress to find the whole task force - including Soap and Ghost whom you've never even met before - seated and waiting on you.

They'd decided to let you know where things stood before some other idiot tried taking what was theirs.

Inspired by the "To the pain" scene at the end of The Princess Bride: "That is what to the pain means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever."

[burrowdarling]

A Magical Surprise

Summary: You plan a trip with your little family to Disney, but you have a magical surprise for Joe of your own. Requested by this anon!

Pairings: dad!Joe Burrow x mom!reader

Warnings: none, some Disney adventure fluff, Joe having major dad energy, pregnancy announcement

Note: Hi! Thank you to the anon who requested this. Some good ole tooth-rotting fluff after all the spice I've written recently. I think this turned out cute, and I somewhat proofread it (oops). Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

You and Joe had talked at length about taking your little family on a getaway. The two of you as a couple hadn’t taken a trip since you had your son, aside from going to see Joe play. It took a bit of time for you to get to that point and were only able to travel to so many games. Your son had not taken a trip outside of Joe’s games before either, having both of your families local was a blessing. After some planning and brainstorming, the two of you decided what better place to take him than Disney. He was at that age where he was able to go on the rides and actually enjoy it as well as you and Joe getting to bask in some memories while he was little. Everything was still so new to him in his little world, that being able to bring his favorite characters to life would be an amazing sight to see.

In the days leading up to the trip, you had been feeling somewhat off. You hadn’t thought too much of it, but there were some similarities to the symptoms you had felt when you were pregnant with your son. You decided to play it safe and take a pregnancy test before you traveled. Sure as shit, the small plus sign popped up fairly quickly and confirmed your suspicions. You were so excited, having discussed before that it felt like the right time to try for baby #2. It was eating at you that you hadn't told him yet but had the perfect idea planned out to surprise him during your trip. 

You were able to play how you were feeling off to Joe by saying how you must’ve gotten a little bit of something from work, but how you knew you’d be feeling better in time. He seemed wary, but took your word for it, doting on you for anything you asked for. 

“I just want to make sure you’re okay mamas, gotta be feeling well so you can enjoy our trip” Joe would say, bringing you crackers and seltzer to settle your stomach. Little did he know, it was your morning sickness hitting you in full force. You couldn’t wait to tell him.

Your flight was a breeze, your son sleeping the entire way like a saint. It gave you and Joe some time to catch up and just talk. It was so nice getting to reconnect together with no other worries to bother you while you’re in the air. Being married to a star had its perks, having taken a private flight meant no needing to wait around in an airport full of strangers and a smooth arrival, avoiding baggage claim and a car waiting for you. Joe loaded in all of your bags while you got your son settled into his carseat, making your way from the tarmac to the hotel. 

After a long day of travel, you got your son to settle down to bed somewhat easily. You were laid in in the hotel king bed when Joe came in from 

You got up bright and early the next day, hoping to beat the rush of the crowd. You’d also hoped you wouldn’t be bothered, having the fast pass as well as going during an off peak time. Your son's face had lit up with excitement the moment he got inside the gates, wondering what someone as small as he was must’ve been thinking about everything around him. His entire childhood was right before his eyes.

“I wanna go on dumbo” he exclaimed, about to take off before Joe reached out to scoop him up into his arms, a fit of giggles ensuing.

“Not so fast little man, this isn’t like the park at home we got to keep you close by. We can go on Dumbo, let’s go get in line” Joe said after he got him to settle enough to listen, his little arms flailing with elation at his dad’s word. You look at your two boys with a warm feeling in your chest, knowing today was the day you were going to tell him he was 

After quite a few rides, it was getting to be lunch time. You could tell that your boys were hungry, knowing you’d need to stop for food soon if you were gonna keep at it for the rest of the day. Your little boy was starting to get a little hangry, ready to throw a tantrum when he was told to wait for his mouse ears hat he wanted. You assured him he would get it, after he got some much needed food in his belly. That was, until you realized this was the perfect opportunity for your reveal idea.

“Hey hun, would you be able to grab us some lunch? I’ll wait for the hat to get made and meet you both at the table” you said, silently hoping he would abide by your request. The food court wasn’t far from the stand, knowing he could keep an eye on you from a close distance.

“Sure thing, want your go-to?” he asked, your boy in his arms resting on his side. You nodded, giving him a kiss of approval before he walked off to get some lunch. You exhaled a breath you didn;t realize you were holding in, knowing this would be a big moment for you two.

You got to talking with the park employee that was working the stand, explaining your idea to her and gushing over how cute it was going to be. You were going to have your son’s name stitched into the front of the hat. On the back, you had her add in “Big Brother”, letting the reveal come from the little hat on your son's head. She got it back to you fairly quickly, the sight of it beginning tears to your eyes from how happy this life has made you. 

You were excited to be growing your family with the man of your dreams, snapping yourself out of your thoughts to compose yourself. You were making your way to your family when your heart melted all over again. Joe and your son were sitting at a picnic bench, your son trying his hardest to reach the table on his own from the bench seat, but being lifted up by Joe to be sat on his lap. He seemed perfectly content with the new seat, easily able to reach his food on his own. 

Joe looked up at you as you approached the table, a big grin across his face when you sat down. Your son had matched his energy, eyes lighting up when he saw you with the ears in hand.

“Hey mamas, we got you some chicken tenders and fries” Joe said while your son had cut him off “those are your favorite, mine too” he said as he reached over to take some of your fries with his little hands. You laughed as he did so, pushing the small tray closer so that he could reach. 

“I got your hat for you sweetheart, we can put it on after we eat. What ride do you wanna go on next?” you asked, hoping to keep his immediate focus off of the hat clutched in your hands. He placed his index finger on his chin, tapping as if he was deep in thought. He pointed his finger straight up with a look of surprise on his face when he must've made his decision.

“I wanna see Mickey Minnie castle” he cheered happily. You couldn’t say no, even if that was on the other side of the park from where you were currently. You and Joe exchanged looks, knowing one of you was going to be carrying him not too long into your walk.

As you got closer to the castle, your son was itching to walk. He looked absolutely adorable with his little ears on, seeing the secret stitched onto the back as you walked close behind your boys. You snapped a quick picture as they walked up to the castle, knowing this would be a memory you wouldn’t want to forget. 

When you reached the castle, you asked one of the many photographers around to get a photo of the three of you. The photographer snapped a couple of shots, thanking her and moving on before you made your move towards the reveal. 

“Joe why don’t you flip his ears around, I think there was something on the back” you said nonchalantly as you stepped away from him. He tilted his head in confusion, but listened to your words. You watched as he slipped the elastic band from under your son’s chin and turned the back to the front, pausing to read the words in front of him. 

Joe turned his head slowly towards you as he processed the words “Big Brother” on your son's head. He seemed at a loss for words for a few seconds before he spoke up.

“Are you serious? You’re pregnant again?” his voice hopeful as you saw tears begin to well in his eyes. You gave him a small nod as tears started to come up for you too. Joe took a few steps over to you with your son in his arms as he embraced you in as tight of a hug he could muster.

“I’m so damn happy baby, how long have you known?” Joe questioned, his voice full of adoration from the news. 

“Not too long, it’s the whole reason I haven’t been feeling well. It’s been the hardest secret I’ve had to keep, you have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you” you laughed lightly, watching him process and a realization cross his face.

“I knew you couldn’t have gotten something from work that fast. God, I’m so excited I get to go through all of this with you, this was such a cute way to tell me even though I wish I knew sooner so I could’ve been there for you more” he set your son down, giving you a one-armed squeeze while your son grabbed onto your leg.

“Everything you did and still do for me is perfect. You’re an amazing dad to our little boy and I can’t wait to see how you handle one more little boy or girl” you said, giving him a kiss to add a finality to your words.

“Is it bad that I’m hoping for a girl so we both can have our own little minis?” Joe asked while lifting your son onto his shoulders to give him a good view.

“I just know you would be an amazing girl dad if it’s anything like how you treat me” you said, imagining Joe with your daughter and knowing how much he would spoil her.

“If I treat you like my queen, I would treat her like my princess,” he said as you all looked up at the castle in front of you. Your life felt like a fairytale that you got to live with your dream man.

[scarletemeterio]

Hello! Can I ask for ekko with an reader who confessed to him thrice (and thrice rejected) and then he finally falls hard for them? With a happy ending, thank you!

(kind of like she fell first he fell harder trope)

Let Me Love You (Ekko x Reader)

Warnings: some cursing Genre: angst, hurt/comfort Word count: 2.3k Reader has no set pronouns!

The first time was the hardest of them all. You’d muster up the courage to confess your feelings for him, knowing very well that it could go south.

“I have something to tell you,” you uttered. He gave you a worried look, noticing that there was a hint of desperation in your voice. You were in his so-called office, working on something that didn’t really matter anymore.

“Is everything okay?” He simply asked.

“I’m not sure,” you began, “but I really need to say this.” He gave you his full attention, making you feel a bit intimidated by him and extremely self-conscious. “I’m in love with you,” you blurted out.

Silence quickly filled the room, and the tension could easily be cut by a knife. The moment you saw his face, you knew it: he didn’t feel the same way.

“I, uh, I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled more to himself than to you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward at all. You can just forget I said anything.”

“I really don’t want to hurt you but I just don’t feel the same way.” You were trying to hold back your tears as his words left his mouth. “You’re an amazing person and anyone would be lucky to be with you, but that person isn’t me.”

You simply looked at him and slowly nodded. “It’s okay, you can’t force yourself to feel something you don’t.” It was hard to speak at this point. He knew you were hurt, but you’d never show it; it would just make things harder for the both of you. “Is this gonna change things between us?”

“I would hate that, honestly.” You nodded again, finally being on the same page about something. He came closer and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder to try and alleviate the tension. If only it were that easy.

•••

Some time passed and you still tried to hide your feelings for him. For a while, it worked, you’d suppressed them every time you spent time with the boy but deep down, you missed the way you were before. It had always been hard for you to open up to people, but you’d never been this miserable before. You were just a shadow of your usual self, and it was evident to everyone in the base.

Ekko himself tried to talk to you about it, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was the reason for your attitude. Finally, after a particularly hard day for you, you just lost it.

“You wanna know what’s wrong with me, Ekko? It’s you!” You truly didn’t mean to scream at him but you also couldn’t help it. Lately, you lived on edge, always frustrated about something; it was like you were a bomb simply waiting to explode. “I swear I tried to play dumb, to ignore everything but I just can’t.”

“Is this about-?”

“Yes, Ekko, of course it is.” You interrupted him. “I know you went on with your life and pretended I never said anything so we could go back to the way things were, but it’s not that easy for me. Nothing about this has been easy.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Bullshit,” you spat. “You know exactly how I feel about you. We’ve known each other for years, you can’t tell me you never realized why I’ve been acting so strange.”

There was a pause between you. You were agitated, heart beating so fast that you could feel it in your throat. “I guess I wanted to pretend nothing ever happened,” he confessed after some time. “Acknowledging it made it real and I just- I just want my friend back, without any messiness and complications between us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ekko. I’m sorry my feelings are such an inconvenience to you. Trust me, I wish I could change them and forget about you for good but I just can’t.”

Something twitched inside of him when you said that and he looked at you with hurt eyes. “You really mean that? That you’d like to forget me?”

“I meant forgetting about my feelings for you, ‘cause you’re not making things easy for me,” you explained. “When you come over and put your arm around me or stand so close to me that I can feel you breathing it kills me, Ekko. And the worst part is that you know it.” You took a deep breath, anger slowly leaving you, feeling nothing but sadness. “Sometimes I feel like you enjoy testing me like that because you know that no matter what I’ll always come back to you. But I’m tired of this dance between us, it’s too much.”

“I just don’t know how to feel! This is hard for me too!” Neither of you cared if someone heard you at this point, you’d simply have to put up with the weird looks from everyone. “I don’t know what you want me to do and I’m confused.”

“Honestly,” you began, “I want you to give me some space.”

“Wait, I- uh, I don’t want that, please,” he took a step closer to you, trying to grab ahold of your hand but you avoided his touch, as you avoided his sad eyes.

“Do you have feelings for me, Ekko?”

“I said I’m confused.”

“It’s a simple question, do you?”

You finally looked at him and he realized that you were crying. He could count with one hand the number of times he’d seen you cry, and he never thought he’d be the reason why. “I don’t know,” he finally whispered.

“Then I don’t have anything else to say. I don’t want to wait for you to figure out how you feel and keep getting hurt in the process, I don’t think I deserve it.”

“Wait, please-.”

“Ekko,” you cut him, “I need some space, don’t make this even harder, please.” And with that, you left, leaving him even more confused than before, and with a pain in his chest he couldn’t really explain.

You should’ve known this was coming. Still, it hurt like the first time. You couldn’t blame him; if anything, you were glad he was honest with you. But after today, you realized that you needed to keep some distance from him, or this would end up destroying you for good.

•••

Days quickly turned into weeks, and you realized you hadn’t said a word to the Firelight’s leader in almost a month. Your heart still flipped inside whenever you inevitably ran into him or locked eyes with him within the first few days since the fight, and soon you started avoiding him all along.

In no time, the boy started feeling an emptiness inside him, something he couldn’t explain. He was truthful with you in that last conversation, he truly wasn’t sure how he felt, but with every passing day that you were nowhere to be seen, he realized that maybe he’d been a complete fool.

He missed you, there was no denying that. Now the question was if his feelings for you were simply platonic or if deep down he yearned for you, maybe even more than you for him. Ekko wasn’t the best with his emotions, not because he actively repressed them, but because all of this was extremely new to him, and he just felt so overwhelmed. However, there was one thing he was extremely sure of: he wanted you in his life.

It had been days since he last saw you, evident now that you’d been avoiding him for a while, so when he finally caught a glimpse of you around the base, it was like seeing an angel. Soon, his pleasant feelings were replaced by envy. You were talking with one of the new members from the Firelights, nothing out of the ordinary, but there was nothing he wanted more than to be the one you had your attention on. He didn’t recognize himself, filled with jealousy and bitterness.

The boy was pulled out of his thoughts when someone asked him a question, engaging in conversation with him, but that strange sensation still clung to him like glue. He hated himself and blamed his stupid ass for being such an idiot, these were merely the consequences of his own actions.

When he was lying in bed that night trying to fall asleep, you were the only thing on his mind. Your smile that shined like the stars, your lips that he so wanted to feel against his own while your arms wrapped around his body. He wanted to bang his head against the wall, he was such an idiot. If only he’d realized this before then maybe now you wouldn’t hate him. It all seemed so obvious to him now. You were there for him, by his side from the very beginning. He could always count on and lean on you, he trusted you even more than he trusted himself. Oftentimes he’d become mesmerized by how pretty you looked when you spent time together, the sun hitting your face in just the perfect way or your hair effortlessly framing your face in such a flawless way. Of course, he thought nothing of all this at the time, brushing it off as objective thinking. But now, it suddenly hit him, everything was different now because he wasn’t unsure anymore, he knew exactly how he felt about you. He loved you.

He sat on his bed, passing his hands through his face in an attempt to clear his mind. He wanted- no, needed to talk to you. Maybe you didn’t even feel the same way anymore, but he had to get it off his chest, he had to at least try. But right now, he also had to calm his nerves because if he didn’t, he’d go and knock on your door this very moment, and he was certain you didn’t wanna see him at all. So instead, he got up and went to take a walk, thinking it would be nice to sit by the tree to help him organize his thoughts. What he wasn’t expecting was seeing you there.

As soon as you saw his figure making its way to you, you got up, ready to leave but were interrupted by his voice. “Wait, please, don’t go.” You knew you should pay him no attention and leave anyway, but it had been so long since you’d last heard his voice that you were taken aback for a moment, standing in place. “Can we talk?” His voice was soft, nothing compared to what it was in your last conversation together; you could even hear a hint of desperation, which was what ultimately made you turn around and stay.

“What do you want, Ekko?” As soon as he heard you he let out a small smile, confirming that yours was the voice he wanted to hear every day when he woke up and every night before going to sleep.

He motioned for you to sit down again, doing the same right after you. “I’m sorry for everything,” he began saying, “I never meant for things to end up like this between us.” His chest accompanied his breathing, moving just a little too fast, earning him a concerned look from you. “I know that you probably hate me now, I know I would if I were you, and you’ll probably hate me even more after what I have to say since I acted like a complete idiot and took so long to figure out something that was right in front of me this whole time but I- uh, I do have feelings for you. Lots of feelings actually, I’m in love with you.”

You snapped your neck to look at him, trying to read his expression in search of a playful tone, but it wasn’t there. He was serious, he was finally saying what you wanted to hear for so long now. So long that you couldn’t fully believe him.

“Ekko, I don’t want any games, please.”

“I’m being serious. These weeks without you have been absolute torture, I can’t do this without you, I need you.” He rubbed his face, stopping at the bridge of his nose to pinch it. When he looked back at you, he had tears forming in his eyes, a sight you hadn’t seen in a very long time. “I’m being honest. I’m so sorry it took me so long to finally realize it. I made it my personal vow to always protect you and keep you safe and I’m the one that caused you pain and for that, I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t really know what to say, nothing seemed good enough. Your mind was racing and quickly you were lost in your thoughts and were brought back to reality by the sound of Ekko getting up, ready to leave. “These last weeks have been hell for me, too.” Your eyes met his and you stoop up, getting closer to him. “I don’t hate you, Ekko. I could never hate you.”

“But you don’t love me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that, I’m just a bit taken aback that’s all.” He got closer to you, trying to grab your hand and this time, you let him do it. He brought it to his face and planted a kiss on it, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m so in love with you that just thinking about spending a second away from you makes me suffer. I don’t want to feel that way anymore, I want to be with you, share my life with you, and love you every day.” One of his hands went to cup your face and you leaned against it. “Please let me love you.”

You looked at his lips and then back at his eyes, and in just a second the air was knocked out of your lungs when you felt his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet but desperate and filled with emotions. “Please let me love you, too,” you said when you separated.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

hey! i loved this request, i'm a sucker for angst :)

i changed it just a little bit but i still hope you like it anon, thanks for requesting! really enjoyed writing this one and i LOVE writing for ekko

[kooqitas]

♡ [18+ mdni]!! # loss of virginity, rival to lovers (?).

you weren't surprised when seungcheol brutally threw you onto his bed. i mean, you spent the last few weeks fighting for any stupid reason that appeared. it was obvious that every unfounded hatred had something behind it. he kissed your neck in an uncontrolled way, biting and sucking the sensitive flesh as if he wanted to mark you. you spent most of the makeout in silence, knowing that if you opened your mouths it would only be to tease the other. it was a little pathetic, yes, but it was hot, and seungcheol was hot. fuck, you choked when you saw him take off his shirt, his strong arms completely exposed to you, the silver chain hitting your face. he laughed before grunting and kissing you again, pulling down his pants in a somewhat clumsy way. you just did the same, pulling your dress quickly and getting rid of your panties as soon as you saw him get rid of his underwear. okay, fuck, that was fucking big! you saw seungcheol grab a condom from the drawer, and you avoided thinking about how normal it seemed to him, and then he put it on, going with his glande in your cunt. the sudden act scared you, enough for you to stutter. "c-cheol!" you called him, receiving a look from man. "can you… take it easy? i… i'm a virgin." cheol's mouth opened in a perfect 'o', at that moment he removed his member from inside you, and at the same moment you protested, asking him to go back, just be… calm. "fuck, why didn't you tell me this before?" "you would give up…" "what? of course not, i just…" he shook his head, showing was better than telling. he removed the condom, but didn't get off your body, his hard cock was now touching your groin, while he sucked on the tip of your tits, the light bites on the hard nipple making you moan a little louder than expected, seungcheol lifted his head sometimes just to see you with your eyes closed while moaning, he went down kissing your belly, the wet kisses making your skin tingle. and seungcheol always checked on you, letting out a few laughs when their eyes met. "open" he said kissing your thigh, and you trembled, obeying. fuck, you'd never felt anything like that, the way his tongue went through every part of your cunt, the way he seemed to want to devour you. your moans and contortions becoming greater as he inserted one finger, and then another, and another... he kept 3 fingers inside you, and you clung against the sheets, wetting his hand. "cheol~" you groaned, as a request. and he laughed. you rolled your eyes. but the next second he took another condom, opened a tube of lubricant and poured it into it, there was not so much need, you were lubricated and the condom already had some lube, but he was worried. and then he entered, slowly, feeling you relax on his cock. 'so hot!' he moaned in your ear as he started to thrust, you couldn't even think. "you look so much prettier like this, under me, moaning" cheol was slow in his movements, yet precise, and you thought you were gonna die when his thumb went to your clit, making a pressure there that made you cum. "hold on a little, please" he basically begged, waiting for your nod to re-thrust, shit, you were so sensitive after cumming, your sly moans were making him crazy. he squeezed your left nipple and the loud moan you gave made cheol cum in the condom...

''damn... that was... fuck" he said, lying on your side after removing the condom. "who knew our academic rivalry would end... like this" you teased. "i was able to cum inside you then... i kind of won this game like hell," he laughs. "you only say that because you took my virginity, in fact, if you tell someone that, i'll kill you" "tell someone? damn, never! you're mine, i'll never tell anyone what happened here." "i am what?" "that's right. shhhhhh." he kissed you before you could say anything. "you need to pee" you stared at him confused. "something about needing to pee after sex, don't ask me, i don't know very well either, i saw it on tiktok" you laughed, getting up and going to pee, even if you didn't feel like it. when you went back to bed, you ended up in a silent agreement to sleep there, and that's how you fell asleep nestled in seungcheol's arms.

and that's also how you ended up having your first morning sex.

[lqveharrington]

Loathing | D.M.

summary: you and draco have loathed one another since first year, but you know something happened over the summer before your sixth year. he had changed.

pairing: rival!draco malfoy x potter!reader

includes: fluff, angst, bleeding, both of them being oblivious, both of them taking care of each other

a/n: unadulterated loathing (guess who watched wicked last week?)

The moment you met Draco Malfoy – well, the moment he insulted one of your friends and then wanted to be friends with your brother – you knew you would loathe him for the rest of your life. From every glare from across the room to house rivalries, you loathed him for all you had. Especially when he ruined your Yule Ball experience by knocking the eggnog on you and refusing to explain why, only glaring instead.

But something changed in your sixth year. He changed.

Usually, the second you got on the train to Hogwarts, he would find you and start with the insults, but this year was different. Hell, when you were trying to find Harry on the train when you got to Hogwarts, Draco walked past you without even sparing a glance. He wasn’t even in his Slytherin robes, he was just in a black suit.

Then when the quidditch season started, you learned that he had quit his position as seeker and chance as quidditch captain. You were surprised he lost almost all interest in the sport itself when he used to brag on and on about how good he was at the game. Everything he used to egg you on about was close to nothing, and it worried you just a little.

You knew something was different – he was different – and wanted to know what happened, but you knew your friends couldn’t care less about the Slytherin Prince.

“Hermoine, please tell me you noticed something wrong with Malfoy.” You murmur and enter the potions room, eyes instantly meeting the gray and blue eyes you were speaking of. He quickly averted his gaze and stared down at his potions book instead, making you frown. “He hasn’t been throwing enough insults at us this year.”

“Is that not a good thing?” She creases her brows and takes her seat beside you, pulling her potions book out of her bag. Hermione looks at you with slight unease, not really understanding why you were asking in the first place. “Besides, why should you care? Don’t you hate him?”

You don’t respond, only spinning your ring and bringing your attention back to the Slytherin Prince himself, your teeth kissing your lips in your own turmoil. He looked so tired and… Helpless. You wanted to understand what he was going through despite everything he had put you through. He was still a student at Hogwarts. It may seem out of the ordinary from your usual loathing, but if something serious was going on, you hoped to Godric that he would be okay.

For the rest of class, Slughorn assigned the most ridiculous sounding potion to create. It was supposedly the most powerful love potion in existence and when Slughorn said it could help anyone identify their true love, you doubted it. It was only when Harry properly made the potion did you test the theory out. It seemed like Lavender was having a day with the potion and kept batting her eyes at Ron, making you and Hermoine roll your eyes in annoyance.

When Slughorn called the rest of the class in pairs to come over to smell the potion and describe what they smelled, you still believed people made up with what they smelled. You thought they were just believing they smelled the person they liked. From Hermione smelling freshly-mown grass and new parchment to Harry smelling some kind of sweets, it seemed quite fake.

And you could have gotten away with not having to smell the potion when you unashamedly yawned the second Slughorn turned to look over.

“Miss Potter, since you and Mr. Malfoy seem to have found this task boring, why don’t you both come up and tell me what you smell.” Slughorn beckoned you up toward Harry’s cauldron.

Pursing your lips, you do your best not to roll your eyes as you made your way over to the cauldron, only to be overwhelmed with Draco’s cologne when smelling the potion. You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, noticing he was just as confused as you.

“Maybe tone down the cologne, Malfoy.” You mutter to him and try to find a scent that wasn’t just his stupid cologne.

He rolled his eyes at you and leaned his head down, practically hissing into your ear. “Me? Your fucking shampoo is blocking all my senses right now.”

“Like you can smell that right now.” You turn your own head and glare at him, the tension growing larger and larger.

As if you were in a staring contest of who could hate the other more, you forgot about the class and only the loathing you felt for the blonde in front of you. However, the class soon began to felt the tension, uncomfortable with how you two were behaving. Whispers began to fill the air, but you two continued to bicker.

“Maybe use less product, Potter.” Draco suggested and flicked a piece of your hair off your shoulder, ignoring the way his cheeks flamed at how close the two of you were at the moment.

You crossed your arms and squinted, hating how he had to bend just to be at eye level to you. “Says the one practically bathes in Dior Sauvage—”

“Mr. Malfoy and Miss Potter, please, go back to your seats. We have gathered all the information we need.” Slughorn spoke with an amused smile.

For the rest of the week, it seemed like the entire student body was pointing to you and whispering. Even if you were just switching classes or sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione, eyes averted to you before they eventually turned away when they caught your eyes.

You didn't understand what was going on. It felt like everyone you knew began to have a knew found hatred toward you and it bugged you. Even Harry gave you questioning looks from time to time. You don't remember doing anything cruel and vile.

Eventually, you did give up guessing why everyone was giving you dirty looks. You ignored all their staring and only acknowledged the people you knew didn't mean any harm toward you. It soon became a habit for you to leave the trio alone for a good hour or two, spending time to practice spells in the room of requirements; Mainly casting your Patronus and watching it have the time of its life.

Well, until one day the room began to change on its own.

“Hello? Room of requirements?" You stood abruptly and looked around at the changing room, your Patronus dissipating in thin air.

The room began to shift in size, becoming quite large in size with piles and piles of junk. As you tripped over the old trinkets decorating the room — trying to find the exit to the ever expanding room — you cut yourself on the sudden arrival of a rusted sword.

Holding your cut hand close to you body, you glared at the room like it was your least favorite thing in the entire world. "This is not what I asked—“

“Fuck.”

You heard the voice whisper before you jumped back in surprise when the person banged on something wooden. So someone who needed the room more came. That's why. As you tried to make your way out a give the person privacy, you tripped back into another pile of junk, making you wince.

“Shit.” You mutter and do your best to remove yourself from the pile, pursing your lips when you heard footsteps approach you.

Before you could even try to hide, the said person appeared right in front of you with their wand pointed at your face. You followed the wand up until you met their eyes, making you inwardly groan at your luck.

“What are you doing?” You spoke at the same time, both of you rolling your eyes at the same time.

Hastily, you stood up from your spot on the dirtied floor and dusted your clothes off, mentally cursing yourself for being ever so clumsy.

“I asked you first, Potter.” Draco tucked his wand away, glancing down at your bleeding hand. He frowned and moved around you.

You stepped away from him, still nursing your hand. Unsure of what he was going to do, you simply answered the question truthfully.

“I was using the room to practice my spells, but it changed because apparently your needs were far more important than mine.” You watched him dig through dusted cabinets and drawers, looking for something. “Now answer mine.”

“I don’t have to.” He muttered and pulled out some type of cleanser and a kit, making you recoil at the sight. You hated the doctors and it seemed like Draco was ready to operate on your hand.

“You know? I think I should go before—" You start before he raised a brow at you, looking down at your injured hand and then back up to your eyes. "What?"

“You could get in trouble, you know?” He gestured to your hand before guiding you to sit on a bed that seemed too clean to be one of the old trinkets lying around before. "You need to clean your hand before it gets infected. Everything in here is old and dusted."

"Then I will clean my hand on my own, thank you very much." You yank the cleanser from his hands and pop the cap open. You stared at your wound before looking at the bottle, already regretting your choice.

"What?" He looked over your face, noticing the hesitation in your facial expression. "Do you need me to do it?"

"Yes, please." You whisper quickly, shutting your eyes tightly when you felt him lightly dab your cut with the cleanser. You bit your lip when it stung, nodding when he told you it would be over in a second.

“I'm done." Draco murmured and threw the cloth in the trash, watching you slowly open your eyes and look at your now bandaged hand. He nodded at you before standing, finding his way back over to a wooden cabinet.

You looked around the place, noticing the fresh bedsheets and glass of water that surely hasn't been sitting there for Godric knows how long. Tucking your injured hand in your free one, you wandered the small sleeping area before stopping at all the books piled next to it.

"Malfoy, what are you doing in here?" You take a book from the top of the pile and read its title. The Fundamentals of Vanishing Cabinets. You raised your brows in curiosity, looking over at him to find him already staring. "Well?"

“Like I said, I don't have to answer you.” He murmured and stepped toward you, taking the book from your hands.

You stared at him and frowned. His image was even worse up close. You could see the bags underneath his eyes and the gel from his hair completely gone from how many times he ran his fingers through his hair. When he glanced down at you, you were once again millimeters from each other before you both pulled away in confusion and guilt, like your skin was on fire.

“Are you getting enough sleep?" You ask as he walks toward the cabinet again, but this time, you followed him over. "I don't see you eat enough during dinner either."

“You watch me, Potter?” He spoke in amusement, lips turning down to hide the smirk that wanted to present itself to you.

“What? No!" You splutter out and look away, face flamed in warmth. "Only in hatred.”

"Whatever you say." He murmured and began tinkering with the cabinet, placing a green apple on the top shelf. "Stalker." He whispered, earning an annoyed glare from you.

“Just answer the question. Why did the room change to this mess?” You look at the bed you assumed his stayed in and then change your gaze toward the cabinet he seemed so intent on working on. “And why are you spending all your time on this old cabinet?“

He opened his mouth to speak when he winced and clutched his left forearm, making you panic ever so slightly. Draco moved to sit on the bed, pursing his lips and trying to think of anything but the pain being emitted on his arm.

You frown and take his arm in your hands, pulling his sleeve up only to silently gasp in surprise. Draco pulled his arm away and tugged the sleeve down, glaring at you.

“You’re a death eater.” You look at him with wide eyes, stepping back in shock. You looked between his arm, his frantic eyes, and then the cabinet. Your head was reeling at all the information you learned. "You got the dark mark—"

“You can’t tell anyone.” Draco whispered, almost pleading you to not tell a soul. If you told Harry, then everything would go to shit. But when he saw your face clear of all shock and shift to remorse, he knew you wouldn't go against his wishes despite him being a real threat to you and your brother.

“Why? Why did…” You move closer and clutch his arm, pulling his sleeve up again and wanting to trace the design. When he stopped you, you looked up and knew it would hurt. You nodded and thumbed the skin below it, eyes looking over the ink. “You didn’t have a choice, did you?”

Draco nodded and shut his eyes when you continued to thumb the empty space, opening them when you stopped. He knew that the gears were turning in your head when you stared at him like he was you next project — which he knew you would never call him that despite the loathing you had for him.

After seconds of silence, you open your mouth and speak softly, thumb moving over the space once more. “Can't you tell Dumbledore at all? Maybe he could do something to protect you—“

“That’s not how it works.” Draco stopped your movements and tugged his sleeve down. He caught you hesitating to look over the mark again, tilting his head to the side when you took a seat beside him. "Why are you still here?"

"What do you mean?" You murmur and trace the bandage over your hand before looking up at him, meeting his blue-gray eyes. "I can leave if you want me to. But I want to know if you'll be okay if I leave first."

You kept eye contact with him for a little longer before looking away, eyes finding interest in a silver crown in the corner. You weren't sure why you cared so much about him. It was like a switch flipped on in your mind. In all your years at Hogwarts, his taunting was a constant in your life. So when that went away, you knew something was wrong and you wanted to make sure he was okay, even if your brother hated him. It was an instinct you suddenly gained.

"Why?" He stared at the mirror across from him, catching your eyes through the reflection once more. "Is it because you want more material to tease my about?"

"Godric, no." You huff and run your fingers through your hair. "I'm not a monster, Malfoy." You let a small smile slip through when he raised his brow at you. "I'm not a monster!"

"Not saying you are, Potter." He finally smiled at you. But even through the smile, you could see how exhausted he was. With whatever he was doing for the Dark Lord, you just hoped he would be fine in the end. "If I tell you I'll be okay, will you leave me be so I can finish my task?"

You turn your head to look at him properly, looking in between his eyes. You sighed and broke eye contact, "Yes." You look back up and find him millimeters away again, making you squint. "If you don't come to potions tomorrow with any kind of retort, I will be in here waiting for you, understand?"

He rolled his eyes and nodded, "Whatever gets you out of here, Potter."

Nodding, you stand and dust off your clothes once more. Talking with Draco civically was quite a feat, but you knew it was for the better or worse. But just before you could leave the room, you heard his voice ring out to you once more, you first name falling from his lips instead of your last.

"Don't use that strong of a shampoo anymore, yeah?"

You send him a half smile, "Only if you don't apply your entire bottle of cologne."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[schlattslonghairytoes]

omg wait i just sent in the baby it’s cold outside request and im now realizing that YOU PLANTEF THE SEED IN MY BRAIN WITH YOUR HCS WHEN I CATCH YOU!!

but if you don’t mind could you please go more into depth with that idea pls pls pls

the christmas spirit

you were sat on your sofa watching you boyfriends newest podcast episode, you were sorting through your own footage when you hear him talk about making a christmas album

now you knew he could sing, but an album worried you, he was no sinatra. so you decided to call him up and see what he was thinking

you clicked on his contact and began calling "jayjay😏" after 5 rings you really considered giving up, but you finally saw the word connecting

you again considered hanging up when he answered the phone looking like this.

"what." he groaned it a low pitched voice, you giggled before realizing what time it was by him

"jay why were you sleeping at five P.M" you squinted your eyes at him

"im tired." he deadpanned. you sighed before laughing again at his mad face, before you could speak he began to stretch and the angle where he dropped his phone gave you a full view of his beautiful body.

"do you know hot you are?" you ask admiring your boyfriend.

"ill hang up on you, slut." he never did like compliments.

"brat, anyways." you rolled your eyes "i just finished watching chuckle, you looked very cute, but what was this about a christmas album?"

his face lit up "i forgot to tell you! okay so remember my way, well i know you remember it but you get it, i wanted a new project to focus on so im going to make a christmas album!"

schlatt found it very hard to focus on one thing for a prolonged period of time, but he always loved singing so you believed this would be good for him.

"babe and how are you gonna do that?" you questioned, he began to pout as he walked to his bathroom and set down his phone on the counter

"what you dont beweve in me?" he asked in a weird baby voice, while alos having a mouth full of toothpaste

"gross. no of course i do, but i mean your gonna need a producer, a person to re-write the music so you can own it, a vocal coach, how much is this gonna cost you?" you voiced your concerns

"not as much as ill make from it" he laughed

"ugh i hate you" a sigh escaped you but he persisted

"and one more thing.. i want you to be in it."

-if there is one thing you knew about yourself, it was that you were not about to be one of those youtubers who started making shitty music

-so when i tell you it took a long time to get schlatt to convince you to be on the album, it took months

-but when you eventually came around schlatt was ecstatic

-and honestly you were kinda excited too, you would get to see your boyfriend after not seeing him for over a month

-and with this album drop, you both agreed it would basically be your own version of a hard launch

-you wanted to pick songs that would compliment both of your voices, but also make it pretty clear you were more then just friends

-you chose santa baby and baby its cold outside, but schlatt added another, your favorite song, something stupid by frank and nancy sinatra

-you were so excited to see him that the thought of having to sing that well didnt even cross your mind

-but you boarded your flight to LA without second thought, excited to see your favorite boy when you landed

schlatt fucking hates Los Angeles, its hot, the people suck ass, theres always traffic, and right now, the fact that your not with him is driving him insane.

your flight should be landing any minute, and hes sitting in an airport trying to hide and make sure no one recognizes him.

the reason that becoming increasingly difficult is because fucking jack manifold, tom simons, and harry tornado (average harry), waltz off the plane, into the airport, in los angeles.

where everyone is always looking for someone to recognize.

schlatt is hiding twenty feet away from them, but hes already gotten noticed four times, the man cant catch a break.

he just wants to see his girlfriend, not interact with his fuckass fans

that fact that your relationship was private didnt help, he would one hundred percent makeout with you in the middle of the airport, but now that you have planned your hardlaunch he has to contain himself.

harry and jack were taking a picture with a fan, and tom was pissing as usual when schlatt finally saw you

he launched himself up and flailed his arms around like a clown to you, when you saw him you bolted across the floor and threw your bags at harry, who fell over from the force.

like flat on his ass.

you ran and jumped your man “i missed you so much baby” you laughed

“there is a group of teenage girls to your left that have their phones out, i love you so fucking much but save it for the bnb.” he smiled down at you

you giggled and looked over at the six girls, who were activley ignoring harry and tom who were awkwardly standing by them

"holy fucking shit im your biggest fan, please please please can i get a picture with you ive been watching you since i was fucking ten." one girl yelled

"kezia shut the hell up your gonna scare her away." another slapped her

"alanna you dont understand." she wailed

"you look alot like our art teacher" another added

"renn arent you a patron of her podcast?" holy fuck there were so many of them

they all began yelling over eachother and fan girling over you, "do you guys want a picture, or we can make a tiktok or something, up to you guys." you said politely

"can i be in it?" harry asked quietly

"um, sorry, who are you?" tom and jack started hysterically laughing and slapping harry

you guys ended up making a funny tiktok in the middle of LAX and they told you they were all friends because of an art class they have together.

after you all said our goodbyes you all loaded into ted's truck that schlatt was borrowing to haul you all around

you got in the passenger seat as schlatt went over the plan for the week

"okay, we have an airbnb for all of us, but two of you have to share a room, theres three in total. so jack tom and harry two of you will have to be sharing a bed, no homo in my airbnb do ya' hear me?"

they all burst out laughing and agree to schlatts terms

"okay, today once all of you are back at the bnb, im gonna head to the studio to record my solo songs, tommora' im recording with tom and jack, harry you can tag along or whatever, wednesday me and you are together"

he rested his hand on your thigh as he looked at you, his eyes full of stars, looking at you as if you had hung them

"then Thursday, me ludwig, quackity and theo are gonna be down there, the rest of the week is scheduled incase we need to re-record anything or just have fun, everyone undertand?"

he squeezed your thigh as he drove, eyes locked on you

"eyes on the road buddy" you pushed his head foward and sat back in your seat admiring you boyfriend as your friends wrestled in the back.

"harry cut it out, tom stop touching his bum or whatever you britsh fucks call it. youre being gay man, what did i say about that." schlatt jokes, he told you privately that he was bisexual so you knew his jokes were simply just jokes

you watched him as he yelled at the monkeys in the back seat and all you could think is how good of a dad hes going to be, you've spoke about kids before, and your both on the same page which is a huge relief.

you thought about what features your kids would get from him, and god you hoped it was his nose, you loved his nose.

"can ya' stop thinking so hard i swear i can hear your thought." he laughed as he stopped at a red light, looking over to you again

"i just love you so much." you laughed

"ew mom and dad are gonna fuck!" tom gagged

"get a room you perverts" harry lent over the middle console and made smooching noises, schlatt grabbed his face and pushed him back into his seat.

"this is gonna be a long fucking week, im gonna kill myself i swear." schlatt scoffed

"take me with you then" you sighed and slouched into your seat.

day one. (six days remaining)

you woke up with schlatts arms wrapped around your waist, good start.

you both woke up early so you could get breakfast for you and your kids, as you walked up the streets of LA all you could think about is how you want to spend the rest of your life with this man.

"penny for your thoughts?" he laughed, but was one of his calm laughs that was so genuine and unforced

"just love you, love us y'know? i wanna have a big house, a cat, maybe a dog, some little you's running around, i just cant wait to move in with you next month"

"if you say anything like that again ill fuck you right here. dont test me, im gonna have to walk around witha' boner now you whore"

your laugh escaped you and you had to bend over and stop walking as you look up at your now tomoato colored boyfriend.

"c'mon keep it moving." he gunted, a small smiled appearing on his stone cold face.

you ate breakfast together then made your way back to the bnb to deliver food to your "kiddos", soon after they all left for the studio so you decided to start a little project of your own, a suprise one

since schlatt was going to hard launch your realationship through something he loved, you decided you'd do the same

a little video about the love of your life

day two (five days remaining)

you and schlatt repeated the same routine in the morning, you went and got breakfast, went back the bnb, got changed and finally left for the studio

on your walk there schlatt warned you about the homeless person right infront of the studio

"no im so serious, he actually tried to stab me two days ago, and when i finaly got away from him he started yelling how he could take me, and not in a fight. let me tell you, he was not my type."

you both walked into the studio to be met by a italian man named David, but it was pronounced daviday.

he directed you both to a booth were you were instructed to drink tea and blow bubbles into a cup

"babe im starting to get nervous, if i fuck up, or have a voice crack, and you laugh at me. so help me god im breaking up with you" you told him

"lemme tell you what happened yesterday" he sat down and began drinking his tea. "i let harry sing one line on jingle bells and his voice went up and octave and cracked. it was so funny holy shit, i have to get that recording."

you both contiuned talking about the recording process so far, until david told you he was ready to begin, starting with baby its cold outside and you were gonna do a full run through no matter the mistakes.

the music counted in and you started off the song "i really cant stay" you sang. then your boyfriend came in with "but baby, its cold outside" and your eyes widened at how good he sounded

you went through the full thing and after the last line you laughed until you heard davids voice, "both of you, that was shit, do it again."

schlatt didnt even seem fazed by this. holy fuck you were in for a long day.

once david was semi happy with that song you moved onto something stupid, and that one went by much faster.

but the song you were dreading most was next, mostly cause you had to carry the whole song

schlatt started off the ong with the iconic bu-bum, bu-bum' when your voice came in "santa, baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me, been an awful good girl."

as you sang your eyes looked up at him an winked before you focused on singing again.

schlatt continued through the song, but the moment you were done, he scurred off to the bathroom while you did certain lines and verses over and over

when he came back, his face was significantly redder, but you just laughed and moved on, too focused on perfecting your song

you had been recording for over 12 hours now, both of you exhausted.

when you were finally done it was two am.

you called an uber and headed back to the bnb

as you fell asleep on schlatts chest, all you could think about was how you couldnt wait to upload the album, and finally live with the love of your life.

[zigrethsnotebook]

I love your writing! I saw you wrote Stan with a chubby reader- it was great!

Could I request some Ford x chubby/self conscious reader?👉👈

Thank you and have a great day!

thank you so much and absolutely!! have fun<3

Chubby

Ford x Reader

words: 1,009

tags: sfw, fluff, insecurities, talk about weight

"You two are horrible, you know that?" Stan's gruff voice broke the silence in the living room. He was in his old recliner and Ford and you had made yourselves comfortable on the ground with some blankets and pillows.

"What are you talking about, Stanley?" Ford's voice sounded vaguely annoyed already. You stifled a chuckle, knowing he reacts that way because they're brothers.

"You two never go out. Which means! I never get an evening for myself." Now you looked up at him as well, untangling yourself a little from Ford’s arms as you did so. Ford must have frowned at him because he tried to make his words less harsh really quickly.

"Don't get me wrong, I love ya both but come on! When was the last time you two went out to eat, or to the movies or... anywhere, really? I had kinda hoped a partner would get you out of the basement more often, Sixer." As you thought about it, you realized he was right and immediately felt bad.

You never made an effort to go into town for a date because you didn’t like the way people stared at you both. You knew you weren't skinny but to stare at you like that? It hurt and was making you worry if you really deserve to be with someone like Ford.

He was so fit for his age, insanely handsome. Meanwhile you were just... you. Heavier than most people and while you tried to hide it as best as you could, you weren't very successful. Your weight had reached a point of not being able to be 'covered up'.

You had never spoken to Ford about this, your insecurities about your weight, and that that's why you didn’t enjoy going into town that much. Funnily enough, with Ford you had found someone who wasn't big on socializing like that either. He usually kept to himself down in his lab so he never brought it up.

But now Stan did. You swallowed heavily. Meanwhile Ford seemed to light up at the idea. "You're right, we should go on more conventional dates! It could be fun!"

Ford's voice got a little louder in your ear as he turned to you for the next sentence, squeezing your belly a little tighter in the process. "And I would get to show you off to the townsfolk while we're out."

Your expression had turned into a frown and without a word you took his arms off of you, got up and left the living room. Stan and Ford looked at each other in confusion for a moment before Ford got up to follow you.

"Love?" He called out and quickly found you in the kitchen. "What's wrong?" His voice was a lot softer now that he saw how upset you were. You sat at the table with your hands holding your head and eyes squeezed shut.

"I know I'm not much to look at but you don't have to mock me." You spat the words out more harshly then you meant to. "What?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, unable to grasp what you were talking about.

"I'm fat. I know, okay! You don't need to make fun of me for it." You had opened your eyes to look at him, anger flaring in them. Meanwhile Ford looked at you with so much concern, love and care that you felt like something was wrong. But the anger was already there.

"Why would I ever make fun of you for that?" His question was honest and the fiery rage started to flicker. "Wh- Because- You just said 'show you off' while squeezing my belly. I've seen the way the people looked at me the last time we went out together. How was I supposed to interpret that?"

Ford looked down at your belly for a moment and then locked eyes with you again and you could see the pain in his eyes. Making you feel bad was the last thing he wanted! He was only being honest. He loved you and wanted everyone in town to know about it.

"As... an honest sentiment? I... I love you, all of you. You know that, right?" Your anger was barely holding its own against the wind of his words that was trying to blow it out. Instead, his words now brought tears to your eyes.

"I said I want to show you off to the townsfolk because I do! I want to take you into the townsquare and yell: Look at my beautiful partner! They chose me! Aren't I lucky?"

Ford was kneeling in front of you now, reaching one hand out to cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch, a single tear rolling down your cheek and being immediately wiped away by Ford's thumb.

"I squeezed your belly because, well first off all, because that's what I was holding in that moment. But also, because I love your belly! It's a part of you that I love like any other part. And the fact that it's a little bigger is a plus in my eyes! It means that when we fall into another dimension we'll have more time to find a solution before we starve to death."

You furrowed your brows and chuckled lightly. "If... If we fall into another dimension, right?" Ford averted his eyes, his chuckle sounding more nervous than reassuring. "Right. If."

He looked back into your eyes, letting his thumb caress your cheek. "What I mean to say is: You are the most beautiful person in my eyes and I don’t care what anyone else thinks, okay?" His eyes held nothing but honesty and genuine affection for you.

You believed him. "Okay... yeah." You shook your head, the realization of all the stupid things you accused him of setting in. "God, I’m so sorry, Ford." "Don't be."

His voice was as gentle as before and he reached his other hand up as well to wrap you in a tight hug which you happily reciprocated. "Thank you."

[puppet-strung-moon]

Canon Event: Initiated

[Have anything to ask do it in the notes/messages]

[Canon Event: Initiated

Have anything to ask do it in the notes/messages] 

The time has come for Giaterra to enact their plan. Time to set things right again. Time to make dimensions perfect again. Their pupil would join them again and realize the mistake they are making by defying them. Giaterra was a merciful creator and would give their star pupil one last chance to make a choice to come back to them and continue their purpose and realize they are simply being used by a dastardly Bloodmoon. 

They had sent their star pupil’s twin out to be prepared to take the pink haired one to be persuaded into seeing the error of trusting a Bloodmoon. They teleported to where their favorite puppet was resting over by the lake. Their star pupil was standing there with a neutral look on her face “What ever you have come here to persuade of me…I will not ever listen to it. So leave. Now.” Their creation was so precious when they got petulant “Oh come now my star pupil. My favorite puppet. You know this is just a phase. You’ll soon realize running with a Bloodmoon is to soon end in them taking your power for their own. All they care about is destruction and death.” 

Marionette glared at their creator with disappointment and disgust “Is that not what you did Creator. Created me and my brethren to kill and destroy? To wreak havoc on Dimensions you created or had simply pop into existence. All for your fragile need for control and need for perfection. I have taken the lives of many who didn’t deserve to die. For your selfish desires” the god shook their head. They were so disappointed in their creation, so stubborn and not willing to listen or see reason. That Bloodmoon poisoned them and that must be remedied. “I see my precious puppet. That viscous little wretch poisoned your mind but worry not. Once I rid this dimension of it you will come to your senses” Marionette gritted her teeth at that and attempted to grab Giaterra but their creator had left in the blink of an eye. 

She panicked and knew she had to teleport quickly or things would get bad, she couldn’t risk her friends’ lives again. She sounded calm but the dread seeped through as she told everyone via telepathy: 

“My Creator has returned. Vacate anyone from the cabin they can and will exploit against you and RUN. They will not show mercy this time around. Someone will die or lose various limbs. Get Out NOW.” 

She wasn’t going to endanger anyone 

@escapetheslaughters

[mitsundere]

🔞 can't keep your hands to yourself, can you? [gepard x gn!reader]

NOTE: minors and ageless blogs DNI. 571 words. i haven't written proper reader insert, much less smut, in a while //head in hands

TAGS: thigh riding, gepard awakening that service top in him idk, possible fwb or one night stand situation (relationship is vague) but gepard likes the reader romantically

-

“That… was amazing.” Gepard lets out a shaky breath as you look down at him. His eyes are fixed on how you use your hand to wipe off that bit of drool and spent from the corner of your mouth.

A chuckle escapes your lips, bringing the blond man back to reality. “Glad to hear it.” You look at him with an amused smile, and Gepard shifts uncomfortably underneath you.

“But… What about you?”

He was utterly drained after you sucked the life out of him (heh), but he couldn’t deny that it was unfair for him to be the only one who came undone between the two of you. The flash of confusion in your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Me? I’m good.” You shake your head, looking fondly at the pout on Gepard’s face at your words. “I know you’re exhausted. Don’t worry— I feel satisfied just looking at your cute little face.” Your voice takes on a teasing tone as you cup his face a tad too gently for this to be anything casual.

“I insist.” He squeezes your thighs gently, “I want to make you feel good, too. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

There it was— that Landau stubbornness of his.

“Please.”

Coupled with those puppy dog eyes of his, you just couldn’t resist…

“Alright,” You let out a defeated sigh, moving down to press your clothed sex against his thigh. “But you don’t have to do anything.” There’s a look of protest on Gepard’s face, yet he doesn’t say anything when you give an experimental grind onto his muscular thigh. “Let me do all the work and you can watch, okay?”

“Okay.” Gepard says, a bit too quickly, mesmerized with how you start to move your hips in a steady rhythm against his thigh. Feeling the wetness from your underwear burning hot on his skin. Your consideration of his stamina was sweet— he knew that he made the right choice by falling in love with you, even if you didn’t see him in that way yet.

“Use me.” You had murmured against his lips a while ago. Those words kept ringing in his ears since then, and Gepard would love nothing else but to show you that you weren’t just someone to be used as stress relief.

You had told him to just watch, but his hands twitch every time you let out a sigh while grinding on him, the wet spot on your underwear growing more prominent by the minute. He wants to touch you. To make you feel the same bliss he experienced from your mouth earlier. His expression was cute, you said. Maybe you would make the same face. He wants to see it.

Gepard is a disciplined man, but he doesn’t think he can obey your request of just watching any longer. He gingerly places his hands on your thighs, pleased with how you gasped at the sensation. 

“Let me help you, please.” He knows how to get you by now, using that sweet tone and puppy eyes on you once more. A weak nod from you is all that it takes for him to grab your hips, squeezing just enough to control your movement, and setting the pace. The whine you let out just eggs him on, and he swears that he felt his cock twitch in anticipation, despite having just released earlier.

…He could get used to this.

[wri0thesley]

the solace of banality - lucas (yandere oc) x reader (6.6k)

your time in the hospital has made you miss the simplicity of a life not held captive by a madman in the woods - and has made you just foolish enough to ask him about it.

cw: dark content, yandere, kidnapped reader. hospital setting. chubby fem reader, references to past dub-con and non-con, references to cannibalism, forced intimacy and domesticity, physical abuse.

a/n: for a primer on lucas, see here or his tag on my blog.

this was a commissioned work.

Lucas had not taken his hands off of you the entire ride from the hospital, back into the woods. He'd mumbled something about needing to make sure he moved the truck later on, as he'd stepped out and helped you down in return, strong arms wrapping around you so that you have to do the bare minimum of exertion yourself. His grip is as assured as ever, but there's a tightness there that you haven't felt for some time - as if he needs to press himself into you, just to be sure that you're still there.

And, too, to make sure that you don't run. 

You suppose he doesn't like the idea of you knowing where the truck is parked, but it's not like you could drive it even if you did remember. Lucas treats it like a spooked animal, a strange little creature whose quirks and foibles he has learned over time - you're almost certain that if you were to get behind the wheel, it would not obey you the way that it obeyed him. So you keep your mouth pressed shut and concentrate on the slow journey from the truck to the front door of the cabin. Your gaze returns to it, just once, parked closer than you've ever seen it - but Lucas coughs, and his brows draw in, and you guiltily return your gaze to your feet. 

It's getting colder. It's the end of November, and the ward at the hospital had been decorated early (to give some festive cheer to the people who were stuck there, you suppose). Frost crackles beneath your feet. The moment you'd been signed off as able to go home, Lucas had rushed you out of there, tension tight in his shoulders - so the sun has barely risen, and there's been no time for the cruelty of winter to be tempered any by what warmth it has to offer. 

"Want you home, sweetheart," he'd grumbled, as he'd signed papers at the hospital desk with a surname you do not recognise. He'd let you keep your first name, but he'd given 'Smith' at the hospital as your surname (are you missing, you wonder? Would your real name have been too much of a giveaway?), calling you his wife, smiling tightly as he'd said you'd wanted to keep your maiden name in a very good imitation of a husband a little frustrated by this. "Sooner the better. This place makes me nervous." 

His hands do not move from you as he unlocks the front door, either. As he ushers you in, as he breathes a sigh of relief at the comfort of the cabin around you. 

He'd gone home, just to tend to the chickens. It was the only moments you'd had free from his stifling company - well, that and the surgery. You breathe out, tight and controlled, counting in your head as you feel the twinges of pain. Cold air. The doctor had said you might feel it in the scar for the rest of your life. You'd had maybe an hour and a half at most a day, to be alone with your thoughts and the room--

You'd thought, only once, about telling the doctors the truth. About begging them to help. Do something. 

But you'd remembered the hissed warning in your ear, when he'd driven you to the hospital with a fear you'd never seen spread over his features. If you did that - if they knew - he'd said he wouldn't hesitate to bring as many people down with you both as he could, and the thought of what he might do in an enclosed space to strangers and doctors with no worries as to who got hurt--

No. Better to keep your mouth shut, and pretend everything was fine. 

"Let's get you on the couch, darlin'," Lucas murmurs, still tightly holding onto your waist as if you don't know every inch of this cabin as intimately as you know the back of your hands. "They said for you to stay restin', didn't they? I ain't lettin' you get worse. Not takin' you back there if I can damn well help it." 

You nod, as he lifts you up with ease and deposits you onto the crease of the sofa, the deep comforting dip that is usually Lucas's space. For a moment, you look up at him, and he looks down at you. 

You take in everything about him. The worry etched into his features, the bags beneath his eyes, the coiled tension ready to snap at any moment if you don't do exactly as he says. You take in, too, that he's been wearing the same shirt for three days, that his stubble has grown out some, that he looks at you like he can't believe you're back here on the couch. 

(He'd been afraid he'd lose you, you think. It's the only explanation you can possibly conjure for why he'd taken you out of the cabin, to a place teeming with life, risked everything he had here in order to make sure you didn't die. You'd been here, in this exact spot, the night he'd taken you to the hospital, curled up and sweating and nauseous and too weak to make it to the bathroom to do anything. You'd thought you were going to die right there too). 

You wonder what he sees in you, in turn. 

He'd brought you new pyjamas from the hospital gift shop. They were cheaply made, pink and white stripes, that kind of satin that pulled if you so much as rolled over in bed. But they were new, and they'd been bought for you, so you hadn't mentioned the pulls under the armpit to Lucas. You're wearing them now (they'd laundered them at the hospital for you), with an old dressing gown wrapped around you that you've only ever seen Lucas wear. It smells like him. 

You wonder if you look wan yourself; if your eyes are shadowed, if your mouth is drawn, if your hair is lank. You'd been able to shower, you'd been able to use the bathroom on your own - but you'd almost . . . missed his cloying presence. The nurse had helped you, when you were still too weak, but . . . her hands lathering shampoo through the strands of your hair had not been as gentle, as slow, as thorough as Lucas's always were--

He lets out a slow, controlled breath. 

"You really gave me a fright there," he rumbles, and summons a smile from the pit inside of him for you. "I really thought . . . Well. Don't wanna dwell on nothin' too dark there, do we?" 

It's a question he expects an answer to, you realise, that stern green gaze stuck on you. You shake your head - and then, trembling, put forth;

"I . . . I was scared too. I . . ." Swallow the confused feelings that come swimming up in you before you say it; you've learnt to play this game. It's better to be alive than it is to be chopped to pieces, and if you weren't so good at this part you're certain Lucas wouldn't have bothered to take you to the hospital. "I didn't want to leave you."

His face softens. 

"Sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning forward, to press a lingering kiss on the crown of your head. "I wasn't about to let you go nowhere, y'hear? Now. Let's get a blanket 'round you. Let's get you tucked in, and I'll bring you somethin' to eat. I don't trust the food they gave you in there."

When they'd done the blood tests, the nurse had said that your iron levels were the most perfect she'd ever seen, and you'd thought about Lucas's meals. The meat bleeding dark juices onto the plate. You'd swallowed your disgust and smiled at her, shrugging modestly, telling her that your husband handled the menu and you just ate what he gave you. 

He'd been sat beside you, and he'd shifted when you'd called him your husband, his mouth twitching at the corners. She'd congratulated him on it, a smile on her face - taken in by the size of him, the dog tags shining around his neck, his obvious care for his poor invalid wife--

If only she'd known. 

It's strange to be back in the cabin again. 

Altogether, you'd been in the hospital for nine days; there'd been some complications, they'd wanted to keep an eye on you, they'd had to do a more complicated surgery type than they'd originally thought-- and those nine days had been . . .

You don't want to call them blissful. Nearly dying is not blissful, oxygen tubes and cannulas and blood tests and the smell of antiseptic are not blissful things, really. But it had been so different from the life you'd been accustomed to living! It had been so different to be somewhere else, to see other people--

You don't know quite how long you've been with Lucas, but if it's November again you think it's been over a year. You'd been taken in September, you remember - and he'd mentioned Christmas, that first year, but you'd still been too scared to really think much of it beyond giving him a trembling kiss on Christmas Eve and letting him dress you up in one of the more scandalous pieces from the wardrobe, as a gift, that night-- 

A year of solitude can do a lot to a person. The only other human being you've interacted with is Lucas - and one lost hiker, once, who'd come limping out of the trees whilst you were feeding the chickens with Lucas in the doorway and had called out to you. You'd been too startled to call back, but you'd waved your hand in greeting - and then Lucas's own hand had been on your shoulder, and you understood in no uncertain terms you were to go back inside, and you'd put the record player on when you'd heard the first scream. 

You don't know if that really counts, all things considered. 

But suddenly, you had found yourself surrounded by people! Nurses came and spoke to you, and doctors, and other patients (though Lucas had insisted that you needed a private room, you'd still come across them in the hallways and the corridors when you'd moved around, when they'd taken you out for walks to ensure that you were recovering well). You'd heard more voices than you had in forever, different accents and different inflections and you'd been bombarded with names you didn't always remember. 

Some of the strangers stuck in your mind more than others. There'd been a nursing student who got all red and awkward and stuttery when Lucas spoke to her. There'd been a doctor who had also been a veteran, who had made Lucas's spine stiffen and his words go clipped and rough. There'd been a mother of a young woman who had her granddaughter with her for visiting, who'd mistakenly barged into your room thinking it was her daughter's - and though you'd expected Lucas to lose his temper at them both, he hadn't. He'd crouched down on the floor and asked the little girl about the stuffed bunny she was carrying with a perfectly serious expression, and for a minute you had forgotten about the axe and the blood and the snarl and the lies, and you'd thought what a good father your husband would make. 

You'd had to give yourself a stern talking to inside your head, when the visitors had been sent to the right place and Lucas had turned back to you to fuss over your blankets and his eyes had still been soft with a longing that you did not want to think about. In a different world, maybe. In a different time. In different circumstances-- 

And there was everything else, too. All of the other little freedoms you'd forgotten about.

Food and television and human contact, being alone, a bed to yourself. 

You'd thought, then, how much you'd taken it all for granted.

"Is your husband not here?" The nurse says, cheerfully bustling into the room with your breakfast on a tray. She looks around for him, before she winks at you and pulls from her pocket a tiny packet of chocolate spread, which she lays on the plate next to the toast and the packet of butter and the tiny jar of jam. 

The first time you'd asked for toast, they'd brought you chocolate spread, and Lucas had shaken his head and taken it off your plate before you could even think about it. 

"It ain't good for you," he'd said, sagely, with all of the assurance of a man who was used to being listened to. "Have the jam instead, if you've gotta. The butter on it's own's plenty rich enough though, I think."

He'd watched you like a hawk, and you'd been too scared to put more than a sliver of the strawberry jam on the toast, so you'd eaten exactly what he wanted. 

"He's gone home," you say to her. Your voice still feels a little rough and croaky - you'd been told that they'd put a tube down your throat for breathing, during the surgery. You haven't had much experience of hospitals before, so all of this is a novelty in more than just the freedom from Lucas. "He has to feed the girls - h-his . . . o-our chickens, I mean."

She shakes her head, smiling. 

"I'm sure he means well," she says, perching for a moment on the chair by the bed that Lucas usually occupies. "I mean! He clearly cares about you - I almost never come in here and see the room without him, he's part of the furniture! - but sometimes a girl just needs a treat, you know?" She winks again, and you laugh. 

A part of you feels guilty about it - that same part of you that occasionally looks at Lucas and does think about him as a spouse, that same part of you that sometimes drives you to press a kiss onto his cheek when you're not thinking because he says something sweet. It's the part of you, you think, that wants you to give in and accept and be what Lucas wants and forget everything else, just to make it easier. 

But it's a part that's easier to quell amongst the hustle and bustle of the hospital. 

"Now," she says. "You're going to be in here for a few more days, so I've brought you the menu - just circle what you want and I'll take it to the kitchens. If he doesn't see it, he doesn't know if you chose the unhealthy options!" You laugh aloud again, and reach for the menu, flicking through to see all of the other options. So many foods you haven't had in over a year - so many things you'd never dare ask Lucas to make--

You feel another twinge of guilt when you circle the roast chicken and vegetables, but you tamp it down as you circle apple pie. You'll give Lucas a bite or two, and he'll forget that he'd said you were a vegetarian--

"Good choice," the nurse says approvingly, as she takes the menu from you and tucks it into the pocket of her uniform. She gives you a conspiratorial nudge. "Honestly, I shouldn't say it, but you'd be amazed how many vegetarians take the meat option in here! Good for them, I say. You need to keep your strength up! Now - where's that remote? Shall we put it on that horror channel you wanted and I'll take it with me, so you can say it's lost and he just has to put up with it?" 

You do war within yourself before you dare ask him. You know Lucas's temper - it's hard not to know it, living out here with him for so long. Ordinarily, you do anything possible to make sure that it doesn't flare too openly; you act soft and sweet and agree with him and avoid any topic of conversation that you think might set him off. It's terrifying to see how the way he stands change, the curl of his lip and the grit of his teeth and the slightest tilt of his brows - it reminds you of all of those other people, out there, who have not been so lucky as you. All of those people who have seen him get angry and then learnt his anger in the swing of his axe instead of in the blade of his words. You could so easily have been one of them, you are usually able to sternly remind yourself when the whisperings at the back of your mind get almost too loud to handle. If you hadn't been soft and sweet and scared and what Lucas had found pretty, if you'd screamed instead of begged or fought instead of cried, you would have met your end in the woods too and your flesh would have been parcelled up into the old chest freezer and none of this would have happened--

But that was before the hospital, wasn't it? 

That was before he'd shown you that he cared about you enough to take you into town if things were dire enough - before you'd shown him in turn that you could be trusted to keep his secret. You'd had so many chances to blurt out the truth, but every time you'd held your tongue and you'd smiled and laughed and called him your husband as if it were real. 

The fourth day, Lucas had come in and had slipped a plain gold band onto your finger as a doctor had watched, taking your blood pressure. 

"Found it," he'd said, gruffly, and you'd seen that there was a matching one on his own. "I know y'don't like to be without it." 

You'd kept it, even when you could take it off and you were back in the truck and were free of the ruse. Now, as you slowly bring yourself to the kitchen doorway with a blanket wrapped around you, you play with the ring on your finger and hope he notices that, and that the little movement wins you points. 

"Lucas?" You ask, to get his attention - but you don't need to. He has already heard, his head up and cocked, and he shakes his head and sucks his teeth when he sees you standing there, bare feet on the cabin floorboards. Of course he'd heard the couch creak, of course he'd heard the pad of your footsteps - this is a man who'd heard you so much as sit up in bed from the couch, back when you'd first gotten here and he'd slept on the sofa instead of intertwined with you. He'd always come, always asked you if you were alright, if you needed him to help . . .

"Darlin'," he says, shaking his head. "You shoulda just called. You ain't s'posed to be on your feet too much. I'll bring you anything you want."

You swallow, still absent-mindedly twirling the ring on your finger. It's perhaps a size or two too big; if it were really your wedding ring, you're sure you'd have lost it doing the washing up or getting it caught in your clothes or something by now. 

(It's not yours though, is it? You wonder if Lucas bought them in a pawn shop - but no, that would have caused whispers around a small town that might have gotten back to the hospital eventually. You know the far more likely scenario is that he's had them this whole time, pried from the fingers of some poor unsuspecting camping couple who pitched their tent a bit too close. You don't like to think of the little metal band that warms your own wedding finger on the cold hand of a corpse. You haven't taken it off since he gave you it. 

You're too afraid there'll be an engraving inside, a name that isn't yours, a promise that only means something to two people who are no longer on the earth. 

At least, you suppose, they died together.)

"I . . . I've just been thinking," you say, gathering all of your courage up to try and screw it to the sticking place. Lucas is still being a little too indulgent with you; letting you get away with things that he wouldn't normally. A later bedtime, a bit of pouting, a VHS he'd gotten for you of a fantasy film that he didn't much like played at night instead of one of his own. He's still too raw and open at the thought that he could have lost you, and you don't think you'll ever get a better chance than this one. 

And he's noticed the ring, still on your finger, and there's the faintest dusky flush up his cheekbones. You let your gaze flick down to his own hands, to see that the matching band is still in place on his finger. 

(Lucky, then, that they both almost fitted. You're certain that Lucas would have taken that as a sign; another piece of proof that the two of you were always meant to be. That thought makes your stomach roil uncomfortably, but you try to ignore it. The more he thinks the two of you were destined, the more attached he is to you, the more he loves you - the more likely he's going to be to agree to the thing you're about to ask him). 

"C'mon then," he says, shaking his head in fond exasperation, moving from the kitchen counter to come and take you by the waist and propel you back towards your comfortable nest on the sofa. "You can tell me just as well in there as out here, an' I won't worry half so much. I bought some ice cream one of the days we were in town, y'know. Been waiting for you to feel a bit better. How's about I go grab it from the freezer and make us a bowl and you can tell me what it is that's on your mind, huh?"

"That would be nice," you say, fluttering your lashes, looking up at him from under them in a way you've learnt makes him swallow, his throat bobbing. "Thank you." 

"Aww," he says. "Anythin' for you, darlin'." 

You wrap yourself back up in the other blankets left on the couch and let Lucas leave the room to go out to the freezer and fetch the ice cream. You force yourself not to think of it nestled in the chest freezer, surrounded by cuts of meat - an incongruous tub amongst flesh and bone, a ropy thigh pressed against the lid, a fleshy cheek pressed against the bottom. 

There's no sign of that when he returns with a chipped willow-pattern bowl full of vanilla ice cream and he passes you a spoon, cuddling up close to you on the sofa. You let yourself be manipulated half into his lap, his chin on the top of your head, the warmth he kicks off enough to make the ice cream melt to a pleasing consistency. He insists on feeding you the first bite, and you do not protest it - all the better, to make him soft and adoring. You even force yourself to giggle like an idiot, in a way that makes him growl in approval. 

"Well then," he says, between spoonfuls, and you're grateful that at least you won't have to look him in the eyes when you ask the question. "C'mon, let's get it outta you. What did you wanna ask?" 

Last chance saloon, if you want to backtrack. If you want to think of some other silly question that might not set him off - for another pair of new pyjamas, a colouring book and some fancy pencils, anything that he'll see as an indulgence but not as a declaration of war. 

But, oh . . .

The freedom of those days. The sound of people around you had made you miss the sound of the city, the smell of antiseptic had made you miss any smell that wasn't Lucas's aftershave and the chickens and the frosty air. Controlling a television, choosing your own menu, seeing other people going about their days and knowing that despite the isolated existence you're now living, people are still out there living their lives in a way you know Lucas will never let you. 

It doesn't matter, you force yourself to think, if you will never get that freedom back. Lucas would never let you go, and you're not foolish enough to so much as think about it, let alone ask. You're never going to fulfil so many of your dreams (you'll never see Tokyo, or Paris, you'll never see the Northern Lights or try that fancy hotel in your hometown and you'll probably never know how your favourite manga ends) - but just a taste of it, every so often, with Lucas's hand in yours and him beside you to watch over you--

That's not too much to ask, is it? 

You swallow again, feeling heat rising to your own cheeks. 

"I've just been thinking," you say to him, careful and calm. "About . . . the town? The one that the hospital was in?"

He stiffens all over, and you feel it where you're pressed against him. Like a coiled up spring, tension in every curve and line of his body. 

"Yeah?" He says, his tone warning - if you were smarter, you'd stop there, but you've opened the floodgates now. Your mouth seems to be operating without the express consent of your brain, and the words come flowing out awkwardly smashing into one another in a rush of noise. 

"It's just - couldn't we do something there? Together? See a movie? Run errands or go shopping or surely they have a bowling alley or something we could go to on a date?"

"Sweetheart."

It's rough and dark and angry, but now you've started you cannot stop. 

"I mean, they've seen me! They know I live with you, they're going to ask questions about me, and I don't mind I'll tell them exactly what you want me to tell them but it would be so so nice to do something with you, even if it's just once every few months, I'd just like to be outside--"

The bowl of ice cream clatters to the floor, the remainder of the sticky yellow-white treat oozing across the floorboards like spilt blood, and your brain finally catches up with you and you go stock-still like a deer in headlights as Lucas eases his arms from around your waist and shifts so that he can be next to you, so that he can look you in the eye before he tells you he's going to kill you. 

His gaze catches yours, stern and forbidding and cold as the frost had been when you'd stepped out of the truck. Your hands start to shake as you desperately try and reassure yourself that, if you're lucky, the first blow will kill you and you won't feel any of the rest--

But to his credit, Lucas doesn't jump straight to blazing anger. 

You can feel it simmering in him, like it's rising off of him like steam - but instead, he says, his voice cold and deep and barely restrained;

"No."

"Lucas--"

"I said no." 

He doesn't soften the phrase with a pet name, and this is a bad sign. His gaze remains affixed onto yours, pinning you in place, as much a captor as the man himself. You feel like you will bow and break under it, but you have gotten this far - your foolish heart cannot resist just one more attempt, as if you will somehow find the chink in his armour that will allow you this one tiny freedom. 

"Not often. Just--"

He stands up suddenly, like a tree being shaken to its foundations, and your heart jumps into your throat. He's going to pull down one of the weapons mounted on the wall in the hallway, you know it - he's going to drag you outside and you're going to bleed out on the frosted grass and he'll prise the ring off your finger and wait for someone else it will fit, he'll bury you in an unmarked grave, he'll spin some story next time he's in town about why you're not there--

"I need some air," he says instead, shortly. "I'll be back home in a bit." He reaches to pick up the bowl, not looking at you now. You can see that his grip is white-knuckled, that the veins in his wrists are more prominent than usual. His mouth is set in a grim line. 

"L-Lucas--"

"When I get back," he says, as if he hasn't heard you at all. "I don't wanna hear another word about this nonsense, understand? I keep you safe. I keep you fed and warm and safe an' loved, and I'm not gonna take you out back into a world that doesn't deserve you just so it can fuckin' chew you up and spit you out." 

He turns away and walks, the thud of his boots heavy on the floorboards. 

"We're gonna have an early night," he says, pausing at the door. "I think all that time in the hospital's scrambled your brain good and proper. But don't worry, sweetheart," he looks over his shoulder, gaze like frosted green glass, words a bladed threat. "I'll make sure t'remind you." 

You know you have gotten off lightly. 

It is hard not to think that if you had been someone else, if you hadn't played your game so well, Lucas would not have suffered the question as coolly as he managed to. Or even if you had asked such a thing a few months ago - he would have taken it as a personal attack, as you saying he was not enough for you. 

The fact that he comes back, that he manages to give you a tight smile when he sees that you haven't moved from the sofa where he'd left you except to pick up a battered old fantasy book from the shelf full of mismatched paperbacks - that seems to calm him. You suppose that he's thinking at least you listened to him, hopefully you've taken everything he's said to heart . . .

But that's not the truth. Not really. 

Despite what you know is sensible, you have been thinking about freedom for every moment whilst you've been alone. 

Or, 'freedom' in a sense. You have been thinking about the laugh of the nurse and the buzz of the television and the food in front of you on a clean white plate that has never before played host to a hunk of meat that was once a person. You've been thinking about the sounds of the city and the feel of warm worn leather beneath you in Lucas's truck. You've been thinking and plotting and rewriting in your head exactly what to say to try and convince Lucas that maybe, just maybe, it might be alright. 

Once or twice a year, even! Christmas shopping, perhaps. A Valentine's Day movie - a sappy romance, or a musical, or something he couldn't object to. Something all romantic and soft and chosen specifically to be done with him, so he doesn't feel as though you're trying to escape. 

Lucas lifts you from the couch and guides you into the bathroom - kisses the top of your head and presses against you wanting and needy in the shower, as the hot water cascades over you both, as his fingers brush oh-so-gently the scar left on the soft roundness of your flesh in wonder. His eyes soften as he looks at it, as you suppose he remembers how close he came to losing you - and it's that look, the soft devotion in his gaze, knowing that despite it all Lucas cares about you enough that he broke his own rules to take you somewhere safe, that makes you think that perhaps it might be safe to bring it up again. 

He brushes your hair before bed; helps you put on one of the pretty cotton nightgowns patterned with sprigs of flowers that he always chooses, when he gets the choice (your pink and white striped pyjamas are in the laundry basket, waiting to be washed, Lucas wrinkling his nose and mumbling about the smell of that place). 

You sit up in bed as he pulls out his own sleepwear, and you clear your throat before you speak. 

"A-about earlier . . ."

"If it ain't an apology," Lucas says, voice tight, his back to you - your eyes are drawn to the scars that decorate his body like badges of honour as he pulls the old shirt he sleeps in down, "I don't wanna hear it."

"C-can't we just . . . talk about it? Like a . . . like a married couple would?"

Lucas turns around now. He does not lower himself onto the bed, as he stares at you with something inscrutable in his gaze that makes you trip over your words. 

"I don't want to run, Lucas! I love you!" That's a lie, but you hope he won't notice, won't care, because you said it yourself and not because he demanded you did so. "I just . . . I want to show you off, I want to do normal things with you! Even if it's just the groceries, even if it's just picking up flour or sugar--"

"I've already said no," he bites out. "I've already said no, and I've already told you to stop askin'."

"Lucas, please--"

"Stop."

You'd been wrong. You feel it slipping out of your grasp - the thought of that tiny freedom, grabbed with both hands, slipping through your fingers like fine sand. His words are horribly final, obviously designed to get you to stop asking, to keep your pretty mouth shut and be the quiet and well-behaved little spouse he wants you to be, but . . . 

The thought of something that is so close just being stolen from you like this is too much for you, and you can't let yourself be cowed.

"Can't we just talk about it--!"

"I think you've done enough fuckin' talkin'." 

He looks at you with murder in his gaze and you cringe back into the pillows. Here it is. He's going to beat you to death. He's going to kill you. You've really fucking done it now, haven't you?

But he doesn't.

He looks at you for one more beat, before suddenly a slow smile spreads across his face. 

"Okay," he says, and the change in his demeanour is scarier than anything else you've seen in months. "Okay, yeah. Get outta bed, sweetheart. C'mon. Let's talk this through in the kitchen like grown-ups."

He doesn't help you to the kitchen, this time. He leaves it to you, and you're slow about it - your body protests being taken from the warm embrace of the bed and back out. The nightgown tangles uncomfortably around your ankles, and you stumble more than once.

Lucas, though, had left immediately. Consequently, you're not surprised to see him up and at the stove when you get into the kitchen. The kettle is on the hob.

"We'll talk it through with a hot drink," he says, pleasantly enough. "The way real married couples do, yeah? Sit down, darlin'. Just let me get this to boilin'."

You can't believe how reasonable he's being. You wonder what it is that you said that brought him to this point - the married couple thing, perhaps? The profession of love, that maybe hadn't pierced him properly until a few minutes later? Whatever it is, you're grateful for it, as you sit down on one of the wooden kitchen chairs and let out a soft sigh. 

"Y'know," Lucas says, from over by the stove. "I thought about just fuckin' cuttin' your tongue out so you couldn't ask me anymore."

A cold shiver down your spine, but Lucas's tone is conversational, and you do not see one of his big knives out in the kitchen anywhere. Maybe he is going to apologise, you think. 

"I . . . I'm glad you didn't," you say, voice soft and thready. "Thank you."

Lucas snorts. 

"Yeah. Thought 'bout what you said . . . People in that town sure do know you exist now. And though I ain't planning on takin' you back, just in case . . . Thought that a missin' tongue might be kinda hard to explain, y'know?" 

The kettle whistles, high pitched enough to make you flinch. You notice, suddenly, that he has not put any mugs or cups on the table, and your entire body seems to feel as though it's made of ice. 

He has one of those old-fashioned kettles; enamel, white and blue, a long spout and a metal handle that needs to be warmed through on a hob. He picks it up by the handle now, and walks towards you. 

"So I thought," he says to you, his tone still pleasant, but his voice rough and low. "How am I gonna stop her runnin' her mouth? How am I gonna teach her that when I tell her to stop bringin' somethin' up, she oughta heed my words?"

"Please don't--" You babble out, as he lifts the kettle up. You can hear it bubbling inside, boiling away against the enamel and tin. You've burnt your tongue on a hot chocolate before, sure, tried to drink a coffee before it was cool . . . But the thought of what Lucas is about to do seems far, far worse than that. 

With the hand that is not wrapped around the kettle's handle, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls it back fiercely until his hand meets the back of the chair, forcing your face up and pinning you in place. 

"It's just a lesson," Lucas says, infuriatingly calm. He lifts the kettle up, and you feel the heat radiating off of it as it comes too close to your skin. "I didn't wanna do this, darlin'. But you ain't left me much of a choice."

"I won't bring it up again!" Lucas lets out a snort, and the barest drop of water snakes from the spout. It splashes onto your bare neck above the nightgown's collar, and you swear you hear the flesh sizzle as you squeak out in pain. 

"It's a bit too late for that now," he tells you. "C'mon. We don't want this to get cold now, do we?"

"Lucas, please--!"

"Open your fuckin' mouth," he says, his eyes glittering. "And swallow like a good girl, and I'll only make you drink this one kettleful. I can boil another as easy as pie. I can keep fuckin' going until you can never talk again, y'hear me?"

You're shaking, but he has slowly, slowly started to tip the kettle now. The spout is coming far too close to your lips for comfort. 

"You'll wanna wrap your mouth around it," he says, and you do not miss that it's not the first time he's said that kind of thing to you. Hot tears of fear and frustration well in the corner of your eyes. "If you make me pour it into you like you're a teacup, you're gonna panic and just get burns all over your pretty face too."

The spout nudges your lips. 

"Open your mouth," Lucas coos to you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. "Open your mouth, and we'll just do one kettleful, and I'll get you s'more ice cream once you've learnt your lesson. One kettleful and it'll prob'ly only be a week or so 'fore you can talk again." 

You try and will yourself to think of something to get out of it, but Lucas is getting impatient. He tugs roughly on the hair in his fist and lowers his own mouth close enough to hiss into your ear;

"Don't open it and . . . well. You don't really wanna find out, do ya'?"

Outplayed. 

You open your mouth.

[leftoverghosts]

outrun myself

pbr!patrick zweig x separated!wife!user

or, what I think what would happen between you and my cowboy!patrick bot. light smut under the cut.

requested by my love @diyasgarden!! i will never, ever get tired of pbr!patrick.

PLAY MY XMAS GAME AND REQUEST A BOT/BLURB HERE!

Your tumultuous relationship with Patrick was a constant roller coaster ride of emotions. Starting out as high school sweethearts and ending up married shortly after graduation, you knew all too well the pressure of being the small town's golden couple. He was Patrick Zweig, the reigning king of the rodeo, and you were simply seen as his pretty arm candy.

But deep down, you yearned for more - to explore, to travel, to break free from the confines of this stifling town. It wasn't entirely his fault; he had always been clear about who he was and what he wanted. Pat liked what he liked and at one point, so did you.

But that didn't stop the resentment from growing inside of you and when you finally took off his ring and left for college, you thought you had escaped the suffocating country life.

That is until the phone call came.

You were still legally his next of kin, a fact that you had almost forgotten in your quest for independence. But now you were rushing back to your home town, bracing yourself for the inevitable scolding from his mama.

As you used the keys he never asked for back to enter your old ranch house, your heart raced with worry and anticipation. You found him in the kitchen, dressed only in boxers and a cast on his arm, stirring something on the stove that don’t quite smell right. The sight of him brings back a wave of memories - good and bad - but all that matters now is that he's safe.

"You came, baby." He smirked, one side of his mouth tugging upwards in that infuriatingly charming way it always did.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You smiled at his smirk, your heart fluttering at the sight of him. Despite everything that had happened between y’all, he still knew how to charm you with just a look. But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the present.

"Yes, I came." You said quietly, your own accent thick, walking towards him. As soon as you reached the stove, you wrinkled your nose at the smell of the stew that was cooking. "What is this?" You asked with a laugh, peering into the pot.

Patrick chuckled and shrugged his good shoulder. "I don't know, I just found some things in the fridge and thought I'd give it a go." His eyes sparkled mischievously as he gestured towards the chopped vegetables on the counter.

You couldn't help but sigh in amusement. Despite being separated, he was still very much the same man you fell in love with - adventurous and carefree.

"I'll throw this out and make something simple for us." You said definitively, as you moved to grab out some pasta from the cupboard. Everything was as you left it, even the decor on the walls.

Without hesitation, Patrick jumped in to help. He grabbed some cans of tomato sauce as you boiled some water for the noodles.

The kitchen felt like second nature to both of you - each of your movements flowing together effortlessly, even with his broken arm. It was almost like no time had passed since you used to cook together back when you were living here.

As dinner came together on the stove, Patrick pulled you into his lap at the kitchen table, and you found yourself lost in tales of his latest rodeo adventures. His eyes lit up with excitement as he recounted the thrill of the crowd cheering him on, the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he rode atop a bucking bronco.

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, marveling at how his passion for the rodeo had never waned over the years. It was one of the things you had always admired about him - his unwavering dedication to the things and people he loved.

"And then, just as I was about to make the winning ride, ol' Bucky threw me off like a ragdoll!" Patrick laughed, his good arm wrapped snugly around your waist as you sat perched on his lap. "Landed right on my wrist and heard a snap. Knew right then I was in for a world of hurt."

You winced at the thought of him being thrown from the horse, your hand instinctively reaching out to gently touch his cast. "I'm just glad you're okay," you murmured, your eyes meeting his. "When I heard about the accident, I was so worried…"

Patrick's gaze softened as he looked at you, his thumb tracing small circles on your hip. "I know, baby. I'm sorry for putting you through that. I thought I changed my emergency contact to my Ma. But I'm alright, I promise. Takes helluva lot more than this to take Patrick Zweig out.” He snickered, shaking his cast at you, as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“If you had changed your contact, your Ma would be sitting right here right now.” You teased and he gave you a disgusted face, shaking his head. "Forgive me God, but have I mentioned how annoying you are, Patrick Zwieg?” You continued negging him, rolling your eyes.

"I've missed this," he giggled softly, ignoring your taunts, his breath tickling your ear. "Just being here with you, talking like we used to. It feels right."

You nodded in agreement, leaning back against his broad chest. "It does. I didn't realize how much I needed this until now."

The timer on the stove went off, signaling that the pasta was ready, but neither of you made a move to get up. Instead, Patrick tightened his hold on you, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

"Let's stay like this for a little while longer," he whispered, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. Patrick would do this sometimes, clinging to you as if you were his tether to the world. He wasn’t one to speak a lot of words, but you could sense his anxiety from the tension in his smile. It was a subtle tell, something only a person well-versed in his expressions would pick up on. "The food can wait. I just want to hold you."

You twisted in his lap to face him, your hands coming up to cup his rugged face. "You plannin’ on burning my house down the second I step back into it?" It was an attempt at levity, but he didn’t bite. Instead, he shook his head, reaching up to trace the curve of your lips with his fingers.

The way Pat was looking at you right now, was as if he couldn't believe you were really here. “You make the whole world quieter just by smiling at me, you know that?” His blue eyes glistened with emotion as he leaned in for a slow and intense kiss.

The kiss deepened as Patrick's hand slid up your back, pulling you flush against his front. A low moan escaped your throat as his tongue explored your mouth with a sensual intensity.

Without breaking the kiss, Patrick effortlessly lifted you up and placed you on the kitchen table, settling himself between your parted thighs. His good hand roamed your body, caressing every curve and dip through the thin fabric of your sundress. The heat of his touch seared your skin, reigniting a passion that had laid dormant for far too long.

Your fingers tangled in his thick hair, pulling gently as you got reacquainted with the taste and feel of him. Patrick's hand slid up your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress higher and higher until it was bunched around your waist, exposing your lacy panties.

He paused, pulling back slightly to gaze at you with hooded eyes full of desire. "God, you're so beautiful," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "I've dreamt about this moment every night since you left."

"Show me," you breathed, your body aching for his touch. "Show me how much you've missed me." You found yourself tugging impatiently at the waistband of his boxers.

Clumsily, Patrick did his best to rip open the front of your dress, sending buttons scattering across the kitchen floor. His lips trailed hot kisses down your neck and across your collarbone as his hand cupped your breast through the fabric of your bra.

"You're wearing too many clothes, darlin'," he drawled, his accent thicker than ever with arousal. In one swift motion, he unclasped your bra and tossed it aside, his mouth immediately latching onto a hardened nipple as his fingers moved back down to push aside your panties. He stroked your slick folds, teasing your sensitive bud until you were writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

You leaned into him, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. "Pat…" you whimpered.

He chuckled darkly against your skin. "Patience, baby. I'm gonna take my time with you, make sure you never forget how good I can make you feel. Make you want to stay in this shitty lil’ town."

Two fingers slipped easily into your wet heat, drawing a gasp from your parted lips. Patrick pumped them in and out slowly, his thumb circling your sensitive clit with each stroke.

"You're so tight, so perfect," he groaned, watching your face contort with pleasure. The normally reserved man was being incredibly vocal, giving you so much to work with.

Unable to endure the sweet torture any longer, you reached down and freed his hard length from his boxers. With firm strokes of your hand, you urged him closer. "Gimme what I came for, cowboy."

With a throaty noise of approval, Patrick removed his fingers and positioned himself at your entrance. Inch by inch, he filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way. You cried out in ecstasy, your nails raking down his back as he set a lazy pace, not wanting to just pound into you with abandon.

The table shook and creaked with the cant of his hips, but neither of you seemed to notice. Although a small part of your mind was aware that your grandmother would not approve of what was happening on top of her prized wedding gift. Your bodies moved together effortlessly, as if no time had passed since you were last entwined in each other's embrace.

"I love you," Patrick panted against your lips, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

"I love you too," you gasped, your walls fluttering around him.

[ladykailitha]

A Love For Christmas Part 7

Hello! Welcome to penultimate chapter! I've been loving the little guess on the elf, who will be revealed tonight in the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged. You make my day brighter.

Sledding is fun is because it's dangerous. And the company holiday party arrives.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

The next thing I put the little elf in charge of was the sleds used for sledding. There isn’t much to do in the North Pole, so we always trying to have some fun. Ice skating and sledding are two such pleasures we get to enjoy year round.

I let out a jolly laugh to see that they were finally having fun. Just enjoying themselves and being free.

I should have known that wasn’t going to last.

They got up on the highest hill with the swiftest sled and with one mighty push, they were careening down the slope, getting faster and faster.

I thought for sure they would hit the bottom of the slope and jackknife right into the snow bank at the bottom.

But I was wrong.

What happened might well be considered worse.

They hit the bottom of the slope, but instead of slowly, like it was meant to, it kept going. The elf tried to steer. To get it to slow down.

But it was fruitless.

They saw what was coming and dived off the sled, rolling into the snow. They rose in time to watch the runaway sled crash through the remaining snowpeople, knocking them down like bowling pins or dominoes.

They looked up at me, eyes wide with shame and bewilderment. There was no reason it should have continued like that.

And I suspected sabotage and sure enough another elf’s name appeared on my naughty list that afternoon.

So I gathered up the elf and told them, I would find something special for them to do. Something I knew they could be good at if they tried.

Making friends.

~

When Steve told Eddie that he had never gone sledding because it was too dangerous, the arborist made his mission to get Steve on the slopes as soon as possible. But that meant it would be the morning of the office Christmas party, which Steve was absolutely fine with.

Hell, if it was as dangerous as his mother claimed, maybe he would be in the hospital with a broken leg and he wouldn’t even have to go.

He bought a nice two person sled as well a single seater and brought them to Eddie’s nursery as that was where he was meeting him.

Wayne came out first as he always did because he liked talking to Steve.

“Hey Steve,” he greeted warmly. “I hear you’re taking Eddie to that fancy ‘do of yours tonight. Aren’cha worried he might bring little bit more...bedlam then the occasion calls for?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “God, I hope so! I hope he brings all the chaos loving, long haired, metalhead energy he has in him. I want people to see how wonderfully wild and outrageous he is, because I that’s what I adore about him.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment and then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And Eddie is aware of this...plan?”

“Yup!” Eddie said cheerfully, popping out from behind one of the Noble firs. “It’s part of the reason I agreed to go. Me and Stevie here are going to have a real good time.”

Wayne shook his head fondly. “All right, as long you both know what you’re in for, I’m not going to stop ya.”

“We’re taking my van,” Eddie said, turning to Steve, “if that’s okay.”

“Yup!” Steve replied licking his lips and pursing them to hide the bright smile on his face. “I’ll just grab my sleds and I’ll meet you at the van.”

“Great!” Eddie said full dimples on display and Steve couldn’t help the feeling of warmth that sunk into his soul that it was aimed at him.

He hurried to his car and got the two sleds out of his car and trotted over to Eddie’s van.

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “Wha’cha got two for?”

“I’m too chicken to go myself the first couple of times,” he said holding up the two-seater. “So I’m hoping you’ll go with me in this. And then...” he held up the single person sled, “once I’m brave enough to go on my own, that’s what this is for!”

Eddie cocked his head to the other side, admiring him. “That’s some good thinking. Of course I’ll come with you the first couple of times until you get your sled legs.”

Steve laughed, putting the sleds in the back of Eddie’s van. “What the fuck is sled legs?”

They both got in the van.

“It’s like sea legs only with sledding.”

Steve shook his head. “Of course it is. What was I thinking?”

“You weren’t,” Eddie said, starting the engine. “But that’s because you’re in the presence of the wonderful me! It’s such a trial to be this pretty!”

He leaned into Steve’s space and fluttered his eyelashes at him. So Steve did the only thing he could think of.

He kissed the tip of Eddie’s nose. “You’re cute.”

Eddie blushed and sputtered. “You’re going to ruin my reputation is what you’re going to be doing here, Stevie.”

Steve just laughed.

They got to the park where they were doing the sledding and the hills were covered in people of all ages screaming and laughing and just have a blast.

“This always looked so fun to me growing up,” Steve said wistfully. “But my mom would never allow me to go. Not even when my best friends tried to sic their moms at her. It was just too much for her precious boy.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat!” Eddie said gleefully throwing himself out of the van. Steve scrambled to catch up.

They grabbed their sleds and raced to the hill.

Will spotted them first and started waving vigorously. Steve and Eddie grinned, then made their way to them.

“Hey!” Mike said with a returning grin. “You guys made it. We’ve been here for hours!”

And they certainly looked it. Their cheeks and noses were red and their pants were soaked to their skin, but they looked like they could go all day without breaking their stride.

“Some of us work for a living,” Eddie groused. “Teenagers!”

“Nancy and Robin both work and they’ve been here all morning,” Dustin huffed, pointing over to the two girls.

There standing on the top of the hill in snow suits. Robin, Steve clocked immediately. She was in a mix-matched suit that was navy blue on the bottom but an ugly brown up top. The other girl was all in pink with bright blue mittens, cap, and scarf. Her curly hair stuck from her under her cap and her cheeks were rosy.

Honestly, if Steve hadn’t known any better, he would have pegged Eddie as her brother, not Mike.

“That was nice of their bosses to let them take the day off,” Steve said with a smirk. “Eddie’s is running the nursery with just him and Wayne, and my boss is a bag of dicks. So...maybe don’t compare what you don’t know.”

Everyone turned and looked at Steve wide-eyed like they had just witnessed a murder. Which, Steve thought with a huff, they probably had.

Then everyone oohhing and whistling and calling Mike out. He just rolled his eyes and said, “Whatever.”

That was when Steve knew he had truly won.

Eddie set down his sled and then took the two seater from Steve. “You ready for this, big boy?”

“I guess, I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” Steve said with a smile.

Eddie set up the sled at the top of the hill and said, “All right, you get on first and steer and I’ll push, okay?”

Steve nodded and did as he was told. Then suddenly they were off, sliding down the hill at breakneck speed. Steve did his best to avoid hitting the major bumps and too soon they were at the bottom of the hill.

“That was fun!” Steve said, turning around to face Eddie. “Let’s do that again!”

And so they did. Steve spent most of the afternoon on the two seater or drinking hot chocolate with Robin, trying to warm up to go back at it. She was there to supervise.

“I’m here to make sure no one gets hurt,” she said dryly. “I’m just too uncoordinated to do it.”

“So come with me on the two-seater,” Steve said. “I’ll push and you steer.”

Robin chewed her lip and then nodded. Steve grabbed it from where it was sitting next to him and hauled it over to the top of the hill. Once they were all sorted, Steve pushed them off with a shriek of laughter and they were tearing off down the hill.

They slowed at the bottom and she looked back at Steve with a wide grin. “Let’s do that again!”

Steve laughed as she echoed his previous statement.

Then it was time for Steve to try his solo trip down the hill. Robin agreed to push him gently down the hill and Eddie offered to spot him at the bottom to help ease his fears.

Steve got settled on the sled but before Robin could even push him, the sled wobbled and started off down the hill on its own. Steve yelped as he struggled to steer the sled. But it was no good, he was heading right for a bump.

“Look out!” he cried as he hit the bump going top speed.

Everyone at the bottom of the hill scrambled to get out of the way. Steve caught air and landed hard at the bottom of the hill, tumbling out of the sled and rolling to the side.

Eddie was standing over him when he finally dared to open his eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

Steve took a moment to take stock. “Sadly, yes. But I think that means I’m done for the day.”

Eddie burst out laughing and helped him to his feet. They said their goodbyes to everyone and made their way to Eddie’s van.

“Thanks so much for today,” Steve said as he climbed in. “It’s been really nice hanging out with you guys all month.”

Eddie smiled fondly. “Of course, Stevie. I just hope you find Christmas just a little bit better.”

“Yeah.”

~

Eddie was dressed up as nicely as he could be, black button up shirt, nice black slacks, but he paired them with combat boots, a leather jacket and as many chains as he could get his hands on. Steve was dressed in a simple dark grey suit with a white shirt and red tie. Eddie thought he looked dashing.

They walked in through doors of Steve’s office building and while Eddie had been there before with the trees he hadn’t seen it decked out. Joyce’s ornaments were beautifully placed and Claudia’s cooking was being doled out by servers in black vests.

“Wow,” he murmured. “You sure do know how to plan a party. Damn, man. You did good for someone who out-nerved Robin that day when you came to the nursery.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks, Eds.”

Eddie’s head whipped over at the nickname and he just lit up brighter than the Christmas tree.

Then a loud, boisterous man came storming up to them. “Steven, what is the meaning of this? You were supposed to bring a date, not the help!”

Steve blinked at him a moment and then cocked his head to the side. “But you didn’t say that though. You said I was expected to bring someone, not a date. So I picked Eddie. He’s been a real asset to helping plan this party, I couldn’t have done it without him.”

Mr. Harrington stuttered and stammered before leaving the way he came, in a huff.

“So...that was you’re dad I’m assuming,” Eddie said with a grimace. “Because hooboy, I can see why you don’t talk about him much.”

“Yep,” Steve said dryly, rocking back on his heels. “Clint Harrington, asshole extraordinaire.”

“Hey, I’m going to get something to drink,” Eddie said trying to change the subject. “You want anything?”

“Just water.”

Eddie frowned at that but went and got him an apple cider, some food and goodies, and brought Steve over some water.

“There you go,” he said brightly.

“Thanks,” he said taking a sip of the water.

He held up his plate. “You want any of this?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ll eat later.”

Eddie dug into his food and they chatted. Everyone gave them both a wide berth and Steve loved every moment of it.

“Thanks for this,” Steve said brightly after the third person skirted around them. “I’ve never had such a peaceful party before.”

Eddie chuckled. “You’re welcome. I’m going to get more of the gingerbread snaps, you want anything.”

Again Steve shook his head.

“I don’t know why you won’t take any of the spoils of your labor,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “You deserve to eat this too.”

Steve looked up at him with a slight smile. “I’m allergic to orange. I literally can’t have any of it because it’s likely been touched by orange in someway, and I’d rather not spend Christmas in the ICU.”

Eddie eyes went wide. “Come again?”

Steve shrugged. “My parents do this every year. I’ve been allergic since I was seven, but they always had Christmas with everything covered in orange and complained when I refused to eat any of it.”

“Dude,” Eddie hissed. “That’s like child abuse.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie looked around and saw that everyone else was having fun while Steve was forced to put on a smile and not enjoy any of it.

“Do you want to get out of here and grab a burger?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, sure. I just need to do something really quick. I’ll meet you by the car.”

Eddie nodded and went downstairs.

Steve slipped into his office and sent off an email with a grin on his face. As he was leaving his father stopped him.

“I’m don’t know what you are trying to pull with this,” he hissed. “But your mother doesn’t want to see you until after New Year’s, she that upset!”

Steve shook him off. “Maybe I’ll get to eat something for Christmas for a change.”

He stormed off, racing down the stairs and out into the crisp winter air. Eddie was by Steve’s car and he just held his arms open.

Steve dashed right into them and buried his head into Eddie’s neck. “I just quit.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “You did what now?”

“I sent in my two weeks notice, dated today,” Steve said with a grin. “They won’t see until the 5th of next month when they all come back, but by then the two weeks will be up and they’ll have to give my severance as well as all my PTO that I’ve accrued.”

“And just how much will that be?” Eddie asked looking down at this man of his dreams.

“At least sixty thousand dollars,” Steve replied, his grin growing wider. “Enough to get me through school to get my teaching degree so I can teach middle school.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “You are a menace, Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah.”

“Come over to our place on Christmas,” Eddie said, “enjoy the holiday for a change.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

~

Part 8

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @tartarusknight @themoonagainstmers

[thechy-fychannel]

You said you think pre-infarction house was an addict-can you expand on that? What drugs were he hooked on and why did he fully switch to vicodin and never used others again? Did he ever reach a go-to-rehab level addiction? How did wilson handle that? And what was Stacy's attitude towards his addiction? I think she would have been a lot more forgiving than cuddy because 1. She herself is a smoker who goes back to cigarettes during hard time and 2. Unlike cuddy, she didn't have a small child to worry about.

Ahhh thank you sm, I love this question!!! Let's get into it ✨

So my theory is that house was abusing morphine prior to the infarction. here are my reasons for thinking so:

1. Three Stories- the entire reason house's infarction was as bad as it was is bc everyone except house was convinced he was just drug seeking at first. it makes absolutely zero sense for them to think that unless he already had a history of drug seeking. unless I misremember (anyone feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) he already worked at PPTH for a while before the infarction happened. so it was the same doctors he knew and interacted with every single day that saw him screaming in agony and chose to believe he was just trying to seek drugs and not actually in pain. he had to have a history, it just doesn't make sense otherwise for them to assume he was drug seeking.

2. one very specific line in No Reason (the episode where house is shot and the whole episode is a hallucination). when house, wilson, and cuddy are in her office and house is realizing they did something to his brain (the ketamine treatment) cuddy says this specific line: "You were out of control, you were shooting morphine!" This line has always stuck out to me and no one ever seems to mention it. It's very out of place bc the conversation they're having is about him being shot and them doing something to him while he was under. I think this was his brain connecting this event to the last time someone did something to him while he was unconscious, trying to rationalize these traumatic events.

3. In early s3 when the pain comes back, he begs cuddy to give him a shot of morphine in his spine (the scene where he drops his pants in her office and asks her in tears if the scar is all in his head too since she thinks the pain is all in his head.) cuddy gives him the shot and he comes back looking for another one later on, after the pain comes back again. she informs him that she never gave him morphine, it was saline. the fact that the pretend morphine worked suggests he had a mental dependency on it. I'm pretty sure this is the point where he goes back to vicodin (it's been a few months since I did my last rewatch so I could be wrong). I think had she actually given him morphine, he likely would've become addicted to it again. Just the thought of the morphine was enough to have him looking for more.

4. Wilson's tendency to jump straight to heroin use when he thinks house is on something other than vicodin. it happens more than once in the series when house starts acting just the slightest bit off, wilson leaps to the conclusion that he's on heroin. which is an insane leap to make unless it's something he's had to worry about in the past. I think the reason wilson would jump to heroin over morphine is if he knows what it looks like when house is high on morphine. If house used to abuse morphine, wilson would be able to recognize it and if he can't, it must be something much worse. this again plays into why I think he was an addict prior to the infarction even if it wasn't morphine, because who in their right mind would jump to their best friend using heroin if that person didn't have a long history of abusing similar drugs?

Now to answer your other questions:

Why did he switch to vicodin and not go back to others he may have been addicted to? I can tell you from personal experience that while morphine feels great, it makes you hazy and tired and out of it. I think once he was prescribed vicodin after his surgery and learned that he could function on it and not feel hazy, it was a match made in heaven for him (he says a few times in the show that vicodin doesn't make him hazy, so he immediately knows if he's on something else bc he feels hazy.) He didn't need to switch to anything else as long as he had access to vicodin bc he got the high, the pain relief, and no haziness. but when he got cut off of his vicodin during the tritter ordeal, he stole oxycodone (I think?) from wilson's dead patient. so if he didn't have vicodin, it's safe to assume he would go back to whatever he had access to.

Did he ever reach rehab level addiction? / What was Stacy's attitude towards his addiction? I think if we go based off his colleagues thinking he was drug seeking + cuddy saying he was out of control and shooting up morphine, I would say yes, it was rehab level addiction. But— I feel like if it had been that bad, stacy would've mentioned it in some sort of capacity during her arc when they were discussing their relationship. she never hints at him being an addict as far as I can remember. she loved and cared about house so much that she was willing to accept him hating her if it meant he was alive and healthy. I feel like if his addiction had been dangerous, she would've done anything to get him help the same way she did during his infarction. even if it meant going against his wishes and him hating her, she would've insisted he got help. so I'm conflicted on that question, honestly. I think maybe it depends on the perspective of those around him. maybe those at the hospital saw something stacy didn't, I'm not sure. but I agree with what you said about her being more forgiving and understanding of it than cuddy was. I think if he had been an addict while they were together, she would've given him an endless amount of chances until it became dangerous, that's when she would put her foot down and try to force him into rehab and their relationship probably would've crumbled for a whole different reason.

How did Wilson handle his addiction? I think house being an addict prior to the infarction plays perfectly into the theme of wilson emotionally neglecting his wives for house. we obviously don't have an exact timeline of his marriages aside from his first one ending just before house and wilson met, but it's pretty safe to assume that he was married to and even possibly divorced from bonnie before the infarction ever happened since he seems to have been married to julie for a little while in the beginning of the show.

[sidenote: here is my personal timeline HC for wilson's marriages.

Sam: 1991-1992 (canon)

Bonnie: 1993-1998

Julie: 1999 (before infarction) - 2005]

In the episode where house uses bonnie to get dating info about wilson, she says the iconic line, "You always needed him and he was always there for you. He had a wife waiting for him at home and you didn't care." And it just makes sense if the reason house always needed him was because of his struggles with addiction. house in general is a needy person who always wanted wilson's affection to himself, that much is clear, but wilson had to of had a good excuse to always run off for whatever it is house needed from him prior to him being disabled.

Getting into more specifics about how wilson would've handled his addiction back then— I think he would've handled it similarly to the way he did with the vicodin. he's an enabler unfortunately, he would've let house make excuses and made excuses for him because he tries to give house the benefit of the doubt that he can control himself. I think back then even more so, because house wasn't in pain and disabled, wilson had no reason to think house couldn't control himself. I think it's even possible that wilson was in denial about it too, he didn't want to believe his best friend was an addict and maybe he felt like he needed to protect house when others started accusing him of such. I think that may be why wilson asked cuddy to make that bet with house to find out if he was addicted to vicodin. he ignored it and denied it last time and he's enabled him for years since the infarction, he wanted to know if he was treating house's pain or still enabling an addict. the answer was both, which makes it no less complicated. but like with all of house's issues, wilson continues to stand by him and be there for him bc he loves him and wants him in his life, addict or no addict.

[oddberryshortcake]

MY DEAR i apologize for the random drabble request pls don't feel pressured to do this if you do not wish🩵

but as u know, I love how you write the Dia gang🥺 and I crave crumbs of Lilia being put in a scenario where he actually needs to drop his 'ufufu' act and be protective over a one Silver Vanrouge

which is something I have not found yet in canon materials, very sadly, (but pls correctly me if i am wrong bc I am not in-the-know of all the vignettes and such)

There is one great moment in Book 7 where Lilia literally gets shot by a cannon while shielding Silver and he didn't even remember Silver was his son, his body just reacted on its own. Such good angst 😭 and then Jade's lab vignette has a pretty cute moment between the two with Lilia thinking Silver was getting poisoned.

But yes, I have written something for you (sorry it took so long lol) please enjoy and thank you for asking!

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

‘Shouldn’t he be taking less naps by now?’ Lilia thought to himself. 

In all of the human parenting books he read, most of them said that young humans tend to stop napping regularly at around four years old. Unless Silver was in the 30% margin of human five-year-olds needing naps, Lilia couldn’t find rhyme or reason for Silver to be this tired so frequently. 

When Silver was a baby, Lilia often praised him for his ability to go to sleep easily. It was a far cry from Malleus, who hated naps even when he was a wee little dragon. For a while, the only problem Silver really had was something called ‘colic’ and that thankfully passed by the time he reached 6 months. 

He had his suspicions it could have something to do with the state Lilia found him in…Lost in the throes of a protective sleep spell for over 400 years. The spell should’ve broken by now, otherwise Silver wouldn’t be here with him at all, tottering about in their front yard. 

He felt in his gut that some of Silver’s quirks weren’t normal, but he had no way of knowing for sure. He never lived with a human before nor took care of one. He kept telling himself that maybe human children would fall asleep standing up. 

He was brushing up on his reading because of his anxious observations. It was his way of dissuading himself from worrying. That’s when he heard what sounded like a heavy object being dropped down the stairs…The stairs that led up to Silver’s bedroom. 

“Silver? Are you causing any mischief up there?” He asks playfully, but he got no response which was odd. 

He went to inspect the sound and found Silver collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, limbs contorted in ways he’d see the deceased on the battlefield lie, not befitting for a little five-year-old. 

After a moment of standing there, in shock at what he was seeing, his senses finally came back to him and he rushed over to investigate. There was a cut just above Silver’s delicate forehead, and blood was gushing out. 

“Silver! Please speak to me!” He attempted, but got nothing. Then panic set in, those colorful little bandaids he had on hand wouldn’t be enough to close up this wound, and he had no healing potion on hand.

The blood reached down to his white eyelashes and wasn’t stopping. Was he gravely injured? Was he dying?

He already knew humans were fragile, but could stairs really kill him?

All these unknowns swirled in his brain and he felt like he did when Silver first got ill as a baby. Completely blind, making stuff up on the spot, a novice in the ways of raising a human, guilty of not handing Silver over to willing humans who would’ve taken him in and raised him better. 

He took Silver into his arms, not caring that his blood stained his newly cleaned white shirt, and took to a broomstick to fly all the way to the nearest human clinic. 

When he arrived, there was someone new at the front desk, a human employee he had never seen before instead of someone familiar. 

“This child fell down my stairs. He’s bleeding and he isn’t responding, I need help.” Lilia told her with urgency. 

“Sir, where did you find this child?” She asked, not knowing. 

He had fallen into his usual habit of referring to Silver as ‘the kid he looked after’ like he would around Baur. This woman took one look at him and knew they didn’t match.

“He’s mine.” Lilia asserted.

“But you’re-“

“Yes, I know I’m a fae, but he’s my child and he needs help! Where’s the doctor?!” He quickly lost his patience with her. 

His heart was already pounding out of his chest, feeling unworthy of calling Silver his own. The judgmental reaction he was met with had validated his feelings of inadequacy. 

The usual doctor stepped out and recognized them, apologizing for his new employee’s reaction. He took one look at Silver in his arms and took him to the back where Silver would normally get his annual check-ups. 

The doctor wiped the blood away to reveal that the cut Silver got across his hairline was not as deep as it looked. 

“There are many tiny arteries around the head, that’s why the bleeding was so profuse at a small cut,” the doctor explained, “With some gauze, it should heal up like normal.”

“But he’s unconscious,” Lilia told him, “that’s dangerous for humans.”

“This wound isn’t deep enough for that. Children often get more hurt when they try bracing themselves for a fall, but I believe Silver went limp before he fell down the stairs as you described.” The doctor told him as he wrapped the bandage around his son’s head. 

Silver didn’t necessarily look in pain, just asleep as he normally was…Except that wasn’t normal, was it?

“What do you mean? Are you saying he wasn’t conscious when he fell?” Lilia asks. 

The doctor turns to him, a serious expression on his face. 

“I know you’re new to this and as you’ve told me before, you haven’t interacted with humans much before adopting him…But excessive sleepiness is not normal for a child his age.” The doctor said, and Lilia felt the pit in his stomach grow. 

“It’s not?” He repeats dumbly, of course, it’s not! Why did he allow so much room for doubt in his mind, pushing his concerns aside, believing that he was making up it being an issue. 

“No, and the fact that his injury hasn’t woken him up is concerning. I think you should look into consulting medical mages or human doctors closer in the city about this.” The doctor recommended, “It could be an underlying neurological disorder.”

‘Or a blessing turned curse,’ Lilia thinks in his head. He couldn’t tell the doctor that, though, he couldn’t tell anyone. Not even Malleus, nor Silver even when he’s old enough to understand. This is his secret to keep close to his heart. 

“If you have any recommendations, please let me know.” Lilia requests, “I’ll take him to whatever doctor or mage he needs to go to solve this.” 

Would anyone be able to find out what’s wrong, though?

Ancient magic was seeped into his bones, there was no known cure for that. But if someone could find anything, then…

Silver stirred and was understandably disoriented from his change in surroundings. He started to tear up, which he hadn’t done in a long time, and Lilia pulled him into a hug where he could muffle his soft cries into his shoulder. 

“Thank you for always helping me.” He thanked the human doctor, who returned similar sentiments. 

“I was surprised when Dr. Zigvolt referred you to us,” he said, referring to Baur’s son-in-law, “A fae raising a human isn’t exactly common, but I can tell you both care for each other. You have a good kid, I’m sure you raised him to be that way.”

“So you’ve noticed,” Lilia replied light-heartedly. Silver turned his face to the familiar doctor, now ashamed by his tears, and wanted to thank him for patching him up. “What do we say, Silver?”

“Thank you sir,” Silver says in a small voice. 

“You two take care.” The doctor bids them farewell on the way out. 

As they left, Silver looked up at him with his side, auroral eyes, and tilted his bandaged head in curiosity. 

“Papa, you’re gripping my hand really tight. What’s wrong?” He asks, “Is it cause I hurt myself?”

Silver could be strangely perceptive, almost wise beyond his short years. Yes, Lilia had Silver in a tighter grip than usual, afraid a possible second slip up would send them right back to where they start. 

Lilia could never tell Silver about who his parents truly were or where he came from or even why he is the way he is. He would keep having to lie about that, and lying to that sweet little face was already so hard. 

Silver didn’t even know he was adopted yet, it’s like everything about their little life was one big secret. 

But he couldn’t lie about this. 

“I’m a little worried about you, that’s all. The nice doctor told me that your sleepiness isn’t normal.” He broke the news, to which Silver looked down at his tiny feet in shame, “But it’s alright because I’m going to take you to many doctors so we can find a cure.”

“That’s good!” Silver looked up with a smile, “Then I can still be a knight, right?”

“Yes, you can.” Lilia said, swinging both their arms back and forth, “And Silver?”

Silver looked back at him. 

“Please try not to scare your papa.”

[myechoecho]

When the Phone Rings, ep 8

I have so many thoughts on this one.

Sa Eon avoids Hee Joo's question about being a good cook. He may say it's sincerity, but I suspect it has much to do with him being forced to eat foods he did not like. I do love that the communication is more open between them, even if Sa Eon is hiding who he is. I laughed at Hee Joo mentioning them no sleeping together and Sa Eon pouncing on that point.

Sa Eon mentioned a plan, which I am thinking he's been methodically working on a way to break free of his own prison. Hee Joo is not part of that plan, so he has been protecting her this entire time.

The back hug was adorable, and we get Sa Eon's inner thoughts which parallel many of Hee Joo's. He fears that she will not accept his true self or forgive him. Hee Joo dreaming that he's left means she has insecurities around him. I adored the spooning in bed, which is a contrast to an earlier episode where they faced one another.

I did like Sa Eon chasing down Hee Joo and Sang Woo. It was surprising to learn that Sang Woo also knows that Hee Joo can speak. Sang Woo is definitely shocked that Hee Joo just goes with Sa Eon so he does not know about their relationship. He also seems genuinely confused at Sa Eon's suspicions about him.

My favourite scene, hands down, is the one by the side of the road. Hee Joo explains why she's scared, why she has doubts and that she thinks she'll be left alone when she learns his secret. What she needs to be reassured is for him to come completely clean. They both need to share their worst in order to be stronger. Sa Eon does not come clean, though he definitely gives some hints.

In the end, what reassures Hee Joo completely is the company photos where Sa Eon's gaze is always on her.

I am actually very invested in the other plot about the past. I genuinely do like In A, and I do think she is on Hee Joo's side. She definitely does not like her step mom and I don't think she's thrilled about her dad. I do also like that she does not pressure Hee Joo to talk.

Kidnapper guy sniffing up Sa Eon and saying he smells nice further still says to me that he is the OG Sa Eon. Our Sa Eon clearly worked around fish and the kidnapper has a fishy smell. Add the fact that our Sa Eon's "parents" recognized the description of the bi coloured eyes and mom gave a coded message.

However, I am less convinced of my previous theory of our Sa Eon having a twin. The pictures we see in his childhood home are only of him. The twins are still key though. Whomever Sa Eon saw being drowned by who I am guessing is the Chairman is one of the twins. The one who is the "master" of OG Sa Eon is the other twin. While I am still suspicious of the assistant, he seems significantly younger that Sa Eon.

Also, wtf happened in the past? i have so many questions:

Did the grandfather kidnap boys from the orphanage, whom he assumed no one would miss, so that OG Sa Eon would have something to torture/kill and then they'd dump the bodies in the lake?

Why did our Sa Eon's father/grandfather go along with it? It seems like he knew and he let the lake be a dumping ground?

Why did he let our Sa Eon go?

Why did Chairman Paik go to Hee Joo's step father for help, ON HIS KNEES, with a gun to his head?

Why did Hee Joo's stepfather help? Why did he make the deal and what does it have to do with the accident that killed his son and caused his daughter's deafness?

Did the Chairman know who was behind the accident and Hee Joo's stepfather was able to take revenge in his own way?

Why is everyone worried about THAT PROBLEM being still alive?

How did the grandfather/father know HE was still alive?

Who tf is HE, exactly?

I suppose I could be wrong about the kidnapper being the OG Sa Eon but I don't think so?

[leggerefiore]

I looked in the mirror and realized a horrifying truth: You see, I'm trying to grow my hair out and it's at an awkward length, and pairing that with my glasses... I look EXACTLY like Maxie 😩🌋🌋

Can I request Maxie, Archie and Kabu's (Hoenn boissss) reaction to their s/o unfortunately looking like a certain eco terrorist? 🌋🌋🌋 tempted to cut my hair now

you just made me remember when I grew my hair back out from a half buzz cut... I don't think I can ever go that short again haha.

cw: comedy

characters: Maxie, Archie, Kabu

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 Few things could get a reaction out of the Magma Leader. He prided himself on being controlled and confident. So, he would never admit to the jump and light scream that came from him seeing you. Were those his glasses!? No, wait, they could not be. His were on his face. He blinked a few times. Was this another attempt to look like him? He half-expected to see you in his uniform again. Maxie is not entirely sure how to take this situation. Your explanation of this being accidental and horrifying to you did not help. How was this accidental!?

🪨 Maxie, ultimately, helped amend the situation. Maroons were off limits, and he was tempted to ask Courtney for other ways to style hair… If the admin would not have panicked and demanded he keep himself looking as he always did. Instead, he found himself trying to set the style you two have apart to prevent any weird situations. Really… He feared what Archie might say if he spotted you two. That buffoon would probably ask if he had made you look like this! It sent a shiver down his spine. So, this needed to be amended. For his sanity. He was even willing to go for contacts for a while to prevent comments.

🌧Archie🌊

💧 The Aqua Leader was tiredly wandering into the bathroom to start his morning when he spotted a sight. He nearly stumbled back in shock. “Maxie, what're you doing in my bathroom?!” the question left him unconsciously before the person turn around to face him. Then, he was more bewildered. His Luvdisc?! How did you look so eerily like the Magma Leader? He hoped this was not some attempt at finding out his past with the other man – He certainly was not in a place to answer it after the shock and confusion. Your explanation made him nod. Right. You were growing out your hair. He knew that. That hairstyle was just far too similar.

💧 He offered a bandana to help make you stand out as different than Maxie's own. He worried a bit, after all. They were both kind of despised for their activities, and he already knew you caught a lot of unwanted attention just by being with him. That, and… Archie shuddered to think about what Maxie might say if you two encountered him with you looking so eerily similar to the Magma Leader. He was not wanting to particularly find out. So, he was ready to help you differentiate yourself to the best of his abilities.

🔥Kabu🏅

💥 The Gym Leader got out of bed with a yawn as his alarm finally blared. His gaze drifted towards the bathroom, where a light was on. He got up to go check in and start his day but froze in the door frame. Blinking, he recalled frantic messages from family and saw the news about some group's leader who had nearly turned Hoenn into a desert due to his horrible ambitions. But… Why would somebody like that be in his bathroom? He nearly jumped out of his skin when you turned around. That was quite an unfortunate look… He regained himself and shook his head. Not particularly your fault… Still, the shock of thinking a certain eco-terrorist had invaded his bathroom was haunting.

💥 “... Maybe we should pop into the salon…” He offered after you complained about your hair, “That is quite an unfortunate resemblance.” And he would prefer it not happen again… The rumours that would be in the press about him… That sounded like a headache. He tended not to care for that stuff outside his work related needs, but he could tell a “situation” nowadays. A certain water-type Gym Leader would alert him to it as well. Honestly, he would prefer you not to look like the Magma Leader for his sanity, too.