#my barbies and their clothes strewn about

[katyobsesses]

Just found pics of my childhood home and I am feeling nostalgic af

[rustboxstarr]

Hiiii! How about one where you and Eddie are arguing about keeping the house clean and you tell him you're not his mother to clean up after himself and he just gets angrier until you decide to punish him by not letting him touch you AT ALL and he's fine with it until days pass and he becomes needy AF and you want to give it to him, but not until he complies with your requests of him doing house chores and never once hearing him complain. He agrees but only if you let him absolutely destroy you

🌹The Incentive🌹

Summary: Your work trip is cut short and you're welcomed to a lovely... pigsty. Eddie has to do some real changes and surprisingly, Robin has the solution, cue some horny and desperate ass misery for Eddie hehe.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut.

Domestic fighting, fear of domestic abuse, talk of R being homeless, talk of rape threats (NOT FROM EDDIE!), low-key kinda toxic for a sec, use of Y/N, yeah homeboy has undiagnosed ADHD, fluff, nakey nakey, Oral m & f receiving, slightly dangerous deep throating oop, P in V, reader is 25 and Eddie 26, established relationship, let me know if i missed any!

Wordcount: 19.5 k

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I am so sorry it took such a long time to post it but I loved writing it! ❤️ I originally had another approach but I think this one is better haha. I did also create some media for visuals (I think I should keep doing it in the future, idk why but I love visuals, what do ya'll think?) so feel free to check them out! I suggest having a look at them before you start reading :)

Feel free to request, I loved doing this!! ❤️❤️❤️

PS: I didn't want to spoil the Barbie movie other than basic information so its kind of slack but yeah just fyi there is a mention of it :)

Love yas!

Fic visuals

Check out my other works!

“Oh my fucking god Eddie! I’ve been gone three days, three!” your mouth had dropped wide open as well as your laptop bag which thudded to the floor with the shock you were experiencing when you came home. Dirty dishes piled up on every single empty space -not already occupied by rubbish, food not put back in the fridge, empty beer and soda cans- occupying the kitchen counters. Shoes were haphazardly strewn across the entrance to the door, each one seemingly kicked off, your own were knocked over and precious, expensive heels were right in the line of fire for a trampling. Leather, denim, canvas and blazer jackets alike were littered all around the doormat. Multiple empty and half empty pizza boxes lay stacked on the coffee table, that too hit by the hurricane which was Eddie, rubbish, DnD notes, batteries, magazines and just about everything else could be found on the sleek mahogany wood. 

The discarded clothes that littered the hardwood floor acted as a red carpet for the man himself, Eddie Munson, unfortunately, your boyfriend, screaming into his headset while hunched forward to pay undivided attention to the game on screen, sweatpant clothed legs spread wide with two elbows resting on top, connected to his naked torso. 

He jumped in fright when he heard your shrill voice, he clearly hadn't heard the door open. His face contorted into a pained expression as he slipped one of the cups off his ears, watching you carefully as you scanned the apartment in disbelief. “Heyyy… weren't you uh coming home tomorrow?” his teeth were bit tight as his nose scrunched, waiting for the inevitable reaction. 

“What. The. Fuck. Is. This?” it was clear from the tension in your face that you were visibly fuming, smoke may as well be forcing out of your ears as of this moment. “I.. I gotta go” Eddie whispered into the microphone before taking his headset off completely, as he stood up and reached for the remote you lay notice to the smattering of crumbs that rolled off his chest and fell to the floor. “How come you're here so early baby?” his voice was quiet, both in an attempt to sooth you but also to dampen the whole situation. “Don’t you dare fucking baby me. What the actual fuck am I looking at right now?” your eyes were wide, your limbs stiff as board and teeth clenched in anger, no doubt only worsening the inevitable dental issues you would have in the future from your constant mindless teeth grinding. 

“I was gonna clean up I swear” your stare was unwavering and implying he continue. “You weren't supposed to see any of this, I promise, I was gonna clean up tomorrow before I picked you up from the airport” taking slow steps during each word he uttered he arrived in front of you, hands very gently reaching out to hold your hips. 

Well he was fucked. You pushed him away, almost backing into the door behind you as you began, “They cut the trip short so I came to surprise you, and this is what I come home to? Why would it even be here in the first place?! How do you manage to fucking trash our whole apartment, because I’m guessing theres more shit I’m going to find, IN THREE DAYS?!” he physically flinched at the volume of your voice as it rang around the room. “I-I had the guys over” in comparison to your voice Eddie sounded like a little church mouse as he whispered to you. 

“That is not an excuse! Who the fuck doesn’t clean up after having people over?!” you harshly shoved him out of the way as you stomped past him, heels clicking against the floors, having seen the state of the living room on your right and the kitchen on your left your most important place to inspect was the bedroom. 

Once again Eddie flinched as he heard the loud, shocked gasp that travelled down your throat. “I-I just wanted to relax ya know? For the weekend, no tasks, no cleaning and shit” he followed to stand behind you in the doorway. Sheets were crumpled and falling off the bed, the bedsheet barely even covering the mattress, clothes were scattered everywhere, spilling out of dresser doors behind the usually closed wardrobe door, on the floor, on the bed and both nightstands. Papers were littered across the various fabrics, notes and guidebooks to Dungeons and Dragons thrown on the floor, multiple bottles of various makeup and skincare products severed from their neat collection on your makeup table, instead left on the floor after seemingly being knocked down. 

Both Eddie's laptop and your Ipad -missing from its safekeeping in your bedside drawer- almost completely hidden under half of Eddie's wardrobe on the floor, begging to be stepped on.

“RELAX?! NOT CLEAN?!” you swerved around to face him, “YOU DON’T CLEAN, I CLEAN” an angry finger pointed at yourself, “You don’t do shit! I clean the bathroom, I clean the kitchen, I’m almost always the one picking up after dinner-” “That is not true and you know it”

You chose to ignore his comment as you continued working yourself up to a full blown rage-fit, “I do the laundry-”

“I do it too!” 

“You do it when I ask! I make the bed, I take out the trash”

“You barely ever do that, I almost always take it when I go to work-”

“STOP INTERRUPTING ME!” your high pitched screech made Eddie flinch for the third time tonight and it shut him right up. “Its like I’m living with a fucking child. You're a man-child Eddie. You don’t do shit unless I ask you too, and the only reason you take out the trash is because I had to nag you for two whole months! I am not your mother! I shouldn't have to do this!!” 

Oh how you would have loved to just come home to those almond brown eyes, adorable dimples and smiling lips. How you would have loved to just rewind from the five hour flight home from Wyoming after your shitty conference, just strip off, take a warm bath, listen to music and then wrap up with Eddie in bed while you watched Bob’s Burgers and munched on takeout. Exhaustion ached in your limbs and pulled at your shoulders, it crept up within all the tight seams of your pencil skirt and blouse, it pricked at your heels and toes from those stupid stilettos. It itched in the nylon stockings, it ripped at your throat, it squeezed at your scalp, begging someone to release your hair from the confines of the tight bun your hair was wrapped in. It urged and pleaded with you to take a breath and relax. But you couldn't and wouldn’t let it win. 

“I am not a fucking child” and he had the audacity to scoff at you. As if the garbage dump you were surrounded by wasn't already adding fuel to the fire that puff of air definitely did. “Yes! Yes you are! You are 25 years old and you only just moved out of your poor uncles trailer-” 

“Hey I slept on the couch since I was 21 all the way up to 24” 

“And Wayne slept on it since you were six! He’s a fifty year old man, now with a bad back because of you!” 

“Ok can we please not bring him into this?” 

While it most definitely was a good point on your end, you decided to respect his wishes, it was a little, ok, very mean to bring it up and use it against him. Using one of his weakest points against him when you knew it was one of his most shameful regrets. “Fine! How about we talk about you not being able to get of your fucking ass, get your shit together and be a fucking adult sooner? Huh?” 

“Fuck you, I got a job the second I graduated and started saving. Not everyone is as fucking perfect as you and live on their own since they were 17” His eyes screwed tightly shut the second he heard the words fly out of his mouth. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” oh now you were properly angry, how dare he? “I WAS NOT PERFECT I WAS HOMELESS! FOR THREE YEARS!!” angry red hot tears threatened to spill from your water lines at the fact that you had to explain this to him. “I am so sorry baby, I didn't mean it” callused hands found your waist and slipped to wrap around you. 

“Get the fuck off me!” another set of hands pushed with force at his naked chest, willing him off you. “Don't you dare touch me right now” before you could even think over the words you were saying they had already left your throat; “In fact don't touch me at all” well you’d said it now and you sure as hell weren’t going back on your words. 

“What?” his frown only angered you further, you were only an inch close to tipping point, rage boiling throughout your veins, and if you let yourself you were sure you were about to start kicking, screaming, throwing both fists and any object within range at the walls as well as Eddie. “I said DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME, don’t even come near me you’re disgusting” venom was laced in your words as you spat the insult at him. 

“Really you think I’m disgusting?” the annoyed disbelief in Eddie's tone made you actually want to cry, it was as if you were talking to a wall, he wasn't registering a single thing you were saying to him other than the fact that you were having -in his opinion- a bitchfit. You turned away from him in desperation, not being able to look at him. When your eyes fell onto Eddie's bedside table you found the perfect evidence to your point. Stomping over to it you held up the pair of black boxers oh-so carefully thrown onto his lamp. “This Eddie, this is fucking disgusting” you held the underwear up by the waist band to him in show. 

Meeting his eyes you found them wide and swimming with fear, you frowned in confusion, looking back to the underwear and then the bedside table and then you found the icing on the cake, the cherry on top. 

Next to a knocked over bottle of lotion were multiple scrunched up tissues. Dropping the underwear you picked one of them up, holding it out for him. “Is this cum?” the disbelief in both your voice and face caused for an unreadable expression on Eddie's end. “Is this actually fucking semen I am holding right now?!” The wrinkles in Eddie's nose, the scrunched fearful pout and half lidded eyes, forced closed with the movement of his cheeks told you everything you needed to know. 

“EEEEWWW” you screeched, “THE BIN IS RIGHT THERE! RIGHT THERE! Oh my god, I can’t, I’m fucking leaving, fuck this” you stormed past him out in to the open area again. “I am really really sorry” his pleading was lost on you. “Don't” you held a hand up to silence him, “When I come back all this shit” you waved your hands around to showcase the apartment, “-better be gone and properly cleaned up” 

“Wha- Where are you going?” 

“I don’t fucking know but I can’t be here” 

“No baby, please let's just talk about this” his hand reached out to stop yours from grabbing the handbag next to your duffel. “I said don’t touch me! I’m cutting you off!” he frowned at that as you ripped your hand away from him, grabbing the bag and angrily throwing it over your shoulder. “What do you mean you're cutting me off?” true confusion sounded in his words as you turned towards him. “It means until you’ve gotten this fucking shit sorted you’re not touching me, you’re not even going to look at me unless its my face and nowhere else and you sure as hell arent getting kisses, hugs” you began counting off on your fingers as Eddie scoffed “blowjobs, handjobs, boobjobs, you’re not gonna finger me, eat me out, or do anything to me and we’re not gonna be having sex for a looong time” he seemed to finally understand that you were in fact being serious because realisation crept up on his face. A slight hint of desperation showed its trace before it was replaced with mean smugness.

“It’s a two person thing sweetheart, it's not just for me, it’s for the both of us” 

“Yeah? Well I can actually survive without it” your eyebrows raised, anticipating his next words and already prepared with the ‘Oh really?’ look to shame him with. “Puh I can survive without it” he scoffed, Eddie Munson had become predictable, to you anyway, because the look was right on point. “Just last night you were texting me, begging me to go on facetime with you” 

“Couples do that, it's called phone sex” he rolled his eyes. “The night before too, oh! And the night before that as well!” he rolled his eyes harder this time “Wow you caught me I missed my girlfriend jesus christ” you weren't really believing the words you were about to utter, but at this point he was just getting on your nerves with his stupid responses, “Ya’ know what? I don’t think you did miss your girlfriend, everything is about sex with you, it wouldn’t come as a fucking suprise if you’re only in this relationship to get your dick wet, bet all those fucking ‘I love you baby’, ‘I wanna get married and have kids with you’, ‘You mean the world to me’ don’t even mean shit” you whined his quotes, hurt began to show on his face but you chose to push through, “You’re just a fuckin’ manipulator, saying shit cuz you know it’ll get you some” 

The hurt feelings etched in his face dissipated and replaced with anger not unlike your own, “You know that's not true! You know you’re the best fuckin’ thing in my life. Jesus Christ I’m so fuckin sorry I didn’t clean up after myself when literally no one was around to fucking see it! I’m SO sorry that I just wanted a relaxing weekend after slaving away working on trashed cars for clients who treat me like shit!” it was your time to scoff as his voice raised and he was close to shouting. 

The whole thing was too much, nothing had prepared you for this, all you had expected was to come home and spend some quality time with your boyfriend. “I can guarantee you my work is much fucking harder for me” 

“Don't pull that card” 

“Oh no, no I will. Do you have a boss breathing down your neck, pestering you to do his and everyone else's work? No. Do you have 13 hour work days? No. Is your commute to work 3 hours back and forth? No. Do you have wretched coworkers who think it's ok to have a conversation with your boobs? No! Do you have coworkers rubbing up on you without permission? NO! Do you have coworkers who hit on you despite you making it clear you don't want to? Who want sexual favours in exchange for picking up extra shifts? Who threaten to rape you because they don’t get what they want? NO THE FUCK YOU DON’T SO GO AHEAD AND FUCK YOURSELF” neighbours would no doubt be coming up any minute to complain or check on you. If this continued you'd be having a police report on your hands by the morning. 

Tears were running down your cheeks uncontrollably, your voice shook while crescent moons threatened to scar on your palms from how hard you were clenching your fists. Panic spread throughout your body at retelling the tales Eddie had heard long ago, tales you had left dead and buried, tales you had protected yourself from. “I KNOW YOU HAVE IT TOUGH OK? YOU'VE HAD A TOUGH LIFE! BUT SO HAVE I! I JUST WANTED TO RELAX!!” Eddie was shouting now too, his height towering over you as the panic continued to spread, to infect the veins which pumped your blood and leave nothing behind but a rotten carcass. 

For once in your relationship the prospect of Eddie was terrifying to you. The anger in his eyes, in his face, in his whole body. Men were capable of anything, and one wrong button pushed and everything could change, you were a strong independent woman but at the end of the day Eddie was a man, and up against each other, the man will always win. 

“YOU HAD A TOUGH LIFE TILL YOU WERE SIX YEARS OLD! YOU DON'T EVEN REMEMBER IT!!” Anger overtook the terrifying freight that accompanied the panic, the anger was too strong to take a step back from, assess the situation and consider what you might be getting yourself into. But once the loudest scream of the night had been shouted, had rang throughout the room, you got that chance. You needed to calm down, not just for the sake of the argument or your relationship but for the sake of your body and your life. It didn't matter that Eddie could never hurt a fly, it didn't matter that he would shriek in disapproval whenever someone was about to squash a bug, it didn't matter that he still put out food for the raccoons in the alley behind the auto shop, it didn't matter that he spent almost every waking second cherishing you and reminding you of how deep his love for you ran. At the end of the day. He. Was. Still. A. Man. 

You sighed, “I’m not even gonna get into what my life has been like because I know you know. So just fuck off yeah? Clean up this fucking pigstie and don’t speak to me” you could have continued, you could have gone through your whole life story once again. You could have used the fact that your parents had abandoned you in an orphanage before you could even make any sound other than crying, that the orphanage had shut down in your teens, that you had no one else and lived off scraps, food from dumpsters and eventually soup kitchens, you could have used the fact that you ended up in the arms of a man three times your age who used you for your body and fed you delusions about his love for you against him. But your body ached, ached with tiredness, panic, anger and just about every other negative emotion, you couldn't deal with the shouting, the digging up the past, it was just too much. 

Just as he was about to open his mouth you turned and within seconds you were out of the door and out of sight, running away from the problem as fast as your legs would take you, running away just like you always did. Avoiding the problems. 

The chill night air didn't start nipping at your skin until you’d run as far as you could muster, you couldn't have known that the dismissal of changing into comfortable clothes before the flight would be biting you in the ass. Just as you couldn't have known that a shoeless, shirtless Eddie was running down onto the street in search of you but came up short, with no knowledge of where you were or even what direction you were headed. 

Once you slowed to a stop outside a closed cafe the world seemed to come into view again. Your feet and legs were aching, just like every other part of your body, tears were streaming down your face, your lungs were screaming from the pressure, panting as you tried to catch your breath. Looking around your suffering only intensified when you realised you were sat outside Another Broken Egg Cafe, the central hotspot for yours and Eddie's classic autumn dates, curled up in the corner while rain poured down the windows. A loud sob broke out onto the empty side street, nothing but the light of the street lamps to keep you company as your phone rang. Your lungs heaved as the photo of Eddie wrapped around you with a wet kiss landed to your cheek at Steve’s welcomed you lovingly to accompany Eddie's call. Collapsing onto the step of the door to the mom and pop’s coffee shop you let out a silent sob, eyes shut tight, temple meeting the wall as snot and tears alike streamed down your face. 

The ringing kept egging the tears and panic on so you clicked the off button twice, declining his call and letting silence seep into the dark night. Within seconds the ringing started up again, switching your sound off you set the phone down onto the concrete step and let your head fall into your hands while you quieted down. 

The soft cream blouse offered you no warmth whatsoever when you finally levelled to even breaths and wiped off your bodily fluids on the sleeve of it. The relief of finally letting your hair out and slipping your shoes off only lasted so long before a strong gust of wind interfered with your short lived stability. With time you picked up your phone, opening it up to see 18 missed calls and a near 40 texts within the 20 minutes you'd sat down and an extra 10 you'd spent running. 

A mixture of information texts on your missed calls from your operator and Eddies worried ranting took up the space of your lockscreen before you clicked on the latest one and scrolled up in the chat:

Roommate 🙄

This is now your funeral picture babe

Oh fuck off 

Nope promise, everybody gotta see this

You suck 🖕

Yeah but you swallow ;)

Oh gtg, meetings starting, ill . text you tonight bye love you . ❤️

Ok bye princess, good luck, love you too ❤️

10.04 pm

Where the fuck did you go?

Seriously answer me right now!

I need to know where you are

You cant just run off we need to talk about this

Y/N seriously 

Pick up the phone!!!

This is serious we need to talk about this

Come home right now

Im not fucking around

Come home

Now

You need to come home we need to discuss this 

Answer the phone!!

I know youre mad at me but we need to communicate with each other

I dont like you just running off when youre not in the right headspace

Babe seriously where are you?

Princess please pick up the phone I’m rly worried

Baby please I need to know youre ok

Please just answer the call

Or at least text me so i know ur ok 

Please baby i love you so much❤️

I just want to know youre ok

Just send me your location and i can come pick you up 

Please honey im begging you pick up the phone

Ill clean up the bedroom and you can chill in there while i clean❤️

Sweetheart i beg of you, answer the phone

Please just tell me where you are so i can  come pick you up

I need to know youre ok

Please dont just be ignoring me, i just wanna know youre ok

Its freezing out you dont have a jacket baby 

Srsly youre going to catch a cold

Y/N please, we dont have to talk if you dont 

want to i just want to know youre safe

I need to know youre safe

Please baby 

Youre freaking me out 

Please just pick up the phone 

I feel sick knowing youre just out in the city somewhere 

I just want to know youre ok 

Theres really sketchy people out here, just tell me youre safe

Please let me know youre safe???

. . . 

He's still typing in the chat when you finally finish reading his texts, a sinking feeling surrounds your stomach as you sigh, you weren't ready to make up yet and you definitely weren't in the mood to see or talk to him. 

Roommate  🙄

I'm fine. 

Oh thank god!

Where are you princess? 

I don't want to tell you but I’m ok, just give me a sec and I’ll tell you ok?

Ok baby ❤️

Thoughts were swimming around your head while you exited the app, you knew he was clearly quite worried and at least he did respect your wish not to tell him but you really didn't feel ready to explain everything to him, have to be picked up and have a no doubt long talk about the whole ordeal. All you wanted to do was to sleep. 

“Wassup sexy?” Robin’s cheery voice was what caused relief to rush through you as she picked up the phone. “Hi” your tired and admittedly sad voice was not lost on her and it showed when an almost probably equally worried tone matched the one Eddie would have occupied if you had picked up the phone. In reality Eddie's voice would have probably sounded ten times worse than Robin’s “Hey are you ok? You sound sad”. You breathe an eerie chuckle, “Yeah I’m fine, listen I’m sat outside a coffee shop right now, I couldn't handle being in the house, me and Eddie had a fight, don't worry it’ll be ok but can you come pick me up?” 

“I mean yeah of course, but where's Eddie?” 

“I’m not actually sure, I think he’s in the apartment but more likely he's either texting and driving or running around looking for me. I just” you sigh, “I just don't want to see him right now, I’m texting him but can you please just come pick me up?” 

“Course babes, just send me your location and i’ll be right there”

“Thanks” 

You send off a pin on the map of where you are before you open up Eddie's text chat again. 

Roommate  🙄

I’m on 86th outside ABE but Robin is gonna come pick me up and were going to hers i think

Ur going to robins?

You dont want me to come pick you up?

I’m heading back to the apartment i can just pick up the van and go find u

Yeah I’m sure, I’m sorry baby but I just need some time to think before I talk about it

Got alot going on in my head, just need to figure it out first yk?

I promise I’m ok, were ok, i love you so much ok?

Ok princess, just update me yeah?

Yeah i will

You think maybe you could switch your live  location on snap or something? Or share it for like an hour? Just until youre at Robins

I just wanna know youre ok, itll give me peace of mind 

Ok 

*You started sharing live location*

Thank you baby, I love you so much❤️

I love you too ❤️

Robin came to pick you up within 15 minutes, letting you rant about your feelings the car ride home and offered to sit with you while you took a bath. She helped you come to the realisation that despite Eddie's flaws you couldn't help but love him indefinitely after the past two years where your bond had grown stronger than either you or Eddie had ever experienced with someone else. Although with minimal contact throughout the evening you finally managed to make sense of all the feelings, deciding what you needed was a proper conversation about the situation you had landed yourself in and probably a little time with some space in between you to mull over whatever the outcome of the discussion would be.  Texting Eddie you fell asleep content on Robin's couch. The soft worn green pillows enveloping you in a warm hug along with the teddy fleece blanket over the pair of forgotten sweats you'd left at Robin’s helping you drift off with ease. 

–

Thanks to the cancelled work trip you got the luxury of relaxing on monday, rolling out of bed -or couch more accurately- with a slight tinge in your back. Stretching with a loud yawn you unplugged your phone and wandered over to the bathroom, plopping down on the toilet to catch up with your missed notifications. The time read 10.43 am thanks to the daily alarm you switched off the day before. 

Roommate  🙄 4h ago

Hi sweetheart, just on my way to work but  wanted to say good morning  ❤️ more

Penis hater 🍆 2h ago

Saw you were still asleep so didnt want  to wake you, going to work now, help more

Snapchat

Mommy Steve sent you a snap

Stonerboy sent you a snap

Google maps 39 min ago

You stopped sharing location with  Eddiemunson@gmail.com

A few other random notifications took up the space on your screen before you opened up your phone, responding to Eddie first you wrote;

Roommate  🙄

Ok goodnight honey, sleep well, i love you

Good night ❤️hope you can sleep  without me haha

You know damn well I can't 🙄

Today 6.32

Hi sweetheart, just on my way to work but wanted to say good morning  ❤️ I love you so so much, I’m assuming since the trip was cancelled you get  today off anyway? Either way have a good day, will you be sleeping at home tonight?... I miss you x

Good morning <3 yeah got the  day off, just woke up, yeah i’ll be at home 2night, when do you get off? 

Think its good we have that talk  sooner rather than later

Knowing he was probably busy with his heavy workload at the auto shop you opened up Robins text and responded to that too;

Penis hater 🍆

Gtg, meeting starting

Aight see ya loser!

Bye assface!

Today 8.27

Saw you were still asleep so didnt want to wake you, at work now, help yourself to anything in the fridge but theres leftover pizza if you want that, house keys  are on the kitchen table, just post them through the letterbox when you leave dickhead ❤️❤️❤️

Thank u sm for letting me sleep here, rly robs i appreciate it. Will do!

No probs, always a pleasure to blast out my eardums to cover up your snoring when I’m trying to sleep

Excuse me bitch, I do not snore, if anything your whining and thrashing around in bed woke ME up!

Making me sound like Tina Belcher when you say that… 

That was in fact the intended effect

🖕whatever bro gtg, Steves gonna beat my ass if i extend my toilet break past 30 min

You know a normal toilet break is 5 min right??

Fuck off

Robin answered within seconds of your text, taking the first of many useless breaks to scroll her phone and annoy Steve at the coffee shop downtown. You chuckled at her last text before you began your own 30 minute session of scrolling your phone endlessly on the toilet. By the time 1pm rolled around you had munched on Robin's leftovers, cleaned up the couch, and answered some emails from work, hopping on an IndyGo bus and trampling up the stairs in the early afternoon. 

You had left the change of clothes in Robin's hamper to be left till the next time you crashed at her place and were aching to get out of yesterday's attire the second you stepped through the door. You felt relieved as the newly found state of the apartment greeted you, slightly heartwarmed too but quickly dismissed, your stubbornness not letting you appreciate the fact that Eddie had done a basic human task. The rest of the day was spent in relaxation, despite the bath you had yesterday you felt the opportunity for a selfcare spa day on your day off was too good to pass up. Eddie had texted you here and there throughout the day regretfully telling you he had to work through lunch and couldn't make a phone call but that he would be home latest 6 pm. You did feel regretful however when you thought of your words last night, or more specifically Eddie's words and your dismissal of them. His work had been really hectic recently. The neighbouring venue The Two Brothers Auto Shop had lacked customers over the summer and had been forced to shut down. Their regular customers had found their way over to Safe Haven Automotive where Eddie was employed and Eddie's workload had been almost doubled and it was undoubtedly taking a toll on him. 

You decided you would apologise later. 

-

A heavy sigh escaped your boyfriend's lips as he stepped over the threshold to your shared home, immediately dropping his bags on the floor and stretching his back, joints popping audibly with the movement. Upon hearing his arrival you sauntered out of the bedroom, with a shy and admittedly slightly awkward smile, his face broke into a wide sunshine smile as his gaze met yours “Hi” he bent down to unlace his boots as you leaned up against the kitchen island next to him, “Hi” your voice was soft when he straightened up again. Wanting to make sure there was no awkward tension you leaned up and pecked him on the lips, it was best if you were on moderately good terms, you hadn't had such a big fight with Eddie before, only the occasional argument, so the concept of having to talk the whole thing through was new to you. You were adamant on it going well and making sure the environment was relatively calm was the best way at making sure it went over smoothly. 

“Just gonna go have a shower and then we can talk yeah? I brought poké bowls” he picked up the paper bag from next to his bag as you nodded, beginning to unpack all the items as he made his way to the bathroom. Not long after he was freshly showered and changed, damp hair cascading over his shoulders as he sat down on the opposite side of the couch. Despite the topic of the evening you allowed yourself to admire his sleek hips leading down to a pair of grey sweatpants, scanning the tattoos littered over his torso in adoration and smiling as you inspected his face. Relaxed and slack, neutral with no tug of his plush pink lips, beads of water running down his forehead threatening to collect in the lush lashes of what you so lovingly liked to call his ‘baby cow eyes’. 

Once he was sat with an ankle pushed under his thigh connecting to the food limp on the floor with his can of san pellegrino opened on the table and a cardboard bowl of cool rice, salmon and an assortment of vegetables you began. “So, first and foremost I would like to apologise” Eddie hummed to assure you he was listening as he took a large spoonful of the summery goodness. “I’m sorry for shouting and storming off, I didn't mean to worry you, I was just like in panic mode or something. And I’m really sorry for some of the things I said” he swallowed down a gulp of his drink while you selected a mixture of chilli mayonnaise coated tofu, avocado and rice. Bringing it to your mouth with the supplied pair of chopsticks, it would always be funny to you how Eddie struggled and became frustrated with the pair of wooden sticks and opting for a spoon instead. 

“Ok well thank you sweetheart, I too would like to apologise, I really didn't mean to raise my voice or to invalidate your feelings,  jesus why does this sound so formal? Anyway, I promise I didn't plan for you to come home to all that or the mess, I had planned on cleaning up after work today. But I guess that's not much better cuz’ as you said, it shouldn't really have been that bad in the first place..” you could sense the strain in his voice at admitting his ultimately largest flaw, but you were grateful he did and that he put an effort into resolving this. Although you had a sneaking suspicion he either practised what he was going to say beforehand or hand a secondary source on how to address you. 

“About that, I think we both know what we did wrong, and maybe how to go about it differently in the future, yeah I do not like how formal this sounds either” the laugh that rumbled your chest eased a weight on Eddie's shoulders as well as invited him to join. “But I do think it's something that would be good on working on… and not just for my sake but yours too, like partly I don't really want to do most of the work around here-” “And you wont! I promise” you smiled at Eddie's interruption “but you're also kind of… scatterbrained? And I think maybe working on routines could benefit you. You know like having all your clothes and things ready in the morning, that way you don't have to run up and down from the parking lot because you forgot your keycard or your phone or something.”

Eddie hummed in acknowledgement of your words, it was clear he was thinking over the idea “I mean I could try, it's just you know difficult, I can’t keep track of everything and I forget and I think if I start a new routine I’m gonna forget that too.” There was a trace of shame in his tone as he accepted yet another one of his flaws. “Ok well first off, you need a calendar, either a paper one or your phone, I think your phone would be better though because that way its almost always on you and you can write down important dates like meetings the second you hear about them” he nodded as he listened to your suggestions “Secondly, building up routines like laying out your clothes and keys and stuff the evening before, or packing your bag” 

He frowned softly in between bites of his food, “Yeah but how am I even going to manage to stick to them long enough that they become the regular” this conversation seemed to be going much better than you had anticipated. You had of course hoped for the best but still wanted to be prepared in case another fight broke out but Eddie was properly listening to you, nevermind apologising but seemed willing to do something to change for the better. 

You smirked at him slightly evilly as you took another mouthful, “So, remember what I said last night” you had said a lot of things last night “About the sex?” a slight sneer spread over Eddie's features as he realised you might be considering sticking to your word. He was right. “So Robin had this idea that if we did that, it might give you some incentive.” he couldn't help the low groan of annoyance “Ok believe me, I am not just in this for the sex, but really?..” 

“I know you're not” you smiled happily, you knew that even before you’d said it “But it might motivate you to stick to your routines until, like you said, they become regular. Just until you become used to it” his head rolled back on his shoulders, trying but failing to suppress a whine, he didn't want your actual idea of him to be a man-child. You giggled softly at his reaction, there was indescribable pride settling in your shoulders at the desperation of wanting to be with you. “Ok well how long’s that gonna take?” he sat up again, placing his food down onto the table and taking another large gulp of the carbonated drink. 

“I dunno, we’ll just have to see I guess, maybe a few weeks?” you shrugged, “Weeks?!” his wide eyed stare caused for a burst of laughter from you, struggling to keep your food in your mouth, “It's up to you, how quickly you learn and how motivated you are to actually do this” 

“Oh i’m very fucking motivated”

“So you’ll do it?” 

“I will, on one condition”

“I’m listening” 

“I still get to kiss and hold you”

A wide smile cut over your face and you nodded “Ok deal”. The rest of the evening was spent eating your delicious meal and both going over arrangements as well as talking through feelings and solutions. It had been weighing on you ever since the original apology, you weren't sure if you wanted to address it or even accept it but judging by the honesty and will Eddie shared to improve you decided it was best to communicate about his too. 

“Ok so there was one thing I wanted to kind of talk about too” his hand reached for the remote control and paused the display of Rick and Morty on the old TV screen, looking down at the crown of your head where you sat leaned on his legs crossed at the calves, your back against his chest and head resting on his shoulder. “It doesn't really have much to do with you, more myself, but I dunno I thought it would be good for you to know or something” 

“I’m listening” he placed a kiss to your hair, inhaling the scent of the various products embedded in the fibres of each strand from your bath. “Well I don't mean this as any like attack on you or that I have any specific feelings towards you specifically about it” he had no idea what you were on about as his cheek preplaced his lips on your head, but he trusted you would explain. “I got kind of… scared… yesterday, when you got angry, and like I know i got angry too don't get me wrong” his cheek left you and in response you turned your head to face him, “It's just like, I know you would never you know do anything like that, or at least I hope” you chose to ignore the expression resting on his features and push through “But like you're still a man, and no matter how strong I am or whatever, men can still, or well they're capable… of… you know, doing quite alot” 

A sad pout tugged at his lips as he looked down at you “Baby, I am so sorry, I would never do anything like that but I should have thought about like the whole picture, with your past and all and yeah just the fact that I’m, yeah a man” the lamp next to the couch glinting in his eye made his expression all the more sincere, you smiled softly, “Thank you, I just thought you should know” the moment was so tender in the dim lighting of the room and nightfall fell behind the closed curtains of the windows, nothing more than a whisper needed to break the magical spell on Indianapolis. “Thank you for telling me baby” his kiss was equally as soft on your lips as his voice had been to your ears. 

Before pressing the button on the remote again you pointed at him “But just know if you ever hit me, I will be kicking you in the balls and reaching for my taser” Eddie chuckled as he grinned “A fair punishment” 

11 pm rolled around, punctuated by a wide yawn, you huffed a laugh as Eddie's pointer finger quickly prodded at the back of your throat, one of his regular habits he had when he saw you yawn. “Alright, I gotta be up at 5 tomorrow so I’m gonna head to bed” you stretched as you sat up, disgruntled by the loss of Eddie's warm embrace, “When do you start tomorrow?” he asked, copying your movements before gathering what was left of your meal. Your heart squeezed as you watched Eddie already picking up his new habit of cleaning up around the house, following him into the open kitchen you poured yourself a glass of water as Eddie placed the leftovers in the fridge and the rest in the trash. 

“Uh 7” you thought as he manoeuvred around you, “Alright well if you want I can drive you, just gonna have to stay later at work”

 “What? No that's ok, I’ll just take the bus”

“You sure? I don't mind taking you” 

“When would you be leaving otherwise?”

“Uh probably like today so 6.30”

“You texted me while driving??”

He closed the fridge and made his way to stand in front of you, hands resting loosely on your hips just below the arm you had crossed over your waist, the other holding the glass to your chest. “No I was in traffic” he chuckled before bending down to press a kiss to your lips. “Oh ok” you shrugged as he pulled away, raising your voice while you walked over to the bedroom to place your water down onto the bedside table “So when would you be home?”

“If I work through lunch hopefully 6 otherwise 7ish” he called from the bathroom, lathering up creamy toothpaste onto his brush. “Jesus christ hopefully this whole thing will die down soon” you pouted in sympathy as you slid in next to him, he shrugged “Eh, least I’m making some more money. Gonna buy you something pretty” he grinned before beginning his nightly routine. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, he'd already gotten the ‘I don't need you to buy me anything’ talk and was well used to it by now. “Ok well would you mind staying later if i came over for lunch?” you smiled. A gargled response came from around the green plastic dangling from his mouth while some white foam escaped his lips and dribbled down his smile line, you laughed at the view “Just answer later” your own response was muffled but only slightly as you spoke. 

He nodded and continued his vigorous attack on his teeth, something you often frowned upon telling him he'd damage his gums if he continued that way. He knew exactly what you were thinking when he was shot a disapproving glare through the mirror, he grinned wildly around his toothbrush, prompting even more foam to coat his chin, but to your satisfaction he slowed his movements to a gentle appropriate pace. 

On instinct you shot a hand out to hold his hair out of his face as he spat out the residue and washed out his mouth. Leaning over in front of you he rubbed his face on the towel to dry his face off, you almost toppled over backwards from the steep bend but Eddie was already at your rescue with an arm around your back. He slid back into his place and wrapped both arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder and watching your reflection in the mirror. “Lunch sounds good but I’m not letting you take the bus all the way across town, I’ll just pick something up along the way and we can sit in the breakroom” he placed a gentle kiss to your cheek before standing up to let you repeat Eddies actions of spitting, rinsing and drying. 

“Mm mm” you shook your head “Not the breakroom, we can just sit in my office” you answered Eddies look of question as you smoothed cool moisturiser over your face, “I can't be bothered listening to Brenda recount every single detail of the same trip we were both on” Eddie chuckled, warmth spreading through his body at the adorable wrinkle of your nose in disgust, “I mean seriously, ‘Oh my god did you hear Clarence joke? It was sooooo funny!’ like yes bro I was there, in the room. She’s recounting every single detail of her room, despite the fact that they’re all fucking identical, I swear soon she’ll be telling me about her shits in grave detail” the hearty laugh you witnessed in the mirror and felt against your shoulderblades had a genuinely happy smile dazzling your face. His happiness rubbed off on you. 

“Alright, no breakroom, got it” he chuckled and pulled away squeezing your asscheek before making his way out the door “Ap ap ap” your tsk had him turning around in confusion “No touching” you smirked, “What you said I could hold you?”

“Yeah hold me, not touch my ass, or boobs for that matter, and definitely no thighs unless its 100% wholesome”

“What, that was wholesome!” 

“Mmmmn was it?” he rolled his eyes before continuing his way towards the bedroom. Soon enough you joined him to see him pull his sweatpants off, “You know I was thinking” he looked up to meet your gaze, once again the small subtle action of him trying had your heart squeezing, he folded his sweatpants up and tossed them in a drawer in the closet so casually it amazed you he wasn't making a show of it to gain some praise. “Maybe you should sleep on the couch, what with the incentive and all” 

“What?” his face fell as he turned, “Yeah, more distance ya’ know?” his silence told you everything, “I’m kidding!” you laughed as he let out a loud sigh in relief. 

You laid notice to the fact that Eddie was folding up his coveralls, tossing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt next to the pile of various daily trinkets. The small action meant so much to you, it proved he was actually trying and it made you ache in all the best ways. Soon enough you were snuggled up under the covers with your head on his chest and dozing off.

–

Tuesday morning was much less stressful than any normal one and you sat on the bus listening to Eddie rant on the phone how big the difference had been after preparing the night before, you were completely sure he was sucking up a little bit but you let him go on before saying a goodbye when you got off the bus and made your way over to your office. You were also eternally grateful for his timely arrival just as Brenda made her way over to you with her lunchbox, “Oh I’m so sorry Brenda, Eddies here but I’ll see you later yeah?” ok maybe you were known as slightly bitchy or more accurately a complete bitch in the office but you really weren't in the mood to make idle conversation with the middle aged californian lady for a whole hour. 

“Hia!” you greeted with shining warmth as Eddie passed the front desk, subway bag in hand and an equally bright smile on his face. He pecked you on the lips before following you to your office, pulling his phone out to show the near two hour time slot in his calendar that read lunch with my beautiful girlfriend. You laughed as he explained he had already started with his work on a calendar. 

You managed to make it five minutes before a knock sounded at the door, answered with your breezy ‘come in!’ Michael frowned in confusion at your tone before spotting Eddie on the other side of your desk, “Oh hey Ed, uh here's those spreadsheets you asked for” he handed you a folder and waited patiently while you did a once over of the contents, smiling when he was dismissed. 

The first interaction of your disruptions was much cheerier than the other 6 who filtered into your office to ask for advice, hand over assignments and intending to go over the statistics of paid leave. “Jesus” Eddie marvelled once the door closed “They do this all the time?” he took the last bite of his sandwich before crumpling up the paper and tossing it into the bag. “Yup, all the time” you sighed in exasperation. “How the fuck do you get any work done?” he frowned, but softened into delight as he bit into his chocolate chip cookie. 

“I stay late” you shrugged, “Why do you think I work every other saturday and work 7 to 8 or 10pm? Or well 11” the self deprecating laugh you let out had Eddie's face painted in concern and sympathy while a tinge of annoyance showed in his eyes. “Can't you just like put up a sign saying do not disturb?” you shrugged again, taking a ship of your drink “I guess”

“I really think you should” 

Lunch passed and after what felt like an eternity you were jumping out of your skin at the sound of a loud honk next to you on the sidewalk. “Jesus fucking christ!” you shrieked when you saw Eddie's wide grin peep through the rolled down window as he leant over the centre console. He saved you from a 10 minute walk from the bus stop while chatting to you about your day. 

“We really have to stop getting takeout so much” you moaned through a mouthful of butter masala, the burst of flavours sending rhythmic waves of delight and calm through your body. “I know, but neither of us have the energy to cook so-” he shrugged “takeout it is”. 

He had skipped his ritual shower and opted for washing his hands before digging in but soon he was shucking his jeans off and scrolling his phone on the toilet. You knew instantly where the text was coming from when it came through, it was comical to see the three notifications on your phone alerting you that E.Munster had liked your instagram posts and then a grey rectangle at the top of your screen; 

Roommate  🙄 now

So I know we said no touching but like… 

Can I touch myself?...

Your laughter echoed throughout the apartment while you shouted “Nope!” your laughter doubled in volume when you heard a loud groan from the bathroom. 

Roommate  🙄

But I’m so horny….

Arent you literally on the toilet?

Not anymore, I'm about to have a shower

Ah well sorry baby, nooooope

Mean 

HAHAHAHAHAHA

You know, I feel like you posted that bikini pic on purpose

Who knows

…

What?

Are you jerking off????

Eddie!

No! 

Belive it or not I am very keen on making this process as short as possible

Ur just a tease

Thats all 

Good, yeah its fun, you . shouldnt try it tho

Hahaha

Maybe I should 

No, no thats ok

Once again you were snuggled up with Eddie in bed, revelling in the embrace of apple scented shampoo, charcoal body wash and something so uniquely Eddie. 

–

To your pleasure, your day had been peacefully quiet for the first time in a month, with multiple of your staff sat in meetings throughout the day you managed to get through your workload plus some extra missed invoices and orders and even got a head start on an upcoming project. Being an accountant director for Riley Hospital wasn't always the easiest or simplest job but it had its moments. Even more so when you found the receptionist Stephanie had refilled the French roast capsules for the coffee machine and made a spread of various pastries in the breakroom. You were on a high, having a great day, topping off the icing on the cake with the mouthwatering left overs from your dinner the night before. Sometimes, just sometimes, everything in life could work out and it left you with a bright smile on your lips as you left the building and made your way over to the bus. 

The glee seemed to radiate off you as Eddie broke into a happy grin, skin stretching taught over his muscles and leaving his cheeks aching when he was greeted by in his opinion ‘absolute shit music’ bouncing around the room from the google nest in the corner of the living room with you shaking your hips from side to side, the occasional attempt at twerking while you stirred the creme fraiche, bell pepper and halloumi pasta sauce in a pan. 

After a soothing shower nearly screaming along with the music of your ‘Main Girl’ playlist you had changed into a pair of black skin tight booty shorts framing your curves under an oversized Rammstein t-shirt draped over your torso, pulled down at the front to the tips of your thighs, the hem tucked in at the back of your shorts giving Eddie a delicious view while you moved about.

You screamed in horror jumping 3 feet into the air when you heard Eddies cheery “Hey” he burst out laughing as you clutched your chest in an attempt to even your breathing. While he untied his boots you made your way over to the couch to turn Ayesha Erotica’s Hands Up! down to a more respectable volume. “You seem to be in a good mood” he commented as he began washing his hands in the kitchen sink, “I am” you grinned while going back to your cooking “Budgeting and accounting were in meetings all day so I only had to deal with some of the payroll staff” you told him as he dried his hands and began emptying his pockets onto the kitchen island. “That's great” you couldn't see his smile but you didn't have to, it was for himself, his own quiet glory in your victory, happy and relieved for you. 

“Oh and guess what!” you turned to face him “I had so much free time today I caught up on everything!” Eddie gaped in shock and pride “And and and! I even got started with the Danaher project so guess who doesn't have to work on saturday!” you squealed while shimmying your shoulders in a victory dance. Eddie laughed as he noticed the natural shape of your boobs sway from side to side with the movement before looking you in the eye “That's awesome!” you proudly nodded at him with a chirpy “mhm!” 

“So we're celebrating with trash music?” he grinned as his hands slithered over your hips to hold at your waist, “Hm I was in a mood” you shrugged and stretched to peck his lips. “Well alright then, Steve sent some texts so I’m just gonna check them and then go wash my face, Imma’ shower after dinner” you nodded and turned back to the food while Eddie circled the kitchen island and bent over to rest his elbows on the marble countertop with his phone in his hands. 

He lied, Steve hadn't texted, in fact he hasn't talked to Steve since yesterday. He was undoubtedly excited about your small victory but the devil on his shoulder controlling part of his brain took over. He just needed one good luck at you before he scuttled off. He was going to be true to his word, no doubt about it, but he didn't mind getting a second to appreciate your figure as you swayed from side to side after instructing Google to turn the volume up. 

When he felt he’d gotten what he searched for he tore his eyes away from you before his body had a chance to act and prove this little celibacy period to be much harder than it already was. He made his way to the bathroom going through his regular motions of de-stressing from work. 

“So, just got a text from Gareth, shit that looks so good” he awed as he caught an eye on the table where you were sat scrolling on your phone. In reality he wasn't sure if he was talking about you or the pasta perfectly plated up on green ceramic, but it didn't matter because you smiled and that was enough to have him matching. “Baby thank you so much for cooking, it looks amazing” you smirked proudly as you put your phone down and began eating. “No problem, came home at 6 today so I had time” the casualness in your voice was betrayed by your excited face, almost saying can you believe that?! He chuckled before shaking his head as if to remember something “Right so anyway, Gareth can't make it to Hellfire tomorrow so were just gonna skip it this week” he explained as he too began digging in. 

The obnoxious moan he let out once the pasta came into contact with his mouth had you almost snorting out your gulp of coke. “Ok cool” you continued after swallowing the liquid back down, “You got any other plans for saturday then?” 

“Well I was thinking we could do something, are you busy?”

“Oh yeah that sounds great, I mean not much, I figured since I'm free I was gonna catch up on some chores so I was planning on going to Circle Centre around noon. I need a new skirt for work, something more casual, I found a super cute denim one at Lucky Brand and stockings, a new pair of sneakers from Journeys cuz’ mine are worn down” you began counting on your fingers “I wanna go check out Hot Topic, top up on some stuff at Bath and Bodyworks, do a foodshop, and a few other bits and bobs” Eddies jaw was slack and eyes wide as he gaped at you slightly, “Oh so not much then?” he shrugged jokingly, you grinned “You can come with me, we’ll get lunch and catch a movie” 

“Sure. Were you actually planning on lugging all that back here on the bus if I would have driven over to Jeff’s?” he asked in disbelief, “Yeah” you shrugged “Figured worst case I’d just shell out for an uber” 

Eddie insisted on cleaning up after dinner even though you told him it was ok, so you spent the time on the counter talking to him about his day while he loaded the dishwasher. Finally he straightened up a few minutes after you had left to do your skincare routine in the bathroom. “Uh is it okay if I shower?..” he cautioned as he peeped through the door, “Yeah why wouldn't it be?” you frowned “Cuz’ of the incentive or whatever” 

“Oh, yeah no it's fine, I’m not the one who needs the incentive so technically I can see you naked but you can’t see me” an evil smirk was directed towards him in the mirror as he shuffled past you into the small space, dropping a pair of clean boxers and his usual sweats onto the edge of the counter. He gave you a playful grimace of annoyance before pulling at the neck of his t-shirt, you thought nothing of it as he tossed it onto the toilet lid, instead focusing on making sure the mixture of serum on your face didn't drip too far. 

Your hand stopped mid motion as you rubbed it into your skin, your jaw dropped slightly as Eddie pulled his jeans and boxers down his thighs. It had always amazed you how Eddie still managed to appear big without even being hard, and it was definitely hitting you right between the thighs as you watched him in the mirror. Almost like a gut punch but instead it was.. A pussy punch?... Eddie wasn’t even a shower, he was a grower for sure, fucking enormous when he was actually aroused. It had taken you more than a normal amount of time to get used to him when you first started dating. 

He stepped out of the denim fabric and dropped them onto the t-shirt. You got the chance to admire him completely, thick muscly thighs covered in a light pattern of hair down to his equally muscly calves. A thick lump formed in your throat and you swallowed it dryly as he stood back up from pulling his socks off. Tattoos painted perfectly into his skin all along his sleek figure, only the beginning of your own private gallery destined to show up later in life. You eyed the shape of his hips, that v-muscle that always had your mouth watering, the soft trace of his abs on his abdomen, his shapely chest that you loved running your hands over. Each dent of where his muscles and joints formed, every single freckle and mole that has one time or another been kissed by you, running all the way from his shoulders to his wrists to match the smattering on his face. 

And god his face, that sharp yet somehow soft jaw that led down to his thick neck, his bulbous nose you not only enjoyed the feeling of pecking but when it tickled your clit as he tongued your hole with your thighs circling his head. Those soft almond eyes who had a tendency to shift between chocolate, gold and deep onyx in the right light, the same eyes that were shamelessly raking down your figure as of this moment. No inkling at your own ogling, you felt the urge to copy Eddie's movements as he shook his head to rid his thoughts. 

“Uh you're… dripping into the sink” he pointed vaguely to the drop of red solution on the white ceramic, “Oh” you mentally shook your head instead and quickly brought both hands up to your face to smear the product into your skin. Behind you Eddie turned and stepped into the shower pulling the curtain closed almost all the way, the sound of cold water hitting the equally cold floor of the tub was your que to hurry the fuck up before your knees buckled. 

The first thought that entered your head when you sat down on your side of the bed was about Eddie from the good lock you'd gotten of him before you left, he was inhabiting every corner of your mind. The shape of his back and the slope of his spine that you would have loved to run your fingers along. The best part? The shape of his ass as he leaned back to soak his face in the stream of water. 

Technically, technically the incentive rule didn’t apply to you. You could… take advantage of the time alone while Eddie was in the shower… but no it wasn't fair, if he had to do it you had to do it, you'd just have to force those dirty thoughts out of your head. But fuck was it hard to refrain from thinking about those broad palms gliding over the skin of your thighs, grasping desperately at your tits, your hips, your ass. Your own hands snaking through his curls, tugging harshly as his lips wrapped around your clit and he did one of his moves that always left you breathless and writhing, sucking harshly at your nub while his tongue worked up and down behind his lips. The feeling of his thighs pressing at your own, one arm on the mattress to prop himself up while the other led his cock to your opening, wrapping around your waist as you slowly felt his big, fat head, dribbling precome pressing at your entrance, and force himself into you. That delicious fucking feeling when the ridge of his head connecting to his shaft caught at the skin surrounding your sopping wet hole, suctioning him in before he bottomed out with an unbelievable loud groan. It didn't matter how many times you’d had sex, he would always sound as if he’d gone 50 years without a taste and finally got one. 

A tingle fluttered through your legs, its nest sitting low in your belly, tickling everything surrounding cunt. You managed to snap out of it just as you hear the pitter patter of water droplets slow to a halt, you took a deep grounding breath, you could do this, you just had to keep your mind on other things. This was a good idea right? Robin hadn't been off her rocker when she suggested it, right? 

No this was right, this was good, it was helping Eddie set routines for himself and it would make your life easier. Cleaning had always come as an automatic response to you, it was therapeutic to sort through random collections of things, to do laundry, wipe down every surface but with the added stress of your less than a year old promotion it had slowly crept up to being too much. Sneaking its way to push you over the edge and have a mental breakdown, probably more serious and destructive than the one a few days ago. Having Eddie helping out was going to be good, it might even help release only a tiny bit of tension in your shoulders through the workday. 

You shouldn't take it for granted, your life had imploded and shattered every single piece of you but you had built yourself back up slowly, gotten your shit together and taken nightly college classes while bussing tables and gotten yourself a degree. A degree that landed you a steady job and an even cushier promotion within less than two years, something not a lot of people could say they had managed. You were eternally grateful and privately very proud of yourself for not letting the world beat down on you and crush you to a pulp like it had so many other people. 

But you were similar to the rest of the public in the same way that work took it out of everyone. You could admit that begin a high ranking boss at the age of 25 was undoubtedly hard but you would never admit that sometimes it was just too fucking hard. There were so many stressful things added to the whirlwind of your mind but maybe not worrying about having to pick up toilet paper on your way home from work at 10 pm or obsessing over how to schedule cleaning the bathroom into your hectic day might make the whirlwind slow, maybe only slightly but it would still be an improvement. 

So no you weren't going to acknowledge those scenarios and feed into them, you were going to let the decision stay firmly planted in place. You could wait, you had gone 19 years without having to qualm those ideas and you sure as hell could go a few weeks, maybe months if you really set your mind to it. But you really, really hoped Eddie would get his shit together in time and not let it go that far. 

To distract yourself you decided changing into a loose threadbare tank top and baggy shorts and then scrolling Tiktok was the best suppressor of those not so innocent ideas. Wrapped up in the robotic voice of a reddit story while glued to the minecraft parkour on the bottom Eddie came into view in the doorframe. Arms stretched above his head he wrung his hair through the orange towel, squeezing out the access water before patting the droplets on his shoulders away. Every single small detail you noticed, when he hung his towel next to yours on the hooks on the back of the door instead of dropping it on the floor, when he tossed his previously worn clothes on the bed and began syphoning through them, picking out everything but his jeans and tossing them into the clothes hamper, folding the pants up and dropping them onto the already folded coveralls on the floor instead of leaving everything in a heap by his bedside table. How he disappeared into the kitchen to collect his pocket trinkets and collected them on the floor next to his work clothes and how he retrieved a fresh change from the closet to join the other clothes on the floor. 

“So what are we watching?” he leaned over to catch a glimpse of your screen “God those videos are always such bullshit” he chuckled as he dropped down onto the mattress, copying your stance and curling in on his side, palms pressed together under his cheek. “Mjeh good entertainment” you shrugged, locking your phone and tossing it on the space of pillow between you. He stretched forward and placed a peck on your lips before pulling back and gazing over your features. 

You never understood his thought process but he always insisted you were beautiful, even with your face in a light shine from the oily products and otherwise bare, with your pimple patches littered across your irritated skin, with your soon to be put in mouth guard. He always adored you, every single part of you, no matter good or bad and you in turn adored him for it as well as simply adored him for him and his own quirks, just as you were doing now. 

A hand reached out and you twisted one of his loose curls around your soft finger, “Always loved your curls” you whispered with a gentle smile, “Yeah? Shame you can only adore them in the mornings before they somehow just frizz during the day” he rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I told you to use curl cream babe, I even got you one” you lovingly sighed “Yeah well it's too much work if I gotta do it every single day” he frowned as you pulled away from him and dragged yourself out of the bed. He didn't get an answer to your sudden disappearance till he turned around and saw you rushing back with a white and pink tub and a hair brush in your hands. 

“Sit up” you instructed as you pulled his towel down and walked up to stand between his legs as he sat up at the edge of the bed, his hands instinctively went to touch your thighs, remembering last minute and opting to graze the backs of your calves. “You can touch my thighs” you giggled and his hands eagerly found the backs of your thighs as you draped the towel around his shoulders. 

It went unbeknownst to you how adamant Eddie was on keeping his eyes on yours but ultimately failed as his gaze travelled to your boobs, the position he was sat in and the fact that your old t-shirt was sagging with age did not play in his favour like it usually would. Your tits were right in his face as you led the brush through his wet strands, his hold on your thighs tightened immensely, “Is that wholesome?” you tutted while keeping your attention on his hair. He tore his gaze away from you and grinned devilishly “Yup” he popped the ‘p’ while you rolled your eyes. 

Shutting his eyes was a better idea, now this time the position he was in did play in his favour, the feeling of your hands working the gel through his hair soothed him and he relished in the tender moment. Humming with pleasure as you began scrunching his hair to form curls. “You know if you just used a claw clip instead it wouldn't be straightening your hair out and tugging on it like a hair tie does” he frowned slightly disgusted as he opened his eyes to look up a you, “Yeah sorry babe I’m willing to do a lot for you but a girly ass clip in my hair is not one of them” frowning you responded “It's not girly” “Well it's not metal. Name one metalhead or rockstar who wears a claw clip” his eyebrows raised at your silence “Exactly” 

“Whatever” you muttered but there was no trace of unamusement in your tone as you picked the tub up, holding it over his head you began placing it back on again but the sticky residue on your hands forced the lid out of your grasp and behind Eddies back, muttering a ‘shit’ you wiped your hands on Eddies towel covered shoulders before leaning forward and picking it up. 

Mind you it hadn't been intentional, simply a natural reflex but in the process your boobs squished right against Eddie's face as you caught hold of the pink plastic. You thought nothing of it as you screwed the top shut but Eddie did. Oh he definitely did, a deep red blush crept up onto his pale face as his eyes widened in horror. 

Something so simple, so small, literally accidental had Eddie's depraved body reacting in no time, it had only been 6 days since he last got to touch you in any sexual way (3 days of mock celibacy) but blood was rushing down south faster than he could say ‘boobs’. “Alright, I wanna watch Bob’s Burgers now” you announced while placing the product down on your vanity table and hanging his towel back up. He propped himself up against the headboard “Uh yeah ok” his voice was hoarse and strained as he spoke, prompting you to turn in concern while picking up his laptop. “You okay?” 

He cleared his throat and slumped in relief when his voice came out even “Yeah fine” panic rang through his body as he watched you climb up in front of him, intending to settle between his thighs. “What-what are you doing?” he stammered nervously, a confused incredulous frown was passed his way “Sitting down?” before he had a chance to protest you were sat upright between his thighs pressing your pointer finger to the touch ID of his macbook. 

Once you’d opened up a new tab and found the show you leaned back against his chest, he cringed while his whole body tensed “Are you hard?...” he instantly went into defence mode “In my defence, you shoved your tits in my face! Like right in my face” you laughed heartily as the theme song began to play “What these old things?” two hands squishing your tits together with a jiggle had a strained mixture between a whine, a cough and a laugh tumbling from his lips. 

“Okay seriously how are you still hard?” one episode had passed and you were still feeling the press of his hard-on at your back, “Do you even realise how you're sat right now?” 

“No?”

“No? Well let me paint you a mental picture, you're leaned against me, on my dick mind you and giving me the perfect view down your top”

With an eye roll you pulled your tank up “Happy?”

“Not really, I miss them” 

By the end of the night you were giggling at the banter passed between you and snuggled up to him again. 

– 

With each passing day Eddie's problems both became better and so much worse, he was getting used to his new routines and the calendar really was working wonders for him, he knew exactly when and what cars he was supposed to be working on and what meetings he had. It allowed him a better view of his day and even cut a whole useless hour off his work day! Both of you were eternally pleased and happily discussing it over lunch at the mall on the saturday. 

What he didn’t bring up however was that it was becoming increasingly harder to stay away from you, flouncing around in towels or minimal clothing, checking yourself in the full length mirror on the living room side of the bedroom door, twisting and turning to make sure those skin tight pencil skirts were perfect and buttoning up your blouses, swaying your hips to music while leant on the kitchen island working on whatever economy plan on thursday to ensure you could leave early on friday, stood up mind you, ass moving from side to side directly in view of Eddie on the couch. And now! Sat talking to him, excited as ever, purely innocent with those tight fitting jeans and that scooba-neck red top.

Everywhere he looked you were there unconsciously enticing him. He almost lost it when you gave him a spin from the dressing room showcasing each item. The long denim skirt you wanted for work, the so-called ‘casual’ blouse which absence of buttons gave him a show of the press of your tits in your bra, the sheer mesh dress, that other dress that just enhanced every single beloved curve of your body and to top it all off! that stupid skull corset top that made his eyes almost pop out of his sockets when you appeared from behind the curtain. It was all too much!

“So what movie did you book?” you look up from your Taco Bell quesadilla to find him quickly un-tensioning his screwed up expression, “Uh well there wasn't much choice and Nancy kept nagging me how much you would love Barbie so i booked us two tickets for that, starts at 4.30” 

“Nancy said I would like Barbie?” you laugh, “Something about the backstory or meaning behind it I can't remember” he shrugs mindlessly picking at his nachos, “Apparently it's not like, about Barbie? I didn't really understand what she meant she was being super unclear, I think she was drunk” you chuckle and shrug “Alright, but if its a girly love story I am leaving” 

“Yeah and I will be two steps behind you” he laughs. 

As you sit enveloped in the red and black satin and leather interior of Eddies done up van the both of you rant excitedly about the movie, passing back and forth on the advertising, the attention to detail and general direction and idea of the movie. Laughing about how out of place the two of you -especially him- looked in the theatre filled with pink frills and hearts on almost every single patron. 

–

He manages to make it till Tuesday -a shocking 12 days- until he finally snaps. “What is that?” his eyes bulge from his spot on the bed, head propped up on an arm behind his head with his ankles crossed. Lounging in his Korn t-shirt and his regular grey sweats scrolling through Twitter (you and he both refused to call it ‘X’). You turn in the midst of shucking your skirt down your legs, stepping out of it and folding it on the bed you ask “What?” you frown confused as you peel the nylon tights off too. Deep blood red lace with elastic bands crisscrossed everywhere coming into view. “The underwear” he eyes are wide, hand gesturing to your body, phone completely forgotten. 

“Oh, well I had an interview with the vice president of Danaher today” if possible his eyes grow even wider, “I’m sorry?” you roll your eyes at the idea that popped up in his head “I wanted to wear something sexy, ap ap before you start, it was for confidence” you tut and  hold a finger out to him before beginning to unbutton your blouse. “Ah, thanks for the clarification, we would have been having a way worse situation on our hands than last sunday right now otherwise” you roll your eyes again. “Ok but why is wearing sexy underwear for confidence?” confusion shows in his face before he goes white as a ghost at the matching lacy blood red bra underneath your thin under-vest. 

He barely manages to register as you begin to explain “Well surprisingly enough you're not the only one who likes it, makes me feel sexy …” your words go in one ear and out the other as you begin busying yourself with hanging your clothes up, with your back to him his eyes rake over your figure. The soft slope of your shoulders, the shapes of your back, the meat of your hips down to the round fat of your ass, delicate lace nestled between your cheeks, your doughy thighs, down to your smooth calves and  ‘no show’ socked feet. He always used to giggle at how funny the socks looked, like ballerina slippers, not covering anything insisting they were silly when you explained they're so they don't show under your heels, he wasn't saying anything about them now, in fact they weren't even in his line of view. 

Now his throat was closing up, a stone planting heavily in the pit of his stomach and all blood draining from his brain, all rushing south at the view of you in action, body moving gracefully across the fluffy rug on the floor while talking a mile a minute about your meeting. He couldn't even find it in himself to feel guilty for not listening, the cogwheels in his brain stopped turning long before he crudely adjusted himself in his boxers, the electricity in his most vital organ powered out, he was starstruck, the only things working in his body were his eyes which were following you every move and, his dick. Within seconds he was feeling the throb and ache in his groin, desperate to touch you, touch himself, anything to just give him some sort of release. 

Everything set in motion so fast he felt as though he was experiencing motion sickness, the view of you leaning up to grab your towel ripped him violently out of his trace. “Where are you going?” your huffed amused with a soft frown “I just said I was going for a shower”. He scrambled quickly from his lounging on the bed, knocking his phone to the floor in the process but paying no mind to it as he desperately tried to come up with a reason for you to stay. “You look sexy!” he blurted it out and immediately cringed at his own inability to just be smooth. You huffed a laugh again while your expression remained the same “Thanks?” 

“Uh… uh… dinner!” could he stop just blurting things out?? Jesus christ. “Uh dinner, what-what do you want for dinner?” 

“Oh, I was thinking we could either order pizza or see what we have at home, do some rustle up, cuz’ we really gotta stop eating takeout” you laughed and -much to Eddie's pleasure- began stepping back towards him. “Yeah yeah we could order pizza” he nodded vigorously, “Really don’t wanna eat healthy do you?” the laughter had Eddie's desperation rising through the roof, the sound like music to his ears. “Nope” he felt like his skin was on fire as you stood right in front of him. 

“Alright well can you order my usual and I'll hop in the shower” his brain was working a mile a minute to prolong your stay and therefore his reciprocation of your kiss was utterly mindless as you bent down to peck him goodbye. “Or we could watch a movie?” before you had a chance to step away his arms were wrapping your thighs in a hug, almost causing you to buckle into him. “We need to eat babe” 

“No I mean instead of the shower” 

“I need a shower too” 

“No you don’t” your frown prompted his odd behaviour, he stretched up awkwardly on his feet to lift up your arm taking a whiff of your armpit he went “See? Your fine” your arm snapped back to your side as Eddie fell back down onto the bed, “Ok, what is going on?” he searched for words in the puddle of sludge that was currently his brain, clearly in thought as his eyebrows furrow in consideration. “Are you ok?” your frown prompts the sludge to just spew out of his mouth, no thought beforehand just desperate for you “Ok listen I’ve been like really good with the routine and stuff, like it's been almost two weeks and I've kept it up everyday, yeah? So-” 

You cut him off “Technically it's been 10 days” he was quick to interrupt you instead, “Either way I’ve been holding up my end of the bargain and I’ve really really tried to enforce the things you suggested and I-I think I’ve been doing really good! So like I think we should quit with the incentive because its worked and now I know what to do and I’ve improved and also like we haven’t had sex in nearly two weeks and you walking around in those work skirts and short shorts really isn’t helping because like I can’t even jerk off and I’m so fucking horny all the time because you always looks so beautiful and so fucking hot like you don’t even have to do anything and you still make me hard and I can’t do anything about it, like I can’t even let myself think about it because then I’m gonna get like actually, properly, really, really fucking hard and then- then I know I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. But like I promised you and I really want you to trust me and that was a part of the deal and its just really important to me that you-” 

“Ok jesus dude, chill, take a breath” you prompt, making a show of a big inhale as he does. “I just-” “SHHHH” you hush desperately and press a finger to his lips to stop him from rambling again. “You’ve really tried?” he nods viciously “And you promise you're going to continue with the calendar, the packing, replacing the bag when you take out the garbage, capping the toothpaste, throwing away receipts, taking your hair out the drain, drying the floor after a shower, all that?” 

“I promise.”

You eye him for a second, scanning for any insincerity in his face but you come up short, “Ok, yes we can have sex again” you smile as his face breaks out in pure excitement, just like a child promised candy “Thank god” he breathes, immediately leaning in and trailing kisses up your stomach “Wait, now?” his expression as he looks up at you is an awkward mix between complete and utter desperation, humiliation and hopeful questioning, begging for you to say yes, “I mean… only if you want to” you pout slightly at him “I gotta’ shower though” his face falls somewhat “You can shower after?” he can't decipher all the emotions coursing through him but he needs you to understand: “I don't want to pressure you, I totally understand if you need time or if you're not in the mood or whatever” 

His hands begin to rub up and down your thighs in wholesome comfort before your face finally shifts “What are you stupid?” before he has time to even open his mouth to respond your towel is dropped to the floor and you're pouncing on him. Knocking him back you straddle his thighs while desperate kisses are exchanged, the first one knocking the wind out of him. 

Arms wrap around his neck, one hand making its way through his relatively organised curls -thanks to the new routine of running curl cream through them-. His hands find purchase on your hips before one snakes its way to grab hungrily at the meat of your ass, moaning into the kiss as you shift against him. He’s quick to roll you over onto your back, your foot making contact with the bedside lamp and knocking it over violently, neither of you even flinch at the sound of breaking glass and neither of you definitely don't make an effort to pay any attention to it. His hips find comfort bracketed between yours, strong hands roam your body in ravenousness, gripping, squeezing, palming at anything he can get his hands on, the side of your ass he can reach between your body and the comforter, your thighs, your hips, your breasts, your shoulders, literally anything. 

Yearning to just get his hands on you, the spread of your thighs allows your panties to bury between your folds making the roll of Eddie's hips cause for a delicious feeling of relief to the impending ache that suddenly appeared. In all seriousness it had been there since the first day away from him, slowly building and residing in the shadows just as a hungry beast, ripping away from its nest to lavish in the face of a delectable treat. Your own specific beast's food of choice; Edward Munson. 

He pulls away from you to rip his shirt over his head, this time not giving a flying fuck about putting it in its correct place and blindly throwing it out of his way, another loud disturbance goes unnoticed by the both of you as it catches onto your jewellery stand and it tumbles to the floor. His hand is back on its rightful place on your hip while the other cups your cheek, the tender touch not in chorus with the feverish kisses laced with desire. To your short lived dismay his lips leave you but within the matter of milliseconds they’re pressing fervent kisses down the side of your neck. Each touch of his lips like hot fire stroking the thirst of the embers embedded within you. 

Desperate whimpers sound through the room when pain strikes some of his kisses, smoothing his tongue over the flecks of deep purple and red threatening to bruise. His hips find a tempestuous pace grinding against yours, his concealed cock forcing angrily at your increasingly wet cunt, his large head, which, you've admittedly thought about a lot, catches on your clit, teasing a whine from your throat at the action. 

Every harsh press of his plump lips against the skin of your chest was addicting to him, the simplicity of just feeling you flush against him was like ambrosia the gods had promised. Each roll of his hips laced with unfiltered and raw desire, not even nearing the desire of appeasing the burning fire nestled between your thighs. His hand coming down to hold onto your other hip gripping you furiously in rhythm with his other, you would no doubt have equally as harsh if not more deep bruising than the work of art on the column of your throat and descending, 10 equally dark marks would be appearing within no time, all for you to remember his desperation for the days to come. 

Panting you manage to prop yourself up on your elbows while Eddie makes his descent down your stomach, thumbs digging into your pudge just as his lips. You breathe heavily through your sentence “As much as I love this baby I wanna do it properly” all he needs to do in response is stand up to encourage you to hoist yourself up to lay your head on the soft pillows. You giggle as he places a hand on the mattress and jumps up, landing to straddle your thighs, not even catching his breath before going back to pressing his lips against yours. 

His next action has you bursting into a fit of giggles, he reluctantly pulls away from you before announcing to the room “Hey Google! Play my playlist Smexy time ooh ooh” he grins down at you, her response of playing the request forgotten with the hunch of his back as he sits back on your thighs -careful to not crush you- and captures your lips once again. 

When your hands move behind your back to unhook your bra he makes quick work of grasping onto your wrists, “Can you keep this on?” he breathes against your lips before you nod. You squeal when he rips the cups down with no caution, letting your tits spill out. If there had been any sort of breeze in the room you wouldn't have even had the chance for your newly exposed flesh to experience it before his hands are on you. 

Between a mess of sloppy, hungry kisses you manage to breathe out “Need to get my hands on you” a smaller set of hands push at his shoulders, as he sits up a heavy pant plays in your ears while you pull at his thighs, he manages to shuffle further up your legs but having no chance to settle before your fingers are dipping into the hem of his sweats and boxers. A breathy laugh prompts his own as his cock bounces up to slap his stomach, catching your chin on the way before falling back down again. The tip of his cock nudging your chin prompting you to pull away slightly. 

Too eager and with too much yearning burning the insides of your body to make a joke or even tease him with your tongue you make quick work to wrap a hand around him, pumping with the pace of your mouth which lips immediately wrap around his tip, one quick suction before swallowing down half his length. The continuous dribble of precum coats your tongue and you hum at the taste of it. The voluminous groan that rips from his chest feeds and tames the fire within you, boosting your ego as it is unrelenting. “Fuck, feels so good” he all but whimpers at the feeling of relief after a steady build of tension in his body form the past two weeks.

You moan around him at his praise but that only spurs on his salacious mix of whines and whimpers, his head falls from the weakness in his neck, all strength currently being sucked out of him, he manages to catch himself with a hand curling around the headboard, his other quickly finding your exposed breast and palming at it with dexterity. “You don't know what you do to me” the absence of oxygen in his voice has the roaring fire in your cunt threatening to burst at even the slightest touch of friction. 

The coating, hot arousal seeps from your hole allowing your folds to glide against each other as you plant one foot firmly on the bed and make work to rub your thighs together. The fabric of your panties bunching around your clit causes whines to vibrate around Eddie's cock, sending shudders through his body as he holds onto the headboard in a deathgrip. Even the hint of friction at your clit isn't enough to relieve you of your searing ache, if anything it spurs it on. The frustration at not being able to soothe the beast has you sucking and squeezing harder at his shaft, the hand rips away from your tit to plant itself against your scalp, the strength with which he holds onto your hair threatens to pull each strand out right at the root. 

It takes everything in him to pull away from you and in turn pull your stubborn ass off him, you whine defiantly at the loss of contact, looking up at him with an angry frown. “Don’t be a brat” he breathes “I cant -fuck- I wont last” you jut your chin out in an annoyed are you kidding me? as his hand pulls away from your hair to push his own away from his face. “I really do not care, we can just go again” your hand is already wrapping around the midriff of his cock, trying not to tug too hard but desperate to get him back into your mouth. “Wait wait!” he calls “Whaaaat?” you whine, hand releasing him and smoothing up and down his thighs “Please baby, just need your cum” your words have his eyes rolling to the back fo his head with a “Fucking christ” 

“Just gotta-” he trails off, replacing your hand with his around the very base of his cock, he arches his back to move his hips closer to you. A self assured, evil laugh bubbles from his chest as he lines his cock up to the bottom of your chin, admiring the view as his tip reaches just past your hairline. You make a show of rolling your eyes at his massive sexual ego, struggling to catch his gaze due to his massive part obscuring your view you voice with exasperation “Are you done?” he hums his approval, the sound giving you the all clear to very eagerly and very quickly wrap your hand around him and bring him back into your mouth. “Geez so impatient- oh FUUUUUCK” he doubles over again when he feels your fingers graze his sack. 

You hold them in your hand consciously making sure to massage more gently than the number you're doing on the rest of him. Lude slurping noises echo throughout the room as you bob back and forth trying to take him as deep as possible while still maintaining your breath. “Shiiiit” the deep whine rings louder than the shlick of spit and precum, and you take it as your que to see really how far you can go before he's pushed over the edge. You slide down slightly on the bed and open your throat up for him, forcing yourself as far towards the dark thatch of curls at his base. He actually screams when he experiences the tight press of the inside of your throat around his head, it seems the bruises you'd be bearing tomorrow wouldn’t only be on the outside. 

You reach for the hand which had previously found purchase on your shoulder, releasing him as you gag loudly, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth, you pull off him to secure his head in the valve of your mouth, clearing your airways as you guide his hand to the back of your head. “F-fucking-” he heaves “Unreal” you press at his hand to give him the hint before taking a very deep breath and once your being forced to take him deeper again your hand grasps onto his thigh. 

It wasn't something you did a lot but then again neither was the deep deep throating so you slid your hand up to one of the globes of his ass and gave him a firm squeeze. The touch sent his hips bucking away from you on instinct, forcing his cock even deeper down into your throat. Your head hit the headboard, cushioned by his hand and allowed him to force himself so far down your throat that your nose was being tickled by the black curls at his base. God you were so glad you didnt have an upchuck reflex at the moment. “Mother fucker! SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT I’M GONNA FUCKING CUM!” you would definitely have laughed if you were able to, the volume of his voice would no doubt be disturbing multiple neighbours. 

The unfortunate thing about this position, at the moment, was that you didn't get to taste or even feel the thick, heavy, hurt spurts of cum that shot down your throat. You sensed he had completely unloaded when his cock twitched and you scrambled to force his hips away from you, he pulled away and out of you equally as fast, if not faster. As you gasped a loud inhale Eddie fell back onto the bed, panting heavily and completely out of it. Your hand clutched at your throat at the pain beginning to settle inside, with an incredibly hoarse voice you managed to heave the words “Need huuuuuuuuhhhhh water”. 

Despite every single limb in his body being completely slack and feeling like noodles and despite the fact that he was still only seeing white he registered the words and fell onto the floor as he rushed to get out of bed. Dick slowly softening he ran out of the room, awkwardly pulling up his pants and retrieved two bottles of water from the fridge, water sloshed over the floor as he unscrewed the cap in movement, spilling some over your torso as he handed it to you. Anxiety enveloped him in a bone crushing hug as he watched you chug down the whole bottle of water, already signalling for Eddie to open up the next one before you finished the first one. 

Dread joined the anxiety as you panted heavily before chugging the second one. His whole body relaxed however when you threw the bottle away and gave him a thumbs up while your head rolled forward and then back to splay you across the head of the bed. “Oh thank god” he clutched his heart as he sat down next to you, capturing your hand he rubbed soothing circles into the back of your palm “Are you ok?” 

Without opening your eyes you managed a weak “Why is your dick so fucking big?”

“Jesus Christ” he laughed at your unserious response before sobering up and gently forcing your head to face him, your eyes slowly fluttered open to find his concerned expression “Really though are you ok?” 

“Yes I’m fine” you waved him off before he wrapped both arms around you and scooted further down in the bed, holding you to his chest. “I’ll go run you a bath and call the pizza place, yeah? Or maybe soup would be better” your head pulled away from his chest, you may have taken a toll on your breathing for a while but your breathing was back to normal and besides the sting in your throat you felt perfectly fine. “Excuse me where's my earth shattering orgasm?” he frowned down at you “What?” 

“You're not gonna get that and just walk away without payment” you snarked in faux annoyance, “Are-are you sure?...”

“Equality bitch” he laughed at your smug grin, pushing gently at your shoulder to get you to lie back down, just as he was about to open his mouth you held your hand out to silence him “If you ask me one more time if I’m sure I promise you I will be sleeping at Robins tonight” he laughed and nodded “Understood” before crawling over you to press a kiss to your lips. “Two things” Eddie raised his eyebrows expectantly as he pulled away from you “Take your pants off, I don’t wanna be the only one naked here, and please skip all the foreplay I’m really fucking horny” he laughed again at your directness but obliged. 

While mindlessly getting comfortable in bed and settling against the pillows you indulged in watching the show of Eddie pulling his sweats down, once again those strong legs were all for you to mentally devour. Once he stood back up you lay notice to the twitch of his cock as his eyes raked down your figure, soft and lax on the soft cotton, skin and fat alike in relaxation in front of him, despite the previous strong orgasm his body was once again showing off his affection and arousal, this time in less of a betrayal. 

Hungry eyes found yours as he manoeuvred himself to bend your knees and sit by your feet. The aforementioned black swam in his eyes, darkened with the desire of getting to please his woman. Callused fingers smoothed up your calves to knead your doughy thighs, “Oh wait” you crunched your stomach to elevate your shoulders and unclasp the awkwardly fitted bra, sighing loudly in relief at the loss of fabric digging into your skin, all he did was grin as your breasts spilled out into their natural state and gently pried your legs open. 

His middle finger ran up the soaked lace nestled between your folds, “Hey, dickwad, I said no foreplay” he only laughed but decided to comply, moving onto his stomach he moved your panties to the side, the feeling of his finger running over your slick folds at the action had you humming in pleasure. His hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs and within no time, sweet fucking relief, finally after what seemed like forever the roaring fire was soothed to a stable flame. His warm tongue ran up your folds causing a shiver to travel throughout your body before he circled the tip over your clit. 

An unnaturally loud whimper rumbled through your throat at the action and soon enough a scrumptious mixture of broad licks, flicks and circles were directed at your clit. Eddie groaned in satisfaction at the taste of you, his grip tightening to pull you closer to his face. Breathless swares and whines were replaced with loud obscenities and near pornographic moans when he finally did what you loved the most, his lips wrapped around the sopping hood of your clit only a moment before a strong tongue flicked up and down on the unexposed skin of your hood. With two years of being head over heels for this man both Eddie and you had mastered the art of not making the sensations of his muscle raw on the bundle of nerves more pleasure than overstimulation, however the action never ceased to send your body in vicious twitches and shakes. 

The flame had been controlled but now it was safely growing in strength and size. Squeezing at every part of your lower belly while steadily increasing. 

Each delicious sound that sounded about the room was muffled when your thighs clasped around Eddie's head, plush skin plastering over his ears, but this way he could feel the sounds echoing in his head through the contact. His lips unwrapped and a sweet kittenlick was rewarded to your clit, his head moved and before you knew it his tongue was tracing the entrance to your hole, once he found his place you felt that same bulbous nose press against your clit, a moan ripped through you and your hips began squirming for friction against him in sync with the strong thrusts of his tongue into you. 

The feeling of such a sensitive nervous system rubbing against the firm skin and natural oils of his nose was like lying down after a non-stop 10 hour speed walk, fully pleasuring your body in more vicious ways than anything else could do.

You were so enraptured by every sensation that you didn't even notice his right hand leave your skin before two fingers forced through your opening. He gave you a second before his tongue found your clit again for a sugary sweet kiss, his eyes found yours as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you. The hand splayed under your breasts found itself in a similar position as the other, grasping onto the sheets, tugging and disrupting the peace of the smooth covers. 

Your second favourite move Eddie did came next, his fingers stilled and began curling inside you in that classic ‘come hither’ motion, his tongue snaked its way to force above his fingers as deep as he could, working furiously to add as much pressure to the slick, spongy wall of your cunt. Massaging the flesh in line with your pussy, he had to fight a wicked grin when his nose came in contact with your clit again and you immediately began grinding against it. 

The hot burning fire was turning blue, angry and full of piping hot rage, raising your body temperature and emitting a light sheen of sweat over your skin. With each press of the pads of his fingers against you, each stroke of his tongue and each drag of your clit against his nose it grew stronger and stronger, no longer resting in the pit of your stomach but spreading to your thighs and chest. With every passing second it grew and grew until its fiery licks were targeting your whole body. Every muscle tensing, fingers and does curling to grip with immense strength, lungs desperately breathing for all consuming air, neck stretching taught with the writhe of your head against the pillows and eyes strained to roll back and find your lost mind at the back of your head. 

Each second, each stroke, each breath, squeeze, curl, strain sent you careening over the edge of the highest peaks of the rocky mountains of Gondor, the fall being stretching to 30 seconds while you writhed, tensed, squeezed and panted. Dizzying metallic rainbows pulsed in waves behind your eyelids before they softened with the landing. Chest rising up and down while pained whimpers of intense overstimulation had Eddie smirking wickedly when he pulled away from you. Nothing in the world could have the strong enough impact to pull you out of your trance from the orgasm, and certainly not the feeling of Eddie slowly pulling your panties down your legs before collapsing down to lay next to you, catching his own breath. 

His hand slithered over your side as he manoeuvred you to snuggle your back to his chest, his grin was ever glowing as he heard your consistent panting, his soft laugh rumbling in his chest and sending vibrations through your body. As you lay there in silence, slowly beginning to catch your breath you soak up the moment, You Belong To Me by Cat Pierce echos softly throughout the room while callused finger travel gently up and down your hip. You can't help the bubbling fire beginning to gather warmth as his touch stretches further, squeezing your thigh before going back up to your hip. 

It grows in heat and quantity as the moment continues, the prickly tones and raspy voice of Cat Pierce making the feeling captivating. Eddie's soft hands enrapture your senses and boast the flames within you, slowly you move in his grasp and turn to face him, deep brown eyes find yours as he looks down at you, his eyes scan your features in utmost adoration. He captures your lips in a passionate yet gentle kiss which has you sighing against him, your fingers rake through his curls as his hand grips your hip to hold you close to him while your lips move rhythmically together, completely in sync the plush pink flesh meets your own in time with your body's movements. 

Hips slowly moving against each other he makes his way on top of you, Love Surrounds You by Ramsey makes the moment all the more desperate, passionate, sexy. Hands roam the surface of each other's skin in desperation, begging to be closer, to feel each other in the way only the two of you could. 

Without ever leaving the caress of your lips Eddies hand slinks between the two of you to wrap around his base as he lifts off of you. In union you sigh loudly as his head pushes past the entrance to your dripping walls. In a well deserved slow pace he thrusts in and out of you, attaching himself to the incredibly intimate moment, in, and out, in, and out, he listens to your shaky breaths and removes his lips from yours, staring down at you as your eyes close in pleasure. 

His arms encase you and hold your torso close to his as his lips begin a trail down the side of your neck and over the expanse of your shoulder, “I” kiss “am” kiss “infatuated” kiss “With you” he sighs against the softness of your skin as you shudder. “Say it again” your whisper only barely reaches his ears but he catches it and pulls away, his eyes find yours again and you watches the gold ambers of chocolate and almond swim in the orbs of his iris, “I’m fucking infatuated with you” the gentle moan is unexpected but welcomed with another deep kiss to your lips. 

As your digits pull at his roots his hips snap against you, his thrusts building harsher and harsher “You don't know what you do to me” heavy pants fill the room as his body works against yours in an altogether delicious movement. “With this fucking body, all for me” he pants before his kisses begin to make their way all over your chest, up and down your neck, over your face, anywhere he can reach. “So beautiful, so sexy, all the time. You are divine” 

“Each breath you take is like a breath of my own, your existence fuels mine” his words ring in your ears like a loud powerful gong, “Something created this prepossessing creature that you are and I don't know what it is but it was definitely not a human responsible. Something wholly, ungodly and out of world crafted your pretty face, carved each curve of your body and wove your intricate personality like fine silk and gifted it onto me and I will spend my lifetime praying to whoever it was that they never take you away from me, because I’m selfish baby, I want you all to myself, I need you all to myself.”

The stretch of his cock and the drag of it along your walls accompanied by such powerful words strengthened with his touch all over your body had your head spinning, your eyes fluttering closed as you felt as though your body was falling into another dimension, backwards, falling, falling. You could see it, the magical flavours of the universe, colours flashing by in a chase, hypnotising you.

Eddie's hips sped up and his hold on you tightened, he didn't even have to ask, he knew. He knew you were on the edge, he could feel your body beginning to vibrate as your breath began to pitch and loud moans drowned the music out. His own breath was heavy and constant, panting heavily before groans took over. 

An explosion ripped through you as hot spurts of cum painted your walls and you screamed.

For nearly an hour you lay there, entwined in the sheets and wrapped up in strong arms, whispering sweet nothings to each other before you drifted off. 

[kairiscorner]

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

ok but like...... shopping for pink clothes with miggy to get him in the barbie spirit before y'all watch the barbie movie like...........

it's amazing, really, how you managed to get him to come with you to the mall for that reason. miguel really hates going out and wasting his time and energy for such trivial purposes, and yet he told lyla to clear his schedule for the day for you. he furrowed his eyebrows as he fit his sunglasses on the minute he stepped out of the car and looked up ahead at the bustling establishment as he trailed behind you.

"again, why pink? isn't my get up good enough already?" he questioned you as you halted your steps and turned to face him with your hands on your hips. "miggy, you dare disrespect and desecrate the ancient tradition of donning pink to the opening of the barbie movie? for shame, miggy, for shame." you scolded miguel as you pouted at him and copied his furrowed eyebrows.

miguel sighed as he folded his arms over his chest and lowered his head. "okay, fine." he said in a reluctant manner as he gave in to your need to see him in pretty pink apparel. you smiled as you clasped your arm in his and led him to several clothing shops you frequented at. you honestly struggled to find anything that was both pink and comfortable enough for him to wear, he accidentally shredded up a few shirts and jackets here and there, but you two don't need to talk about that.

you felt rather disheartened at how, for a man as big, tall, and built as miguel, finding pink clothes for him was like finding a needle in a haystack. "so much for my dreams in pretty pink to come true..." you murmured to yourself in evident disappointment and sadness as you stepped into the car dejectedly and leaned against the car door as miguel got in, too. in a normal scenario with literally anyone else, miguel would have put the whole situation behind him and rejoice internally how the whole debacle was now over. but when he looked over at your sullen face and saddened expression, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of second-handed sadness as you stayed silent during the whole car ride.

as you two got home, you immediately walked upstairs and holed yourself up in the room your two shared, feeling too tired and let down to be talked to at the moment. miguel breathed out his own frustration at the situation and blinked back his disbelief at what he was about to do. "lyla," miguel called for the AI assistant, who was now in 1950's barbie setting. "yes, miggy dear?" she asked him as she flaunted herself and lowered her new white and black sunglasses. "...integrate all of doll miggy's wardrobe to my hologram settings for my clothes." he said, to which lyla grinned and happily obeyed to do.

miguel knocked on the door of the room after a while, and you sat up a little bit on the bed; your miggy doll was in one hand, dressed up in your mean girl inspired outfit that you personally sewed for the doll. "can i come in?" miguel asked, to which you called out your "sure," as you slumped back in bed, twiddling with the scowling doll in your hand. miguel stepped into the room, you not looking at him in shame as you thought about wasting his time, only to end up with a fruitless search.

"could you at least... look at me?" he asked you in a pleading manner, and you found yourself giving in. you hoped he wasn't too mad, maybe just a little empathetic over your desire to see him in a... oh goodness. and there, in all his glory, was miguel in a hot pink jacket, with a low v-neck cut, light pink shirt underneath with 'everyday a boss bitch' strewn on the front, with dangling pink earrings on his earlobes, with lyla's signature pink heart-shaped glasses on, a plaid hot and light pink skirt on and glittery pink stilettos that made him bump his head on the ceiling every time he walked. you covered your mouth as you accidentally dropped the miggy doll, that was the very outfit you made for it, and now...

"miggy... is a real doll-man guy...?" you asked aloud in disbelief as miguel looked extremely flustered at the brightness and slight boldness of this outfit. "this is what you wanted, right? well, now we can go see the movie now. we have 45 minutes until then, wouldn't wanna keep barbie waiting, right?" he asked with a crooked smile on his face as you got off the bed and felt over the outfit. "faux fur on the jacket's accents..." you muttered as your nearly teared up at the excellent attention to detail. miguel chuckled as he placed his hands on your cheeks. "i'd wear this for as long as you need me to, just... please don't feel sad, amor." he said as you sniffled back a few tears.

"oh, believe me, miggy... i am more than happy right now." you said as you extended your arms out to him, which was a sign that you needed him to lean down for a kiss. you pressed your lips against his own, and miguel took in every moment of it--savoring how gratifying the feeling of earning a kiss from you after practically barbiefying himself just so you wouldn't feel sad. if this is what the miggy doll gets as treatment from you, then he'd gladly be your miggy doll forever and dress in pink to watch you smile and kiss your tears away.

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck

[nectar-cellar]

i finally have these 2 icons in me sim bin omg

i tried to keep nina’s look as similar to her TS2 appearance as possible even though i am itching to change it. the black crop top and pink jeans/cargos... the bright berry lip with the smoky eye in the daytime... I’M SORRY I JUST DON’T GET IT! i threw on some coral blush to complete her look. why not. it’s just so much all at once. it reminds me of the 2000s before social media was big, and most people just did whatever they wanted with their makeup and outfits. it’s the complete opposite of the current clean girl/soft glam/natural, minimalist, highly curated and perfected look. nina cakes it on and she looks damn good.

she’s like if a 2000s barbie raided a bratz doll’s closet. i’ve decided that’s the direction i’m taking her in. 

so actually this look is very fitting for nina the character. i can see her putting this on at her vanity in the morning, clothes strewn all over her bed, music blasting. i feel like she just doesn’t give a fuck. she looks in the mirror and she knows she’s hot, end of story. i can respect that.

you know what nina, i retract my judgment. i didn’t see the vision but now i do.

more ramble abt them below

i feel like dina very much aspires to the stereotypical sugar baby/gold digger lifestyle while nina just wants to live each day to the fullest, have fun, and is less concerned with snagging herself a rich man. she’s the more obvious wild child of the two (dina is just sneakier about her activities). i feel like nina would go for more sportswear and streetwear type clothes while dina goes for the y2k, 2010s glamorous it-girl look.

dina actually seems more mature and more of an older sister to me than nina. i feel like nina’s personality is more straightforward/direct, impulsive, and emotionally driven, while dina is more two-faced, strategic, and more of a subtly manipulative game-player which you’d have to be if you were to be a successful gold-digger. she thinks ahead and considers different outcomes, making her the more “responsible” decision maker of the duo. at the end of the day, they are both women who put themselves first and go after what they want, they just achieve their goals in different ways.

it’s interesting that the sims wiki states that nina’s official description is the “brains of the operation” and wants to study medicine when none of her traits in TS3 and TS4 really reflect those qualities. if anything i think dina would be the more successful one in the medicine field because she’s ambitious, charismatic, and you already know she’d network the hell out of a room. nina seems like she’d be more of a yolo, fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants type of person in school/work/life in general.  

[purpleprincessonfyre]

And now something a bit soft, inspired by an idea that @jackiequick gave me that devolved into a full fledged Found Family fic. Sorry not sorry.

Marvel AU - Not Your Barbie Girl

Characters: Liane Felton and Jason Underwood aka JJ

Mentioned: Ethan Lensherr, The OG Avengers, Rochelle Romanoff-Felton, Rei Stark

Setting: The Avengers Tower, post Battle of New York

Themes: Found Family, Grumpy and Sunshine friends

IB: Not Your Barbie Girl by Ava Max

Liane was stressed. She was pacing her room back and forth, her music nearly blasting, her bed strewn in dresses and outfits, shoes cluttered across her floor and she was clenching her pillow tightly, trying not to scream. She was not doing well.

Ethan had asked her on a date. Yesterday. He was very slightly nudged by his brother Cole into saying it outloud but Liane had said yes almost immediately. Actually she'd shouted it. Causing everyone to stop in their tracks as her cheeks turned a deep shade of peony. But Ethan had smiled, that dumb sweet grin that made Liane feel special.

But now she had the arduous task of choosing what to wear. Smart? Casual? Smart casual? Streetwear? Black tie? She was racking her brain trying to predict what kind of date this was going to be or how her date was going to dress. Ethan wasn't really a suit person but what if he wore one tonight? There were too many options.

Finally Liane settled on a classic look of hers; white collared blouse, pale pink sweater, plaid grey skirt, white knee socks and black Mary Jane heels. She smiled as she put it on, feeling that confidence she had before and stepped out of her room to check with the other girls about her outfit choice.

But as Liane entered the main area she realised how quiet it was. She looked around and only saw one person. Jason Underwood. She frowned, clearly confused.

"Where did everyone go?"

"Nat's off training Rochelle and a few of the others, Bruce and some of the guys including Rei are at the lab and the rest are busy. I'm only here so the Tower isn't left unsupervised."

"Oh. Okay. Do you...do you mind if I get your opinion on something?"

"Go ahead but it might not be flattering," stated Jason, his eyes still fixed on his newspaper. Liane stood in front of him in her outfit, smiling.

"Does this outfit look good for my date tonight with Ethan?"

"Sure it does." Jason replied, still not looking up. Liane sighed.

"At least look at it."

"Fine." His gaze flicked up to her outfit then back to his paper.

"Yep, you look like your usual...pinky self."

"I- But what do you think? Be totally honest."

Jason lowered his paper, making eye contact with her, not sure if this was a trap or not.

"You want ME to be honest?"

"Brutally honest."

"Fine." He put his paper down, sat bolt upright and fixed his gaze on her outfit. He looked her up and down carefully before he spoke, having made up his mind.

"You dress like a Boarding School Student who thinks they're rebellious for wearing nail polish and earrings at school. You're on a date, not taking your SATs. All you'd need to top it off is a dog in your purse and a crucifix necklace to show them just how devout you are."

"Okay now you're just being rude."

"You wanted honest! And honesty is I don't like your outfit. You need to find something new."

"Wait what?" Jason stood up and got up to Liane's eye level, using all his skills acquired from being a godfather to Rei to try and talk some sense into Liane.

"You have spent your whole life dressing the way people expect you to dress, talking the way people expect you to, dating the way people tell you to and living the way people think you should live. Why don't you figure out who the real Liane Felton is for once?"

"N-no one's ever asked me that before...I- would you come shopping with me? For new clothes?"

Jason stopped still. He hadn't expected that. He turned around and saw her hopefully eyes and remembered that despite her reputation she was still so young. And naive. And he was literally her only option. If anyone could help this poor girl salvage a personal style from the wreckage of her preppy barbiecore closet then it would have to be him.

Jason held out his hand kindly, smiling.

"Let's get you some new clothes, Doll."

-----

The unlikely duo got out of the car and headed into the mall, in search of new clothes for Liane. Liane strode ahead, her eyes determined while Jason followed behind closely, also slightly acting as a guard dog to her since she wasn't the most liked person in the world.

They headed into the first clothes store they saw and grabbed a basket.

"Okay so what is your signature colour right now?"

"Uh pink?"

"Exactly. Not that pink isn't pretty but of course but maybe it's time to add some other colours to your closet. Pick out an outfit in every colour of the rainbow. A jacket, a dress, pants, a suit, skirt, you name it. And well we'll see what your new thing is."

Liane grinned. If there was one thing she excelled at, it was making an outfit. Soon the basket was overflowing with shades of crimson, ochre, tangerine, emerald, azure, navy and lavender and some whites and blacks were thrown in for good measure. After being satisfied with her choices, Liane marched into a dressing room with her outfits ready to try each of them.

Jason took a seat outside the changing area, ready to critique each look. Eventually Liane emerged in a red dress, topped with a red coat, black boots and a red hat. Jason raised an eyebrow, amused.

"A bit Carmen Sandiego for you."

"I dunno I think femme fatale suits me."

"Try again, Miss Scarlet."

Next she entered wearing a sunny yellow 50s style dress with white heels, a little cardigan and a bow in her hair. Jason tried not to laugh.

"Tell me about it, stud."

"Oh man! Not Sandra Dee! I was going for Marilyn.."

She kept trying on outfits in varying shades and pulling funny faces when Jason gave his verdict until he stopped her when she reached green, looking her up and down.

"None of these are working...what colours do you have left?"

"Blue, dark blue, black, white oh and purple!"

Jason's eyes lit up. He took Liane by the hand and led her back to the room.

"Try the purple jacket with this top, these pants and those mini gogo boots."

Liane nodded, seeing his vision and stepped back into the dressing room to redress, hopefully the final time. When she finally emerged Jason beamed from ear to ear. Liane was wearing a turtleneck styled white top with high waisted blue jeans, a purple leather jacket, white mini gogo boots with gold hoops in her ears and had stuck her signature heart-shaped sunglasses in her hair like an Alice band.

"What do you think?"

"I love it. It's mature, the colour suits you so well and you don't look like a school girl. And it's understated too. Very nice. But what do you think?"

"I really like it, it's so comfy too!"

"Liane Felton we have found your colour. But don't be afraid to experiment with other colours too don't limit yourself."

"Who knew you were so good at fashion?"

"Clearly I didn't."

"Ethan would be crazy not to be impressed by that outfit too."

"You think so?"

"I know so, Doll."

Liane smiled softly, then flung her arms around Jason's neck, standing on her tiptoes to reach as she hugged him tight, engulfing him in a cloud of her candy scented perfume. He was taken aback at first but realised she probably really needed this hug. Reluctantly he wrapped his arms around her in the hug, smiling as she held him close. Sometimes it was easy to forget that these Heroes of the Future are still pretty scared young people with fears and needs.

None more than Liane, who had been her mother's personal doll since birth. He'd heard the stories and the rumours but now he knew the real Liane he had nothing but sympathy for her. And after having dealt with her father in previous skirmishes and work, he felt sort of protective of the bubbly blonde princess. And she finally had a chance to break out of her shell for once and be her own person.

Hope you enjoyed!

Tagging: @jackiequick @gcthvile @cherrysft @blueboirick @meiramel @askstevella @ask-missparker @ask-starrk @therealdaydreamstark @thechoooooosenone @wizzzardofoz @finlayholmes @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @missstrawbs2001

[dreamescapeswriting]

Silent Treatment ~ OT7 [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.3K

PAIRING: ot7 x reader

GENRE: ot7, non! Idol, family relationship, smut, oral f recieving, female appreciation, we’re sorry sex,

A/N: I’m still not 100% there with ot7 smut, I am trying though so I hope that this is okay for you! I didn’t add too much smut as you only said a little. I hope you like it!

If someone had told you that you would be in a happy relationship with seven men, you never would have believed them. You never took yourself as someone who would be into polyamorous relationships but when you met the boys it all changed. They were kind, sweet, caring and they all loved you equally so it was no wonder you fell hard for them. Eventually moving into a huge home together and having a child. The only difficult part about that was explaining to your daughter’s teachers that she had different people going to pick her up from school. The dirty looks you would get from other people who thought your business was automatically their business when it had absolutely nothing to do with them.

“Mummy!” You snapped out of your daydream when you heard the familiar cry of your daughter’s voice. The more she grew older the more she began to look like you. Which you were thankful for. Neither you nor the boys knew which of them was the father, none of you wanted to know either. Collectively she was your child and that was the only thing that mattered.

“Hey sweetie, how was your day?” You questioned as you bent down to pick her up, placing her onto your hip as she began to list off everything she had been doing in class that day. You couldn’t believe she was almost seven years old, time flew by so quickly with her. 

“We did maths! I learnt how to multiply up to 10 today.” You giggled as you began heading back to the family car. It was supposed to be Yoongi’s turn picking her up today but it turned out he was busy and stuck at work. No big deal, you were mostly a stay-at-home mum and wife anyway since seven of them earnt far more than you knew what to do with.

“Are my dad’s at home?” A filthy look flew in your direction from the woman in the car beside your car. You weren’t stupid. You knew how everyone felt about your relationship with her fathers. Even the teachers in the school weren't best pleased that your daughter understood that she had more than one father. They expressed that they would rather have her know them as her uncles but who were they to tell you how to raise your daughter?

“Daddy Namjoon and Jungkook are but they’re a little busy, sweetie.” You strapped her into the back of your car, taking her book bag from her to check if she had homework to do. 

Normally it was Namjoon’s job to help with the homework, something you were trying to make happen so she knew it was okay as she grew older but not tonight. Tonight he and Jungkook were making renovations on the house so it was going to be you that helped her out.

“Okay, I’ll ask daddy Hoseok to teach me some dance moves when he comes home. We have an end of the year dance coming up and I want to ask Jaylyn and Katie to go with me.” You smiled weakly at her. The boys were all busy with their own things tonight but you nodded along, not wanting to upset her too much before you got home for the night. 

“Shall we put on some music or would you like to keep telling me about the dance?” You looked in the mirror at your daughter who pointed to the radio. One of her favourite things to do was listen to music. Something she had gotten from Yoongi. He was a radio jingle maker/ producer on the side which meant he was almost always busy with work. 

“Maybe we’ll hear daddy Yoongi’s radio jingle,” You told her with a laugh as you turned up the radio and began your drive home for the night. 

Your daughter had something from each of the boys, Yoongi’s love for music, Hoseok passion for dancing. Namjoon’s brain, Jungkook’s ability to be good at literally everything that she set her mind at. Jimin’s duality, Taehyung’s art skills and she took after Jin with her loud rambling in Korean. There was so much of them in her it was hard to believe she was only one of their children.

Once your daughter had finished her homework you allowed her to go and play while you cleaned up the house. It seemed that no matter how much you tidied up it would end up a total mess again. Clothes were strewn about on the top floor where everyone would come home and dump everything they had on. Shoes were piled up at the bottom of the stairs in front of the front door. Somewhat of a safety hazard. The floors seemed to always get dirty no matter how many times a day you cleaned them.

“What do you have planned for dinner?” Was the first question that flew from Jimin’s mouth once he entered the house. Shoes on messing up your freshly moped floors. Staring at him you almost wanted to slap him with the wet part of the mop.

“Jimin! I just moped!” You called out as you sat him leaving dirty shoe prints all over the place, seeming to have no care in the world as he made his way into the kitchen and heading into the pantry.

“Relax. It’s just a bit of mud.” He grumbled as he continued to go through the cupboards for snacks. Dropping different packets onto the floor that he didn't bother to pick up once he came out with what he wanted. 

“What did you say you had planned?” He questioned when you began cleaning up the mess he left and then began putting everything you had been using away.

“I didn’t, I don’t have anything planned.” You grumbled as you put the cleaning products away into the kitchen cupboards. Standing back up and looking over at Jimin who shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing planned?” Jungkook’s voice chimed in as he heard you speaking. By now all of the boys were home and expecting something to eat as if you were the only one that knew how to use the oven. 

“Yes, nothing planned because guess what? I’m not the only one that knows how to cook.” You snapped as you glanced at each of their faces. You hadn't meant to snap as nastily as you did but it was getting to be exhausting being the only one that cooked and cleaned everything in the home.

“You’re the only one that has nothing to do all day. You've done nothing, the least you could have done was made dinner,” As soon as the words left Jungkooks lips the air seemed to turn cold and thin. Everyone turned to stare at him as you scoffed at the statement. The only reason you didn't work was that they had convinced you that they earnt enough, there was no need to work because who would look after your daughter all day.

“I did nothing all day?” Your hand rested on your hip as you tilted your head to the side. The boys said nothing leaving Jungkook to dig himself a bigger grave.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I do nothing? So I don’t clean all day, make breakfast and lunch for you, or take our daughter to school..." Jungkook turned pale as he realised how angry he had made you. 

"I don't pick her up even though it’s everyone else's turn. I don’t do the laundry, make sure the studies are clean or go food shopping, parent and teacher meetings?” Jungkook was taken back by everything he realised you did. He had no idea that you did so much leaving them to get on with whatever they wanted to do. 

“Y/n you’re being dramatic,” Taehyung mumbled as he shook his head, to him this was all easy work. Nothing about what you had said seemed as tiring as you were making it out to be,

“You know what...I don’t even have the energy for this,” You began making your way to the door when you heard Yoongi speak out this time,

“It's not like you work a full-time job, we would help but we work more than you do.” There it was. The "you don't work but we do" line. Something you had been anticipating since the moment they told you that you didn't have to work. Looking at each of their faces you knew from the moment you saw them they agreed with Yoongi.

“So you think being a mother isn’t a full-time job? That everything I do around the house is easy? Oh, please I would love to see you fucking try it for once.” You countered,

“You’re being stupid, they didn't mean it like that." All that you heard fall from Jin's lips was that you were stupid. You stared at him mouth hanging open a little but nothing came out. You just shook your head and stormed out of the room.

Ignoring them all as you stormed up to your bedroom. Normally you would share it with one boy a night, or two if you needed the extra cuddles but right now you needed to be alone. You walked past one of the studies to find your daughter fast asleep holding her barbies. Luckily she was away for the fiasco going on downstairs so you picked her up and carried her to your room. If they saw she was with you they wouldn't bother trying to get into the bed with you. 

Days passed by and the boys barely noticed you were giving them the silent treatment. They were all so busy with their jobs that they didn't speak to you. Meanwhile, you played the role of the pretty little housewife that made everything perfect for them while they were away. The house was spotless, your daughter was at school on time and picked up at the same time. 

"Darling, go and tell your dad's that dinner is waiting for them." You told her as you set the table for eight. Making sure your daughter's spot was right at the top of the table before putting their plates down and heading up to your room. There were piles of laundry sitting on the bed waiting to be put away. 

"Daddy," She called out as she walked into the back garden. They were all working on a new wendy house for her. They were trying to make it bigger than the last one so that everyone could fit into the house for tea parties. 

"Yes, sweetie?" Jin called out as she came bounding over to him, jumping into his arms and smiling.

"Mummy told me to tell you that dinner is ready," She looked at all of them and Jungkook clapped loudly. 

"Break time!" He chuckled rubbing his hands together and heading into the house. 

The dining room was empty and only eight placemats were set at the table. 

"Where is mummy?" Namjoon questioned your daughter who was sitting in your usual spot. She simply shrugged her shoulders before eating.

"I haven't seen her much and when I do she's silent which isn't like her," Jin mumbled as he began to eat the food you'd made, everything tasted fantastic like it always did when you cooked for them. 

"I tried to speak to her this morning but she ignored me," Jungkook mumbled as he pushed food into his mouth, 

"I don't blame her, you were rude on Tuesday." Hoseok reminded him of the day of the fight. That wasn't really a fight more like a disagreement. 

"We all were." Namjoon corrected him as they continued to think back on it. 

The weekend continued on just like that. You were sending messages to the boys through your daughter using her as a messenger owl while the boys did the same back. Monday morning came around and you were standing outside the school gates with your daughter. 

"Mum?" You looked at her as you zipped up her coat, grabbing her bookbag. 

"What is it, sweetie?" You questioned as you made sure her hair was perfect and she looked good to go. 

"Are you and my daddies going to spilt up?" You looked at her and then over at the school as the bell rang. 

"No, we're just having a small fight baby that's all." You whispered as you kissed her forehead. If you tried to explain it now she'd be late for school. 

"Go, I promise we'll make up while you're at school." She began rushing off in the direction of her class and you waved goodbye until the doors completely shut and you could head home. 

Home where all of the boys were waiting for you. They had collectively decided to take the day off from work so they could get to the bottom of whatever was wrong with you.

"So what's the problem with you?" Jungkook questioned earning a slap around the back of the head from Namjoon who was trying to be the levelheaded one throughout all of this. 

"What he means to say is, why are we getting the silent treatment?" Namjoon reiterated the question but in a different manner.

"Let me see...Tuesday night ring a bell?" You questioned as you walked past them and into the kitchen. Beginning to get started with the housework when Hoseok pulled you into a tight hug from behind. Your whole body seemed to melt into his as you missed the contact from each of them. 

"We were being idiots, we were tired and irritated with our jobs and we took it out on you." He whispered in your ear as he kept his arms around your tightly never once letting go. 

"Let us make it up to you," He whispered again, his breath making your back tingle as you shook your head. Getting away from him as quickly as you could. He knew what his whispers and touching did to you. 

"You think I'm just going to forget what you said with a simple, "we were irritated?" Because that's not how it works!" You snapped at them all, glancing over all of their faces to see if they truly meant what they were saying. 

"We didn't mean for it to be so mean and we're sorry," Yoongi told you as he stepped closer to you, holding your hand and running his fingers over your knuckles.

"We know how much you do and how hard you work," Jungkook stood up from the sofa and made his way into the kitchen to look at you.

"Now, please...Let us make it up to you." Yoongi told you again as he stepped closer to you. Running his hand up and down your cheek as you relaxed into his touch. 

"None of you have actually said sorry except for Yoongi." You moved closer to Yoongi, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as you giggled. 

"So maybe I should only forgive him." You looked at the boys as your lips slowly began to kiss up and down Yoongi's neck, biting down softly right at the nape of his neck. His weakest point. 

"No! We're sorry! I'm sorry." Taehyung whined out desperately as he so wanted to have your body on his. It had been so long since any of you had been together intimately it was starting to become too much to be away.

Seven apologies later and you were laid on the bed making out with Yoongi while Namjoon's hands ran down your naked body. Massaging your breasts while his mouth wrapped around the other, sucking and nibbling on your nipple as you let out small moans of pleasure. 

"L-Let me touch you," You complained as you reached out to touch Yoongi but he moved your hand away. 

"It's about you tonight and only you," Confused by what he meant you went back to kissing him. Your lips moving in sync with one another as he held your face in his hands.

Suddenly you felt Jimin's lips on your core making you cry out at the sudden contact, 

"Seems like someone has missed us almost as much as we've missed her." He chuckled as he began to slowly lick stripes up and down your folds, nibbling at your clit whenever he could.

"Jimin!" You whined out, back arching a little as he continued with the slow movements of his tongue which almost had you begging for more.

"Hmm so good," Jimin moans out as he begins to dip his tongue in and out of you. Taking his time as he slowly licks your pussy, tasting every bit of you he can get. 

"So fucking good," He growled deeply, your whole body shaking as he continued to lap up your juices. Repeatedly flicking your clit with his tongue causing you to cry out his name, hands buried in his hair as you pushed him closer to your cunt.

"Jimin right there!" You cried out as he inserted two fingers into you, curling them up as he continued to suck on your clit. 

Your whole body was on fire as you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. The curl of his fingers making you moan out, every now and again he would let out growls causing your pussy to clench around his fingers. 

"Don't take away all the fun," Yoongi pouted as he took your breast into his mouth, sucking harshly while Namjoon did the same to the other. Your head was spinning so fast you'd forgotten the other boys were in the room.

Watching as you were eaten out so carefully and lovingly.

"J-Jimin!" You warned as you could feel yourself beginning to get closer. The coil in your stomach was beginning to tighten with every bite, lick and thrust from him. 

"I-I can't-" You couldn't even finish your sentence before your orgasm ripped through your body. Your eyes shutting tightly as you cried out his name. Hips bucking against his lips begging him not to stop until you rode out your high.

"My turn." Jungkook chuckled as he began to kiss up and down your body. Hands travelling down to your core as he began to rub your already sensitive clit. Each touch felt intensified from your previous orgasm. 

"J-Jungkookie," You moaned out as he kissed you sweetly, two fingers rubbing small circles into your core.

"Shh, let us take care of you tonight, it's not about us." Jin's whisper filled your ear as he began to kiss and suck on your neck. Hoseok's hands made their way to your breasts as did Taehyung's. It was going to be a long and very good day.

By the time they were finished with you, you were panting and dripping in sweat...As well as other substances. You'd finally convinced them into letting you please them. Girls couldn't have all of the fun after all. Whining out as you held onto Jin you looked up at him,

"Someone needs to go and pick our little girl up, I don't think I'll be able to walk straight for a week." You laughed softly as Jin helped you into the bathroom. He'd already drawn you a hot bubble bath with a mug of hot chocolate waiting for you. 

"I'll go and get her, we can stop by the library before we come home," Namjoon said as he watched you sink into the hot water, eyes rolling back as you finally relaxed.

"I'll come too," Jungkook said as he looked at Namjoon and then at you. Making sure you were okay before they headed out to go and pick up your little girl.

"J-Jin." Your hand reached out to touch him and he turned to look at you. 

"Can you come in? I don't want to be alone." You told him, the others had all gone to wash up and you would have been alone. 

"Sure." He whispered as he stripped down, getting into the bath behind you and holding you close.

"I really love you guys," You mumbled as you closed your eyes. Listening to nothing but his heart beating against his chest.

"We love you too," He whispered as he began to slowly wash your body off carefully.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @sw33tnight​ @taestannie​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​

[alpaca-writes]

Flashback Fever #3

Thank you to @myst-in-the-mirror for giving me a good reason to fill in a small portion of Arch’s backstory!

Because this takes place before Arch comes out, their pronouns are altered to she/ her- but their deadname is never revealed. In fact, I don’t even know what it is/ was.

Xx. 

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

COKE AND COTTON CANDY

      The ice cream was melting down the back of her hand. It was a day perfect for a trip to the spray park and then to the corner store. Her mom had asked Miranda to take her out for the day with her daughter to sort a few things out at home. Uncle Arty was in town and had been staying with them for the last week and a half. He’d be heading up north again in another week or so to return to the oil patch. This time however, there was something off about him; constantly stressed out. That morning during breakfast as she hunkered over some Fruity Hoops, he had accused her of hiding the instant coffee on him. She didn’t know where the instant coffee was- she was ten.

     Her mom didn’t let her drink coffee, let alone instant. Not that she would ever want to. It smelled bad and tasted worse.

     Her tongue licked the blue and pink cotton candy mixture right off her knuckles as Jess talked about her newest thing-

     “It comes with the whole set- doctor’s outfit, the stethoscope, and the teeniest little band-aids- they’re sooo cute!”

     “Yeah, that’s pretty cool,” she commented, swallowing some cotton candy flavoring down, “but like, if we go back to your house, are you going to actually let me play with the Barbies or are you just gonna play and make me watch again?”

     Jess looked at the ice cream dripping off her hand and onto the sidewalk.

     “Mm, well, that depends… Only if you wash your hands first.”

     “I’ll wash my hands!”

     “Alright… Then I’ll let you be Ken.”

     “ ‘kay cool. Can I torture him again? Rip off his legs?”

     “No!” Jess wailed. Her blonde pigtails threatened to decapitate her friend right there on the street as she shook her head. “He’s my doll!”

     “But your Barbie Doctor can just stitch him back up, can’t she?”

     “I don’t want Ken to be stitched up!”

     Her ice cream was finished, and unflatteringly, she ate the waffle cone that came with it. Perhaps she should have picked the bowl like Jess did, but… the cone was really the best part.

     “Okay fine,” she sighed, giving in. “I promise I won’t murder Ken.”

     Jess tapped her shoulder as they turned the corner- something was happening at the end of the block, just outside the small blue bungalow. Clothing, boxes, just random items were being tossed out onto the lawn. A man stood screaming at the front door- insults and indecipherable comments spewed out one after the other.

     “Uncle Arty?!” The girl ran forward, crossing the street without a thought to check for traffic and caused one driver to lay on the horn.

“Sorry! Sorry…” she continued until she stood on the lawn. Jess followed up behind her, and then Miranda came out the apartment complex nearby to watch the drama unfolding.

“You’re a fucking bitch, Char! You don’t just toss family into the street!”

Their mother’s voice shrilly came back through the screen door.

“If you have money for cocaine then you have money to pay me rent!”

“Wow. Thanks a lot- tossing out your brother with an addiction, that’s a new low for you, sis- I’ve- I’ve been working on it, you know!”

“Yeah right, I bet you are,” she replied callously, hauling out a cardboard box full of old junk from Arty that had no business being there any longer. “You say that every time, and every time I fall for it just to find it hiding somewhere else in my house”-

Charlotte stopped, seeing her daughter staring up at her from the lawn, and then saw the shocked, and judgement ridden face of Miranda standing behind her. Miranda ushered Jessica away from her friend and returned home without a word, though it was likely that Jess would be told to stay far, far away from that house from now on.

Arthur turned, and wiped his nose. His face red with embarrassment and shame and anger all battling it out at once.

Charlotte called from the top of the stairs,

“Baby, get inside.”

“What are you doing?” She challenged angrily. “Let Uncle Arty stay”-

“No love, he can’t. He’s moving out.”

“You’re forcing him out!”

Arthur let them argue over him for another few seconds before he stopped his niece from challenging Charlotte any further.

“Kiddo, it’s okay. I know a place downtown.”

Her tears were hot against her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized how much she had started to cry- how the sheer panic had rooted her to the spot. Arthur strode up to her.

“No! Not near my daughter!” Charlotte howled protectively.

Arthur halted and regarded her, betrayed by his sister once more.

“I can’t even say goodbye to my niece?” he threw up his hands. “FINE.”

He bent over, beginning to load up an old pack full of his strewn clothing that was left out on the lawn in the rage filled clean out.

He caught his niece’s eye as he did so, unable to manage a smile to give them any sort of comfort and instead rolled his eyes, with a sour expression.

“-----!”

She heard her name. With one last glance to Uncle Arty, she ran inside the house, forgetting everything that she had planned with Jess for the rest of the day.

[shimmeringclouds]

♔ | 𝐕𝐈

»»-----　♔　-----««

You woke with a start, heart pounding. You quickly sat up, hands clutching your covers with a white-knuckled grip. You were breathing too quickly, too heavily, leaving you lightheaded. Scrambling out of your bedsheets, you rushed over to the bathroom, fumbling with the tap and splashing cold water onto your face. Your head throbbed harshly, but you didn't stop until your felt your face cooling down.

With a deep sigh, you hesitantly glanced up at your reflection. Your hair was a mess, sticking uncomfortably to your face, your skin didn't look right to you at all, your eyes looked weighted and dull, rimmed red from the sudden awakening — all in all, you looked just as terrible as you felt.

A part of you wanted to remember what exactly startled you awake, but another side of you decided it was probably best not to remember. If it scared you this badly, would you really want to have it in your thoughts for the rest of the day?

Instead, you began washing up, taking your time so that you could recollect your thoughts before showing your face to your hosts. You brushed through your hair, making sure it wasn't all in your face, grabbing a hair tie and placing it around your wrist just in case. Wandering back into your room, you looked around for your phone, checking the time.

[Tuesday - 10:36]

You wondered if anyone would be awake yet.

'Guess there's only one way to find out.'

You went to open your door, sliding it open—

"AAAH?!" You jumped away in fear, arms raised in fornt of your body. You blinked, then relaxed. It appeared that Dayoko was also planning on opening your door at the same time as you.

"I-I'm so sorry, Dayoko! Did I scare you?" You fussed over her, resting a hand on her shoulder with a concerned frown.

"Dayon...!" She sighed heavily with relief.

'I should be asking you that!'

Seeing she was fine, you moved away, taking in her outfit for the day. Her kimono was a warm yellow, reminding you of the sunflowers you had seen in the fields on your train ride yesterday. White lines of thread wrapped around the fabric, twisting and swirling elegantly. In her hair was a yellow primrose, vibrant with its petals unfurled.

"I love the flower in your hair," you smiled, watching as Dayoko smiled bashfully.

"Dayon, dayon 'yon!"

'Thank you! I can show you how to put it in your hair too after breakfast!'

She took hold of your hand once more, leading you happily down to the main room. You made sure to take note of where you were going this time, not wanting to get lost again anytime soon. Speaking of which...

"Dayoko? Where did you go last night?" she looked back at you with a confused look before her eyes widened in realisation. She halted in her tracks, whipping around to face you with a worried look in her eyes.

"Dayon! Dayon, dayon!" her arms were waving around as she explained herself, saying she was waiting for you but then Chorosuke needed her for something so she had to go and then she lost track of time and then when she realised what time it was she rushed back to the washroom but you weren't there and—

"Dayoko! Wait, slow down!" you paused her rambling, an amused but gentle smile on your face. "It's okay, I understand that you got busy. You don't have to apologise," you reassured her. She didn't look entirely pleased with herself, but she nodded slowly, sending one last apologetic look your way before heading down the hallway again.

"Dayon..."

'I'm just glad you managed to make your way back.'

"Well..." you rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, "I did get a little lost at first, but I got help, so it's fine!"

"Dayon? Dayon?"

'Help? From who?'

You hesitated. "From Ozo..."

Her face fell flat. Of course that idiot was still hanging around when he said he was heading off. She should have known he was going to try something, but you didn't appear to be hurt (or traumatised) by something he did, so Dayoko left it at that.

Entering the main room again, you smiled brightly at the sight of Chorosuke, who was already sipping away at his tea, seated comfortably on the wooden walkway in front of the garden. He perked up when he heard your greeting, turning with small nod of his head.

"Good morning, you two. Please, help yourself to some breakfast." He gestured to the table, various foods spread over the top in a neat arrangement. You eyed the table setting with awe, mouth salivating at the delicious scent of food. You quickly sat down, saying your thanks before digging in, keeping an eye on how quickly you were eating so as not to appear gluttonous.

Dayoko joined you, but Chorosuke stayed where he was.

"Are you not gonna eat, Chorosuke?" You asked after swallowing a rather large mouthful of omelet. He shook his head, lowering his cup from his mouth.

"I woke up quite early today for work, so I'm afraid I already ate. Perhaps next time I shall join you," he gave you an apologetic smile, to which you nodded in understanding.

The atmosphere was calm and relaxing, a simple summer morning rolling by as the clock ticked on. Chorosuke placed his cup down on a coaster beside him, folding his hands together onto his lap.

"What will you be doing today, [Y/N]?" He asked, breaking the silence. "The weather is perfect for some sightseeing today. Do you have anywhere in mind that you'd like to visit?"

Yo tilted your head in thought, taking a sip of your own drink. "Hmm... That's a good question, but to be honest, I don't really know any places around here," you admitted shyly. "I'd love to see some more of the scenery in Akashika, though. It's very beautiful here."

"Indeed," Chorosuke agreed. He sat in thought for a moment before lighting up. "How about you visit Iriabi? There's a cafe there that my brother runs. It's quite lovely — even though I hate to admit it — and the scenery along the way will surely satisfy you."

You mulled over his suggestion, the name Iriabi ringing a bell. Ozo had talked about it last night too, didn't he? Well, if they were both suggesting it, then it really can't be that bad.

"Sure! That sounds like a great idea!" You beamed. Chorosuke returned the smile, picking himself up off the ground.

"I'm glad that's settled!" He straightened out his kimono, which you noticed wasn't as plain as yesterday, having light decorations of sewn on white flowers scattered across the clothing. "Well, I must be going back to work. I'm sure Dayoko can help you should you need anything," he glanced fondly at his younger sister before bowing. "Take care, [Y/N]."

With that, he left the room, leaving you girls alone. Dayoko turned to you with an excited glint in her eyes, bouncing in her seat.

'I can help you get ready!' She offered, standing up and ushering you out of the room. You were glad that you managed to finish your breakfast, else you were sure she wouldn't have waited for you be done.

"B-But, the dishes—!" You started, only to be cut off.

'They'll get picked up, don't worry!'

She led you down a series of hallways that you were sure you hadn't been down before; although, every hallway looked almost exactly the same as each other. You whizzed past a few more doors before coming to an abrupt halt, and you just managed to catch yourself before you fell straight into Dayoko.

The door slid open to reveal a bedroom, coloured in a girly pink from head to toe. The furniture was a blush pink, the carpet was a rose gold, the flowers strewn about the room were a shocking hue... You felt like you had walked into Barbie's bedroom.

Dayoko pushed you over to the lavish vanity, which had a multitude of perfumes, cosmetics and accessories daintily organised across the surface. She seated you down on the plump stool, moving away to gather a few things as you made yourself comfortable.

She returned with a hairbrush in hand, and a large box. She placed it down, opening it to reveal bunches of fake flowers, like the ones she had placed in her hair. You admired each one before Dayoko tapped your shoulder, catching your eyes in the mirror in front of you.

"Dayon!!"

'Time for a makeover!'

You giggled at her excitement, a similar feeling welling up inside of you. In that moment, she felt like a little sister to you, too. It was cute and endearing. You grinned back at her saying with a hint of a laugh:

"Make me as pretty as you, Dayoko!"

»»-----　♔　-----««

[artificialqueens]

Chivalry Fell on its Sword, Chapter Three (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: Brooke faces new challenges from the guard while she and Vanessa grow closer and their feelings start to bloom.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback you’ve been giving this fic! It really does mean a lot to me that you’re all enjoying it, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on this chapter!

Thank you so much to Writ for betaing and helping me clean this chapter up, and thank you to Barbie for all your support and love (and screaming) on this chapter!

—

Vanessa dreams that she’s falling.

It’s a dream she’d had often as a little girl, sniffling as her tiny feet scampered across the cold stone floor to crawl into her parents’ bed. She’d snuggle between them and fall asleep in minutes, the dream banished with nothing left but half-forgotten images and dried tears.

It returned after her father died, when Vanessa would wake in a cold sweat and tell herself she was too old to bother her mother with nightmares.

The dream is always the same. She’s falling through the sky, hands reaching for something, anything, to hold onto, but there’s only emptiness. She’s alone, and that scares her more than anything. She’s always had someone beside her: parents, attendants, tutors, royal visitors, people in the market. She’s not meant for such emptiness, and her heart pounds as she hurtles faster and faster through the trees and toward the grass, waking just before she slams into the ground.

Tonight’s dream is no exception: the trees, the grass, the emptiness. But in the forest is a tall knight in gleaming armor, and Vanessa knows if the knight can get close enough, they’ll catch Vanessa before she crashes–

The knight tries, but can’t make it, and Vanessa shoots up in bed with her chest heaving, sweat prickling at her neck. She takes deep breaths, in and out, just like her father told her to do when she was scared. She imagines his soothing voice in her ear, and the dream fades–except for that knight. It was undoubtedly Brooke, and Vanessa’s heart speeds up again, wondering what prompted the dream, and why Brooke’s part in it won’t fade.

She takes some more breaths and rolls over, and though her empty bed has never bothered her, she wishes Brooke was here to fill it.

—

Vanessa marches into her mother’s office first thing in the morning.

“Why haven’t you given Brooke her gold yet?” She tries to sound curious and not accusatory, but her mother’s pursed lips hint that she’s on to her.

“I must have forgotten.” She calmly hands a purple velvet bag to Vanessa, and maybe Vanessa should believe her, but her mother doesn’t forget anything–not even the time Vanessa tried to kiss a frog when she was four (she wanted to see if it would turn into a prince or princess for her to live happily ever after with, like in the stories).

“Why don’t you like Brooke?” Vanessa demands, casual plans gone.

Her mother sighs. “It’s not that I don’t like her, Vanessa. I’m just worried. Her entering the tournament and being that good, with no connections to our allies…I wanted to be cautious, to protect us.” Her concerned eyes meet Vanessa’s, and she knows her mother is telling the truth.

“We can trust Brooke. I know we can.” Even though Vanessa doesn’t know much about Brooke yet, she can’t stop thinking of how selfless she was in the market, and she knows Brooke would never cause her harm.

“Your judgment is usually right,” her mother says, and Vanessa beams at the praise.

“Does that mean you’ll take cabbage off the feast menu? Because my judgement on that being gross is probably right too.”

Her mother laughs, a sound Vanessa heard more often when her father was around. It’s nice to be the one causing it now, to pretend things haven’t changed.

“And Brooke’s knighting ceremony?” she prompts, since she’s on a roll.

“We’ll have it after your birthday,” her mother promises.

“Good.”

“Speaking of your birthday…”

“Yes?”

Her mother pauses. “I’m fine with Brooke sitting at our table for the feast, but she’ll need something more formal to wear.”

Vanessa sighs. She knew this was coming. She doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with the black pants and simple shirts Brooke wears, but they won’t do in front of so many nobles. “I know.”

She takes her leave and heads to Brooke’s room.

—

The promises contained inside the velvet bag in Brooke’s hand outweigh any sword. All that gold is hers, to buy whatever she likes with–sweet cakes or new boots or anything under a market tent.

“Thank you, Vanessa,” Brooke says. She tries to stay calm, as if she handles this much money every day, but her smile breaks through from the sheer relief of never having to steal food again, of being able to buy new clothes that won’t leave her shivering in the snow.

“Don’t thank me, you won it.”

“Maybe I’ll buy one of those hats,” Brooke says.

“Only if it has tassels,” Vanessa says.

“Maybe stripes. Or roses.” Brooke grins, but Vanessa doesn’t. Instead, she bites her lip, eyes roaming over Brooke’s body and making Brooke’s stomach stir. She’s never weakened under a stare before, but Vanessa’s gaze turns Brooke’s knees to jelly.

Vanessa sighs. “I was thinking…if it’s not too forward of me, maybe I could have A’keria–she makes my dresses–make you something for the feast?”

Brooke knows her clothes aren’t good enough to wear in front of all the fancy guests. But she also knows from Vanessa’s hesitation, from the apology in her eyes, that Vanessa hates asking this of her, and Brooke forces away any embarrassment and agrees to avoid trouble.

“All right. But, um, I don’t really like wearing…” Brooke gestures at Vanessa’s sweeping yellow dress. Dresses look beautiful on Vanessa, and Brooke has nothing against them, but she can’t imagine being trapped in one when she’s worn pants for so long. In Greenville, she had to make do with whatever clothing she could find, and men’s pants fit her tall frame much easier than dresses. She could move fast and free in the forge, no worries about a dress getting caught. And with her height and short hair, pants helped her pass for a man at a distance, and she was all the safer for it. Any number of horrible things could happen to a girl on her own, but a man wouldn’t be bothered.

“She can make you pants,” Vanessa says in reassurance. “I’d never make you wear anything you didn’t like.”

Vanessa leads them to a room that’s more like an exploded wardrobe, with dresses and shoes and fabric scraps strewn all over the place.

A woman Brooke figures is A’keria runs to Vanessa and hugs her, chattering about her dress and herding Vanessa behind a curtain to try it on.

“You’re the Secret Knight everyone’s talking about,” A’keria says to Brooke.

After her jousting performance, the whole kingdom is probably talking about her, and Brooke smiles. “I am.”

“I heard you stood up to Ron the other day,” A’Keria continues. Brooke nods, and A’keria grins. “Good. You know how many capes I’ve had to remake him because he said they weren’t good enough?” She shakes her head bitterly. “But getting on his bad side…you’re either really brave or really stupid.”

“Probably both,” Brooke admits.

A’keria winks at her as Vanessa emerges in a gorgeous deep purple dress embroidered with golden roses, climbing up on a wooden stand and gesturing for A’keria’s help.

“Make sure you watch that needle,” Vanessa warns.

“One time!” A’keria huffs. “One time I pinched you with the needle and I haven’t heard the end of it.”

“It was one time too many.”

“If you could stay still.” A’keria finishes the laces and turns Vanessa around to face Brooke.

Brooke finds all the breath knocked out of her, as if she’d just fallen off a horse. The dress’ purple hue blooms against Vanessa’s soft caramel skin, the roses making her wavy hair shine. She smiles and twirls around in the mirror, and Brooke imagines Vanessa twirling on a dance floor, maybe with her hand in Brooke’s–

But that’s ridiculous. Vanessa is a princess and Brooke is just a peasant in armor. Vanessa is smart and funny and kind, making paint look more real than nature, and Brooke is good with a sword and struggling her way through the alphabet (why did the E and F have to look so similar?). There’s no way they could ever dance together.

But Brooke’s heart has never been so fluttery and the air has never shimmered like when she’s with Vanessa. She’s never met anyone as kind, never met anyone who makes her laugh like Vanessa does.

“Do you like it, Brooke?” Vanessa asks hopefully, and Brooke can’t believe Vanessa’s asking her, that she wants to know–and cares–what Brooke thinks, and it warms her heart.

“It’s perfect on you.”

Brooke offers her hand to help Vanessa down from the pedestal, and Brooke sees stars when Vanessa’s hand slips into hers. The room is suddenly hotter than the forge in the middle of summer, with a burning warmth spreading through Brooke’s arm. Vanessa’s eyes meet hers, as awestruck as when Brooke took her helmet off.

Even as A’keria measures Brooke for new pants, she can’t stop picturing Vanessa’s hand in hers.

—

“I hope you like staying up all night, peasant girl,” Ron taunts, “Because you’re on night guard with Will and George tonight. You’ll take the princess’s wing of the castle.”

The other knights laugh under their breaths, and Brooke knows they couldn’t wait to give her overnight watch, sparing themselves from the worst job.

“No problem,” Brooke says. “Catch up on your beauty rest tonight.”

Ron sputters as the knights snicker, and Will even gives her an approving nod. Brooke feels herself creeping closer and closer into their circle, to earning a place at their table without them pulling the chair from under her, and she dashes out of the armory on her high note.

—

Vanessa awaits in her doorway, stack of paper at her feet, when Brooke arrives for night duty.

“You got night duty, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t let them get to you,” Vanessa says. “The guards always stick the new person on it to mess with them.”

“I’m fine. It’ll take a lot more than them to get to me.” Brooke smiles. “Anyway, Ron’s probably thrilled he has extra time to comb his hair.”

Vanessa cackles. “He does love his hair, doesn’t he? And it’s not even that nice! It looks like a mop. It’s a wonder his helmet fits over it.”

Brooke laughs with her, trading crinkly-eyed smiles that make her heart soar. They slip into an easy silence, watching the moon shine through the window. It lightens Vanessa’s hair, brings a childlike wonder to her face, and Brooke would be happy to stand here all night with her.

“Maybe we could practice reading some more?” Vanessa suggests after a few minutes. “Night guard can be scary when you’re alone.”

“Are you sure?” Brooke can’t hide her surprise at Vanessa sacrificing sleep just to stay with her, make sure she’s all right. “You don’t have to stay up with me if you’d rather sleep.”

“I’m sure. I’m usually up anyway. Sometimes I try to paint the moon. It’s so pretty late at night, like a giant pearl. And it makes the trees glow.”

Brooke nods. “I like the trees here,” she says quietly. “There were big apple trees where I grew up, and when the branches fell, I’d pretend they were swords.” She doesn’t mean for the story to come out, but maybe the moon, or Vanessa, draws it from her like water from a closed-off stream.

“That’s sweet.” Vanessa’s eyes shine with warmth. “I guess you always wanted to be a knight?”

Brooke nods. “My mother used to tell me stories about them. I wanted to be just like them, brave and loyal and strong. She called me her little knight.”

“Does she know you’re a knight now?”

“No.” Brooke hopes her tone tells Vanessa that’s all she’ll say about it, because what else is there to say? The past is the past, and she’s moved on from it.

Vanessa bites her lip, but she doesn’t pry. Instead she turns to her papers. Brooke recognizes almost all the letters printed on them, and might even be able to form words. Vanessa took the time to write all these words just for her to practice with, and even though writing isn’t a big deal to Vanessa, it’s one of the kindest things Brooke has ever had done for her.

“Thank you,” Brooke whispers as Vanessa helps her sound out each word, and from her smile, Brooke thinks she knows how much it means.

—

Vanessa’s head almost falls into her eggs at breakfast. She’d stayed up too late practicing reading with Brooke, and Vanessa was so proud of Brooke for getting most of the words right, for beaming when she did well, that she didn’t want the night to end. Not to mention it was a better alternative to falling asleep and having that nightmare again. The few hours of sleep she managed were calm and peaceful, and the relief is worth the exhaustion.

“Do you want to go riding this afternoon?” Vanessa asks Brooke. “I haven’t been in so long.”

“You’re sure? It’ll be real hot later.”

“I’m sure.”

She hasn’t ridden a horse in years. Her father used to help her climb on, and they’d ride into the woods together. She would talk about her day and he would listen, and nothing spoken in those woods ever left, the trees keeping it all locked safely inside like a cocoon. It was when Vanessa felt most like herself, felt most loved and most secure to share things she wouldn’t otherwise. She’s hoping the comfort and familiarity will help her get to know Brooke better, maybe bring forth whatever made Brooke so flat and emotionless about her mother last night. And maybe, just maybe, it will help Vanessa sort out what to do with how happy she gets around Brooke.

No one has ever made her feel so at ease, so comfortable after only a few days, and she likes being with someone so different. The truth is, as much as tries to be fair toward others, she’s never had a chance to be friends with someone who isn’t like her–someone who didn’t eat with a golden spoon since childhood, someone who didn’t get lost in their house, someone who knows what it’s like beyond the castle walls. It’s nice to be around someone less entitled than nobles she’s met, someone who makes art out of swords and treats her with genuine kindness and enjoys Vanessa for the person she is, not just the princess.

She runs to the stables with Brooke, already regretting her heavy riding clothes in this heat. Summer didn’t want to let go this year, October sun shining with July’s ferocity, baking Vanessa under its glow. Brooke has her sleeves rolled past her elbows, and Vanessa can’t look away from the muscles curving under her skin. She never knew forearms could be so strong, radiating power down into Brooke’s hands.

She desperately fans herself while Brooke gathers her horse. Snowball is as soft and white as her namesake, and even bigger up close, her saddle sitting at Vanessa’s forehead. “I need help.”

Brooke snorts. “Maybe a pony would be a better fit,” she teases, boosting Vanessa into the saddle. Vanessa burns even hotter at having Brooke this close, her touch steadying even through Vanessa’s layers.

“I don’t need a pony,” Vanessa insists. “Your horse is just too tall.”

“She’s just right.” Brooke easily slides into the stirrup, swinging her leg over and nestling behind Vanessa.

“Showoff,” Vanessa teases. Brooke’s heart thrums gently against Vanessa’s back, her arms warm against Vanessa’s sides as she takes the reins.

The sun smothers Vanessa with heat. Sweat trails tiny rivers down her neck, but Brooke is behind her, steering the horse with confidence, and Vanessa closes her eyes and enjoys the ride.

—

“Can Snowball ride like the wind?” Vanessa asks as they trot along.

“Yes,” Brooke giggles, “but why?”

Vanessa shrugs. “I just always wanted to tell a horse to ride like the wind.” They both burst into laughter, Brooke tightening her hold to keep Vanessa steady, her body warm like a hearth against Brooke. The clearing opens up beneath a canopy of trees, and Brooke helps Vanessa down, securing Snowball’s reins to the tree and setting up their blanket.

Vanessa takes a step and stumbles, one hand flying to her head and the other grabbing Brooke’s arm for support.

“Vanessa–”

“I’m just a little dizzy from the heat,” Vanessa says. “I’ll feel better once I sit.”

Brooke nods, easing Vanessa onto the blanket and giving her water from a jug. It is hot today, the searing heat of summer, and Brooke’s grateful for her thin clothes.

“You learned to ride from your swordmaster, right?”

“Yes,” Brooke says as she sits down beside Vanessa.

“How did you start working there? Sorry, I’m just curious,” Vanessa amends quickly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Brooke pauses. The past is gone. It’s something she tries not to think of, something she tries to leave behind her.

But Vanessa radiates curiosity, and Brooke knows she can trust her. “It’s all right. My father passed before I was born, I never knew him. My mother and I ran the farm together. She did the crops and I took care of the animals.” Brooke rattles it off, trying to keep all of it–how it looked like the apple trees were waving at her in the early-morning mist, how she and her mother spoke with smiles and glances over breakfast, how the sheep bleated happily when Brooke came to feed them, burying her fingers in their fuzzy wool–out of her voice.

Vanessa smiles, motioning for her to continue.

“Then she got sick…” Brooke locks eyes with Vanessa and knows she understands what Brooke can’t speak. “I ended up in an orphanage after. It wasn’t a bad place, but there were too many kids and not enough money to run it. And I promised myself I would become a knight no matter what it took. I would be brave and loyal and strong and keep people safe. So I ran away from the orphanage when I was 13, started training with Patrick, and now I’m here.”

If only a sword and shield could have kept her mother safe from the illness that made her cough so harshly, kept those solicitors from claiming the farm and sending her to the orphanage, with nothing but her mother’s wedding ring—the ring currently hanging from Brooke’s neck—to remember her old life. But she fulfilled her promise, and she’s here to protect Vanessa, protect herself from those old memories.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” Vanessa says quietly. Her eyes glisten with the tears of someone who knows that pain, knows what it’s like to fight against it every day, whether she shows it or not.

“It’s all right. I’m fine.”

“You don’t always have to be fine, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…like your knee the other day. It must have been hurting you, but you said it wasn’t. You can be sad or hurt and not have to hide it. It doesn’t make you any less of a knight.”

Brooke tries to make sense of Vanessa’s words. There wasn’t time for grief or sorrow after her mother died, no one to dry her tears. Brooke dried them herself and moved on, lived through her years in the orphanage, the endless hours training and working, all to become the knight she dreamed of being. Knights are never weak. Even when they’re hurt, they never let it show, still saving the village and protecting people. Then again, none of the knights on the guard are like the ones in the stories, disrespecting her and dishonoring their position. Maybe all she can do is let the knight she is now protect the child she once was, let them live in harmony.

“I just–it hurts sometimes, but I don’t let it stop me. I have to keep moving.” She couldn’t have gotten this far otherwise.

“I know the feeling. Sometimes it really hurts without my father, but it hurts less when I stay busy, or I’m with someone. I don’t like to be alone.” Vanessa’s shoulders droop, and she’s suddenly younger and smaller than Brooke has seen her. She wishes she could lighten Vanessa’s burdens for her, carry them on her own shoulders so Vanessa didn’t have to live under the strain. “But sometimes you need to rest. Be with people and let them help.”

Maybe someday we can rest together, Brooke thinks. But she doesn’t say it. Instead, she slides in closer until their shoulders touch, and the heat coming off Vanessa sears Brooke’s arm even through their layers.

“Vanessa, are you all right? You’re really warm.”

“I’m fine.” Her flaming cheeks darken at her words, realizing she’s gone against her own advice. “I know what we just said, but I really am f-fine.” She looks around slowly, glassy eyes widening like she doesn’t know where they are.

“Maybe we should go back,” Brooke suggests.

“But we’re hav-having so much…fun, talking about…about…” Vanessa blinks wildly, trying to stay awake.

“Vanessa?”

“Brooke, I…I don’t feel so well.” Vanessa’s eyes flutter shut and she faints into Brooke’s shoulder.

Brooke scoops Vanessa into her arms and jumps on Snowball.

Vanessa is limp in Brooke’s grasp, skin on fire and breaths shallow, and Brooke’s heart might burst out of her chest. She can’t let anything happen to Vanessa, she has to protect her—

“Don’t worry, Vanessa. I’ve got you, I promise.”

Snowball rides like the wind.

[violetsmoak]

Tabula Rasa [7/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183281/chapters/49466486

Blanket Disclaimer:

Summary: Tim and Jason have known they are soulmates for years, though neither has said anything about it. Tim thinks Jason doesn’t know and is just trying to live with it. Jason thinks Tim knows but doesn’t care, which is fine with him, he thinks the soulmate thing is a crock anyway. But one night, a minor mishap forces them to confront the issue head-on, leading to a series of events no one could have predicted.

Rating: PG-13 (Rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #soulmate aversion #secret identity 

First Chapter

Author’s Note(s): In which as time passes, Jay's not having an easy time coping with all this soulmate stuff, and Tim's still trying to figure everything out. And Alfred is his usual awesome self.

________________________________________________________________

“Forget almost being assassinated, how did he not die just from tripping over something in the dark, or eating expired food?” Jason asks as he looks around the disaster zone that is Tim Drake’s apartment. There are takeout containers and empty coffee cups covering every surface, and clothing soiled with dirt and blood and what looks like sewer sludge strewn across the floor. Packaging and bubble wrap twist around the legs of tables and extension cables create startlingly effective tripwire traps. “Can’t you people afford a maid service?”

“Surely even you aren’t so thick that you don’t understand why that would be a bad idea,” Damian points out as he walks in behind him, carrying several large boxes from the local hardware depot. As he deposits them, he surveys the apartment with something more like horror than disgust. “This is the residence of the man my grandfather considers his equal?”

“He’s not usually this bad,” Dick says with a sigh as he closes the door behind him with one hand and deposits his own burden of packages. His eyes rove across the open concept living area with a worried expression. “I was here like three weeks ago and it was spotless. I mean, his room was a disaster zone, but that’s just Tim. Messy genius, you know?”

“If this is how he lives, perhaps the social workers are correct that he needs a more qualified minder.”

Dick ignores that. “I don’t get it. It’s like he just gave up. What the hell happened?”

Jason remains quiet; he has a nasty suspicion he knows exactly what made Tim stop caring.

Whatever, I’m making up for it now, aren’t I? In fucking spades…

He’s been avoiding Tim’s apartment for weeks now, stubbornly squatting in different buildings every night or shelling out for a motel when he wants an actual bed or shower. But the last few days he found several itching bites on his skin, and hell no. He swore when Bruce took him in, he was done with bedbugs and lice and any other critter that can be found in questionably cleaned bedding.

As luck would have it, Dick was on his way over here with Damian to install handicap bars in Tim’s bathroom and check the place over for any other chores or tasks that needed doing.

“I still don’t see the point of that,” Jason says, nodding at the boxes of tools and components. “In what universe do you see B letting Tim leave the manor any time in the next year or so? Even when he gets his memories back.”

“It’s a compliance thing,” Dick informs him. “Now that Tim’s making actual strides in recovery, social services will be coming at some point to check that everything is set up for his rehabilitation if he chooses to come here. If it’s not done, it won’t look good.”

“That chick’s still pushing this?”

“Oh yeah. She keeps coming up with new requirements she insists be filled. Independent psych evaluations, bi-monthly physicals performed by state doctors—she even wants him to attend mandatory rehabilitation at some government facility in Blüdhaven.”

“What? Why there?”

“Aside from the fact Gotham’s mental health infrastructure is riddled with the criminally insane?”

“Fair…”

“Babs looked into her and it looks like Bruce had the right idea. Gillian Sato’s a nobody. Completely average in everything, trying to make a name in her department by going after a big fish. And you know that Bruce has been CPS’ great white whale since he took me in. You too.”

“I remember,” Jason says with a scowl.

It was shortly after he was taken in by Bruce. He had just started as Robin, was beginning to see Bruce and Alfred as family and the manor as home. And then some do-gooder social worker with the ‘best intentions’ and a dislike of Brucie Wayne exploited a technicality that let her remove Jason from the Wayne household. The next weeks and months dragged Jason through such an emotional wringer that his already abundant trust issues increased by orders of magnitude. Even before he and Bruce started to butt heads later, Jason would never truly be at ease in the manor ever again.

Or anywhere, really.

People let you down. People left. People could be taken away from you. These were the facts of life, and Jason vowed never to forget them again.

It’s yet another reason he’s so resistant to the idea of soulmates. Having one just makes it easier to be let down or to have them taken away. Hell, he’s seen that firsthand, hasn’t he? A simple errant bullet and he almost had to watch his die. He can’t even imagine what this whole ordeal would feel like if he was close to Tim.

Lost in his thoughts, it takes him a moment to realize Dick is still talking.

“…her higher-ups barely know anything about her. Most of them are willing to let this thing with Tim go, but she’s the one who keeps pushing it. Poking for loopholes whenever she hits a new roadblock.”

“So have Barbie make her go away,” Jason suggests.

“And give support to the idea Bruce Wayne is above the law because of his money?” Dick challenges. “That would put a lot more attention on the issue than anyone wants. For now, we just play it the legal way. Once Tim’s eighteen, she’ll have lost a major avenue to exploit.”

“Which means you guys have to put up with her trying to wrap you in red tape for the next four months at least.”

“This is ridiculous,” Damian mutters.

“I know.”

“Not that—although yes, this farce of legal compliance is a waste of everyone’s time. But I’m talking about how no one has done anything about Drake’s condition other than wring their hands.”

“Excuse me?!”

“If we’re ever going to go on with our lives, he must be fixed, and faster than some useless stretching is going to do.”

“Kid, how exactly do you think your dad got back to fighting condition after Bane broke his back?” Jason questions. “‘Useless stretching’ was a big part of it.”

“And a hell of a lot of drive,” Dick adds. “Which Tim doesn’t really have enough of right now. I mean, I know he wants to get better, but it’s not the same as if he knew who he was.”

“Exactly. He would already be walking, I’m sure,” Damian nods. “Then you’re in agreement with me.”

“Well, yeah—wait. What am I agreeing with?” Dick asks, suspicious.

“Through my observations of the situation, I have determined that Drake is unlikely to ever regain full functionality or his memory. The easiest way to fix this would be a Lazarus Pit. I happen to know of one in Cuba.”

“Holy no Batman!” Dick cries. “Did you forget what happened when I tried doing that for Bruce?”

“It would be different in this case, since we know for sure that it’s Drake and not a decoy,” Damian argues. “At least, the body bit. And Todd recovered from brain damage thanks to the Pit.” He considers Jason. “Well. More or less. I did not know you before, therefore I have no basis of comparison.”

“And you also missed the murderous rampage that happened afterward,” Jason growls. “Not being able to control yourself sucks. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Even Tim.

Especially not Tim.

“If anyone possesses the ability to fight off the effects of the Lazarus Pit, it’s Drake,” Damian insists. “He does not have the same latent anger or violent tendencies as Todd’s files say he had.”

“Hey, stay the hell out of my business!”

“Tim might not be as violent as Jason is or was—”

“Screw you, Dickhead.”

“—but he definitely has the capacity for anger. And as it is, he suffers from severe depression,” Dick informs them soberly. “To the point where he’s considered suicide at least once in the past.”

Damian and Jason’s eyes snap to his face.

“What?” Jason demands.

“That was not in his file.”

“Because he didn’t want it there,” Dick tells them, weary. “In case someone tried to use it against him.”

“Don’t you think that’s kind of fucking important to people know about?” Jason demands. “Especially if they have to go out in the field with him?”

He’s having a sudden flashback to the night when everything came out into the open, when he swooped in to save Tim from a fall that he should have been able to divert himself.

Shit. What if that wasn’t an accident like I thought?

“We all have things in our history we don’t want in the files,” Dick reminds them, his face becoming hard for a moment as if he’s remembering something. Then he shakes it off. “Tim’s been dealing with it. He’s on medication, he reaches out when it gets bad…but it’s an ongoing process. I don’t need to tell you guys that.”

“If he didn’t want anyone knowing, he’s going to be pissed you tattled.”

“I’m only speaking up so Damian understands what a bad idea it would be to put Tim in a Lazarus Pit. Depression on top of Pit madness? I don’t want to even think about what he might do.”

Not to mention bringing him anywhere near where Ra’s might pop up is asking for trouble, especially since he can’t fight him off right now.

“So, you are insisting on this waiting nonsense,” Damian concludes, looking frustrated.

“It’s all we can do for now, Little D.”

The kid’s expression remains stormy.

⁂

Damian strides into Tim’s bedroom one morning, wearing a determined expression and followed by his gigantic dog, Titus.

Tim feels a little wary, not so much because of the intimidating canine, but because his younger brother rarely comes near him voluntarily.

“I have read in numerous medical journals the benefits of animal companions in increasing the likelihood of recovery from traumatic brain injuries,” he announces. “Since Father is adamant, we are not getting another dog, I have decided to allow you to spend time with Titus while I am engaged in my studies. I am confident it will contribute to improvement in your condition.” He gestures at the dog. “Titus, stay with Drake. I shall collect you later.”

Then he nods to himself, as if concluding business, and leaves the room.

Tim stares after him, utterly bewildered at the turn of events. Titus watches the boy go, whines for a moment, and then looks over his shoulder at Tim, head cocked to one side as if wondering what that was all about.

All he can do is shrug, which he feels ridiculous about a moment later because Titus is a dog and has a limited understanding (even if Damian speaks to him as if he’s a human being). Still, a beat later, the dog wanders over to Tim’s bed, and rests his head upon the mattress, gazing up at Tim with curious eyes, his tail wagging somewhat.

Slowly, Tim reaches out with his right hand and places it on the dog’s head, causing the tail-wagging to speed up, and scratches him behind the ears.

Titus thus becomes a semi-permanent element of Tim’s recovery process. Damian comes by every morning to drop the dog off as if he’s a parent leaving a child at daycare or school and leaves for several hours. Titus then goes to Tim for obligatory head-pats and only lets up when it becomes clear Tim’s energy is flagging. Even then, he doesn’t go anywhere, simply curling up beside Tim’s bed. When Damian returns, he pokes his head in, nods again, and gestures for the dog to depart with him.

The whole situation is bizarre, but Tim thinks it’s the way Damian expresses worry.

Having Titus around has the added benefit of intimidating Gillian Sato whenever she comes for one of her ‘visits’. Jay can’t always make it there before she does, and she somehow manages to insist on meeting with Tim privately to avoid bias (which he doesn’t understand). Those visits when Jay isn’t present are as short as possible to comply with her wishes, but they’re long enough that Tim is always exhausted and confused at their end. With Titus there, he’s at least a bit more comfortable; the dog appears to sense when his anxiety is climbing or when Ms. Sato says something that makes him uncomfortable.

“It’s rather concerning, Timothy,” she tells him in a voice meant to be kind. “Considering all the resources Mr. Wayne has at his disposal, that he insists you recover here. Instead of in a facility specifically created to rehabilitate TBI patients. It’s almost as if he’s trying to keep you here under his watchful eye.” She leans forward, expression worrying. “You want to get better as soon as possible, don’t you?”

Before Tim can try to parse out exactly what she’s asking him (because he knows somehow the words don’t match her intention), Titus hackles raise, and he begins to growl.

Almost that same instant, Alfred will sweep in and declare that Tim is quite tired today, perhaps they can continue this interview some other time?

Tim wonders if he isn’t standing at the door eavesdropping, even though somehow, he can’t reconcile that image in his head.

Depending on the time of day that Ms. Sato arranges her ‘visit’, the family member that sits with him changes. He much prefers when it’s Jay—he’s the only one whose presence helps Tim calm down quickly after such an interview—but he’s learning to appreciate and trust everyone else in his family.

He’s come a long way since waking up in the hospital and seeing nothing but a bunch of strangers.

Bruce continues to make efforts to spend time with Tim when he wakes up in the mornings. In addition to the sudoku and crossword puzzles, which Tim has started trying to do himself in his spare time, Bruce has started playing other games with him. First Go Fish, and later Memory.

They were games suggested by Dr. Thrussell to help with Tim’s mental rehabilitation, but it turns out playing with Bruce is fun. His expression is awfully serious for what Tim knows are simple children’s games, but he always becomes exceedingly pleased when Tim makes a correct guess.

Dick, who Tim has learned from Alfred is a police officer, is not always around due to his work shifts being somewhat irregular, but when he is, he goes out of his way to help Tim with whatever he might need. It’s both touching and overwhelming; Tim likes Dick, but he feels the same amount of mental exhaustion when he leaves as he does when Ms. Sato does.

How does one person have that much energy?

His favorites besides Jay, are Cassandra and Stephanie.

Steph is nice, as well. She’s affectionate with him, has a good sense of humor, and unlike everyone else who seems wary about touching Tim beyond helping him groom himself or for physio, she’s very tactile.

And she smells nice.

He feels a level of comfort with her that is like when he’s with Jay, which he supposes is because they used to date before she and Cass discovered they were soulmates. Perhaps it’s why he doesn’t question her presence in his life the way he still does sometimes with Bruce or Dick or Damian.

And then there’s Cassandra, who’s just…amazing.

Because she’s like him, somehow.

There’s intelligence in her eyes, but she has trouble getting the words out just like he does. When she sees him struggling with his brain to mouth disconnect, she looks empathetic and he knows it’s not pity or guilt.

The latter is a look he’s started to recognize in Jay, and he doesn’t like it.

He wonders if whatever makes him look like that is the reason he doesn’t get along with the rest of the family. He wishes he could ask, though he suspects even if he could, he wouldn’t get a straight answer.

He’s not sure if that’s normal for this family, or if it’s just another attempt to keep from upsetting Tim. Ever since he started to improve, everyone seems to be wanting to keep him occupied and entertained. Sometimes it’s fun—like today, with Steph egging him on while playing Candy Crush—and other times, it’s just…

Exhausting.

His convalescence aside, Tim has noticed there are times when he feels exhausted and strained for reasons other than his injury. He doesn’t know where those feelings come from, just that he dislikes them.

⁂

One evening, a little over three months following the shooting, Jason shuffles into the manor and wonders how this became routine for him.

It should worry him; how easy it’s been to slip back into the habit of being greeted by Alfred. Into toeing off his boots in the entrance closest and loitering in the kitchen to see if there’s anything left over from lunch or dinner.

It’s deceptively simple to fall into the mental trap of calling this place home again, which is why he never lets himself stay longer than a few hours. Even when Alfred keeps offering to make up a guest room or tries to tempt him with homemade scones for breakfast the next morning.

(He can’t go near his old room, the mausoleum to shattered dreams and stolen childhood.)

Jason’s usual arguments against that are quieter right now, his mind on what Damian said the other day: that no one is trying to help Tim.

In the strictest sense, the sentiment is bullshit; everyone in the Family has been bending over backward trying to make his rehabilitation priority, to protect him from two-faced social workers and asshole paparazzi looking for a story. But there’s been no headway on the shooting, and he wonders if anyone else but him is still looking into it.

Which is stupid, because he knows for a fact that Bruce is a dog with a bone and won’t let any case go, let alone one where his kid got hurt.

So why hasn’t he found anything yet?

He knows from experience, both as Robin and Red Hood, that some cases take longer than others. Bruce spent an entire year investigating the Holiday killings before Jason got involved, and during their years together there were several ongoing cases that dragged for weeks and months before a break could be made.

There are some that remain unsolved to this day.

But this is Tim, you’d think he’d be more motivated. Unless…

Unless he has found something and just doesn’t want to share it because he thinks Jason’s going to go on a vengeful, murderous rampage.

He clenches his fists.

It wouldn’t be the first time that Bruce kept something from him or anyone else if he’s on a case he’s decided is his. He even keeps Dick out of the loop on stuff like that, and he’s the golden child.

Jason’s probably just being paranoid.

Except…

Except he learned paranoia from the best, and that paranoia isn’t always just paranoia, and if Bruce thinks he’ll react badly to something, of course he’s going to keep it from him. Which means they’re going to have a problem because this case isn’t going to get solved if they can’t share important information.

Instead of heading toward Tim’s bedroom, Jason changes course and makes a beeline for the Cave entrance in the study.

He reaches the bottom of the staircase just in time to see Nightwing and Robin peel out of the garage on two bikes. A cowl-free Batman is hunched over the computer, looking up something on the main screen, while the ones off to the sideshow various CCTV feeds from the Narrows, Tricorner and Burnley.

He catches flashes of Black Bat and Signal in the latter two, and scowls.

“I should be out there.”

“That’s not your concern right now,” Bruce replies without even turning around. “You should be upstairs with Tim.”

There’s a derisive snort at that, and Jason glances over to see Blondie balanced on her own bike, adjusting her hair beneath her cowl.

“Problem, Bat-chick?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t sound like nothin’.”

“Just seems like certain people are easier to forgive than others.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce warns, still not looking at either of them.

“No, it’s fine,” she replies. “Let’s keep tiptoeing around the giant pink elephant in the room. And by giant pink elephant, I mean crime lord.”

“That what you’re goin’ with?” Jason challenges. “You’ve been stewin’ on that for three months, and you’re gonna give me grief over bullshit that’s over and done with?”

“Clearly it’s not over and done with.”

“If you’ve got a problem with me, strap on the steel tits and own up to what it’s really about.”

“Okay, fine!” Blondie hops off the bike to march forward, stopping a good foot away from him and shoving a finger at him. “You might be his soulmate, but don’t think that gets you off for all the crap you’ve pulled. Especially since you’ve known this whole time.”

“What I know or knew is none of your business. But if you really want to have a competition about who hurt him most, my name ain’t the only one on the list.”

“Are you seriously trying to pull the ‘everyone else did it too so it’s okay’ defense?”

“No, I’m telling you to be careful in that fragile fucking glass house of yours.”

“Speaking of houses, how long are you going to keep playing house with Tim before you break his heart again? Are you going to do it right when he gets his memories back, or wait a few days for him to adjust and then drop him?”

“You think I’d be that big an asshole?”

“I know you’re that big an asshole. And so did Tim,” she shoots back, merciless. “He told me you were dead.”

“I was dead.”

“And then you weren’t. And he still always told that to anyone who asked. He knew whatever this is with you, it was never going to happen, but it also wasn’t going away. So, he was trying to move on. And if he’s smart—which we all know Tim is, memories or not—he’ll stick to that gut feeling. Because the longer he’s involved with you, the more hurt he’s going to be when you inevitably break his heart. If you were any kind of decent, you’d get the hell out of his life before he finishes imprinting on you like a baby chick.”

“That’s enough,” Bruce says, and this time he does turn around. “Stephanie, patrol.”

“I’m going,” she replies. “But not because you told me to.”

She stalks toward her bike, and after a few angry revs of the engine, speeds off out of the cave.

Bruce is still looking in Jason’s direction; he can feel the frown. “Provoking her isn’t helpful to anyone, least of all Tim.”

“What argument were you watching?” Jason shoots back. “If anyone’s provoking anyone else, it’s her. And I’m telling you now, B, if she wants a fight, I’ll give it to her. I’m putting up with enough crap because of this soulmate thing, I didn’t sign on to let Timbo’s pissed off ex-girlfriend take shots at me.”

“The lack of evidence in this case is frustrating everyone.”

Jason gives him a disbelieving look—there’s no way that Bruce can be so emotionally stunted that he can’t figure out what Blondie’s little tiff was all about.

Then again…yes, he is.

Rather than stew over Blondie’s accusations (and the fact that she’s got more of a point than he’d like), Jason decides to focus on what Bruce actually said.

“So you haven’t found anything on your end, either?”

He leans against the giant computer, keeping a conspicuous distance between him and Bruce, and trying not to feel awkward and naked without his helmet on. He doesn’t actually remember the last time he was down here and not in uniform.

“No.”

“Really. Nothing? Not a single goddamn clue? This is all just some random person that decided to take the kid out?”

“It’s not the first time someone has attempted to assassinate Tim.”

“Yeah, but I heard about that, it was all planned for. This wasn’t.”

“Hence the continued investigation.”

“Yeah, well, there’s no way you’ve been on the case this long and haven’t found something.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment and then nods. “Based on the lack of available evidence, whoever did this was a professional. Elite even.”

“No shit. We knew that from Day One.”

“I’ve since narrowed down a list of suspects from around the world, who have the capability of pulling this off.”

“And?”

“And they’re all either accounted for or dead.”

“So why do you look more constipated about this than usual? You’ve had harder cases with less evidence.”

“Almost all of these snipers were trained by David Cain.”

The name makes Jason tense. “He’s dead.”

“Yes. But before he died, he mentioned something to me. That there were others.”

“Others like Cass, you mean.”

“Hn.”

Jason grits his teeth. “So, your theory is some designer assassin Child o’ Cain decided to come to Gotham just to shoot Tim?”

“It’s not a theory. Just a possible connection. There’s too little evidence to support it.”

“Then what the hell are you spending the time on it for?” Jason demands. “If we’re going for wild conspiracy theories, why not an alternate universe or time travel? It’s just as easy to speculate someone came back in time to assassinate Tim or put him out of commission for whatever reason.”

“I won’t discount those theories either,” Bruce allows, because of course. “But in either situation, anyone coming here for Tim specifically would likely be enhanced to survive whatever means brought them here.”

“Or it’s one of us.”

Bruce doesn’t meet his gaze, but there’s a subtle tensing of his shoulder muscles.

“I saw that,” Jason points out quietly. Bruce says nothing. “You think it would be me, don’t you?”

“I never said that.”

“If it were one of us, I’m the best marksman, so if it were anyone of ours to come back and put a bullet in his head, it’d be me.”

Bruce stands then, agitated. “You’re jumping to conclusions and letting your feelings cloud your judgment. This is only one of many theories, not even the one that’s most likely—”

“Except we both know that ain’t the case!” Jason snarls. “You know as well as I do, I’m probably the reason he got shot in the first place!”

“Jason—”

“I did this, B! I was in the middle of a pissing contest with some asshole moving in on my turf and Tim got caught in the crossfire. I might as well have pulled the trigger myself!”

“You did not cause Tim to be shot,” Bruce snaps.

“That’s not what you thought when it happened,” Jason reminds him bitterly.

“And I’ve since revised my opinion. I don’t believe this to be related to the contract that was put out on Red Hood.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a totally glowing recommendation!”

“Whoever is after you obviously isn’t aware of your civilian identity, or they would still be pursuing you,” Bruce replies. “Going underground would only keep you safe for so long, and it’s been months. Whoever is targeting you may have been watching Red Hood, but they weren’t watching you. Therefore, the likelihood of Tim’s shooting having anything to do with your activities is low.”

“Seriously? That’s your explanation?”

“Jason,” Bruce sighs, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose in a familiar gesture of exhaustion. “I’m trying to tell you I don’t think you’re responsible for this. Why are you fighting me on it?”

“Because nothing is ever that easy with you! And you’re usually the one driving the ‘Jason messes everything up’ bandwagon. Don’t tell me that’s changed all because I happen to be the kid’s soulmate.”

“That has nothing to do with it. I’ve already explained my reasoning, and it’s enough for me at the moment.” He fixes Jason with a calculating look that he doesn’t like. “The question is, why are you so determined to make it your fault?”

Jason opens his mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in his throat as he realizes he has no idea how to answer that.

Bruce continues. “Your behavior is inconsistent.”

“Hell, yes, it’s inconsistent! It’s been months and I still have no fucking idea how I’m supposed to deal with all of this!”

“Perhaps you should take some time,” the older man replies, turning his attention back to the computer. “Away from here.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “Away from Tim, you mean.”

“He’s at the point where he is no longer uncomfortable with the rest of us, and you did make it clear that you only intended to stay by his side until his condition improved. I’m sure with some explanation you could take some time. It might help.”

“You just…that’s not even…”

Jason falters, not sure how to respond, because really, this is his get-out-of-jail-free card. He did say he was only going to stick around until Tim was doing better, and the kid is doing better. He can get back to his search for the dick that got him to go to ground, can get back to living his life the way he wants it and not based around a convalescent’s schedule.

But the idea of it just now, makes him feel queasy, like he’s running a dirty deal.

And on top of that, it bothers him that while Bruce is certain he’s not responsible for Tim’s injury, he still obviously has an issue with the fact they’re soulmates.

It shouldn’t bother him.

It absolutely should not bother him.

And yet.

“You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that?” he snaps, and heads right back up the stairs, mind racing and unable to settle on a single conflicted thought.

Upon reaching the study he finds Alfred on his way in, a tray of tea and sandwiches in hand. The older man takes one look at him and purses his lips, and puts down his burden.

“From your expression, I suspect Master Bruce will be sulking too much the rest of the evening to be interested in dinner.”

“Like I care,” Jason grunts, slamming the false front of the clock entrance closed.

“Were that the case, you would not be damaging the furniture.”

Jason scowls, though it’s somewhat tempered when Alfred offers him the sandwiches he was obviously about to bring down to Bruce.

He takes a petty satisfaction in polishing off every bit of food and tea while Alfred pretends to busy himself with tidying the already pristine study. Although he’s clearly remaining nearby should Jason need him, he doesn’t try to force a conversation.

How does he always know…?

Jason surprises himself when he’s the one to break the silence. “Why the hell does this soulmate shit have to be so complicated? Everyone else just gets it, and I just want to jump out of my fucking skin because it’s making me crazy.”

For once, Alfred doesn’t comment on his language.

“As I understand it, you have never had another person with whom you could confide about this before. You had not manifested your mark when you first came to us, and Master Bruce does tend to avoid matters of the heart and soul except when necessity requires it.”

Jason grumbles, “No kidding.”

It’s not just now, either.

Years back, Bruce got through the sex talk with his usual emotionless, detached aplomb, but didn’t bother with any of the other stuff. Jason would have thought the guy had no heart at all, except he saw how invested he got with the women in his life that mattered.

“And I would imagine discussing it with Mr. Harper and Ms. Anders has not helped, given the substantial difference in circumstances.”

“You got that right…”

“Then perhaps I might offer my own understandings if only to provide another perspective.”

Jason shrugs. “Why not? It’s not like anyone else cares, other than to look like I kicked a puppy whenever I’m in the room with Tim.”

“It has always been my belief that one’s soulmate is the person who will have the most impact on one’s life.”

“So why isn’t mine the Joker?” Jason shoots back spitefully.

“As if that creature ever had a soul,” Alfred scoffs.

“I’m just sayin’, your logic’s flawed.”

“And if you think a homicidal clown gets to claim to be the biggest impact on your life, I wash my hands of you. Do you realize you are scarcely 21 years old? You have an awful lot of life ahead of you to have that one moment, traumatic as it was, to define all of it. Perhaps in those first few months or years following the incident, yes. But you have a future, Master Jason. Soulmates are not just for the moment, but for the breadth of your lifespan. And however much strangeness we see on a regular basis in this world of ours, none of us have the ability to discern the future.”

“Except maybe Duke.”

“Except perhaps Master Duke,” Alfred allows, his mouth twitching somewhat. “But even that only comes in flashes. He cannot know it all. And neither can you.”

“Is that your convoluted way of telling me ‘chin up’?”

“That is my convoluted way of telling you that you are not the only person to find the matter of soulmates difficult to navigate. And no one—not even Master Bruce—is expecting you to figure it all out right away.”

Jason snorts. “You sure about that?”

Alfred simply raises an eyebrow as if insulted by his pearls of wisdom being questioned, and Jason raises his hands in surrender.

Never question Alfred. He knows everything.

Still, he suspects that Bruce will be getting a rather pointed talking-to in the near future. It makes him feel marginally better about the whole thing.

“Now,” the older man continues in a businesslike tone, “Timothy is in the family room this afternoon. However, I would understand if you do not feel up to seeing him today and would be perfectly willing to make an excuse for your absence should you require it.”

Jason almost accepts the out, but then remembers Bruce making a similar suggestion—albeit with more suspect motives—and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he sighs. “Knowing Timbers, he’s been waiting up all day. Least I can do is say 'hi'.”

“Indeed,” Alfred agrees neutrally, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that suggests approval.

As long as no one else decides to ambush me with their emotional crap today, it should be fine, Jason decides, leaving the study and wandering down the hall.

⁂

Tim is sitting in the family room watching Arranged.

He spends most of his time there, either alone or with whatever member of the family is still at home that day. After so long being practically bedridden, he’s desperate to be anywhere that’s not his bedroom.

Alfred wheels him out into the gardens whenever it’s not raining or damp or windy (which, being May, it almost always is), and he’s since enjoyed the sun on his face for the first time that he can remember. He also got to experience his apparent first sunburn, because it seems his skin is notoriously sensitive.

Worth it though, to be outside.

He shifts, sitting up on the couch in front of the large television. He’s surrounded by a staggering number of blankets and pillows; Tim’s not even sure he really needs them to support him anymore—he’s been sitting up on his own for a while—but Alfred insists it’s better safe than sorry.

Titus is lying on his feet, dozing but alert. Tim’s wheelchair stands beside the couch, with Alfred the Cat (Damian seems to not have much imagination when it comes to pet names) curled up on the seat. Occasionally he opens one eye as if to check on Tim, and then returns to sleep.

He’s not a bad recovery-cat, I guess.

On-screen, Cordelia de Vere and Bertram Montmorency get to know one another and discover they actually get along, being of complementary temperaments. They have undeniable chemistry and their dialog is full of witty diatribe and veiled insults that he can’t help enjoying. It’s much more interesting than what Cordelia had with her soulmate, which he agrees with Jay about. Tim’s not sure if it’s a better match than Bertram and Maurice, who the prince continues to see in secret. Meanwhile, Gerald seems to be getting along just fine, joining the army and vowing to build himself up to meet the standards of Cordelia’s parents. He doesn’t actually seem outwardly bothered by her absence, except for several sequences of him writing her love letters.

“Never mind a bullet, this is the kind of crap that gives you brain damage,” a voice informs Tim, amused and somewhat mocking as usual.

Tim’s eyes snap instantly to Jay as he appears in the room, and he feels a smile break out on his face.

“Hi.”

It’s one of the words he’s been working on in therapy and can finally say it without having to mentally or actually hum through a children’s nursery rhyme song. It gives him a thrill of accomplishment, albeit one that pales at the thrill when Jason’s eyes widen in surprise, and then something that Tim imagines might be pride.

“Hi back,” he replies and glances around the room. The car glares up at him like he expects him to question or end his occupation of the space, but Jason simply throws himself down on the nearby easy chair—it’s the only piece of furniture free of pillows and blankets—and squints at the television. “I can’t believe you’re still watching this.”

Tim snorts and shoots Jason a wry look, mentally telegraphing his thoughts. And what are you doing right now?

“Don’t give me that, I’m humoring the invalid.”

“Uh-huh,” Tim grunts.

“That’s a lot of sarcasm for someone who can’t manage actual words yet.”

Tim doesn’t take Jason’s abrasive comments as an insult. Along with Steph, he is the only one that doesn’t try to coddle him. He talks to Tim the same way he talks to everyone else, which, like he’s equal to them even though his brain is making things hard for him right now.

Still, the reminder of his lack of verbosity directly on the heels of his recent accomplishments strikes something in Tim, something like annoyance. Something that suddenly wants to prove a point.

He frowns in effort, trying to line up thoughts and words and the movement of his mouth.

“This is seriously predictable,” Jason complains. “Obviously the writers are trying to set it up that he shows up again and sweeps her off her feet. Then the rich boy goes back to his boyfriend and watching all this is a total waste of time.” Tim doesn’t respond, and Jason glances over at him to gauge his reaction. Only to notice now that Tim is watching him instead of the show, mouth turned downward in a frown. “What?”

Tim’s lips part, then purse, and he makes a kind of humming noise in his throat, closing his eyes in concentration. He takes a deep breath and then utters a sound.

“Ju…jjuh…juh-ay…”

He blinks, somewhat surprised by himself. Jason seems to echo it. “Did you just…?”

Tim’s mouth quirks upward and he feels almost smug. Then, he slowly sounds out the word again. “Ja-ay.”

It’s slow and stilted, and his voice is raspy from disuse, but it’s there, decrying his enforced muteness.

Jay is sitting up ramrod straight now. “Holy shit, you’re trying to talk.”

The naked awe on his soulmate’s face makes him feel warm, and so Tim plods onward, ignoring the way sweat breaks out on the back of his neck or the way he feels a little dizzy.

“Th…than…kyuu…”

Jay’s expression appears to shutter, awe becoming confusion. “Uh…for what?”

“Sa…say…” Tim is panting a bit from the effort now.

“Hey, forget it, don’t push yourself,” Jason implores him, sitting up and making a pacifying gesture. “Three words is enough progress for—”

“Say-ved,” Tim interrupts doggedly. “Safe. Me. Heard…duh…di…Dick…say. You. Say-ved me.”

There.

That was almost two full sentences. He knows they’re crude and basic and maybe not quite what he was trying to say, but he managed to communicate on his own without blinking. It fills him with a buoyant glee, a bubbling temptation to laugh though he knows from experience that doing that would just make his head spin and throb.

He expects Jay to look proud again, happy or relieved—maybe even a sarcastic, teasing quip.

What he doesn’t expect is the wild gleam in Jay’s eye or the way the blood rushes from his cheeks. He looks like someone punched him, and then he’s standing, backing away.

“That…” He swallows. “I’ve got to…”

He doesn’t finish and instead turns and practically bolts from the room, leaving Tim staring after him in shocked dismay, wondering what just happened.

________________________________________________________________

To Be Continued

Poor Timmy. And just when he's starting to show some of his old spunk, too...

Things are heading for their first boiling point. Someone's got to knock some sense into Jay, either literally or metaphorically (who wants to take bets on who it will be?). 

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

Barbie may not be out of the closet yet, but her fans sure are

Has there ever really been a gay doll? 

Well, yes and no. In 1977, "Gay Bob," marketed as the world's first gay doll, was sold through mail-order ads in gay magazines. And I'm sure that Mattel still thinks about the "Earring Magic Ken" fiasco of 1993, and his "necklace." 

But there's nothing inherently gay about dolls themselves – they're toys, pieces of plastic after all. In the same vein, there's nothing inherently gay about doll collecting as a hobby, as a passion, as an art form. 

Dolls are cultural reflections of the times, for better or worse. But doll brands like Barbie that are symbols of hyper-heteronormative, old-school femininity are being reclaimed and reinterpreted by adult LGBTQ collectors in a new way. And don't think the toy companies are unaware — they’re not, and they are absolutely involved. 

More recently the main way collectors are expressing this kind of love and solidarity, and where community can be found, is through the internet and social media. This is a space where the toys' brand narrative has usually been out of corporate hands. But companies like Mattel are in it now, noticing these LGBTQ fan communities, and vying for their digital eyes.  

Now THIS is what the Dreamhouse should look like.

Image: THE SIMPSONS/ Fox

Coming out of the (doll) closet  

Many adult collectors choose dolls because of the nostalgia associated with collecting toys from their childhood. Younger LGBTQ collectors aren’t connecting as much over the nostalgic dolls themselves, as much as they are using social media to connect with other gay fans. 

Tumblr user @dolljunk, who used to collect Barbies as a young boy, got into it again as a young adult through online fandoms. “Internet groups were a great way of connecting to other collectors. I had never even heard of [doll-related social media], let alone other collectors and when I went to my local library, I found a multitude of forums and fan sites that detailed how people collected dolls such as customizing, photography, and numerous guides for doll releases. It really opened my eyes to another side of playing with and seeing dolls.” 

LGBTQ collectors are also identifying with the messages of newer doll franchises, and the potential for what the dolls can represent. Monster High collectors in particular are mostly Millennials who never grew up playing with the dolls themselves, but with whom the brand's identity has resonated. 

Dott, a doll collector active on social media, introduced her collection, saying “I mostly collect Monster High, but there's some Barbies, Ever After Highs, and Descendants strewn in there." For reference, all of these brands were created after 2009. "Monster High's my main focus because...well, I think I connect with the lore the most. Unlike a lot of doll collectors, I love the lore aspect as much as, if not more, than the actual dolls. And there's something about the MH media that I just adored.” 

In an article from the University of Connecticut titled "Valuing queer identity in Monster High doll fandom," author Sara Mariel Austin wrote that "Monster High's recent ad campaign claims, 'We are monsters. We are proud.' Race, ethnicity, and disability are coded into the dolls as selling points. The allure of Monster High is, in part, that political identity and the celebration of difference..."

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The #Goochella monsters couldn’t get enough of the #FierceRocker’s freaky-fab cover of @LadyGaga’s song, Born This Way! 🙌💁🙌 Thanks for showing us that any dream is possible if you are brave enough to put yourself out there! 💪❤️ #KindMonsters #MonsterHigh

A post shared by Monster High (@monsterhigh) on Apr 21, 2016 at 8:05am PDT

If the messages intrinsic to these brand identities are like this, it's no wonder that LGBTQ doll collectors connect with these dolls on an emotional level. Social media doll communities like "Dollblr" and "Dollstagram" have also inspired other ways for a group that's traditionally marginalized to express themselves.

A passion for fashion: doll artistry and expression

Doll collecting is, inherently, at least somewhat escapist. There’s something that feels revolutionary about being constantly bombarded with the idolized bodies and lives of cisgender heterosexuals on social media, and then going “screw that! I’m gonna take this toy, make it a representation of me, and imagine a new world with it.” 

Utilizing dolls as an art form – through mediums like photography, clothes-making, customization/modification, and fanart – allow for LGBTQ collectors to envision a world free of toxic masculinity. Creating doll art in and for an online world allows a safe space for folks to literally “play” with their own femininity and subvert gender roles as they see fit. 

“It's something that's a nice escape from real life? We aren't worrying about gay stuff if we're rerooting a doll head, cause we keep pricking our fingers on accident, and our wrists and palms are sore from using pliers. In all seriousness, I think it's a form of self-expression,” Dott told Mashable about the physical art of doll modification and customization.

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A post shared by Barbination™ (@barbination) on Mar 10, 2019 at 3:31am PDT

The way that @dolljunk connects to his collection emotionally through art is similar. “Dolls and toy collecting [are] a great creative outlet...and can encompass fashion design, hair styling and face painting/makeup while also offering a way of creating new items,” he said. 

"It resulted in me becoming more secure in my identity and interests because Barbie, for better or for worse, is a symbol of hyper femininity that doesn't allow any room for toxic masculinity in her world. Being able to get in touch with my feminine side and interests was a big contributor to accepting my sexuality as being an intrinsic aspect of myself that didn't need to be changed,” @dolljunk said.

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A post shared by Barbievette (@barbieboyvette) on Dec 31, 2018 at 1:52pm PST

And for many LGBTQ folks, especially gay boys and trans girls, that's incredibly important. Even Carlyle Nuera, who is now the lead designer for Barbie Signature at Mattel, sees the growth in these social media communities as being rooted in collective childhood experiences. 

“I think for a lot of us, in different ways, for different reasons, we feel repressed growing up," Nuera said. "Depending on our homes, our family situation, we might not feel safe expressing ourselves. I think a lot of people when they start to have expendable income, they kinda create this fantasy world, this beauty that they never really had access to as a kid. They can see it — and I think they can sort of create it with their own dolls, by customizing their own dolls, or with photography. And then also to share with other people, cause you can connect with other people [on social media].” 

Dolls are humanoid, so it’s easy to project our wants, desires, and dreams onto them. And if we alter their resemblance enough, they can mirror us back in ways we hope society will someday. 

Does life in the Dreamhouse have to be so straight?  

Toy companies, though, are already creating their own miniature worlds with their own identities for the dolls through tie-in media. With various outlets and extensions of their brand, they impose their own meanings onto the products. Mattel and Hasbro, for example, have their own TV shows and movies. Barbie has the Netflix series Life in the Dreamhouse; Monster High and Ever After High had their own movies and webisodes, and Hasbro has the massively successful My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic series.

They also have flashy social media accounts with good fashion photography and witty interactions. Barbie is now an Instagram influencer, as well as a vlogger with her own popular YouTube series. Mattel once ran an entire in-universe Monster High school newspaper through their Tumblr account. 

The presence of toy companies on social media is intriguing though, given that the minimum age for Instagram, Tumblr, and Facebook is 13. So who really is the audience for these branded doll accounts? 

While these companies likely don’t want to risk alienating the parents who buy dolls as toys for their kids, it's also seems fair to say they want to capture this LGBTQ adult interest in their products. There have been brand partnerships like with Crayola, meant to solely market towards kids. But when you have Mattel partnering with Lady Gaga’s Born this Way Foundation for Monster High, it’s obvious that they spend at least some time thinking about their messaging that can be subtly aimed at the LGBTQ community. 

Especially since in a lot of their media franchises, there's a heavy focus on messages about being yourself, accepting others, and celebrating our differences — great lessons for kids of course, but all of which resonate deeply with LGBTQ doll fans. 

Milissa C. is a big fan of the Monster High and Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse series, alongside collecting the dolls themselves. She believes that the connection between the brands and the fans is deliberate. "[We] members of the LGBT+ community are oftentimes made to feel like we are not normal because of our feelings and our identities. Monster High encourages people to celebrate what makes them unique, 'freaky flaws' [as the main character Frankie Stein says] and all. LGBT+ doll collecting communities will certainly imagine more of their dolls to represent themselves. Every time I see a post from the official Barbie Instagram accounts where Barbie is obviously having a date night with a lady friend, I think — bi queen!"

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It’s a museum date! Taking in the @mickalenethomas exhibit today at @mocalosangeles. See more from the galleries in Stories. 💙 #MickaleneThomas #barbie #barbiestyle

A post shared by Barbie® (@barbiestyle) on Feb 1, 2017 at 2:26pm PST

Connecting to the storylines as much or more than to the dolls themselves is a celebration of LGBTQ identity, in Dott’s case. “Mostly because Monster High's entire concept is centered around embracing who you are. Plus, it was my special interest when I realized I was a lesbian. Mattel never gave us any canon gay characters in that franchise, but I find it profoundly moving that lots of lesbians/bi girls see themselves in characters like Clawdeen [daughter of the Wolf Man] and Twyla [daughter of the Boogyman]." 

Yet, she's right — the representation so far hasn’t been that explicit. There’s a line between using broad metaphors to illustrate big concepts (mainly for kids), and allowing the diversity of the real world to exist and be seen on the small screen. 

Despite knowing that he is far outside the target demographic, @dolljunk says that toy brand media “influences or recontextualizes the designs of the dolls I collect. A good piece of toy tie in media often encourages its audience to invest in the universe they have created, and I've seen it result from kids to adult collectors to go on to create their own fanart or fan characters. That being said, in the future I really do hope they are able to innovate and modernize for an ever changing audience in a world with changing attitudes and values.”  

From the Ever After High episode, "Dragon Games." This was supposed to be "CPR". Yeah, right.

Image: NETFLIX / MATTEL 

Dott says she always hopes for more explicit inclusivity. “Put some canon LGBT characters in your doll and toy franchises. Show kids that it's okay to be gay or bi or trans! It hasn't got to be something big; maybe a boy character has a schoolyard crush on another boy, you know? Just something small like that to get the ball rolling. Companies still have to do better.” 

Not having canon LGBTQ representation is not unique to doll media, but because the companies have opened the door by putting these messages front and center, doll collectors engage with the media as a way of reclaiming identity, and then push the representation further than canon allows for. Toy companies arguably owe it to both children and adults, LGBTQ and not, to step up with better depictions of diversity because they're already toeing the line. 

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A post shared by Barbie® (@barbiestyle) on Nov 21, 2017 at 2:36pm PST

Progress is being made, slowly but surely. There are new dolls and action figures coming out of prominent IRL figures and fictional characters who are LGBTQ. Last year on Instagram, Barbie wore a shirt that said "Love Wins." Even in doll-related media, companies are beginning to test to waters — in 2016, Mattel's movie series based on the doll line for Ever After High featured an on-screen kiss between two princesses.

For many collectors, it's not enough anymore to simply admire and collect these fashion figures. They want to see themselves in the dolls that they've been projecting onto for decades. 

So while we wait for the brands' next move, gay culture will keep claiming dolls because we know in our hearts that they're ours as much as anyone's. Barbie? More like Bar-bi. 

WATCH: Lady Gaga hopes award shows will become gender neutral

[salemssigils]

So, you know how in the movies when the Scooby gang ( bunch of teenagers) go to a graveyard there are always strange scenes: like altars for a midnight sacrifice or creepy people roaming about in tattered clothing like zombies? Well, that has never been my experience. I have been visiting graveyards for years & one of the reasons I enjoy going is because graveyards are incredibly peaceful. I have never had a run in with unsavory people or anything creepy. Well...until now. The graveyard I visit is enormous, I doubt you could walk the entire place in a day, it's well kept, and beautiful. I go to visit my Grandparents often, but I also like to go there just to breathe. So, after the chit chat with my Grandparents, I decided to go for a walk around the perimeter of the area where a long chain linked fence was. The first thing I noticed was that there were unmarked graves, or what looked to be, they could have just been old. So I walked closer, then I stepped on something. It was a little piece of plastic. I walked a bit further and found a baby doll arm, then a leg, then fingers...there was a pile of baby doll parts strewn around the area. I looked towards the perimeter fence and saw two baby dolls ( pictured above) which were .... well... just look at them lol. My SO wasn't bothered by them, like I was. I found it slightly disturbing that someone brought the baby dolls to the graveyard with the sole intention to rip them apart, gouge out their eyes, and toss their body parts everywhere. I don't think it would've bothered me if they had been Barbie's ( I actually hate Barbie's lol) but I think because they looked like babies it made me pause. Anyway, if you made it this far, the experience was interesting to me & I wanted to share it with the community. Thank you so much for reading & please feel free to share any interesting graveyard experiences that you've had with me 🖤

[becbecandherlife]

Cleaning out the bonus room today. What an adventure. It's full of all my Christmas decorations, boxes and boxes of all that is green and red , actually every shade of red: merlot, cranberry, burgandy, Ruby red, crimson, fire engine red, candy apple red, cardinal red, crimson, Ruby, scarlet. And a LOT of faded red, stuff I need to toss, not even fit for the Goodwill box. Underneath the Christmas pile, I saw golds, oranges, rusts and green. Yep, Thanksgiving decor.

You are probably wondering why I didn't put it all away last season. I'm wondering why I pulled it all out to begin with when I was down to just one person in this big ole house. I was determined to have some normalcy in my unexpectedly topsy turvy world. All that and the artist in me loves to decorate. With a passion, so you can imagine how many boxes are strewn across my bonus room.

The main reason I didn't put it away is because of my back. It is not cooperating as it should. I almost resorted to hiring movers, not to move to another house but move all this stuff back into the attic. Undecided as I was, I now find myself 4 months before it's time to haul them all back out again, loading boxes back into the attic. Whew. And my back is NOT happy with me. I will press on. I need to find the sewing machine!!!!!!

It's a funny thing about stuff, it takes on a life all its own. It starts with a little stuff, then more stuff comes along but the old stuff is already there, in the way of the storage closet, so you pile the new stuff on top of the old stuff because you can't get to the place where you need to store the new stuff. Then The Daughter cleans out stuff from her closet and decides to pile all of her stuff on top of all your piles of stuff. I think I have just broken down hoarding in one single paragraph.

One of my biggest hinderers of getting a job like this accomplished is distractions. See, I'm distracted right now...I find stuff that I haven't seen in years and I get nostalgic. I love old stuff especially vintage anything, linens, pillowcases with crocheted flowers, old tablecloths, monogrammed linen hand towels. People who know and love me know of my passion for antique and vintage linens and give me more beautiful stuff. And I am well prepared to decorate your event in the loveliest fashion. I have a stash of stuff, vintage treasures that mean the world to me, my mother's tablecloth from the 50's, my grandmother's antique hat collection along with her threadbare aprons (those two collections I frantically rescued from a pile in the middle of Grandma James' house after she passed away almost 30 years ago... Mama, Aunt Pat and Aunt Virginia were obviously overwhelmed with grandma's piles of stuff and were purging with fervor and gusto like I've never seen. I 'spect my girls will be doing the very same thing one day with all my stuff. Side note, I must label stuff so they will know how to separate family heirlooms from stuff that what was procured in antique shops and flea markets and yard sales, you know, stranger's stuff that noone in their family wanted, stuff that over decades I found great joy and excitement searching for in this great treasure hunt of life.

My treasures. At the bottom of a pile of linens I found a treasure. It belonged to my sister, Gail who passed it on to me when she outgrew Barbies. It's a coat that has lost its mate, a lovely shift of a dress that coordinated with the jacket. It was made by the mother of Gail's best friend Melinda McCormick-Jeffers Kitchens . I am sad that I don't have the matching purse and dress but I have this coat. And the memories that come with it. Happy memories. I am still impressed at Mrs. McCormick's sewing expertise. It must've been so hard to sew such tiny versions of the most up to date fashions for Mindy and Gail's Barbies. Oh, to have the entire collection. See, this is what happens to baby-boomers, we see stuff that makes us nostalgic for stuff we had as a child so we procure more stuff to bring us back to our childhood.

I've realized another reason for avoiding the piles of stuff in the bonus room is because there amongst my treasures is stuff that I'd rather not see nor deal with. Remnants of 25 years . This stuff must be purged. It has to go. I think that is a task that needs girlfriends' assistance. But in order to get to my sewing machine, I must get back to the task at hand and focus on the happy stuff today. When I get it all put away in the attic and find my sewing machine , I am going to sew some John-johns for my sweet grandbaby. One day when my girls give me a granddaughter I think I'll make them some Barbie clothes to pass on to their daughters.

[agoddamnsupernova]

The Calm in the Storm

This is a Trini centric fic with some cute trimberly action based on this prompt by @therogueslayer I really hope you enjoy it. Thank so much for letting me take a whack at this. 

When Trini was five, she had a friend over from school and they played Barbies and dress up and by the time Laura’s father came to pick her up, Trini’s room was a disaster zone. Panic crawled up the young girl’s throat as she looks upon the messy floor, her skin crawling as she surveys the mess. She can feel tears rolling down her cheeks as her dad comes up the stairs to get her ready for bed.

“Trini, honey, what’s wrong?” Her father asks softly, moving to kneel in front of his daughter, wiping away her tears.

Trini swallows hard, her brows furrowed as she looks over his shoulder at the state of her room. She wasn’t sure how to put how she was feeling into words and just moved to hug him tightly. “My room...it’s messy,” She sniffles, wiping her face against his shirt.

“Oh honey, it’s okay, we can clean it tomorrow,” He says softly, running a hand through his little girl’s hair. “I’ll even help you, okay?”

Trini wants to argue, wants to tell him that it needs to be done now, but there’s a tiredness behind his gaze that makes her stop and nod. She allows him to get her changed into pajamas and lead her to the bathroom to brush her teeth before she’s tucked into her Beauty and the Beast sheets, the ones with a soft yellow hue and roses spattered everywhere.

He reads her a short story and kisses her head before moving from her room, turning the light off as he goes. “Goodnight, daffodil,” He murmurs as he lets the door hang open just a crack.

She lays there, eyes wide open, her heart thudding against her rib cage as she thinks of all the clothes on the floor and the Barbies strewn about them. She tries to sleep, she really does, but after what feels like hours of staring at the ceiling she has to move.

Her skin itches as she picks her way across the room, stumbling as her foot catches a dress and she nearly hits the floor. She lets out a quiet sob as she straightens up, feeling across the wall for the light switch, flicking it on before closing the door silently.

Trini has to take a few big breaths as she comes up with a plan of action, moving to her closet to grab the little hangers she used for her dress up clothes. She begins working and doesn’t stop until everything is put away, down to the last little Barbie shoe. Once she’s satisfied and the panic has subsided, she turns the light off, opens the door a crack and climbs back into bed, snuggling into her bedding.

The next morning, her father doesn’t say anything about the state of her room when he gets her up for breakfast, chalking it up to Trini just being a good kid and wanting her room clean.

The habit stays with her as she grows older, the panic getting a little easier to shove down until she can deal with it when she hits her teens. They’ve moved three times in the last three years and every one makes her anxious. Having to pack up her room and set it up exactly how she wants it, that many times leaves her longing for some semblance of stability.

But of course that’s asking for too much, instead, she ends up with super powers and stuck on a team called the Power Rangers and forced to confront an evil ex Ranger. She never thought Rita would come for her, let alone spare her afterward.

When she tells her friends, she’s surprised by their concern, the way fire seems to light up their eyes when she relays the story. When it’s all said and done, the weight of her exhaustion sits heavy on her chest as she walks home, just wanting to sleep the rest of the week away.

However, as soon as she’s back in her room, she’s overwhelmed by the amount of damage done to the place. The door of her wardrobe is caved in, there’s a huge hole in the wall and her shelves are broken to bits. Her chest constricts, panic clawing against her rib cage as she observes the wreckage.

Her knees give out as she struggles to breathe, the throb in her lungs making her wonder how she hadn’t passed out yet. By the time she manages a breath, she’s sobbing, folding in on herself as she murmurs over and over. “It’s too messy.”

Trini doesn’t notice as her window slides open, a familiar face climbing through it to find her curled up on the floor, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my god, Trini,” Kim breathes out, moving to her friend’s side.

“Trini, honey, look at me,” Kim says softly, almost afraid to touch the other girl for fear of making it worse.

Trini shake her head, her eyes screwed shut as she trembles. “It’s too messy...I-I can’t,” She sobs out, curling in on herself just a little tighter.

Kim takes a moment to look around the room, before nodding to herself. “It’s okay, let’s just get you out of here,” She hums lowly, sliding her arms under the girl, lifting Trini from the floor with ease. “I’ve got you,” She murmurs, cradling Trini against her chest.

Trini wants to protest, not wanting to be a burden but she can’t find words and settles with burying her face in Kim’s shirt, trying to calm herself down. She can feel Kim moving them out the window and into the chilled night, the breeze brushing against her skin.

“You can stay with me until this Rita business is taken care of,” Kim says against Trini’s ear as she runs through the town, taking the long way home. “Then we’ll all chip in and fix your room up, we’ll do such a good job that every trace of Rita’s presence will be gone.”

Trini nods a little at that, the tightness in her chest starting to ease as she listens to the thud of Kimberly’s heart. By the time they reach the Hart’s home, Trini is exhausted, nearly all of her previous panic having ebbed away along the way. “Thank you,” She croaks as Kim walks them through the back door.

“That’s what friends are for,” Kim whispers, closing the sliding door gently before taking them upstairs. She doesn’t set Trini down until the bedroom door is closed and she knows they’re safe. “Welcome to my room,” She chuckles awkwardly, setting Trini down on the bed.

Trini sits up slowly, running a hand through her hair as she takes in Kimberly’s room. The walls are a soft shade of yellow, two of them hold full white bookshelves. Everything seems to have a place and everything is in it's place and it brings a wave of tranquility washing over her. “I like it,” She says softly, her voice sounding thick.

“I do too, it hasn’t changed much since I was a kid,” Kim hums as she moves to her dresser, pulling out pajamas for both of them before closing it. “The shelves and my dresser have been in here since I was little, my mom liked the yellow and white, she’s not big on gendered colors,” She chuckles, handing Trini her sleep clothes.

“Must be nice,” Trini murmurs, running her fingers over the soft pink shorts and matching tank top. “I had a room a lot like this for a while and then my dad’s job had us moving all the time and I just...it stresses me out so much, not having my own space for longer than a year.”

“I get that,” Kim says softly as she changes, her back turned toward her friend. “I mean, I’ve never moved but I understand the need for consistency, I hate when my room is messy.”

“Never pegged you for a clean freak,” Trini chuckles softly, trying to make light of her own issues. “You seem too...reckless for that.”

Kim snorts at that, turning around once she’s dressed. “Gotta have a constant in a life like ours,” She replied, grinning at her friend. “Now, get changed so we can sleep.”

Trini nods a little, getting up from the bed. “Thank you again, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come and gotten me,” She says lowly as she starts to change, biting her lip a bit. “How did you know to come?”

“We’re all connected, Trini,” Kim replies simply, getting the bed ready for them. “We all got this surge of panic from you. The boys wanted to come with me, but I know that when I’m having a panic attack, I can’t stand having more than one person around me.”

Trini smiles slightly at that, it’s reassuring having people to take care of her, if not a little unnerving. Her parents never understood her need to have her space clean and tidy and exactly right. “You have panic attacks?” She finds herself asking, wondering if it was even appropriate to ask.

“Sometimes, they’ve gotten better over the years. My parents took me to see a counselor when I was younger and it’s helped a lot,” Kim says softly, curling up on the side of the bed against the wall.

Trini nods a bit, moving to sit on the edge of the bed once she was changed. Her fingers trace the floral pattern of Kim’s sheets as she thinks of what to say next. “My family doesn’t understand why I want my personal space to look a certain way, or why I hate when they come into my room. They just tell me to stop being so sensitive, that my room can easily be picked up.”

“I’m sorry, T,” Kim hums, shifting so she can brush her fingers against Trini’s arm. “I know it’s not the same as like...having your own room and all that, but whenever you need to relax and be in a space that makes you comfortable, you’re welcome here.”

Trini smiles softly as she looks up from the bedspread to catch Kim’s dark eyes in the low light. “I would love that, thank you,” She whispers, the warmth between them banishing any anxiety that had lingered from the incident.

Kim grins, her eyes seeming to twinkle as she shifts to bring Trini down against the sheets. “Let’s get some sleep, okay?” She murmurs, pulling the smaller girl into her side.

Trini lets out a soft yawn, burrowing into Kimberly’s side. “We never speak of this in front of the boys,” She teases, nuzzling Kim’s chest.

“I’d rather this be our thing,” Kim chuckles lowly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Trini’s head.

“Good,” Trini hums, her arm draping over Kimberly’s waist, her body relaxing against her friend’s side. 

Maybe, just maybe this would all be alright.

[yellowsugarwords]

Walking Dead Game FanFiction - "B-a-r-b-i-e"

[artificialqueens]

Late Bloomer Chapter 1

This is loosely based on “Late Bloomer” by Jenny Lewis

follow the fic at @ladyalix on ao3

CHAPTER ONE

Trixie chose Paris because it was the fashion capital of the world, she told herself, but mostly because it seemed the farthest away place in the world from Milwaukee. After high school she was determined to do something with her life, to prove to herself and the rest of her graduating class that her dreams were not unfounded - and she was also determined not to fuck it up. Her plan, really, was very simple. Rent a room somewhere with the limited funds she’d saved up washing dishes at the local greasy spoon for the past two years, apply for as many fashion-related internships and jobs as she could find, and serve enough cups of coffee and run enough Xerox trips until she was designing. Unfortunately, the plan did not include falling in love with the female, anxiety-ridden, chain-smoking Russian artist who lived down the hall.

“So you’re my new roommate,” said the chubby, red-haired woman who answered the door. Trixie noted the woman’s soft country accent - she had specifically chosen to live with an American expat as her French was high-school level, but something about this woman’s inflections were comfortingly familiar. She too was a refugee from a life far from any city of note.

“Yeah, hi, um, I’m Trixie - Trixie Mattel,” Trixie used the surname she had planned on adopting along with her new life - something that came from her reputation as Barbie-doll like, with her penchant for fashion, makeup, and all things pink and kitschy.

“I’m Ginger - Ginger Minj,” beamed the woman. Ginger opened the door wider, and Trixie gulped as she realised the flat was quite small; one room, strewn with clothing, art, and record albums, and one large bed.

“I forgot to mention, we’re going to have to share some space,” winced Ginger. “And I’m having a small get-together with my art friends tonight. You’ll like them, but I’m afraid there’s not much room to avoid us in.”

Trixie laughed. “That’s fine!” She began to unpack her solo suitcase, filled with her embellished thrift-store finds and her own pink creations, and put them in the small dresser by the bed.

“You’re quite an artist yourself,” commented Ginger, “did you make those?”

“Most of them, yeah. I want to go into fashion.”

Ginger chuckled. “You and every other girl in Paris.” Trixie tried not to show how the woman’s words had hurt her - she hadn’t really thought about how many stories like hers existed. In Milwaukee, she had been unique in her dreaming and determination. But after several hours off the plane she already saw how difficult it would be for her in a place like this, so saturated in its expectations and abundance of mediocre people with bigger egos and dreams than talents and resources.

“I’m going for a walk,” she managed, “to clear my head. And see the neighborhood.”

“Be back by eight tonight,” called Ginger. “It’s just a small get-together, but I want you to meet people.”

Ginger’s “small get-together” turned out to be a weed-and-pills-fueled party of about twenty strange-looking people of every colour, gender, and quirk packed into the tiny flat. Some sort of indie band Trixie wasn’t quite cool enough to recognize thrummed in the background. She felt very small and very young and very, very Milwaukee here.

“Trixie!” called Ginger. “There’s some people I’d like you to meet.” She gestured to a small group of women clustered towards the door, where they were admiring one of Ginger’s strange, abstract paintings.

“This one’s weird as fuck,” a tall, slender brunette girl remarked, taking a drag on a cigarette. Ginger beamed.

“Thanks, Violet, I did try. Girls - this is Trixie, my new roommate. She’s from Minnesota.”

“Milwaukee. Wisconsin,” amended Trixie. “You were close, though.”

Another girl, who had a septum ring but somehow made it look high-fashion, smirked.

“Milwaukee? Jesus, you must be in for a shock. You’re not in Kansas anymore; welcome to Oz.”

Trixie almost didn’t hear what the septum-pierced girl was saying to her, though, because just then an extraordinary-looking woman kitty-corner across the room caught her eye; barely ten years older than Trixie, or just really good at concealing her age, she was a tall, striking woman with blunt-cut, bleach-blond hair and intelligent blue eyes. What was most shocking, however, was her clothing - a macrame-covered dress that seemed like it came out of Trixie’s mom’s wardrobe from the 1970s, a dark fur cossack hat, and quirky jewelry scattered haphazardly - lip-shaped brooches, oversized faux-pearls, eyeball hairclips. Trixie, who had prided herself on her fashion-forward clothes, felt underdressed. Trixie felt her heart flutter in a way she had only read about - something girls were supposed to have felt to boys. Something she hadn’t ever known.

“Who is that?” she managed, pointing discreetly at the woman. The septum-pierced girl rolled her eyes.

“That’s Katya. She’s the craziest bitch I’ve ever met. She’s kind of a genius, though. I’d kill to be as talented as her.”

“Talented? What does she do?”

“She’s a performance artist. She does, like, interpretive dance and gymnastics and shit but somehow she makes it really incredible. She was a gymnast growing up, and they say she could have made it to the Russian Olympic team, but - “

“Shut up, Pearl,” said the taller girl - Violet - whom Trixie noticed was rather possessively holding onto the other girl - Pearl’s - forearm. Almost like they were dating. Trixie had never met a gay person before, except for her favorite teacher at school who got fired when the news of his personal life was revealed. Trixie shuddered. All her life she’d never liked anyone. But now she was safely in a community of queer people, she could ask herself - did she feel that way towards this enigmatic Katya?

“Sorry,” said Ginger, breaking the tense silence. “I think Katya wouldn’t want us… gossiping about her past. She’s put it behind her quite well.”

“Oh, God,” groaned Pearl playfully, “she noticed us.” The blonde woman was bounding across the room, a cigarette in her hand and a toothy grin on her face.

“ Devotchki”, she exclaimed, clasping her hands together in greeting. She turned to face Trixie, and Trixie had to fight the urge to turn her head shyly. “And who is this?” Her English was heavily accented, her voice the gravelly tone that gave away a chainsmoking habit.

“Um, I’m Trixie - Trixie Mattel,” said Trixie softly, using the new name with a tentative confidence.

“Trixie! What a lovely name!” beamed Katya. Trixie looked into her eyes and saw they were a startling icy blue, covered in thick black makeup. The makeup artist side of Trixie knew the Russian’s skills were dreadfully sloppy and amateurish but the strangely smitten Trixie thought Katya looked incredible - badass and vulnerable, strange and trendy all at once.

“I’m Katya - Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova, that is, but you can call me Katya.”

“Trixie’s from Wisconsin,” offered Violet with a knowing smirk, “she moved to Paris today.”

“Today?” gasped Katya, raising an eyebrow, “how old are you, dear?”

Trixie blushed, realising she was in fact quite young compared to these incredibly cool artists. “I’m eighteen. I just graduated from high school and I’m going to start looking for jobs tomorrow.”

Katya laughed - a glorious, rollicking laugh, her head thrown back and her hands moving side-to-side manically.

“You moved here without a job? Oh, that’s wonderful! You can, of course, speak French though…”

Shit. “Um…” Trixie began.

“Don’t worry,” said Katya. “I can help you. I’ve met many people in the years I’ve been here.”

“Everyone knows Katya,” offered Pearl. “She’s kind of famous.”

“And I live right down the hall,” the Russian woman offered. “Hey, tomorrow I take you drinking, okay? I can show you around the neighborhood a little more.”

“I’m trying to save most of my money for rent right now,” admitted Trixie; she really would have liked to go. “And I’m only eighteen.”

“Darling, this is France,” laughed Katya. “At least we know now you are not one of the Americans who only move here to drink legally before their twenty-first birthday. And don’t worry - it’s my treat.”

“Like - “ stammered Trixie. “Like a date?” of course it wasn’t a date, Trixie reminded herself. They were girls. Katya was probably straight anyway - but growing up poor like Trixie had, she wasn’t always comfortable having someone she had just barely met treat her to something like this. It was too much like charity. Somehow, though, Katya’s offer was different than that.

“Yes, something like a date,” said Katya breezily. “Moi druzya, do any of you have a light?”