#or maybe worry because i am still on my bullshit

[vaspider]

Tonight, the night before Election Day 2024 in the US, I am thinking about my stepkid.

I am thinking about the phone call they made to us earlier this year, the one where they told us they'd gone to the hospital thinking they had appendicitis and found out, instead, that a zygote - a tiny splodge of cells - had taken up residence not in their uterus but in a fallopian tube. The one where our kid said they were waiting for their partner to arrive, hoped that said partner would get there before the docs took our kid back to terminate that pregnancy, & assured us that they'd be okay.

After all, our kid lives in a state with choice measures embedded in state law. That pea-sized blot of tissue doesn't have more right to their health than they do. Nobody is standing between them and their doctors. They made a decision, and that was that.

In this tiny tragedy, the kind that plays out dozens of times a day at minimum across the country, we only had to worry about the small risk of surgery complications. We didn't have to worry about Ken Paxton threatening to charge their doctors with felonies. We didn't have to think, "What if the hospital's legal team doesn't think an ectopic pregnancy - which is never ever viable and must be terminated before it kills our kid - is really that big of a deal?" We didn't have to worry that they live in a state where ob-gyns are fleeing, leaving few experts behind, as has happened in Idaho.

We didn't have to watch our kid vomit up black blood before dying the day after their baby shower the way Neveah's mom did. We didn't have to pray in a waiting room (while doctors took our kid apart until their heart stopped because the doctors waited too long out of fear of anti-choice laws) until a doctor came to tell us we'd have to bury them the way that Amber's mom did. We aren't having to pick up our lives after fully treatable miscarriage-related sepsis took them from us the way that Josseli's husband and daughter must.

I could go on for far, far too long.

Listen. If you are a single-issue non-voter and have already decided that "both parties are the same" or whatever other thing you've told yourself so you can sleep at night, smug and secure, then I can't reach you and I can't help you. But if you genuinely think that your votes don't matter, if you're just suffering from a bout of overwhelm or apathy, if you're too young to remember the 2000 election and can't see that Dobbs is a direct result of that election and every one that's followed, please, I am fucking begging you.

I didn't really talk about this when it happened. I mentioned something briefly, maybe. The posts I've started writing about it are still in my drafts. It was too fresh, too frightening. It's not any less frightening now, honestly - because if this week doesn't end with President Kamala Harris, we're headed for a national abortion ban, at the minimum - but it's not about how fucking frightened I was or how sad and bewildered I was to realize that my kid was going through this crisis in a nation more hostile to them than when I needed a D&C for an abortion at 21, in 1998.

It's about stopping this chapter of this fucking bullshit and at least finding some new fucking bullshit.

Vote, dammit.

Do the other work on Wednesday. Tomorrow, the work is to vote.

[prosciuttulipa]

Period Pain, Go Away

how the JJK men help you through your period

content: afab reader x jjk men, just fluff this time! brief dirty joke in Toji's one (because he's Toji), but every one of them is a good boi in their own way <33

a/n: on my period and am in much pain v_v i can't decide who i want to comfort me, so i'm writing for all of the men i want

Gojo Satoru who isn't just your boyfriend during your period, but a "girl's girl". He wants to spoil you with desserts and eat the leftovers that you can't finish, do face masks with those cute cucumber slices over the eyes. You want a bath? He's already drawing one, dunking in bath bombs till the water looks like a small galaxy, putting on your comfort show so you can watch it while you soak.

Dealing with pain through fun and smiles has always been his way of coping. So, yes—maybe he does look a bit silly, gossiping with you while you paint sparkles onto his nails, his hair tied up with a pink scrunchie. But what's a boyfriend for, if not to be your Ken doll during your time of need?

It hurts him more than he likes to admit, to see you wince at a bad cramp, or come out of the bathroom with the colour drained from your cheeks. When you can't manage anything more than lying in your bed, he'll rest his head against your stomach, peppering kisses wherever it hurts. "Be good to my girl," he'll jokingly threaten your uterus, poking your tummy gently, "she deserves the world."

Geto Suguru who knows your period is coming before you do. Your irritable mood and food cravings clue him in, and he takes action without saying a single word.

The day your period starts, you realise that the feminine products you usually use have been fully restocked without your notice. The fridge is filled with your period cravings, enough to last a week. Before you can even say anything, a large hand wraps around your waist and presses a hot water bottle against your abdomen. "Good morning, princess," he greets you like he hasn't just pulled off what can only be described as a small miracle, "is everything to your liking?"

You don't know whether to laugh or cry at how perfectly he's predicted you. He's a step ahead of you throughout your entire period, knowing which snack or act of affection you want just by your expression. Some might call his behaviour unreasonable; frankly, he thinks it's bullshit. "Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer," is what he quotes, when you ask him why he's so observant. "What makes you think I do not absolutely and utterly worship you?"

Nanami Kento who is obviously written by a woman, and so does not flinch when he sees the blood on the bedsheets when he wakes up earlier than you. Instead, he kisses you good morning till you're giggling, distracting you so you don't get a chance to see the stains. He changes the sheets while you're in the bathroom, throwing them in with the rest of the laundry. When you come back out, worrying you dirtied the bed, he merely shrugs. "I didn't see anything, darling."

He treats you like a queen on the daily, but during your period, you're his empress. Each word is law, each action his cue to immediately come to your aid. He'll cook every meal, and won't let you hold the spoon to feed yourself if he can help it. As far as he can see, your only responsibility this week is to lounge around, and let him spoil you rotten.

He thinks it's a crime that you still have to go to work, when you have to pop painkillers with your breakfast just to make it through the day. "I can take care of you, you know," he'll inevitably murmur, kissing the shell of your ear, "I make enough money to support us both. Take the day off, dearest. They don't need you more than I do."

Toji Fushiguro who manages to piss you off on the first day of your period. "What size pussy you wear?" he calls to ask, when he's picking up your feminine products at the corner store, "gotta make sure I take care of that kitty for all the squeezin' she does on me."

When he gets back home and finishes getting an earful on how you're more than just his pocket pussy, he apologises by scooping you up in his arms. "You know you're more than just a good fuck, doll," his words carry a rare sort of honesty, coming from him. "You're a good woman. My woman. Gun's in the second drawer, sweetheart—shoot me if I ever do wrong by you."

His touches turn softer, the smack to your ass replaced with a squeeze on the hip, kisses on your shoulders. He's got a hand on you at all times, just rubbing idle circles against your stomach or lower back to soothe your cramps. When bedtime comes, he makes you lay on your tummy, massaging away the tension in your muscles until you're all nice and pliant. He may not always know what to say, but he'll be damned if his actions make you feel like he doesn't love you.

[wilwheaton]

Hello Wil,

Just wanted to check in on you, because I'm reasonably certain (though I could definitely be misremembering) that you exist in the same time zone as me - US West Coast - and I noticed that your last few posts have been throughout the night.

Maybe that's normal for you, I don't know, I don't usually pay much attention to time stamps, or maybe you're traveling (in which case, I hope you are having a lovely time).

But if not, and you have been awake through this night, I hope that you are doing okay. And if you aren't now - I'm so sorry if that's true - that you will be doing okay soon.

-Ardin

You're kind to ask. I've always been a late night person. When I was a kid, it was because the only time I was allowed to be me was when my parents were asleep. It was late at night that I could listen to my music, read my books, and not worry about my dad barging in to be cruel to me, or my mom barging in to dump a bunch of emotional bullshit on me. Over the years, my circadian rhythm adapted to what is called Revenge Sleep Procrastination in Japan.

I joke that I am tired all the time, except between 10pm and 3am. It's always been like that, but as I have entered middle age, it's not a joke as much as it is my reality.

I also use my queue to post every 69 minutes (nice) and there are usually around 420 posts (nice) waiting, so if I were to fall into the backrooms right now, there would still be a steady stream of Debbie Harry posts for at least a week.

[lenaellsi]

after my latest rewatch I am even more convinced that crowley really doesn't have the intense self-loathing issues he's commonly depicted with. like he has some regrets and bad memories and insecurities like everyone does, and he's under an insane amount of stress basically always, but he's very confident in who he is. he's not particularly happy about being a demon, but that isn't the same thing as hating himself for it. he hates hell, not himself.

like. he’s not upset about being called one of “the bad guys” because he agrees, he’s upset because he knows aziraphale is wrong, and because this is evidence that aziraphale still believes in a philosophy that has divided them since even before his fall. he has never once considered himself less than aziraphale or any other angel. I think it's clear that he's pretty offended by that implication, actually!

“crawly” as a name is too squirming-at-your-feet-ish for him because he knows who he is, and he sees value in that person. his depression and his worrying relationship with his own life and safety come from his feelings on god and predestination, not from self-loathing. crowley does not believe in the system. he doesn’t believe in the idea that people are purely good or evil, and he’s sure enough of himself to know that he's not either. that's why he's able to make the choices he does. he's able to act in the gray spaces between heaven and hell (see: job, the flood, the "virtues of poverty," armageddon, etc etc) because he is confident enough to make those decisions without worrying about what the powers that be say about what's "right" and "wrong."

that doesn’t mean that he’s not self-conscious. he’s very concerned with what humans think of him, what aziraphale thinks of him, and (out of self-preservation) what hell thinks of him. he hides his eyes and puts on a cool, flashy persona to hide the more vulnerable parts of himself. I think everyone does that, to a degree, but it's especially obvious in crowley because of how it manifests in his glasses. he's been burned (literally) before, and he knows better than to show weakness when he could be hurt like that again.

and re: the "I never meant to fall" thing--he's upset about being a demon, yeah, because the fall sounds like it sucked, and his job tortures him when he's Good or just Bad in the wrong way, and he's deeply lonely, and the love of his life has a complex about their relationship, and he's trapped in a system where he has to blindly follow one of two nearly-identical sets of bullshit morality rules or be executed. but again, he's mad at god, heaven, and hell for all of that. I'm sure he's angry at himself for all sorts of reasons often enough, because crowley is generally a pretty angry person, but he doesn't hate himself in any sort of existential "I am an unlovable monster" way.

maybe sometimes he regrets falling. maybe sometimes he thinks it would be easier if he never did. maybe sometimes he hates his fucking line manager and wishes he could do any other job for a while. but no part of crowley thinks that he is any worse of a person after the fall, or any less worthy of aziraphale's company. he just thinks aziraphale thinks that, because of the amount of times aziraphale has told him so.

[xlovellydreams]

Reuniting 3

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Summary: Reuniting with Rhysand after Under the Mountain

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Word Count: 3.9k

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ WARNINGS!: 18+ moments, sex, mentions of: abuse / sexual abuse / emotional abuse,

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ PART 1 / PART 2

Note: Soooooo here we are, with a 3rd and the last part of the story! I want to make something clear – I do not write 18+ things because I feel like, I am not good with describing them. So, I just try to avoid writing things like that. Here, it definitely was a challenge for me, I tried to do more than the bare minimum, it is not long and not perfect. But I hope you are fine with how it turned out.

𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 ⟡ ☾ ⟡ 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃

“You two have not done that yet?!” Mor's loud voice echoed through the small cafe, making your cheeks turn a deep red colour.

You two decided to go out, enjoy coffee, and eat a delicious pie. Rhys was busy with work, so many things he needed to take care of after being gone for so long. Getting back was not easy for him, being a High Lord, ruling his court.

“Keep your voice down please!” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

“I am not believing that. No way you and Rhys have not made love since he came back.” She looked at you with disbelief written all over her face.

You sighed. It was true. Not that Rhys did not want that - of course he did. He initiated something more between you two so many times already.

But it was you, who stopped him every time.

Because you saw it in his eyes - something was still haunting him. He was always so careful with every touch, every kiss. You just knew, that whatever Amarantha did to him - and made him do - was still taking its toll on him.

“And” Mor continued. “I do not believe that he does not want to do that or something. It's Rhys. He loves you so much in every possible way. You two are mates!”

“It's me,” you said quickly. “I stop him every time.”

“Why?” Mor frowned.

“I just, don't feel ready.” You lied a lot to her about that. Not wanting others to worry about Rhys again. You wanted to keep that part of your relationship private. Just between the two of you. Heart to heart with Rhys.

“Not ready?” Mor asked, her voice a little gentler. “That’s bullshit. It’s not like you two haven’t done it before.”

You kept quiet, stirring the coffee.

Mor studied you closely, noticing the way you avoided eye contact with her. She knew you well.

“You love each other. You cannot keep your hands off of each other. So why you won’t sleep together? Her frown deepened. “Does it have something to do with what happened Under the Mountain?

“It is not that simple,” you said after a moment.

“Not simple?!” she asked, now starting to feel a bit frustrated. “It’s not simple? You are both healed, you are both ready. You are mated for Cauldron’s sake. It is definitely that simple”

You stood up, the small table shaking a little. “Listen. I do not care about your, or Cassian’s, or Azriel’s opinions about me sleeping with my mate.” You glared at her, your eyes burning. “And I do not wish for any of you, to push us.”

Mor blinked at your sudden outburst, her eyes wide as she studied your face. In all the years she had known you, the two of you had rarely ever fought, and you had never snapped at her like that.

Biting your cheek, you quickly grabbed your bag and coat, about to leave the café.

But Mor quickly shot to her feet, grabbing your arm gently, stopping you. “Wait, I am sorry,” she said, feeling a mix of guilt and worry.

“No, I-“ you shook your head. “I need a moment.” You mumbled, already leaving.

Morrigan was left standing alone at the table, feeling absolutely horrible. She knew that you and Rhysand had gone through literal hell and back, that the trauma and pain still loomed over you both like a dark cloud.

She was trying to pressure you, Cassian, Azriel, all of them because they thought that maybe it was time for you to move on, and take the next step. But you snapping at her was a clear answer, that they all had gone too far.

You walked through the streets of Velaris, your coat hanging loosely around your shoulders. You sighed, so tired, so overwhelmed. You felt bad for snapping at Mor, she and others did not know about the deeper meaning between your words. That there was more to the story of why you and Rhys had not done that yet.

Because Rhys still didn’t tell you what Amarantha had done to him. And you were afraid of hurting him, of doing something that might feel like her.

As you wandered through the city, the sunlight was slowly starting to fade, the day being replaced by the cool, peaceful night. You continued walking, lost deeply in your thoughts – no destination in mind, your feet were moving on their own.

“There you are.”

You turned almost immediately, a small, sad smile ghosting on your face.

Rhysand stood a few feet away from you, his wings folded tightly. The expression on his face was intense as his eye roamed over you, taking in the sight of your body, searching your face,

He could feel the weight of your pain and sadness through the bond, and it made something inside of his chest tighten.

“I have been searching everywhere for you” he murmured, as he slowly stepped closer.

“I am sorry” you whispered. “I lost track of time.”

Rhys slowly reached out to touch your face, gently cupping your cheek in his palm. He could see that you were upset, he could feel it, and it made his heart hurt.

“Were you with Mor?” he asked quietly, even though he knew the answer.

“Yes,” you murmured, leaning into his touch. You sighed, wrapping your hands around his waist, and pressing your other cheek to his chest. His heartbeat calming you down.

Rhysand’s arms immediately found their way around you, pulling you flush against his body. He buried his face into your hair, enjoying the feeling of having your sweet, soft body against his.

“The two of you fought, didn’t you?” he spoke quietly, gently stroking your back.

You stayed quiet for a moment, just staying in his arms, watching the Sidra shining under the moonlight. “I snapped at her.”

He let out a soft sigh, one of his hands slowly sneaking under your coat, massaging your lower back in a soothing manner. He could feel the mixture of annoyance and guilt from you through the bond, but he did not want to press you to talk about it now.

“Come on,” he murmured, his fingers gently taking hold of your chin so that he could meet your eyes. “Let’s take a walk by the river.”

You nodded.

A small smile appeared on his face, as he led you down to the riverside. Your hands were tightly linked together.

As you walked Rhys was mostly quiet, letting you process the thoughts swirling in your head. Knowing that you needed a moment, needed to think if you wanted to talk.

“You know,” he broke the silence after a while, his voice low. “There is one thing that I would love to do right now.”

“What?” You hummed softly, squeezing his hand.

He turned his head to look at you, a tiny, crooked smile pulling at his lips as he continued walking. “I’d love to take you back to our bed, undress you, layer by layer,” he started speaking, his thumb rubbing circles on your hand. “And kiss every beautiful inch of you.”

You laughed so softly, “You did that last night.”

It was all you two had been doing for the past two weeks, just touches and kisses. Nothing more.

Because you stopped him, every time he tried to initiate something.

Rhysand chuckled softly at your words, the sound a low rumble. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, warm kiss to your knuckles.

“Yes, and I know we had a good time,” he said with a smirk. Yet you felt that hint of frustration running through him. You knew he needed you, just like you needed him, but of course, he would never push you.

He had waited fifty years to be with you again. He had thought about you every single day, dreamed about holding you, feeling your soft body underneath him.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?” he finally asked, his voice so quiet. The question that had been on his mind for the past two weeks.

“I am letting you touch me,” you whispered looking at the water.

“You know I do not mean those soft, gentle touches and kisses,” he spoke, now stopping in his tracks and gently pulling you to stop as well. “You are not letting me touch you, properly. It’s like you are purposely keeping me on edge, giving me just barely enough.”

You bit your lower lip, the guilt rushed through your body at his words.

He felt that immediately. He stepped a bit closer, his hand coming to rest on your hip. “Why won’t you let me touch you?” he repeated his question, his voice quiet. “Why won’t you let me take you back home and make love to you, like actual mates?”

“Why won’t you tell me what she really did to you?!” You finally broke, turning fully to him, tears shining in your eyes.

The sudden snap of your voice almost made him flinch, but he did not let go of you. Instead, he only tightened his grip on your hip. The sight of your tears, the anger in your voice made his heart sink in his chest. He hadn’t told you anything about what had happened Under the Mountain after the first two days after his return. And he knew he was pushing his luck with each passing day. You gave him space, you gave him time. But he couldn’t hide it forever.

“Darling…” he started to speak, his fingers rubbing circles on your hip. “It’s not that simple and you don’t want to know.”

You had the right to know. He was your mate, your mate, and owed you the truth.

“I do want to know,” you said quickly. “I need to know.”

The expression on his face was pained and almost desperate as he looked into your eyes. He did not want to tell you, so badly, he did not want to relive those horrible memories in his head. He slowly lifted his hands to cup your face, his thumbs gently caressing your red from cold cheeks. “You will look at me differently, once you hear it.”

You looked at him with pain in your eyes, “You really think that?”. Your voice cracked, “You still think that I could look at you any differently than I do now?”

Of course he didn’t, deep down he knew that you couldn’t, you wouldn’t. That you would love him, no matter what. His heart ached at the sound of your broken voice, at the pain and anguish on your face. It made him feel like the lowest, the cruelest being in the whole Prythian. But still, a small voice in the back of his head whispered to him, that you would be disgusted with him, that you would think he was dirty, tainted.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You cannot possibly lose me,” your voice was still broken but the words that left your lips were strong. “Nothing can change my feelings for you. I waited for you, fifty years, Rhys.”

He felt the truth in your words, felt your love and care for him, he felt all that flowing through the bond and overwhelmed his heart even more. “You have no idea how filthy I truly am.”

You slowly wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him down, yet not kissing. Letting him do that if he wanted, but not forcing. Never. You would never force him. “You will always be my Rhys.”

My Rhys.

It nearly brought it to his knees. Your words, the feeling of your hands around his neck, your touch, your warmth, your scent, everything about you made his heart tighten. He slowly closed his eyes, he could feel the love and tenderness, “I don’t deserve you.”

You smiled, shaking your head, “Let’s go home?”

He simply nodded, not really trusting his voice. One of his hands wrapped around your hip again, and he pulled you closer, before winnowing the two of you all the way back to the Town House.

Seconds later you two were in the middle of your bedroom, the moonlight shone through the windows. He did not let go of you, his fingers rubbing circles on your hip. His mind was swirling with emotions, and he felt like he was drowning in all of them.

His fingers moved to slowly undo the buttons of your coat, his breathing heavier. He gently pushed the coat to fall from your shoulders, letting it land on the floor behind you. A second later his own heavy coat followed mine.

“It will be hard,” he admits, his forehead against yours. So, so gently he pulled you into his arms, just wanting to hold you, feel you close against his chest.

Rhys brushed his nose against yours, an intimate gesture you loved so much. Slowly he guided you to the bed, manoeuvring you the way, he was sitting on the edge of the bed with you straddling his lap.

“I am here for you,” you kissed his nose. “Always.”

Minutes passed, the two of you just sitting like that, as you rubbed soothing circles on his hands.

“She forced me to be her sex slave,” his voice was so vulnerable and broken when he finally spoke.

Hearing it loudly, from his lips, it broke you and suddenly you regrated making him talk about it. But you both knew you needed that conversation, that his trauma was so extremely important to you that you needed to know. You needed to know what happened so you could help him, so you could show him that you would never look at him differently after knowing the truth.

“She sexually and emotionally abused me. I had nothing to fight her, to keep her away from asking questions. So, I decided to be her whore. I didn’t care about her using my body. She wanted to fuck me, so I let her. I made it so good for her that she always wanted more. Craved more. For fifty years—whenever I was inside her, I’d think about killing her. She had no idea. None. Because I was so good at my job that she thought I enjoyed it, too."

He had done all of that, everything to protect his people, his city, his family, you.

You felt like throwing up, your whole body feeling his pain. You hated every second of that. But you remained quiet, listening to him, showing him that you were there for him.

“Every year when Starfall came around, she made sure I pleasured her that night. Because she knew how important that night was for me, so she took it away from me.” His beautiful face was full of pain, a tear sliding down his cheek.

“She forced you, Rhys,” you finally said, caressing his cheek, brushing away the tears. “Everything she did was forced. You are a victim. You did not want that and I feel it, I know it. And I will never look at you differently.” Your voice cracked.

Brushing your lips against his cheek, you slowly moved your fingers to the back of his neck, “Thank you for letting me know.” You would never let him feel like that, cold and alone, used, like anyone’s slave or whore.

Never again.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered, burying his face in your neck, trying to hide but you were not letting him. “My love…”

“Can I kiss you?” you smiled softly, holding his face gently in your hands.

He blinked. He didn’t understand. Didn’t understand how you could still show such affection for him, how you could still want him to touch you, to kiss you after what he had told you.

The gentle smile on your beautiful face and the way your eyes were shining with love and care. No sign of disgust. You were showing him you still wanted him, that you still loved him.

“You are asking me for permission?” he could not help the smile.

“Yes. I am asking for permission.”

Gods. He felt like he might actually die from the love he felt for you.

“You are literally sitting on my lap, darling,” the mere idea of you asking him for permission to kiss him – something you had done so many times. It made him smile so widely, his hands on your thighs rubbing circles.

You, his mate, his love were asking for permission.

“Is that a yes or a no?” You raised your eyebrows, getting a small laugh from him in return.

He was broken, damaged and yet you still saw him as an equal. As your partner. Your mate.

He loved you so much.

“Yes. You never have to ask.”

As he said that you moved, brushing your lips against his, in a soft, gentle kiss. His hands moved from your tighs, finding their way under your shirt, sending shivers down your spine. The feeling of your lips, your sweet lips, was like a soothing balm against his soul.

“I love you” you whispered between kisses, making him moan against your lips.

“Again, say that again,” he begged, pulling you even closer.

“I love you, Rhysie.”

That made him grin, and a laugh escaped his lips a second later, “Cheeky little thing.” His lips crashed back against yours, and you sighed when his tongue slipped in, dancing with yours.

“If we make love now,” you whispered, leaning away to meet his eyes “you promise to tell me when I do something that feels like I am hurting you?”

His heart hurt from that. From the way you were still trying to make sure he was comfortable, that you were being careful and gentle with him.

At that moment he understood, that he had been an idiot for even thinking you would ever look at him differently.

“Darling, you could never hurt me,” he said quickly.

“Promise me.”

He saw that determination in your eyes, he knew that too well. You were his stubborn little thing.

“I promise,” he mumbled, his lips moving to the corner of your lips, then to your cheek.

“Promise,” you raised your pinky finger, a frown on your face.

Rhysand laughed, the stars in his violet eyes shining so brightly. Moments like this always made him remember how hopelessly in love with you he was.

“I pinky promise, you cheeky, little mate,” he hooked his pinky with yours.

You smiled brightly, moving your hands to wrap them around his neck, your lips brushing against his again. He was not wasting time, not anymore when he finally could have you again. When he could finally make love to you.

Slowly he pushed you off his lap, so that you were lying down on the bed. He immediately found his way to hover above you, trapping you between him and the mattress. Rhys leaned down, his lips ghosting against your neck, his breath so hot, making you shiver. You reached to the buttons of his shirt and he smirked, “Naught little thing.”

He pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the ground, revealing that beautiful tattooed body, the powerful muscles and he shifted more, his wings peeking above, the wings that you loved so much.

Rhysand did not stop, immediately removing your shirt, then your pants, his pants, socks, underwear, everything.

“My beautiful mate,” he whispered, trailing kisses down your neck, not stopping there. Leaving marks all over your naked body.

You gasped softly, reaching over his shoulder to caress his wing. And both, the touch and the sound of your gasp sent a wave of desires straight to his aching hardness. You knew how sensitive his wings were and he knew how much you loved them. Cauldron, he smiled against your skin. Because he had let himself be so vulnerable only with you. Only with you.

Only with his mate.

“I missed your wings,” you said. “I missed you, loving me like that.”

He groaned, trying so hard to control himself. But, the way you were responding to him, the way you touched him, so carefully, so gently, it was driving him crazy. He gave your hip a bite, earning a soft laugh from you, “Rhys!”

“I didn’t do anything,” you saw that cocky smirk on his beautiful face when he moved to kiss you again. And you melted, running your fingers through his hair.

His knee parted your legs and his hips settled between your thighs. Pressing his hips against yours, making you shiver. The desires rushing through the bond.

“Mhm, sure you didn’t,” you smiled against his lips. “You are playing and teasing.”

He loved that.

“You are the one who’s playing with my wings, darling,” he tilted his head to whisper that in your ear.

“Not me,” you shrugged your shoulders.

“Mhm, sure not you,” he leaned, biting your earlobe.

You grinned, then reached your hand to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. Feeling through the bond how much he wanted you, needed you. The desires so strong.

“I love you.”

The words were music to his ears. And he shifted, making you gasp softly, a moan escaped his lips as he buried himself deep inside you. Not giving you a second to say anything, he kissed you again, and again. You tugged gently at his hair, your hand that was holding his cheek moving to the back of his neck.

“I love you so much, darling.”

He was loving you so gently. The both of you moving in rhythm with each other, sharing the touches, and kisses. It felt like a dream, feeling him again, after fifty years. Everything was so pure and soft and you felt that warmth running through the bond. You left kisses on his cheeks, your nails leaving small marks on his neck, his back. He made love to you so tenderly, it was not fast and rough, nothing like that. Each thrust was slow and gentle, followed by a kiss, or a red mark on your body – biting and sucking. Every sound that came out of your mouth made him feel more and more alive.

“Never again,” he choked between rough breaths. “I won’t leave you ever again.” It was like a gift, a blessing to feel you again. The way your bodies were moving together, so perfectly.

You were his, and he was yours. He was the darkness and you were the light.

Two mates finally together.

With all the trauma you had both endured, all the pain. You finally had that peace you two always dreamed about. Free from any cursed place, from the pain, free to be together, free to love each other.

The two of you were lying in bed, your body nestled against his. You had no idea how long the two of you were making love. Probably all night, as the sunlight was sneaking into the room. But you two did not really care about that. Time didn’t matter.

Rhys was tracing tiny patterns on your body, his fingertips making lazy circles across the naked skin. His heart was still racing, yours was too. He finally felt light, like there was no exhaustion, not mentally, not physically, he really felt free with you in his arms.

“Are you okay?” Your voice was so soft, almost sleepy.

He chuckled at that sleepy murmur, “I should be asking you that.”

You hummed, nuzzling your nose into his neck, “Perfect.” As you said that, you needed a second, your eyes closing on your own. “I asked you first.”

Rhysand laughed so brightly. Pressing a kiss to your head he whispered “More than okay.” He pulled you as close as he possibly could, closing his own eyes. He felt his body relaxing, both of you free from everything. “Thank you.”

Two mates finally together again. Forever.

[strang3lov3]

Downpour

Jack offers you a ride home, pulls over to wait out the storm, and fucks you. (4k)

Tags - smut, fingering, oral (f! receiving) hand jobs, unprotected piv, infidelity (Jack is married still), dirty talk, pet names (darling, sweetie, sweetheart, dear), unspecified age gap, kissing, finger sucking, bit of comeplay/come eating, reader has a bush but is otherwise undescribed #bushnation, Jack is all sweet and tender but kinda pervy too, i've headcannoned that mr. delroy is a man who comes a lot. like just so much come. references to late night with the devil but this fic can be understood without watching the movie, I write car sex uniquely in that I am not bound by physics or logic or any bullshit like that. So it’s like a Mary Poppins bag in there. Lots of room for fucking. No, don’t ask questions. Shhh. Don’t worry about it. Fic Help - @noxturnalpascal thanks for your help sweetheart ♡ i love you forever A/N - the David Dastmalchian brain worms infected me months ago and have not let me rest, so here’s this. Car sex with an older and married Jack Delroy.

I feel a little nervous about writing Jack, as I feel with all characters that are new to me. It takes me some time to find my groove. Kind comments would be appreciated 💕 maybe a prompt or two in the inbox for me to play around with if you wanna see more of him 🙏

  As Night Owls comes to a close for the evening, and laughter and chatter begin to fade out, you busy yourself tidying up your station. Cleaning your makeup brushes, packing away your supplies for the weekend. You watch the television in your room and see Jack waving goodbye, shaking audience members’ hands. He’s so handsome tonight. He’s handsome every night.

You’ve been working as a makeup artist on Night Owls for about a year now. It’s a job you kind of stumbled your way into. You had won a raffle ticket to watch Night Owls live show. You were so excited to go and yet you don’t even remember who the guest was that night. You went alone, and found yourself charmed by the show’s host, Jack Delroy. While on commercial break, while the television crew changed the set, you noticed Jack glancing at you as you touched up your makeup, fidgeting and tapping his foot. You offered him a kind smile, and he approached you. 

“Jack Delroy,” he said, holding out his hand. You took it, and he kissed the backs of your fingertips. Starstruck, you giggled and gave him your name, tripping over the syllables. “Beautiful name, darling.”

“Thank you, Mr. Delroy.” 

Jack held your hand longer than what was appropriate. Realizing this, he quickly dropped it. “So, I apologize, but I'm about to be very forward. Gosh, this is very embarrassing,” he laughed awkwardly, then scratched the back of his neck. “I get a little oily in the face. The lights, you know. You wouldn’t happen to have like, a…” he trailed off, stuttering as he tried to find the right words.

You smiled and held up a finger, then dug through your makeup bag for some Mary Kay Beauty Blotter sheets your friend had given you. “Here.” You held the pack sheets out for the handsome talk show host. “Would these help?”

Jack took the sheets from you and inspected them. 

“And this,” you added, handing him your mirror compact. “You just press one of the sheets against your skin.” 

Jack grinned kindly, then took one of the small sheets and pressed it on his forehead and his long, gorgeous nose. “You are a lifesaver,” he said. “There. This is much better. I’m almost as pretty as you now, huh?”

Your cheeks warmed and you looked down at your lap to hide your smile. 

“Apologies, I’ve been told I'm a chronic flirt.” 

“I don’t really mind,” you told him softly.

Jack pressed his lips together in a smile and nodded, then sat in the empty seat next to you. “Alright,” he said, “This is an odd question,  but I’d like to toss it out there anyway because you seem to know what you’re doing with this kind of stuff. We’re short a makeup artist here at Night Owls. It’s unorthodox, I know, but you wouldn’t happen to be interested in–”

You gasp. “I’d love to. Yes.”

“--Being our makeup artist,” Jack finished, chuckling at your excitement. 

“Sorry, I just - oh god, I’d really love to,” you gushed. Jack opened his mouth to speak further, but was called back to set. 

“Stick around after the show, will you?” Jack winked.

“I will, Mr. Delroy.” 

And that’s how it happened. The job was simple: A little powder here, moisturizer there, hairspray to seal it all off. Nothing complicated, and it paid well. Lots of perks and advantages, like meeting TV stars and music artists. You consider yourself lucky. 

Perhaps your favorite part of the job is getting Jack ready for his shows. You’re no stranger to his handsomeness, but it’s special to experience it the way you do. To wash his face, moisturize it, paint a little makeup on his skin - as if he even needs it. “Make sure you cover up my crows feet, please, darling,” Jack said, pointing to his perceived flaws in the mirror. “Gosh, I’m getting so old. Don’t get old.” 

“Noted,” you told him. 

“And my hair, could you use a bit of that makeup to cover up my grays? They look so much worse on the screen.” 

Your heart broke a little. He’s always asked you to cover his wrinkles, but covering his grays was new. You hate doing it. That’s your least favorite part of the job. 

“Oh, but they don’t look so bad, Mr. Delroy.” You combed your fingers through his hair, inspecting the silvery strands he complained about. They look so beautiful against the inky black rest of his hair.

“Jack,” he corrected. “Just Jack. Who says they don’t look so bad?”

“I um…” you hummed, nervously messing with his hair. “Just fans, some of your fans kind of like it.” 

“Do they, now?” Jack teased, his eyebrow cocked. He laughed at your bashfulness as you stuttered something in defense. So shy, so sweet.

Jack loves you all the same. He loves the special affection he gets from you as you get him ready each night, he loves getting to peek down your shirt. But he plays the gentlemanly act well, never going further than a little harmless flirting. It’s fun to make you squirm, tease you for your little crush on him. He’s not oblivious to it. 

When the Night Owls theme finally ends and the studio lights go out, you get a phone call at your station. You hold the receiver up to your ear. “Hello?” 

“It’s Shar,” the voice says. Sharon is your roommate, and also your ride to and from work most nights. She drops you off at the studio before her shift, then picks you up after the show ends each night. Tonight, however, she’s at a party. “I met this guy, and I wanna go home with him. So that means…” Sharon doesn’t finish the sentence. She sounds guilty. 

“But you’re my ride, Shar,” you complain. “And they’re saying it’ll rain. What am I gonna do?”

“I promise I’m gonna make it up to you, okay? Don’t be mad. You’re not mad.” 

“Sharon,” you groan. 

Sharon says your name. “Just listen - he’s so fucking hot, seriously. He’s like a movie star.”

“A movie star, huh?” 

“Don’t judge. Like you wouldn’t fuck Jack Delroy if you could. You know what, why don’t you ask him for a ride?” Sharon teases.

“No way, not happening. He’s married, and his wife is sick. Absolutely not.” 

“Pussy.” Sharon pauses. “If you really don’t have another way home, I’ll come get you.” 

“No, no. It’s fine. I can take the bus, I guess. But you owe me.”

“I do owe you,” Sharon says, “I owe you so much. I love you. Bye. Be safe.” 

“You be safe,” you quip. “Condoms.” 

Honestly, you’re not mad. Is it an inconvenience, sure. But Sharon works hard and deserves a nice night, and she’s right - you’d fuck your movie - television - star crush if you could too. You’ve taken the bus before, and it’s usually empty this time of night. It’ll be fine. 

You grab your purse, pull your knit cardigan over your torso and walk out of the studio, down the hall, then take the elevator down to the lobby. Through light rain, you walk down the street until you’re at a bus station, then sit down on the bench. A gust of wind nearly knocks you over, causing you to shiver and pull your cardigan tighter around your body as you wait for the bus. 

At least you don’t have to wait for long, though. Headlights approach, and the vehicle slows down. Except, it’s not the bus you were expecting. It’s a cerulean ‘74 Buick Electra, Jack’s car. He pulls over and leans across the seat to crank the window down. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for the bus,” you yell. Rain’s starting to come down harder, now, soaking your clothes. Jack makes a face and motions for you to get into his car. You wave him off, “It’s okay. It shouldn’t be much longer.” 

“Nonsense! Get in the car.” 

“It’s really okay, Mr. Delroy.”

Jack rolls his eyes. He gets out of his car and rounds the front of it, then takes your hand and pulls you up from the bench. “I’m not asking. I am telling you, as your boss, to get in my car.” 

Jack opens the passenger door and ushers you inside, then shuts your door and gets into the driver’s seat. “It’s supposed to be the storm of the century out there, and you’re gonna let it blow you right away. Crazy girl.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Delroy,” you murmur sheepishly. 

Jack puts the car into first gear and takes off. “What’ve I told you about calling me Mr. Delroy? Jack, sweetie. Just Jack.” 

“I’m sorry, M- Jack.”

“Too sweet for your own good, you know that? Always so polite. Where am I taking you, sweetheart?”

“It’s a little bit far. You’re just gonna take this road for a while,” you instruct. “And then I’ll tell you where to turn. I’m not in the city proper.”

“Must be nice,” Jack replies. “Quiet.” 

You shrug. “Sometimes. Not usually. My roommate is kind of noisy.” 

Jack chuckles. “The roommate days, gosh. I don’t miss those a bit.” He pauses, thinks of something to say to fill the silence. “You don’t usually take the bus, do you?”

“Not usually, no,” you answer. “My roommate gives me a ride most of the time. But she ditched me tonight, so…” 

“That’s a real shame.” 

The rain starts to pick up a little more. Jack squints and at the road and increases the speed of his windshield wipers. He tries talking to you, but you can’t hear him over the drumming of rain against his car. Thunder booms, the drumming becomes louder and the windshield is nearly impossible to see out of. Jack has slowed the car down to a crawl, but when hail begins to fall from the sky, he pulls over. He shifts his car into neutral, then pulls the emergency brake to keep the car from rolling. Jack leans in close so you can hear him, “We’re just gonna wait out the storm, okay? It’s not safe to keep driving.” 

“Yeah, that seems smart,” you agree. You’re thankful Jack showed up when he did, and that he’s keeping you safe in his car. If you listen closely, you can hear the faint sound of music playing on his stereo. You still feel a little nervous, though. Maybe it’s the storm, or the jitters of being alone with Jack - older, married, handsome Jack. You shiver in your wet cardigan. 

“You’re cold,” Jack says. He tugs on your sweater, “Let’s get this off of you, huh? Not gonna let you catch a cold on my watch.” He peels the sweater off of you entirely, then lays it in his backseat. “And look, watch this–” Jack presses a button on his dashboard, a little orange light glows beneath the tiny image of a seat. Within a few seconds, the leather underneath you begins to warm. “Neat, huh? That should warm you up nicely.”

You still look cold, it’s evident in the way you hold yourself. Shoulders curled inward, hands clasped together. Jack thinks about holding you close, using his body to warm yours, but decides against it. You want it too, but you’ll never initiate touch. 

You look out of the raindrop-covered window at the creepy woods off to the side, the trees illuminated by the lightning. Jack sees the worry on your face reflected on the glass. “Everything alright, sweetie?”

“It’s just the woods,” you answer. “I don’t know. I don’t like it. I’ve heard about…I don’t know. Scary stuff happens there.”

“Like what?”

“Satanic rituals or something. The occult, that kind of stuff. I’ve heard about it on TV.”  

Jack lies to assure you, “It’s all make-belive,” he says, pushing down his own memories of The Grove. The sickly sweet smell of decaying leaves, sticks and branches crunching beneath his feet. The cold, metallic cup against his lips, that awful taste of whatever it is he drank. “But don’t look at the woods. Just look over here, right at me.” Jack turns your face toward his, then taps your nose. “There’s that beautiful smile.” 

You grin even wider. You know it’s just his nature, that it’s his job to be charming and likable, charismatic and sweet. It makes you feel so special and seen nonetheless. 

Jack smiles too. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He admires the details in your face for a minute, your perfect nose, sparkling eyes, your pretty lips. His eyes travel lower, tracing the endlessly beautiful curves of your body - breasts, waist, hips, thighs. There’s a rip up high on your nylons, just below your ridden-up skirt. He furrows his brows and touches your bare skin with his finger, “What happened here?”

“Oh.” You touch the tear with your finger, just a hair away from Jack’s. “My cat, Felix. He ripped my tights.” 

“Sounds like Felix is a real troublemaker, huh?”

“Oh, he can be,” you giggle quietly. “But I love him anyway.” 

Jack keeps his finger on the hole in your nylons, now drawing lines back and forth over your thighs with the rest of his fingers. Little goosebumps erupt on your skin in their wake. “You’re still so cold, darling. What am I gonna do with you?” Another shrug, another shy smile. “Come here,” Jack whispers. He wraps his strong hands around your legs and pulls you across the seat so that your legs are lying across his, and your torso curled into his own. Fuck, he smells good. His cologne is musky and spicy and masculine. You’re so close, Jack can feel your heart pounding nervously. But he says nothing about it, doesn’t want to embarrass you. Instead, Jack just gazes at you warmly, still tracing patterns on your leg. “You’re such a gorgeous girl, have I ever told you that?”  He pushes a bit of your hair behind your ear, sending tingles down your neck and spine.

“Jack,” you whisper, elongating his name. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious, darling. If only I were a younger man…If I hadn’t married…” He moves his hand from your ear to your mouth, pulling down on your bottom lip with his thumb. God, you’re so soft. Desire is building within Jack, taking control over his sensibilities. And you, too young and enchanted by Jack fucking Delroy to listen to any inhibitions in your head telling you that you should stop this.

 Jack pushes his thumb past your lips and you suck on it gently, so gently, the blunt little edges of your teeth tickling his fleshy skin. Arousal quickly builds in Jack, the sensation overwhelming him and bubbling over. He pulls his thumb from your mouth and holds your cheeks in both of his hands, inching closer to you bit by bit. Jack licks his lips, he’s about to do it. Finally, he does. Jack closes the gap between you by pressing his lips against yours, kissing you softly. He’s relaxed and controlled, but the way you kiss him is desperate and a little tentative. In time and with encouragement from Jack, how he squeezes you and growls against your lips, you find your confidence. You kiss him fervently, tasting him, savoring the softness of his tongue. 

Jack takes your hand and presses it against his warm bulge. You gasp, “But your wife–”

“Shh, quiet. She’s not here, now is she?” 

“N-no,” you stutter.

“No. It’s just us. You-” Jack unzips his pants and pulls his rock-hard cock out of his boxers. He spits into your palm and has you hold his length, then closes his hand around yours. “-And me.” 

With your hand under Jack’s, he pumps his cock. “Oh, that’s good. You’re my good girl,” he breathes. 

Jack grips his cock tighter and kisses you again. “Oh, Jack,” you moan. Jack helps you to stroke him from base to tip, your pinky finger brushing against that patch of coarse hair at his pelvis, thumb rubbing over his weeping head. 

“Just like this, darling. All the way up, all the way down. Just like this. You’re doing so well.” 

Jack twitches in your hand as you feel every thick vein and ridge on his cock. He urges you to pump him faster and at the same time, touches you. He gropes your breasts first, breasts he’s dreamed of touching since he first laid eyes on you. He unbuttons your blouse and slides his hand beneath your bra to squeeze your flesh, tease your nipples. Jack relishes in your body, how supple, soft, warm and wanting you are. You touch him like you love him and Christ, Jack can’t wait to bury himself inside you. Feel that warm, wet embrace of a young woman’s cunt. 

“Do you let other men touch you like this, sweetheart?” Jack asks, unzipping your skirt and shoving his hand down the front of your nylons. He toys with the arousal-dampened hair that’s spattered on your mound, then slips his fingers past your lips. “Older men, huh? Married men?” 

“N-no, Jack. Just you. Only you.”

“Do you like being touched like this?” You stutter out a frantic, breathy ‘yes’. “Dirty girl. It’s always girls like you.” 

Jack circles your clit with his fingertips, then presses two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. “Distracted, are we?” he murmurs as your hand that strokes his cock slows to a still, so focused on how Jack pleasures you that you forget about his needs.

 “H - what?” Jack chuckles and gives your hand a squeeze to remind you. “Oh, I’m s - sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” God, you are such a precious girl, and Jack is a lucky man. He breaks away from you just for a moment to undress himself, shoving his pants down his thighs and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Once bare, Jack turns to you and finds that little tear in your nylons again, then rips the hole wider up the garment. He yanks the nylons and your panties off of your legs and puts them with the rest of his discarded clothes, tucking them away for later. He removes your skirt next, followed by your bra and your blouse. You breathe heavily as Jack takes in your naked form, even more beautiful than he pictured. He needs you now, needs to taste you.

Jack pushes you gently onto your back, laying you out across the bench seat before sinking to his knees on the floor of his Buick. He wraps his strong forearms around your still rain-cold thighs and pulls you close, close enough so that you can feel his hot breaths on your slick pussy. Jack could eat you alive right now.

He spits on your pussy, then rubs your folds with his fingers, paying special attention to your clit. He spreads your lips wide and admires your shiny, glistening center. “My, look at this mess,” Jack marvels, admiring your creamy arousal. He tastes you then, pressing a soft kiss against your core. Jack inhales deeply, taking in your scent, feeling your hair against his shaven face. His tongue darts from between his lips and he licks you up and down, dipping his tongue inside you. 

“Jack, oh my - yes,” you gasp, your hands tugging on his graying strands of black hair. Jack slowly licks a long stripe up your seam with his tongue flat against you, all the way from your asshole to clit. “Jack.”

The mess he’s reduced you to. All broken moans, desperate, needy cries of his name. Jack smiles against your cunt and continues licking and lapping at the sensitive part of you. He traces your folds, sucking them between his lips. He draws circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue next, driving you wild. “You like this, darling, don’t you? You like having this pretty pussy eaten?”

All you can do is nod. Jack closes his lips around your clit and sucks, causing you to clamp your thighs around his head and pull his hair tightly between your fingers. Jack forces you apart so that all you can do is take it, all that relentless, smoldering pleasure. 

Jack intensifies it all by pushing a finger inside you and curling it, stroking that sensitive part of you. Within seconds you’re coming, rocking your hips against his face as you ride out your high. 

There’s barely a comedown. Jack crawls over your body, one foot planted on the floor of the car and the other kneeling on the seat. He reaches behind the front seat for his suit jacket and bunches it up, then fits it between your head and the passenger door. “Don’t want your pretty little head to get hurt is all,” Jack says. 

He holds his cock between his thumb and his forefinger before he lines up with your entrance. His cock is big, perfectly lengthy and girthy. You tense up a bit as he fits his cockhead inside of you, “Easy, darling. Take it all for me,” he coos. 

You inhale deeply, and on your exhale Jack pushes himself inside of you in full. “Ohhh,” you moan. It’s such a tight fit, he fills you so fully. The aching burn of the stretch takes time to dissipate as Jack rubs your hip. After a moment, Jack pulls out of you, then inches his way back in. Your face previously scrunched in pain is now relaxed, soft little noises of pleasure escaping your lips. “That’s it, good girl,” Jack says. “Wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Jack laces his fingers between yours and uses his other hand to brace himself on the back of the car seat. Jack begins thrusting, not quite fucking you gently. It builds quickly, the pace both harder and faster. Jack rocks his hips into you at that perfect angle to have you writhing on his cock, the head of it kissing the most sensitive place inside of you over and over. You bury your face into him, the hair on his chest tickling your face. 

“Fuck,” Jack grunts, fucking you deeper. He knows he should be more gentle than this, but he can’t be helped. He loses himself inside of you, growling like an animal as he fucks his cock into you. You’re squirming beneath him, muscles tensing against his as you begin to cry, overwhelmed by it all. “Such a filthy fucking girl, crying on my cock. You’re okay, sweetie.” 

Jack rolls his hips quickly and fluidly so that his pubic bone is grinding against your mound, the friction inching you closer and closer to a second release, but it isn’t quite enough. You rock your hips to match Jack’s thrusts, needing more against your clit. “M-More please, Jack,” you beg. “I wanna come, Jack, make me come again.”

While still fucking you, Jack spits onto two of his fingertips, then fits his hand between your bodies. He finds your sensitive bud and rubs it, using the momentum of his thrusts to bring you to climax once more. “Come for me, sweetheart. Give - fucking give it to me.”

Jack rounds your clit with his fingers, putting harder pressure against it. In moments, you’re coming for him again, this orgasm more intense than the last. Your moans are louder, more frantic. Your face scrunches in pleasure as you pulse around Jack’s cock, urging his own release along. “Good girl, good fucking girl.”

 Jack growls into your ear as he spills into you, milking himself entirely. He fills you with his come, so warm inside you, the throbbing of his cock so pleasurable and satisfying. Dampened with sweat, Jack presses his forehead against yours as he fucks you through his orgasm, then slows to a still. He hisses a little when he pulls out of your cunt, his spend dripping from your hole onto the leather. Jack collects this mess with his finger, then pushes the digit into your mouth as he catches his breath.

It’s all quiet, save for a few scattered raindrops and the sound of you and Jack both catching your breath. Jack breaks the silence. “Well hey, how about that. The storm passed, huh? Was really something, too. I’m glad we pulled over,” Jack laughs nervously. He helps you dress yourself as best as he can, then haphazardly dresses himself too. You smile a little, and Jack touches your face. “You alright, darling?”

“I’m okay,” you answer, still a little tearful. Jack smiles sympathetically and pulls you into his side, then shifts his car into gear. 

“Well, let’s get you home, then.” 

-

TY for reading! Comments, reblogs, all of that good stuff would be so appreciated ♡

[andy-wm]

i'm wondering how your thesis of "idols will come out when they want" fits into your insane shadow analysis attempting to prove jimin and jungkook fucked in the middle of their travel show (amongst other things)? like do you get joy out or trying to drag someone out of a closet they might not be in? or is it something else? just curious! 😀

Hey wdcmaxy

Since you have the guts to use your name I'll respond :)

So, you read my thesis?

*Sips whisky*

Cool. And you read my insane shadow analysis too?

Hmmm... do you come here often?

Let me answer your question then.

I think we both know the shadows analysis isn't really insane - it's based on very basic earth science. Shadows grow longer as the day progresses because of the rotation of the earth on its axis. You sound reasonably literate so i assume you know this already.

I guess your description of my shadow analysis ( I think I'll name my next racehorse 'Shadow Analysis') as insane is an attempt to discredit the idea that a fair bit of time passed while Tae was out of the house? But that was kinda silly on your part. Even children know that shadows change as the day passes.

Nothing insane about it.

He was gone for hours, no debate.

Now let's move on to the fucking part, and when and how idols choose to come out.

This is actually worth discussing.

As flattered as i am that you think my tiny insignificant blog could be a game changer for anyone, let's be real.

How many people, besides yourself, do you think read my blog?

Serious question.

I'm estimating maybe 100. Double that on a good day. Maybe 300 if i write something REALLY profound which doesn't happen often.

I am way less excited about my impact on the world than you are, because I'm a realist.

BUT if by some strange twist of fate my blog came to the attention of someone whose opinion mattered (I'm not counting you, don't worry) do you think they would take it seriously? Do you REALLY imagine a random tumblr post about shadows could make someone believe that an idol was gay if they didn't already believe it?

Here's a great example of how that wouldn't happen:

You, dear reader.

You're my example.

You came here to tell me I'm speaking shit and that I should pull my head in, correct? My insane shadow analysis hasn't changed your beliefs at all. You're here, throwing a tantrum on my page, because you don't agree with what I'm saying, not because you suddenly believe it.

Or ...

Perhaps you suspect it's true and that scares you. Maybe you can't be absolutely sure I'm wrong and that's why you need to yell at me? Could that be it? Time for a bit of self reflection?

Either way, it's not going to make an iota of difference in the grand scheme of things.

We are all just dust motes floating through time and space, my friend. You dont need to worry so much. The universe is unfolding exactly as intended.

However... There are a couple of things we should agree on:

The fact is that the shadows grew long and therefore, time passed. And Tae was out for several hours. Maybe he went out for a bit of afternoon delight himself? Maybe Jimin and Jungkook played Pokemon Go all afternoon, or prayed, or practiced their English, or braided each other's hair.

Regardless of whether they did or didn't fuck, or how many times, or on what surfaces, the time still passed.

And whether I write my blog or not, people will believe what they believe. And they will be gay or they won't be gay.

And even though I never mentioned anything about them fucking in that post, whether you like it or not Jimin and Jungkook might be fucking right now, as you read this.

One last thing...

Please bear in mind, through all of this, that fucking is not the be all and end all of life. Sure its a lot of fun if you do it right but the notion that it's more meaningful than sharing your innermost thoughts and feelings, or giving someone your time and energy, is bullshit.

You can have a roots-deep love for someone and never even think of fucking them. Or you can meet someone in a public toilet and have at it, and leave without even knowing their name.

Sex does not equal love. Fucking is not that big of a big deal.

Unless...

Unless you're fucking someone the patriarchy doesn't want you to fuck. Then its a major issue.

Hear me out.

The need to control who we fuck is based a patriarchal need to control material wealth.

To control material wealth, the patriarchy needs to control reproduction (so they can be sure their wealth stays with their bloodline, because wealth is built over many generations) and to do THAT they need to control womens' bodies.... and to do that, of course they need to control who women fuck. And who men fuck too!

Do you know what the ACTUAL issue is with men who like dick? They don't automatically buy into the patriarchal way of life. (where's the solidarity, lads?)

Why don't they?

Because lifelong monogamy and marriage and nuclear families don't matter as much when you're not equating love with sex, and sex with reproduction. When your goal isn't to accumulate wealth and pass it down to your children.

Same thing applies to women who love women. They aren't focused on being demure and pleasing the men in power. They aren't focused on making themselves wife material. They will challenge the status quo and maybe even (shock! horror!) decide not to have children. How the heck do you make sure your money and power stays in the family, how do you build an empire, when the women are perfectly happy having sex with each other and don't want to love, honour and obey??

And whose fault is all this?

Its got to be the damned queers, right? They're making people think there might be other ways to share your life with those you care about! That's why its important to squash down gayness whenever you can, right, wdcmaxy?

Look at them destroying the fabric of society!

If Jimin and Jungkook ARE fucking every chance they get, good for them. I hope they're balls deep and breathless, hitting all those sweet spots for each other having a really good time.

And if they're not fucking, it actually doesn't matter to me because the way they support each other and share their hearts is beautiful. (I do think they are fucking though)

Truthfully, whatever they're doing, as long as they're happy I'm happy.

Can you say the same, wdcmaxy?

Peace.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: “… what a view, huh?”

Charlie: “Heh, yeah. You can see a whole lot of hell from this hill…”

Vaggie: “Meaning they can see the hotel now, too.”

Charlie: “I guess so.”

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “Nice to know they’re finally getting a glimpse of it.”

Charlie: “Oh the hotel’s been sitting up here for years-”

Vaggie: “Not the hotel.”

Charlie: “Not the hotel?”

Vaggie: “You.”

Charlie: “Me.” (sigh) “What’s Hell seen because of me, Vaggie? Extermination day coming early? Everyone panicking over how they might only have a few months left to live?”

Vaggie: “I’m telling you Heaven had their own bullshit reason for that. And it wasn't you. I'd bet my soul on it.”

Charlie: “Don't joke about that."

Vaggie: "I'm not joking sweetie."

Charlie: "I talked to them and less than an hour later they cut our time in half.”

Vaggie: “They were the ones who called for the meeting with Hell. Why do you think that was? Did they have anything else to say?”

Charlie: “No…”

Vaggie: “Then that’s all they had to say. It was already decided.”

Charlie: “They let me talk, a little bit anyway-"

Vaggie: "How little?"

Charlie: "I had a chance, the best chance we might ever get, and it should have been enough! But it wasn't. I wasn't- it still didn’t change anything. I, I couldn’t change their minds.”

Vaggie: “Oh wow, the people happy with murdering souls didn’t jump at the chance not to murder more souls. Shock. Horror.”

Charlie: “Heaven only does that because they’re scared of us! If I could have shown them there’s another way…”

Vaggie: “You will, sweetie. It’s just gonna take time.”

Charlie: “We don’t have time! We don’t even have a year anymore!”

Vaggie: “We’ll make it work.”

Charlie: “You said that earlier but Vaggie-“

Vaggie: “One guest down~” (clap clap) “That’s a pretty good start~” (clap clap)

Charlie: “Vaggie, please not a sarcastic round of my dumb clapping game from Sir Pentious’s orientation circle. Be serious?”

Vaggie: “I am being serious, babe. Cross my heart.” (clap clap…)

Charlie: “Yay….”

Vaggie: “Charlie, c’mon, Pentious is working out… better than I expected. I mean I expected the selling us out stuff, but he got over that real fast.”

Charlie: “Only because he got caught by Angel Dust real fast.”

Vaggie: “Who you didn’t let kill him. You didn’t let me kill him either. Thanks, sweetie.”

Charlie: “You wouldn’t have really anyway. Probably.”

Vaggie: “We don’t have to worry about that because you gave him a hug and a second chance instead. You guys sang a song about it.”

Charlie: “I’m always singing songs. They’re easy. At least when you have a catchy tune and nice little rhyme, there’s a chance no one will notice you have no idea what you’re doing.”

Vaggie: “I know what you’re doing.”

Charlie: “Great. I don’t.”

Vaggie: “You’re letting late night no sleep Charlie be mean to you in your own head.”

Charlie: “Our problems won’t go away just from me sleeping. We might even just get new ones-”

Vaggie: “That’s not a way to makes things work, honey. Clap clap.”

Charlie: “Vaggie…”

Vaggie: “Trust me with my manger job and come to bed- er, with me? Clap clap?”

Charlie: “You’re saying the clap claps aloud.”

Vaggie: “My hands and arms are busy hugging at the moment.”

Charlie: “You also didn’t sing it. And the rhyming meter got all messed up.”  

Vaggie: “And you’re smiling now, I can hear it.”

Charlie: “I have no idea how you do that…”

Vaggie: “Come snuggle with me and maybe I’ll whisper you my Charlie-wrangling secret.”

Charlie: (laughs) “What would I do without you, Vaggie? What did I do without you all this time?”

Vaggie: “Stayed up the whole night trying to help everyone except yourself.”

Charlie: “Ouch.”

Vaggie: “Facts, babe. That’s why I’m here though, so it all works out.”

Charlie: “This one thing really did, didn’t it?”

Vaggie: “I’ve been telling you it will.”

Charlie: “Not the hotel.”

Vaggie: “Charlie-”

Charlie: “The us.”

Vaggie: “…yeah. That too.”

Charlie: “If it’s the only thing this hotel gets right, then I don’t think… I can’t really be mad about it, honestly.”

Vaggie: “You’d be pissed if this doesn’t work out. Spitting hellfire. And I’d be angry as fuck right along with you.”

Charlie: “Partners in high blood pressure! We make a GREAT team.”

Vaggie: “We should be partners in snoring right now so shoo.”

Charlie: “Wait-”

Vaggie: “Shoo shoo, sweetie. To bed with you.”

Charlie: “I just- one last thing, Vaggie?”

Vaggie: “Only ONE and then, BED.”

Charlie: “I love you.”

Vaggie: “Charlie…"

Charlie: "Yes...? Wh- Oof!"

Vaggie: "I love you too, but."

Charlie: "S-surprise tackles aren't fair!"

Vaggie: "All's fair in love and war. And if you don’t close those pretty eyes in the next two minutes I’m gonna try smothering you with all of our pillows. Lovingly.”

Charlie: “We have pillows together. That’s so…”

Vaggie: “Charlie.”

Charlie: “I’m so glad you’re down here in Hell. I’m so lucky- Oh shit- is that a weird thing to say? Oh no that’s a REALLY weird thing to say-”

Vaggie: “Charlie. Sleep.”

Charlie: “I have my eyes closed! But was that weird? I don’t want you to be in HELL, as in stuck living around all this suffering and death and- I’m just so happy you’re-”

Vaggie: “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Charlie: “Right, okay.”

Vaggie: “I want to be in hell.”

Charlie: “I mean heaven is proooobably better but thanks for saying-”

Vaggie: “If heaven ever wants me they’d have to drag me up there in chains and cage me there.”

Charlie: “Vaggie!” (laughs) “You know they’d never, they’re angels!”

Vaggie: “Murderers.”

Charlie: “That’s different-”

Vaggie: “Don’t you dare get me riled up about those deranged assholes when we’re trying to sleep, babe. I’ll need that boost of adrenaline just to wake up in the morning.”

Charlie: “Well no one’s taking you anywhere anyway, angels or otherwise. I’m keeping you right here.”

Vaggie: “Good.”

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: “…can I keep you for always, Vaggie?”

Vaggie: “Mmf... bold of you to think anything could pry me off you...”

Charlie: “You do give really good hugs.”

Vaggie: (groans) “Know what else would be good right now?”

Charlie: “Sleep?”

Vaggie: “SLEEP.”

Charlie: “Okay~”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up Graduation challenge.

Along for the Ride

Prompt: Graduation | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Post S2, Graduation Day for the Class of '85, Eddie Munson Doesn't Graduate, Wayne Loves Eddie, Unlikely Duo for the Day, Pre-Steddie, Hanging Out

"Looks good on you."

Steve jumps ever so slightly, and turns to locate the disembodied voice that came out of thin air, scaring the ever-loving shit out of him.

It's just Eddie Munson, lurking behind a fucking tree. Of course.

"Munson," Steve says, by way of greeting, but then has to ask, "What looks good?"

Eddie takes a step forward and flicks the mortarboard on Steve's head, "Your cap."

Steve laughs, and takes it off his head, and smooths his hand over his hair, sure it's sticking up all crazy.

"Yeah, right," Steve says, knowing that hat has done no favors for his hair, and clutches it in his hands, worrying his fingers all along the pointed edges. "You didn't walk? I didn't see you in line."

Eddie toes at the dirt, eyes suddenly downcast, "Yeah, well. It came down to the wire, and I didn't quite get it done. Again."

"Sorry, I didn't know."

Eddie has his gown slung over his arm, and his cap in hand. All the makings of a graduate, but no diploma. That really sucks, and Steve knows how close he came himself to not skating through. This could have just as easily been him, so he has no snarky commentary to offer up. Not today.

"They didn't tell you until today?" Steve asks, because if that's the case, it's absolute bullshit. 

"No, yesterday. After graduation practice. But, you know…"

Steve doesn't know, "You came to the ceremony anyway?"

"Hell no," Eddie laughs, "They said I could walk, get a blank folder. No fucking thanks. Just. My uncle. He had to work today. Too many other dads needed off. And I'm just his nephew, so the plant didn't prioritize his request. You know how it goes," Eddie says, and Steve really doesn't know. His dad has been riding his ass hard, but he was damn well in the bleachers, watching him graduate this afternoon, and nobody could have stopped him. Especially not work.

Eddie keeps talking, "Anyway. Uncle Wayne was unduly proud, so I just let him take some pictures of me out here before his shift. Embarrassing, but whatever. Maybe I'll tell him later. Maybe not. I'm over eighteen, it's not like they're gonna call and tattle if I don't show up next fall. I could get my GED. I could say fuck it. Or, god-fucking-forbid, I could try again next year."

Steve nods. He isn't exactly sure why Eddie Munson is telling him all this, not really, because these are the most words they've ever spoken to one another in a row.

"I'm sorry," Steve says.

"So you've said," Eddie says, but he's teasing, even if Steve still thinks he looks sad. And Steve spent a lot of the last year fucking sad, so he has, like, empathy and shit. 

"There's a graduation party at my house later, if you wanna come," Steve offers, suddenly.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Harrington. I'd rather not experience that kind of humiliation again today. It was bad enough having the principal look over here at me in my cap and gown, like I was a fucking idiot. Which I am. But still."

"I get it," Steve says, "but if you change your mind. Come."

"I won't," Eddie says, "don't wait up."

And it strikes Steve as hilarious, and he laughs, like he hasn't laughed in a long time, "Damn, Munson. Break a guy's heart. I was gonna sit by my bedroom window, awaiting your arrival."

Eddie grins, and then there's a glint in his eye, "What time will this party be over, Harrington?"

Steve just shrugs, he isn't sure. His parents will be there, so it's not exactly gonna be a rager.

"Midnight?" Eddie asks.

Steve nods, because surely it'll be over by midnight.

"Then sit by that window, and I'll pull up and get you. For the afterparty."

And Steve doesn't know why he's nodding, but he is, enthusiastically.

At midnight, Steve is standing at his bedroom window, waiting. 

At ten after, he realizes that Munson had just been fucking with him. Of course. Eddie Munson isn't the idiot here, he is. And he starts to pull his shirt over his head, the one he'd changed four times for no discernible reason, when he sees it. The old van, barreling into his driveway. 

Far too fast and wild.

Steve smiles, climbs out of his window, and shimmies down the side of the house, running towards the van like he's really getting away with something. He could have walked out the front door, and his parents definitely wouldn't have given a shit, if they even noticed.

Yeah, he's in trouble about the college thing, and he has to get a shitty job, but they aren't chaining him to the bed or anything.

He pulls the van door open and there's Eddie Munson, in all black, waiting.

"Wasn't sure you'd come," Eddie says.

"I could say the same thing about you," Steve echoes, sliding into the van seat, and slamming the door behind himself, "You're late."

"Sorry, your highness. Where to?" Eddie asks.

"This was your idea!" Steve yells over the roar of the van peeling out of the driveway, and man, Munson is a bad driver. Maybe the worst. 

But the warm night air is whipping through the open windows, and Eddie's hair is blowing all around, and Steve's feeling air ruffling through his own.

It feels freeing. 

He's with Eddie "The Freak" Munson, so that makes no sense whatsoever. But Steve's not gonna question it. He's gonna have some fun, with whatever this night brings.

He doesn't have any friends, not really, not his own age, anyway. Not anymore. 

Eddie shoves a box of tapes onto his lap, "Pick something."

Steve isn't familiar with most of the bands, but he settles on one he likes, and jams it in.

"Harrington, no, that's Wayne's!" Eddie says, punching the eject button hard and fast.

"You decide then," Steve says with a smile, "I'm just along for the ride."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[thrumbolt]

So, I cancelled Nyxlin Week and deleted the event blog. Edit to clarify: I DELETED THE BLOG MYSELF! IT WAS NOT TAKEN DOWN BY TUMBLR BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY THERE WAS NOTHING ON THERE THAT WENT AGAINST TOS.

I originally wanted to do this event mainly because me and Copy have a bunch of Nyxlin art planned anyway and that way we could also encourage some more content out of a few other peers.

I expected SOME people to get miffed, maybe some angry anons, some hate posts, because we all know this fandom has lost all its hinges somewhere long ago (if it ever had them) and people are absolutely incapable to just ignore something they don't like. At first we thought a super silly banner might help against that, but clearly that was a big lapse of judgment on my part lol Either way, I wasn't too worried because there's nothing people can really do that bothers me and once the event would roll around everyone would realize there's nothing actually sinister about it, so I figured it would be fine.

What I did not expect, however, was the absolute insane behavior that ended up taking place, where people got targeted and their posts mass reported to take advantage of tumblrs shitty report system over absolutely fucking nothing. People who were not even involved in the event, just happened to write for the same pairing. So let me ask this very plainly: What the fuck is wrong with you? Because something definitely is and I hope you all are getting it checked out.

So I decided to call it quits because people getting hurt over it is obviously not worth it. And again, no wonder this fandom lacks a nice variety of artists who participate in events. What's the point? You canon obsessed pea-brained pearl-clutchers don't understand fan spaces or creativity. All you seem to be here for is virtual signalling, hate, bullying and demonstrating a severe lack of reading comprehension. I've had months of this high school bullshit now and I've really had enough.

I'm still gonna post my art (oh and all that Nyxlin stuff is not going anywhere, don't worry), but I am taking a step back from participating in fandom weeks and fandom discourse and whatnot. You guys can rip each other apart on your own.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟸

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4624

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

It was quite the struggle to train with Ben for a week, especially when he took it extremely seriously and pushed you to the very limit. It was not that he hurt you; it was that in the lab you either lost your will to fight or you just got really weak.

There were moments when you stated to Ben that things might get serious about your power, but he chose to ignore you and aggravated the training, which left you worn out. But you were relieved that he could, in his own irritating way, encourage you that your strength was still there.

Ben answered, “No,” right away when you wanted to stop the exercise.

Right now, the entire home was a mess, and the hole you had made in the wall remained.

“I'm tired here, Ben,” you complained as you fell to the ground, gasping for air. You had been there exercising together since the morning, and it was nearly the sun going down. Except when you needed to eat or pee, he rarely gave you a moment's peace of mind. “I mean it. I'm done.” 

You opened your hands wide on the ground, and he looked at your body while saying, “You're a supe; you can't just feel exhausted that easily.”

You blushed as you noticed him staring at your soaked entire body and replied, “Give me some break.” There's a good chance that you were both thinking the same thing. “How on earth can you find that much energy? Even for a supe, it's too much.”

Ben stared at you and then took off the shirt he had taken off hours earlier, wiping the sweat from his muscular chest. You grimaced, knowing you probably smelled like trash. 

“It's because I am the strongest; I am not just any average Supe.” With the most arrogant way possible, he threw his t-shirt back to the ground and said, “Simply better and more powerful than anyone. But don't worry; we'll return you to the way things were, sweetie. You have my word.”

He gave you a sneaky smirk when he saw you staring at his broad, sweat-damp chest. Ben was waiting for you, literally, from above, all the time you tried to get some rest. His eyes narrowed, and you suspected his head was full of filthy stuff. 

You just muttered, “I hope so,” and avoided giving him a glance as you closed your eyes.

He sighed and went down on the floor next to you, crossing his big arms over his head. 

“Don't think about it that much. You're going to do even better than you are now. Maybe we should just do those trainings more frequently. What do you say?”

“It’s fine. I don’t have another choice anyway,” you replied, cutting it short while keeping your eyes closed. Even if you felt his intense stare on your face, you didn’t react. “What did the doctor tell you, by the way? The one who supervised Compound V's improvement for decades?”

You remembered that there was a lot of discussion following the news that Ben had killed him at his home. You kind of hoped you could have dealt with that cruel piece of shit on your own, though. He was just a monster with a white robe. He had always made an aggressive attempt to cause damage to you and showed no sympathy or compassion for anyone. You got scared and insecure when you opened your eyes, recalling the physical harm he had inflicted. 

“Fucking piece of shit!” Ben angrily exclaimed, his fists clenched over his head. “I should have killed him properly.” 

“What did he say, so you blew up?” 

“Isn't it obvious? That pussy told me how little supes are in the big picture of science, the future of the supremes, humanity, and some other bullshit. It's certain that Vough paid that cocksucker generously during all those years. He lived in luxury, torturing us, and he didn’t even regret it.”

“Did he tell you what kind of research he did on my body?” You asked as you moved your body to face him. 

Ben fell silent for a minute, enraged by what he remembered the doctor had said about you. Nevertheless, his eyes softened as he saw your expression and saw that you were excited to hear what he was about to say and that you were feeling at ease and comfortable next to him. That was all he needed. Ben recognized that if he made a determined attempt to be by your side and touch you in the way he desired, you would push him even further away and that you weren't

ready for physical contact at this time. He therefore forced himself to keep his distance from you and let you do whatever you wanted.

He just turned to face you and stated, “I didn't give him enough time to talk,” straightening his posture and sitting straight up on the floor. “He's just an animal, and he sees supes as rats for research in order to make profit. That's all.”

“When we agreed to live this life as supers, Ben, we already knew that.” You said bitterly, “People in charge always wanted to play with us like we were toys. They used us as they pleased and needed us for their own good. I wanted to leave the company for a number of reasons, one of which was that I was unaware of how serious that whole picture was. What I need to learn is what they succeeded in doing during the decades we were unconscious and at their mercy.”

Ben sighed and got up to get some weed from the nearest table, just after helping you off the floor.

“I was told by that son of a bitch that he examined you to make the future supers flawless. Though I'm not really sure what he meant, it seems to me that Queen Maeve—the woman from Seven—is their new you.”

“Do you think they might have found a way to weaken me? Don't say 'no' right away,” you said in a hurry when he opened his lips to object. “It just doesn't feel right about what's going on and everything.”

Your concerns, which were constantly lurking beneath the surface, took over when you realized that Ben had remained silent. Something was off with you, you two sensed that. Although after your first training day you felt a little stronger, your weakness remained under your skin.

You pulled open a window to let some fresh air in and muttered, “If you hadn't just killed the doctor, we could have learned about it.”

Ben offered you one of the glasses and sighed as if he regretted what he had done, filling the other one with wine. “I didn't intentionally kill him. It simply happened beyond my control. But I would still murder him anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow and sat down, realizing that your tiredness was taking over. “You need to find a way to control it since your nerves are always on edge,” you said. “And also, I need to find someone who can understand all of this.”

Ben sat beside you, stretching his muscles and leaning back into the coach while he listened to you attentively. As you spoke, you noticed that your gaze lingered a little too long on his sweating body, almost making you flush. 

He studied your expression to see how you would react to his suggestion. He said, “I guess the best option is to kidnap or torture a doctor who is in charge or fuckever who's doing supe studies for Vought right now. We can use Mindstorm to look at your memories and thoughts to see whether they have hurt you in any way.”

His suggestion caused your eyes to widen with excitement, and you exclaimed, “That's actually a smart idea. But how are we supposed to find him?”

“Remember the new technology, sweetheart. Anything is possible with these phones, Bluetooth, and GPS technology. Remember how I found you very easily?”

You gave a nod to him, knowing that what he stated was right and that you would be able to reach Mindstorm with ease thanks to modern technology.

After you had your shower, you saw Ben watching the TV with a dead serious face, and you sat beside him.

As you used the towel in your hand to dry your damp hair, you inquired, “Is there any news about us? Almost a week has passed.”

“Not much,” he replied as he continued to listen to Homelander talk about the two of you.

‘They pose no threat to the United States,’ Homelander confidently stated, grinning, as he extended his arms and turned to face the screen. 'As Seven, we've been trying to find them for a week, but it looks like they are hiding pretty well,' he continued. I, Homelander, the Seven's leader, swear to you that they shall answer for their actions. It has been proven that Soldier Boy rescued Y/N, and it's very likely that the two of them murdered the hapless doctors as well as every lab employee in cold blood and without hesitation.'

You and Ben exchanged a look as Homelander continued his speech. ‘Their families and children are in agony even though our government gives them the best care they can. These two criminals are responsible for the deaths of the orphans whose parents they killed. It breaks our hearts to see them weeping and grieving the loss of their families. There are even toddlers among them. Soldier Boy and Y/N will be held liable and made to pay for the harm they caused to the United States and its citizens. They have little time to conceal; they cannot get away.’

As the audience gave him a loud applause and he flew opening his arms out like.

Ben angrily said, “Fuck that. Son of a bitch,” and threw the remote control onto the table in front of him. “They were just another piece of shits who enjoyed torturing supes, nothing else.”

“But I didn't kill anyone,” you mumbled. “We are past the point of self-justification. Homelander is basically controlling the crowds. They would never pay to listen to us, Ben.”

Ben stared at the TV and said, “I'll teach them how to listen,” in a menacing manner. “You see? It's no longer about Butcher and his useless group. It has to do with our future.”

You could have argued with him about the future, but all you wanted was to avoid getting into another fight with Ben. 

“I think such a guy wouldn't be innocent at all. We might be able to defeat the company if we can figure out how to properly express ourselves, explain to them how Vought tricked us, and show the real Homelander to the rest of the world. There isn't another way.”

 “I know, I know,” he muttered.

As you could tell Ben was becoming enraged and feeling overwhelmed, you touched his bare chest, which had a little glow to it. “Hey, are you okay?”

He responded with, “I am,” placing his hand on yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. 

“Can you please stop getting angry for a second? I can sense the heat building in your chest.” You muttered, “You're stressing me out here,” but you didn't remove your hand from his upper body. You could feel him cooling down beneath your touch once again. It was fine as long as it worked; you simply didn't know why. 

“Well,” he said, arching an eyebrow, licking his lips, allowing you to touch him, and gently tracing his fingers over yours. His powerful, slow beats were calming in a way. “It's not too bad. Is it?” 

You withdrew your hand from his sweating chest while rolling your eyes at him and making sure he was okay. 

Ben had just showered when Butcher and Hughie showed up at the house. 

Butcher remarked in a sly manner, “Glad, I delayed for an hour coming here to pick up you two,” as you and Ben got into the back of the car. “We could have interrupted something funny, judging by the all-wet hairs and all.”

“We were just finished training there!” you exclaimed, your face heated. 

“It must be very good training, indeed. The entire fucking house was damaged like hell. You two spent a whole week all showering and training while we were dealing with the shit Soldier Boy caused.”

“Sorry for that, but it's not what you think, really.”

“I thought Soldier Boy and Crimson were having a relationship. Yet life goes on, don't they? There are always new, fine chickens and dolls all around.” Butcher smirked at Ben.

You were ready to add something about Ben and you having nothing to do, but Ben became enraged right away when Butcher brought up the Crimson Countess. 

“Don't you fucking know how to stay silent and shut your useless mouth?” Butcher was obviously enjoying himself when he suddenly made Ben mad. 

“What made you so furious now? Have I said anything untrue?” 

Hughie leaned back in his seat and said, “Butcher, stop that,” sounding distressed as Ben continued to swear at them both and told Hughie to make Buther to suck him soon, so his mouth would be filled enough not to talk stupid.

“Why even do you become irate out of nowhere? After all, you murdered the poor woman.”

You looked up at Ben, asking with disbelief, “What? Why did you even kill Countess?”

The fact that Ben never brought it up startled you even more than Butcher's statement, as though it were nothing important. You were stunned and shocked beyond belief. At that point, you were at a loss for what to think. You were not sympathetic to her, though. After all, Vought used her as a cunning evil to harm both you and Ben. She was the one who paid you a visit in order to deceive you that day. 

He tried to convince you immediately, giving you a gentle look as if he wanted you to understand what he had done. “She deserved whatever I've done,” he defended himself. 

You acknowledged, “I know she did. But why?”

He looked at Butcher and then turned to face you, almost whispering, “Let's discuss this at a later time. All right?”

You found Annie nowhere to be found when you got to Butcher's home, where only Kimiko and Frenchie were inside. Kimiko watched Frenchie play with his phone, seeming bored.

“Why did it take so long for you to come here?” Frenchie inquired in an irritated manner to Butcher. “You give me too much to deal with, though you know I have things to do. Kimiko is also exhausted.”

Butcher sarcastically remarked, “Hello to you too, baby,” as he removed his coat. “I have not even once heard a complaint from her; she is an incredible Supe. She can't possibly be exhausted, right, doll?”

Ben moved you over to the edge of the coach and sat by you, resting his legs on the table, just as you were about to strike up a conversation with Kimiko. You were fine with him being close, though, so you said nothing at all. In fact, if you were honest with yourself enough, you would admit that his behavior around you somewhat comforted you. 

“Kimiko and I have spent days looking for Black Noir and Queen Maeve, but we haven't made any progress so far. It's strange that they were absent from everything for so long. You see, something isn't quite right. According to Starlight, they have vanished.”

“The fuck you mean they are missing?” Butcher asked in disbelief.

“Why would Noir would go missing? It's not his thing to disappear,” you said. You thought you were thinking to yourself, but you had said it loud.

“He must have ran away when he saw us back together,” Ben said in am amused tone. “He fucking knows I'm going to kill him too. He’s a fucking dead man.”

You told Ben, “There must be a reason,” ignoring the way he talked about taking Earving's life. Right now, you don't need to see Ben being enraged over Noir and losing his temper again. 

“How the fuck doesn't Starlight know where Queen Maeve is?” Butcher questioned Hughie. 

Hughie took his head in his hands and responded, “She thinks Homelander did something to her. Maybe he killed Maeve.”

“How about Ninja Cunt, though? He is known as Homelander's right wing. Suppose he murdered Maeve. What about Noir?”

Frenchie remarked, “That's what I'm trying to understand,” and Kimiko communicated with him using sign language swiftly. 

“All right, we'll watch out for this and see if he shows up again.” Butcher ended it quickly and continued. “Tomorrow, Soldier Boy and I are heading to New York.”

You eyed Butcher with suspicion, asking, “Why and why not me?” 

“You two stayed at a lovely house for a week, for God’s sake. Aren't all of the showers enough? Is it not possible for you to separate for even a single day? Would you really miss this cunt that much?”

As Butcher continued to make assumptions about you and Ben, your face heated. Kimiko and Frenchie turned to face you in harmony, taken aback. 

“You're just making the wrong assumptions.” You distanced yourself from Ben and explained, “It's not like that,” acting as though you had been proven guilty. Ben didn't appear to be supportive when you stared at him, yet it seemed as though he was okay with Butcher's comments. “What I want to know is what you're going to be doing here and why I have to stay here.”

“Yes, doll. To catch up with your old friend TNT Twins, we are going to join Herogasm. It's almost like we have to clear your names first. Maybe they know anything about the specifics of those events from decades ago, and they could say something that we could use against Vought. Though things might get messy soon, don't you worry, I'm going to keep an eye on your soldier so that he won't be pouding into any supe cunt there,” he said with a wicked smile.

Ben said, “Maybe we can also find a thing about Mindstorm there,” giving you a meaningful glance and a small touch on the arm before you could respond. You nodded to him. 

“However, why must I stay here?”

“Kimiko needs to get some work done, and we need more muscle to help Frenchie and Hughie here. Let's don't take too much attention.”

“Okay,” you said, acknowledging the situation and giving up on further arguments. Herogasm was something you've always detested and loathed. Ben, the founder of it, was making it even worse. Yet the one thing about Ben's inconsistent anger—the energy in his chest—that scared you was his unpredictable temper. You weren't sure if he could find a way to control it soon enough. 

You questioned Hughie, “By the way, where is Annie?” As a member of Vought and Seven, you were aware of how difficult it must be to handle the entire company's evil by yourself. 

“I don't think she'll find Maeve anytime soon, but she's doing some research in order to locate her. She seemed to have disappeared in a heartbeat.”

You figured she was kind of involved in this too, based on the way they talked about her. 

Ben abruptly stood up and stated, “I guess all the rooms are full. So, which room are Y/N and I staying in tonight?”

“Not full,” Hughie smiled in response. “I suppose there are now two available rooms since I will be seeing Annie tonight.” 

Kimiko nodded quickly as she gave a smile to you.

Ben's expression darkened as Hughie continued to tell him and Annie that they would not be staying in this house any longer, while Ben quietly cursed. He glanced at you for a moment, but you ignored him and asked Kimiko to show you the room where you would be sleeping. 

After an hour of inspecting the room and all of the furniture within, you heard a light knock on the door and knew it was Ben.

After a minute, you said, “Come in,” startled that Ben was holding back, opening the door this time without your permission. 

He whispered, “As you wish, baby,” and carefully shut the door behind him. 

In the dim light, his hair fell over his forehead, and his white t-shirt made your heart melt just a bit. Under his large arms, his t-shirt was too tight. Perhaps you weren't used to seeing him in his regular clothes, which is why you were still excited when you were around him. 

“What now?” you muttered as you sat on the bed and observed him approach you. 

He joked, “Don't get excited; I'm just here to make some conversation,” and sat down next to you right away. 

You said, almost in a whisper, “Which is about?” while he briefly studied your body.

His darkened eyes lingered on your revealing nightgown, but you remained silent, intensifying the tension in the moment. 

Ben's desire to force your body to the covers, get on top of you, take off your sweatpants, and get you ready for some post-breakup fucking was unbearable. He was well aware that you never touched yourself when you were by yourself in the house, and that really disturbed him because he knew that he was the reason for it. Ben could tell by the way you looked at him and by the beating in your heart that your body still yearned for him, but he also understood that he had to rebuild your trust in every way. He had to take care of his meat by hand up until that point. 

After sighing and searching for the right words, Ben uttered, “About the thing I told you that we can discuss later.” He made an effort not to speak about Crimson bitch right away. She was the reason your nerves were already fragile. He had no reason to blame you for it. 

As he attempted to read how you were feeling, you questioned in a cold voice, “Why did you kill her? Was it unintentional?” 

You were curious as to whether he truly intended to murder her or if this was just another unintentional incident similar to the others. You needed to comprehend it, even though you didn't know why it mattered. 

After a while, he said, “I blew up,” and when you realized he hadn't done it on purpose to exact vengeance for you, your posture straightened. 

Ben said, “I was just trying to get information about you and your location before killing her,” as soon as he saw the look on your face. “I was cautious to do anything until she had spoken about you. But I was unable to control myself when she touched my nerves.”

“Did you kill her just because she was unfaithful?” You questioned him suspiciously, attempting to make sense of his motivations. Ben might tell you the truth or a lie, but you would still listen to him even if you weren't sure he would be completely honest with you. “In the end, it's her who deceived you. Whether Vought commanded her or not is important. She was the one who brought you there so they could capture you and then transport you to Russia.”

After pausing to comprehend what you were asking, Ben responded, “I would kill her anyway because of what she had done to both of us,” as if he had no idea how to answer properly. “Especially to you.” 

You said, your eyes softening with sorrow, “I wonder what you would do to me if I were the one to trick you, Ben,” knowing that, after all these years, loyalty was what mattered most to him. “Even if I had every right to do so.” 

“I would never hurt you,” he abruptly rejected, emphasizing each word in a hard voice. “I knew I would deserve it anyway.”

“I'm not so sure of that, Ben,” you said. “You're even more dangerous considering I'm getting weaker and you're ready to blow up anytime.” 

His smile expanding, he added, “Hey, don't say such things,” took one of your hands, placed it on his warm chest, and whispered, “You have every power over me.”

Under his focused gaze, your face flushed, and after a moment, you reluctantly withdrew your hand. 

“So, you're going to Herogasm tomorrow?” you said, attempting to change the topic. “Given how difficult it was to persuade you not to join decades earlier, you must have missed it quite a lot.” 

“Are you feeling jeaolus?” he asked with a mischievous smile, and you grimaced. 

“Why should I be? I'm just saying you might have missed the chance to join the party that you organized after all this time.”

“I'm not going there to fuck, baby; I'm not interested anymore,” he murmured, retaining an arrogant chuckle. “I'm going to call you when I get there.”

“I'm not sure.” You said to quit talking about Herogasm anymore. “I might be busy to pick up when you call.” Herogasm was the world's dumbest thing, especially since Ben founded it. 

“Why may be you even busy, anyway?” This time Ben uttered serious words: “I'll call you nonstop, so keep your phone with you every moment.”

You responded with the same heedlessness, “I might.” 

Ben smiled playfully and narrowed his eyes. “Since you too need to take care of yourself, it will actually be good for us to be apart for just a small amount of time.”

You naively asked, “About what?” as though he would make a crucial point. 

“You might as well relax on this bed while I'm away because I’m pretty aware of you're not touching yourself, knowing I'd hear you in a second, huh?”

You became the deepest shade of scarlet in your cheeks and murmured, “I can't believe you.”

“I'm not making fun,” he declared with seriousness. “It is also a bodily necessity. You don't have to reject playing with yourself a bit. Being the reason is something that irritates me a lot.”

“I don't feel ashamed of taking care of myself because of you or anything else,” you immediately argued, ignoring the heat on your cheeks. “I have no problem touching myself while you're here. It's not all that important.” 

Ben arched an eyebrow at your quick, brave, “If you say so,” followed by a sigh. 

“I'm serious here, Ben,” you continued, growing agitated by his haughty demeanor and enormous ego. “I'll prove it.”

He studied your figure and growled in a low voice, “I won't promise that I won't focus on you or listen to the way you sound.”

“Then don't.”

Next Chapter

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A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated very much.  They keep me going. ♡˚.

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[sgiandubh]

I personally have a clear conscience. What others do in Mordors {🤣} is their problem. IF some have tried and continue trying to make you SEE reason it’s because each of your claims is easily debunked just like the last 'Partner in Crime 😍' that many shippers blabbered about with heart emojis in their eyes. Maybe not you but it’s the same situation I face with those who harass actors and their signifiant others on social media just NOT ME. If you’re getting messages like this it’s not to crush your dream Ladies but to try and help you understand that your arguments don’t hold up and that the so-called proof that C is in love with S doesn’t make sense. But well trying to wake you up is like pisser dans un violon, really🎻. I’m not trying to know what you know privately since that doesn’t exist do not worry. This isn’t bullying it’s just discussions that you take as such because it breaks your heart to face the reality 💔💔 now that OL is over why will S be seen with beards? And when he gets engaged, marries, and has children, what will he be trying to hide this time? Will it be because of a new contract? Waiting for the next explanation 🎻

Dear (returning) Partner in Crime Anon,

You really are an idiot, with a very poor understanding of syllogisms. Also, I was very clearly inviting you to fuck off and you are still around? My, oh, my, what a little masochist!

You know nothing and will know nothing. And I am sorry to say things do exist and will exist, no matter how many times you will come in here, with no decent argument to boot.

I see no reason to share what I know with someone as stubbornly stupid as you. Clear conscience? By no means, on no planet.

You already sound manic, my dear. I suggest crosswords, this could soothe your very tried nerves. I also appreciate the tentative fanfic and yes, I know who you are - your country needs you more than ever and here you are, ventilating bullshit on Tumblr.

What a damn shame.

[to-thelakes]

my fuckin' limit

content warning(s); underage drinking, overdrinking, throwing up, reverse comfort, reader has hair long enough to be tied up, shitty friends, brief mention of parents arguing

summary; you get very drunk and lip has to come and take care of you, getting some answers on why you've been so off recently.

series masterlist

i should be doing promptober but i'm in a rough spot and this has been sat in my drafts for a good few weeks so enjoy this reverse comfort. i am still not 100% on this part but i think it's fine...? i just need to progress the story along because i literally have 4 more parts already written after this so, here you go!!

Chicks that hang around with you and don’t sleep with you, run the other way dude. Because she’s ready to stop playing and settle down.

Kev’s words had been playing around Lip’s head from the moment he said them earlier that morning to now as he drove the ice cream truck back home. The constant thoughts and questions only stopped when you called. He hadn’t expected to hear from you today.

“Hey, what’s up?” Lip asked as he answered and put the phone up to his ear. You let out a quiet sniffle over the phone and his eyebrows instantly furrowed.

“Think something’s wrong. Don’t feel good, need you,” You mumbled out. Your words were slightly slurred, you sounded so off. It was the middle of the goddamn day and he was sure that you had been drinking. Or maybe you were high. He couldn’t be sure over the phone and he felt the worry crawl into his chest. 

“Okay, where are you? What’s going on?” He asked. You sniffled more and blurted out the address. It was only a few blocks over so Lip was heading towards you - on foot - without a second thought. He kept you on the phone but you kept avoiding the question, not daring to tell him what was really wrong.

He wasn’t entirely sure why but he assumed you just felt stupid, so he let it go. Even if your words were slurred and you sounded out of it, he was hoping that you were otherwise okay. He needed you to be okay.

When he got to the front door of the address you’d given him, he saw you. You were leaning against the front of the house, legs pulled up to your chest and curled up, arms wrapped around yourself. The phone came down from your ear just as Lip climbed the stairs up. He knelt down next to you.

“Hey, hey,” He whispered softly, placing his hand on your bare leg. You were only in denim shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. The Chicago summer was not for the weak and you seemed to be doing a pretty shitty job handling it.

“Lip,” Your voice cracked as you moved to sit up. You reached out for his face and he watched you.

“What’s happened? What’s got you like this?” He asked. It definitely seemed like you were drunk. Maybe high too. But he knew you and you had never smoked weed. That was where you’d drawn the line in the sand, for now. Though he wasn’t sure how long that line was going to be intact for. Especially right now.

“You have really pretty eyes,” You stated as you unsteadily moved closer to him. You cupped his face with your hands, looking at him in a daze. He frowned. Your eyes were shining with unshed tears as you looked at him, admiring him.

“Princess, come on, what’s happened?” He asked. But before you got a chance to answer, the front door opened. One of your friends was standing there - Amy. She looked unimpressed, arms crossed over her chest. Well, to be completely honest, she looked pissed. Lip glared at her, “What the fuck did you do to her?” He asked, anger lacing his tone as he stood up. He gestured towards your figure, sat up against the edge of the house.

“She did this to herself,” Amy snapped back. The way her lip twitched made Lip want to throw a punch but he let out a ragged breath, huffing through his nose, and stepped back. He knew whatever your friend was saying was bullshit.

You were careful. You were careful with everything, cigarettes, alcohol, all that shit. You only drank when you wanted to and felt safe and you only smoked with Lip.

“What the fuck happened!?” He snapped.

“She drank too much and threw up all over the carpet. Need her to get the hell out of here,” Amy stated. Anger laced her every word. She looked almost disgusted. Lip scoffed.

“You’re a shitty friend,” He said before he returned back to your side. He slowly encouraged you to get to your feet, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you supported. You leaned into him without a question.

“She’s the shitty friend. Trying getting that shit out of the carpet. Didn’t even have the decency to make it to the toilet,” Amy bit back as Lip guided you off the porch. He didn’t even give your ‘friend’ the dignity of a response or even a look. He didn’t know what to even say to that so he just stuck his middle finger up. Then he just guided you back to the Gallagher House hoping Fiona had a better idea of what the hell to do.

You couldn’t remember how you’d gotten to Lip’s house but when your eyes blinked open, you were in his bed. You still felt drunk. You could feel the alcohol sloshing in your stomach and you felt sick. Very very sick.

The sick was blurring your vision, alcohol making it hard to comprehend any thoughts past I’m in Lip’s room and I’m gonna be sick. You knew you needed to get out.

As you jumped off Lip’s bed, you didn’t even realise that anyone else was in the room. Your entire body was focused on beelining for the bathroom. It was mercifully empty and you slammed the door behind you, hurling up into the toilet bowl. 

Food came up but you weren’t entirely sure how. You didn’t eat before you went over to your friend’s and there hadn’t been any food at her place. So, you didn’t understand where it had come from. Though you were also too preoccupied with throwing it up and gagging on it to think about it too hard.

You desperately tried to keep your hair out of your face, sleep having made your loosely tied back ponytail fall out. You were gagging, eyes filled with tears and the room wouldn’t stop spinning. You started crying.

“Fuck,” You whimpered, searching your wrist for an elastic but finding it empty. You’d left it in Lip’s bed… “Fuck,” You whimpered again, cheek resting against the edge of the toilet. Your stomach was still sloshing, not quite stable. You still felt sick. You felt awful. Your bad day was just getting worse as the tears continued to fall silently down your cheeks.

The sound of your name and a knock against the door made your eyes squeeze shut. You didn’t want to think about him right now. Especially of all people. 

You loved him. 

God, you still loved him but you knew you were going to cry if he started talking about Karen. You couldn’t comfort him today.

“Go away, Lip,” You got out, regret and guilt seeping into every crevice of your being. You didn’t understand why the fuck you had done this, why you thought it was a good idea, why you ever started drinking at all.

Lip - in fact - did not go away and instead opened the bathroom door and walked inside. You were too hot and just as Lip came to sit down, the urge to throw up came back ten-fold. You gagged on air before turning your face in and throwing up into the toilet again.

You were gagging, tears still falling down your cheeks and you were trying to keep your hair out of the way but then you felt Lip’s hands on it. He held it back in a ponytail before slipping an elastic back on.

That made you want to cry more, gagging once or twice before your body seemed to be done. You rested your cheek against the toilet seat again, closing your eyes. You felt sick and far too hot, tears dripping down your cheeks.

“Feelin’ better?” He asked. You opened your eyes just enough to glare at him. He chuckled softly at you.

“How did I even get here?” You muttered as you let your eyes fall closed again.

“Called me,” He responded. You sighed and coughed again, the burning sensation on the back of your throat making you feel worse. You hated being sick. You hated that you were still drunk.

“Don’t remember doing that,” You mumbled.

“What happened?” He asked. You shrugged.

“Had too much,”

“No fuckin’ shit but why the fuck were you drinkin’? It was barely 4pm.”

“Not my idea.”

“You still fuckin’ drank.”

“Like you don’t drink all the time.”

“Yeah but I know my fuckin’ limits.”

“Fuck off.”

You two sat in silence then. The tension was thick and it made you feel worse. The anxiety churning your gut.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” You responded, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. He shrugged, blue eyes roving over your form. You looked like shit. He didn’t want to say that though.

“Not gonna leave you with your asshole friends so,” He shrugged. You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever,” You muttered as you let out a rough cough. You then finally lifted your head off the toilet seat. Being sick had definitely sobered you up but you could still feel the familiar buzz.

The connection between your mouth and your filter still partly eroded. You were trying so hard not to just blurt every thought that crossed your mind.

“She done? I need to piss,” Fiona asked, startling the both of you. You lifted your head up to take in the familiar form of the older Gallagher. You quickly scrambled to your feet, flushing away the sick before you wiped the corners of your mouth.

“Sorry,” You muttered. Fiona shrugged and ushered the two of you out without another word. You stared at Lip, rubbing the side of your face, “I’m sorry,” You said. He shrugged and gently reached out for your arm, pulling you in. He then walked you back to his room.

“Want to tell me what happened?” He asked.

You shook your head. There was a long moment of silence as Lip guided you onto his bed. It was too hot to go under the sheets, your skins sticky with sweat despite the fan that was on. The white noise was a good break from the deafening silence.

You didn’t expect it when Lip pulled you on top of him, guiding you to rest your head against his chest. His arms wrapping around your torso as you nuzzled into him. Usually, Lip was the one that sought comfort with you but it seemed to be the other way. His fingers moved to the nape of your neck, gently running his fingers across the skin making you shiver but also soothing you.

“My parent’s had an argument,” You let out after a beat of silence, “They were shouting at each other, like shouting shouting. Never heard either of them so angry,” You muttered as you moved one of your hands to curl underneath his back. Despite the heat of the day, sharing Lip’s body heat was oddly soothing, “I walked in and they instantly stopped, wouldn’t admit what was wrong and then my dad went to work early this morning and my mom has just been acting like everything is fine. I needed to get out of the house.” You finally let out. You felt so dumb talking to him about it. You and Lip talked, you always had, but to him, your life was perfect, your family was perfect.

You were the good part of living on the South Side. An oasis in a sea of shitty family and shitty people.

Now, you weren’t.

“I really don’t know what’s going to happen and I don’t like it. I love my mom and my dad and I don’t like them arguing and I’m terrified that they’re gonna break up or… or I don’t know. I can’t do that, Lip. Not right now,” You rambled, letting yourself rant a little. You hated it but when the words started they didn’t stop, “It’s been weird for weeks, I just- I dunno.”

Lip sighed and gently ran his fingers across your back and down your spine. His fingers slipped underneath the fabric of your t-shirt, delicately running his fingertips across the length of your spine.

“Want to stay here tonight?” He asked softly. You didn’t expect Lip to give you any advice but it would have been nice. He saw the way that your back deflated, his heart clenching but he tried to ignore that familiar sadness that settled into his stomach. You closed your eyes.

“Yeah, please,” You murmured.

If you were completely honest, you just wanted to forget everything. You wanted to hear Lip complain about Karen and Jody and help him if he wanted to scheme because that would mean you didn’t have to think about this, about how fucked up you felt. How you were sure your parents were going to get a divorce and you were in love with your best friend who wanted someone else. Who had got someone else pregnant, who had never even looked at you twice.

The tears started to fall despite yourself and you curled your head further into Lip’s chest as he softly ran his hands along your back. He didn’t say anything - not really sure what to say - but the way his hands moved and the way his free arm curled around you was his way of comforting you.

You hated it.

[snowy-vee]

ALL MINE (4)

CHECK MY PINNED POST!

DAILY CLICK!!!!

DON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE JUST BECAUSE THE STRIKE IS OVER! NOBODY WILL BE FREE UNTIL EVERYONE IS FREE!

oblivious loser bsf! ellie williams x posesive popular bsf!fem reader

n/a: 2.9k words! I hope you all enjoy, I have change some things so the story MAYBE won't end in 6 chapters, I love reading comments or answering questions, so FEEL FREE TO DO SO. Any misspelling will be edited later on

You enter the house talking on the phone. You take out your boots and went directly to the fridge grabbing a water bottle.

“No, shit, Jesse, of course I’m giving her space but I think you don’t get that it’s been two weeks since I last saw her”

“If I don’t recall wrong, you made some cheer girls spy on her”

“Shush, what was I supposed to do? She was suspended for one week so I knew I wasn’t going to see her and that she was going to still mad at me the next one, so I put April and Sav to do a little… research ¡I am worried! She hasn’t even come to the house to pick up her clothes, her backpack, yes, but her clothes are just like the last time.”

When you went to fight Abby at her department, you didn’t, Ellie had done enough job, so you just screamed at her and made her tell you what the fuck happened between them at the locker room and years ago. Abby, tired of this bullshit, told you everything from A to Z, and you felt more like a piece of shit.

Now you understood everything, at least saw the situation with a different light, you did slap Abby and told her to stay away from you or you would sue her for spreading your pics around campus. Since then, no contact between you two, not even in class.

“Well, you fucked up big this time, what can I say?”

“Thank you, you’re the best, How does it feel that she’s with your ex and you’re still in love with her?”

“One, at least I can talk with Dina without problems, our friendship is good, Two, they are not together yet. How’s yours with Ellie? Oh right, hanging in a thread”

“Blah, Blah, Blah… Where’s my fucking couch?” You turned around going on the living room to sat down on your couch but it disappeared, it was there this morning when you left.

“How would I know? Where’s your couch?”

“That’s what am I asking, Jesse!” You were going to freak out. You heard the water of the bathroom running, there was someone on the house “I think there’s someone in the house…”

“It could be Ellie”

“Her keys are not in the entrance, I will call you later…” You said walking slowly towards the bathroom, you could hear Jesse telling you to don’t hang the call but you did anyway. Once you where in front of the door, It opened and you screamed.

The voice of Ellie screaming at unison with you made you stop. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She said with a hand on her chest looking at you as if you were crazy. She obviously just took a shower and was wrapped in a towel with her hair soaked and wetting the floor. You felt relieved that it wasn’t a burglar, you nodded slowly reassuring yourself and saying that it was only Ellie… ¡Ellie!

“You’re back?”

“Well, still my house too, so yeah, you have a problem with that?” She said in a defensive tone, of course her guard wasn’t down yet.

“No, of course no! It’s just that I am surprised”

“Don’t be, this doesn’t mean me and you are friends again”

“I know… Do you happen to know what happened with the couch” You asked with a sad frown looking at her walk to her room.

“Yeah, I burned it in a remote clearing far from here”

“Why? It was brand new!

“It was dirty because of someone” she simply said closing her door. You had a confused look on your face as you were processing what she told you.

You locked yourself in your room, you did miss her but at the same time you had to find some words to tell her and you had zero idea what to do, God, she was burning things now, maybe you were the next. Ellie was walking around the house, you could hear her steps on the kitchen and the TV on, she was cooking something while watching one random quiz show.

The warm feeling that you had knowing that she was finally back at home allowed to take a long nap, a very long one because once you woke up, the sun was gone and you regretted it. You had homework to do and exams to study, you had to take it seriously since cheer wasn’t your major, you were studying something that your parents agreed on but you did not enjoyed that much.

They were donating monthly to the cheer team in exchange that you aced everything else, otherwise you would be expelled from cheering and from the team, even the coach knew that. Ellie always helped you and made it easy to study but she didn’t this time, obviously, so you had kind of trouble studying.

With your things to study you went to your kitchen, leaving everything on the table, you were going to study there but also eat something, you were hungry. You opened the fridge, empty except some sodas and protein bars… maybe in the pantries? Nothing caught your attention but the pan in the stove. Ellie had cooked one of your fav foods, was she torturing you? She knew that you weren’t going to grab the food nor ask her if you could, you bit your lip and sighed resignedly, protein bars would be.

Time flies while you were working in your homework, sometimes looking over Ellie because it still felt surreal that she was at home, she could feel your eyes on her but she wasn’t going to give you any attention or so she thought before you started groaning annoyed that you couldn’t understand a lot of things. It was making her nervous and irritated her a little, mostly because she knew that you stressed yourself easily over anything and that made the process more difficult and also because she couldn’t help you, you two were on a Cold War.

“What is it?” She said getting up from the only small chair of the living room.

You turned the computer around and showed her the topic, she started helping you and you were focus, of course you wanted to use the opportunity to talk but first enjoy her help. None of you realized how fast the time passed that until you let a small yawn.

“Maybe, that’s everything for today” Ellie said returning to her cold-self. Shaking your head you grabbed her hand.

“Please, don’t… I can’t spent another day without talking to you”

“We are talking”

“Don’t play dumb, I finally know what happened back home, I finally understand more your anger, Abby told me everything”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, waiting for you to start talking. She wanted to know what truth have you heard and if it was the right version of it, and it was, Abby told you the truth.

“So you went to her again?”

“That’s all you have to say? And it was not like that” You rolled your eyes looking at her “Whatever, what I want to say is that I wished you could’ve told me back then”

“Would it have changed something?”

“I have no idea, maybe?”

Ellie scoffed. “So my word was not enough? Telling you not to mix with Anderson?”

It was going to be difficult to try and have a conversation when Ellie still hurt and was defensive, which you get and that’s why the nap was a need, you were mentally prepared for this.

“I’m not saying that, but I thought it was something stupid like she stole your game box, not your girlfriend” You tried to explain.

“Okay, but you still had something with her knowing that I was in bad terms with her, why? I mostly want to hear why? I’ve been racking my brain searching for a reason”

“Because of you” Ellie opened her mouth to respond but you covered it. “Shut up. Let me finish, I did it because of you, Ellie, I’ve been in love with you since god knows when and I tried so hard just to be your best friend but I couldn’t”

Ellie eyes softened slowly. “Every girl that tried anything with you, I scared them off, I used the ‘power’ of being popular and I used to make them stay away from but then we came here and there was so many people that did not fear me or knew me and you were getting along with a lot of people, I was afraid you were going to finally find a girl that matched your type”

“Why you never told me that?” She said taking your hand out of her mouth, holding it now.

“I’ve tried! Millions of times but somehow you had a new girl in your radar or you did not read the signs, eventually I grew tired of it so I tried to keep you for me. The first time I got with Abby, was only a kiss in a game but that made me popular somehow and I was starting to get more attention because of the rumours, at the same time I saw how you looked at Dina when she was dating Jesse and how you started to talk with her when they broke up even if it was briefly, I knew you were getting interested in her”

“I have nothing with Dina…”

“Can you let me finish? Damm” She murmured a little ‘sorry’ and indicate for you to continue “That irritated me and I was thinking on ways, it’s going to sound bad… on ways to hurt you because of how you made me feel, like I would never be enough but I did not wanted to hurt you directly because I am your best friend, nothing else, you weren’t doing anything bad, just being social and flirting. Abby told me she find me attractive and ¡Bang! Match made in hell, it was perfect, because I knew how much pain you’d feel and it would be equal at mine.”

“So it was intentional? You wanted to hurt me?” She let go of your hand looking at your eyes.

“No! Well, yeah, I didn’t realized how dumb I was being but with you and Dina getting to know each other more, you lying to me to go see her… It was too much. I’ve been with a lot of people in front of you and you’ve never reacted until Abby, so it was the only person that made you protective of me while I tried to get rid of Dina”

You took a deep breath and exhaled softly, nodding slowly. “But this two weeks, I did some thinking, more like mini therapy and I’m ready to be your best friend and stop pushing myself on you on any way and let you be the judge of your love life. I don’t want you out of my life, you’re my everything and if it’s only as a best friend that I can be, I am ready and I know that I hurt you and that is going to be difficult to trust me again but I hope we can reconnect slowly again”

Ellie felt kind of guilty knowing that she neglected your feelings and kind of made you that way, she could’ve rejected you sooner… or accept you sooner, anyway what was done was done.

“I- I think that I accept your apologize”

“You think? Is that a yes or no?”

“I don’t know, I have to think about it and it will take time. Even if we start acting like before, my trust on you has been hurt” You nodded. Of course, you were aware of that but how long was she going to take? Also, you just confessed that you love her and she is not going to say anything to that? That made your heart kind of itching, you wanted to scratch it and, in the process, tear it out.

“I understand… Can I hug you?”

“It’s better that you don’t” Oh. Ellie already took out your heart and ate it in front of you “We can start slowly, I can help you studying and let’s go from that”

“Okay”

“You can’t interfere in any of my love life, nor go back to Abby, this time I won’t make you promise that you will, I just hope that you wanting my friendship back is enough to keep you away from her” Your mind was spiralling thinking about how much build up you had to do to rebuild what you had with her. “I’m kind of tired… I’ll go to sleep now, night”

She went to her room an closed the door. You were left alone in the kitchen and still with a little homework unfinished, but you had a new plan in the move, now that you had a green light you could start it.

“I’m going to the 24h store! Be right back” You yelled grabbing your jacket and keys, putting on your shoes and calling Jesse.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The music of the bar was mostly soft rock and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes was everywhere, you finally saw Jesse playing pool in his red varsity jacket with some guys of the football team.

“Hey, guys!” You said in your cheer tone, making them all smile. “Mind if steal your teammate for some time?”

“All you want, darling”

They started cheering Jesse’s name and patting him on his back as you pulled him out of the bar to the back part of it so no one could catch you talking and interrupt.

“They must be thinking we’re going to fuck or something”

“Ha! In your dreams” You let your back rest on the wall as you look at him taking out a cigarette “Give me one”

He light his up and came in front of you putting on in your lips and connecting both cigarettes to light up yours, all this keeping eye contact with you before taking a spot besides you, leaning his back on the wall too, that made you and he laughed.

“I’m sure that works like charm with the ladies”

“You can’t imagine” he shrugged “So what was that you wanted to talk about?”

“I will help you with get back with Dina” He started coughing because of heat you said, you raised your eyebrow blowing the smoke on his direction.

“What? Why? Is this one of your crazy plans?

Your relationship with Jesse was more of a partner in crime than anything, if any of you had this weird planning on something you could count on the other to support and help and he knew of your dying love with Ellie, so he was sure you wanted to help yourself more than help him.

“Don’t you still love her? Why don’t fight for that love back? You guys were cute”

“You used to gag every time you saw us”

“That was before”

“Before what? Before she and Ellie started something?” You nodded shamelessly, you had no problem admitting that you wanted Dina out of the picture ASAP. He stayed in silent for sometime, he was reconsidering the offer, most of your plans never failed and he truly wanted Dina back. “I don’t want to force Dina back in to my arms, I want her to be with me because she wants”

“Duh, my plan won’t work if she don’t want, this has to go smoothly, Ellie has given me second chance but with the agreement that I wouldn’t mess into her love life”

“Yet here you are” he smirked. “You are such a bad best friend”

“That’s why I want to be the girlfriend, now that all the mess with Cat and Abby is out, she doesn’t have to evade me in that aspect any more”

“Because you already cheat on her once” You hit her shoulder and he laughs “Don’t get mad at me, get mad at yourself! I’ll do it, but it better work, how much time is it going to take?”

“Some months, we need to let them at least some weeks together and then interfere between them, my friendship with Ellie still is fragile but she adores me too much, we will be back at normal, while that happen…” You flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground and stamped it out, exhaling the last puff. “You have to tighten your friendship with Dina, be more flirty, romantic but not too much that you make her uncomfortable, enough to make her remember how good your relationship was”

“And what are you going to do?”

“Be the friend Ellie deserves and helping her through the hard times” you take out your phone to call an Uber to go back home, your job here was done, you just had to wait and have faith that Jesse was going to do a good work.

“You truly are something else” Jesse sighed walking back to the bar and giving you a last look.

“I’m just taking care of my girl”

Meanwhile, Ellie was at home contemplating her ceiling and thinking that maybe this time everything was going to be easy and that maybe this was a small bump that your friendship had to overcome to become stronger. She was so weak when it came about you, she tried so hard to stay at Dina’s but she was sometimes searching for you on campus without realizing that, sometimes it seem as if you were the one that started the cold war. How wrong was she about it…

taglist;; @boobdrug @lovelyxbaby @pedropascalsbbg@cherryimaa @yumimak @amberputh @cattjull @carylinflors @ghostlyfangs @teawithnosugar @azxulaa @elliesexual @gato-chino @divinesdior @yumimak @abbystoy @gosomewjere @isitadinosaur @sourgummywormsss @rhehhwfehwfqd @bubblymilktee @mulan-but-gay @liasxeatt @lookforthelight1 @slynxs @doveocean @onlinelesbo

for people who asked me to be tag but it's not, sorry, it's not letting me tag you, I'll try later or next chapter <3 I'm going to ask for 250 notes to post the next!!!

[coolprettyleo]

my soul has changed? - will smith au

wc: 1.4k

tw: depression, suggestion of an ED, awkwardness? mean girl.

will smith x oc celebrini sister!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

lola celebrini was in a point of her life where everything felt still. she was pretty sure she was suffering from depression and it was a cycle she didn't know how to get out of.

she would wake up, go to school, go to work, and then sleep. she was lucky if she fitted a meal in between that meant she had lost tons of weight.

she had been a pretty healthy teen, she played hockey up until high school alongside her brothers; but when the time came to play college hockey, she got no offers. contributing to her depression.

it was a sport she held so much love and dedication, she couldn't understand why she hadn't been good enough? I mean her brothers were good enough, they got college offers. macklin was even projected to go first overall, so why couldn't she?

those were thoughts that were constantly haunting her mind. if she found something to forget them they would flood back in, like if they wanted her to be a lifeless doll she had been feeling like.

her family had been really worried for her. she had finally seen her brothers after a year, at the NCCAA playoffs and it only caused them to worry more.

flashbacks

lola knew that macklin and aiden were gonna bombard her with questions as soon as they were alone. they could hardly recognize her. growing up she was always a smiling person with a big personality and now she was about forty pounds lighter and was a ghost of the person she used to be.

"april what's going on" macklin said shutting the door behind him.

"what do you mean"

"cut the bullshit. I know your not okay, you barley answer my text anymore, what's wrong"

"it's nothing mack-"

"no it's not nothing, maybe I can fix it-

"you cant 'fix' it"

"and why not-"

"because I don't know what wrong with me!"

that had been about two weeks ago. she just didn't know what to tell her family. she really didn't understand why she had been feeling that way.

she was currently at work where she was a barista in a cute coffee shop. she honestly loved working there, she had got the job when she was in high school and had kept it till college. seeing as she didn’t move far away for college, choosing to stay close to her parents.

she often wondered if she might be happier if she moved away just like everyone else did, just like her brothers did. but it would always end in her telling herself; that it's not worth dwelling on.

it was currently six am and at this time of day there weren’t many customers. the cafe was always busy mid day when people were looking to find somewhere to study.

so she was surprised when she turned the open side around, to find a boy waiting outside to come in. a boy who looked a lot like will smith.

lola wasn’t an idiot to hockey, she kept up with it a fairly good amount, so she would have to be living under a rock to not know the guy who dominated the ice at her brothers rivalry school.

that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to act like she didn’t know him.

he reached for the handle and took a look at her before turning as red as a tomato and blushing,

“hey, are you guys open?” he asked nervously, mentally slapping himself because he just saw her turn the sign around, to ‘open’

“uhm yeah I’ll be with you in a sec” she told him.

will couldn’t help but think her voice was cute. she had a rasp to it that made him want to give her everything she’s ever wanted.

lola finished up, putting the coffee too brew and turned to the counter.

“okay! order when your ready”

“uhm. i actually never been here before… any recs?” he asked after a moment nervously scratching his neck.

“well I get a dirty chai, but considering my brothers hate it, you might hate it too… I guess you might like a frap?” she told him, a little too monotone.

“yeah okay” he told her again nervously. he found her to be breathtakingly beautiful.

he paid and stood back as she got to making the drink.

“you from here?” will asked hoping to make small talk.

“uhm kinda. I was born in Vancouver but moved here when my dad got a job”

will panicked. oh god was she still in highschool

lola must of saw the worry on his face because she added,

“that was a couple years ago, im eighteen now” she said smiling at his face. something she didn’t do often anymore.

“oh, i’m eighteen too”

“oh yeah, what brings you to san jose, school?” she said innocently knowing very well he was drafted here and was most likely here to work on development.

“no. I”m came to meet with some people here. I go to boston college” he answered. lola starting to not feel so bad because she saw he didn’t want to right away say he was a hockey player.

“far from home huh”

“yeah, i’m literally across the country from everything and everybody i’ve ever known” he told her wanting to slap himself. did she need to know that!?!

“i’m sorry. it’ll get easier” she said remembering her brother had been homesick too but utimatly started feeling better after some time-- as she handing him his drinks and gave him a sympathetic face.

“yeah i hope so, i should be moving here soon, if everything goes right” he said as he took a sip.

“hey this is good!” he said taking another sip as lola smiled. something that will thought looked amazing on her.

lola smiled at him remembering the fact her brothers liked that drink. boys were so typical

“i’m glad… and hey— if you ever need a friend in town my names lola” she told him as she held her hand out to him to shake.

will starred at it for a moment before he quickly met her hand.

“will” he told the girl with a smile.

they were cut out of there moment when two customers walked in.

“I should get back to work. i’ll see you around will” she told him as he smiled a nodded and walked right out.

say something! ask for my number! do anything!

lola felt really dumb after she basically just presented herself in a silver platter to the boy and he didn’t finish his part in asking for her number. he had definitely rejected her in the nicest way someone possibly could.

meanwhile will got into the Uber with a gitty feeling. she seemed really cool and having someone to hang out with other than his teammates was going to be so nice.

he was midway into the meeting with some general managers when he realized he didn’t even ask for her number.

“oh my god” he mumbled as he came to the realization

"i'm sorry?" one of the GM's said confused.

“uhh— I said I was excited to join the franchise!” he covered up, feeling like an idiot.

hopefully she was still there after the meeting.

the meeting had gone a little to long for his liking and as he raced down to the coffee shop he hoped she was working a long shift.

he opened the door to see a blonde girl who looked old but yet looked young, and a taller boy with curly hair working behind the counter.

“hi. is lola working today?” he said breathlessly

the blonde eyed him for a moment before smirking,

“I don't recall a lola ever working here...my name samantha though” she said with a face that will knew was a face of someone who was lying.

“yes there is, she helped me earlier-"

“if your here to file a complaint against her, I can totally help you then,” she said

“no she was great— wait, you said you didn’t know an lola-“

“your looking for lola?” the other barista cut in

“yeah she was here earlier, i was hoping she was still here”

“she got off like two hours ago but i can give you her number!” the curly haired boy told will. he was one of lola's friends and he wasn’t going to ruin this opportunity for her.

“you totally can’t do that!” the blonde girl said in a nasally voice.

“shutup samantha. go take candy from a baby or something” he sassily told her.

she rolled her eyes before walking away to wipe a table down.

“sorry about her, here’s her number— good luck!”

“thankyou so much” he told him as he thought about what exactly to text the pretty girl.

both lola and will not knowing the epic love story they were about embark on.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

hi guys! i hope this is kinda good, dont feel shy to send in ask and au thoughts… i like never get any but im so open to it!!

[kechiwrites]

white flag toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader part 5/?

synopsis: maybe it's time to give up the ghost. lord knows you tried.

wc: 2k

cw: afab!reader, angst, hurt and some comfort (finally), language, allusions to postpartum depression, abandonment issues, trust issues, no gendered language, discussions of pregnancy. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: the talk is finally here! i hope you enjoy, i am very proud of it. new to baby blue? start here.

It’s almost one in the morning when the bed creaks under Ghost's body, signalling his departure. The immediate absence of his warmth, the loss of his skin on yours makes you miserable in a way you wish you didn't have to examine. It makes you feel weak and yearning and empty and wistful all at once, tumbling all the emotions together until it spills out of your mouth unbidden.

“Will you stay?” You whisper it, almost as if you want it to go unheard.

It's heard.

Immediately, Ghost stops moving, stops dressing. Hell, you're almost positive he'd stopped breathing.

“You want me to?” he turns to face you, expression typically placid but his body frozen with tension.

You feel like you’re going to be sick all over your sheets when you croak “yeah” out into the stillness of your bedroom, spitting your white flag at his feet, for him to accept or trample over. 

Neither of you move for what feels like an eternity. Staring into each other's faces like they hold the answers to all the bullshit questions you made in each other. 

You break first. 

"C'mere. Please." You shift under your blanket, nodding your head towards the indent he’d made in your mattress, the sheets still warm from his heat.

Ghost is quick to move, reclaiming his spot in your bed, sliding under your covers and into your grasp, where you can cling to him like you wanted to years ago. Like you want to now. 

Your head sits on the swell of his chest, his heart beating even and quick below your ear. The position you're in makes your lower back twinge, but neither of you move, your legs now twisted in his. Initially, when he’d returned after Tommy’s fourth birthday, you’d been worried about what you’d say to him, how you’d finally tell him everything you’ve been thinking from the moment he left you. Now, the words are easy. They come when they are called, straight from your mind, stewed in your grief, pinched, sorrowful words, soaked with your tears, spoken into the dark, thin fabric of his shirt.

“I hate you.” You gasp, and wind howls through the cavern in your chest, “I hate you so much, I wish I never met you.” Hot tears burn your eyes and slide over your nose and cheeks, you hiccup through your burning throat and just speak.

"You ruined my life, you gave me this person, this little person who needs me for everything, and then you abandoned me. For so long I hated you and I hated him." Ghost's chest stops rising and falling for a moment when you confess it, the shame and anger catching him off guard. It's clear he can't quite believe it after seeing you with Tommy day after day, being who your son needed you to be, raising him, loving him, all like it was second nature. And why should he? He was off God knows where, doing God knows what while you tumbled through heavy bouts of depression and self loathing. Days where you wanted to stay rotting in your bed, but Tommy's reedy, desperate cries forced you to rise, to resist. 

"I hated my own son. My baby. Because of you." The window in your bedroom is open, and the rain outside gets heavier, like it’s trying to drown out the sounds of your confession, your accusation, like it wants to bury your humiliation and vitriol under the rushing white noise. Fill the cavern with water instead of letting it close.

“Why couldn't you just stay for me, Simon? Why couldn't you be who I needed you to be?” 

He’s breathing again, slow and steady but you can hear his heart thud irregularly in his chest, like it’s trying to follow the thread of your thoughts, but it can’t quite keep tempo. 

‘He’s scared.’ you think, and for the first time, in a long time, it doesn’t feel good. 

“I felt like I was dying. Tommy has your big ass head,” your laughter sounds like a death rattle, but you press on, spilling the dark, black ichor of the past onto Simon, into the bed you share. "It hurt so bad, the worst pain I ever felt. And I was alone. You left me alone. I wanted to die so bad.”

“I'm sorry.” he finally speaks, and it’s always a little surreal to hear his voice without it being muffled by a mask after so long. Strange to hear how deep and clear his voice can be when there isn’t a barrier between you, or your blood rushing past your ears. 

Ghost is holding you so tight, like you’ll get up and bolt at any minute, and maybe you will. Cause he’d deserve it. He’d deserve to be left behind. Just this once.

“Why? You knew what you were doing to me. You left knowing I wanted him. Knowing I'd do it all by myself. And now you're back, and you want to what? Fuck me? Break me? What do you want, Simon? How can I make you stop this…game you're playing.” You’re crying again, a small headache beginning to form at the base of your skull, reminding you what sorrow costs, what getting it all out will bring you. Pain. Pain that leaves you feeble and empty and bone-fucking-tired.

Somehow, his arms tighten around you further, feeling all at once like attachment and hatred and deep deep longing for intimacy with the one person who saw you as you were and decided he didn't want to stick around to see the rest. 

“And you know what? I know that none of this means shit for you because I let you fuck me again. Because I have no goddamn self control." You have to rein yourself back from shouting into the dark. "No self respect. A-and I can't stop missing you, missing you and me together, because it felt so real, it felt like you loved me." You anchor yourself up, letting the tears that collected on your nose and cheeks fall onto his chest. The pressure in your ears changes and you sniff against your runny nose. You feel pathetic, tiny in the wake of the all encompassing ache he brings with him everywhere. You can barely see him in the dark but you try to meet his eyes anyway. "If you ever, ever cared about me, if you care about your son, Simon, you will stop trying to break me down. You will give up on being a family. You lost your fucking chance. And it's not fair for you to come back when I know - I know - you're going to leave again."

You're short of breath and light headed when you finally stop, gulping down air and springing up tears for the third time, burning hot on your face, stinging your eyes so badly you worry the pain will never subside.

He waits a moment, before he sits up too, like he wants to be sure you got it all out before he tries and inevitably fails to make everything better. 

"I fucked up. I get that. But I can't let go of it. Of this." His voice creates this itch inside your head, like it needs something specific to go away. You’re sitting between his legs now, hands fisted in your soft white blanket, the body warmed fabric poking out between your fingers. 

“I’m trying, and you don’t want me to. He doesn’t need me to. But I want to.”

You both sit with it for a while, chewing on each other’s regrets, on his mistakes, on your heartache. It’s strange, hearing an actual apology from him, like you’d dreamed about early on. Cloudy blue and pink fantasies about opening your front door and seeing the father of your child on his knees, begging for forgiveness, grovelling for a second chance. It hadn’t happened, of course. And you’d let him into your bed anyway, because you’d missed him, four years and five months had passed you by and you still felt his absence, still felt cold at night, still felt empty in the morning. So when he knocked, you let him in.

And maybe that’s where the next question you ask him comes from. You were rarely jealous when you were actually "together", but now, the idea of Simon, your Simon, cuddled up with someone different? Enjoying himself while you toiled? Chuckling deep and low while you cried to your ceiling? It made your stomach turn. Maybe you weren't so much jealous as you were bitter. Bitter, you knew. Bitter was your closest friend. Bitter stood by your side while you raised your son, paid your bills, scrubbed your floors. Bitter was all you could taste lately.

"Was there ever…anyone else?"

He shifts next to you. Tries to play it off like a stretch. Like the line of questioning didn't burrow under his skin like a mite, eager to lay eggs that hatch guilt into his blood.

But you know better. You know him better. 

"No one important." He mutters. 

"Well that doesn't matter, I wasn't important and you knocked me up!" Your laugh smacks of your best friend, its acrid taste settling in your mouth.

"You were important. Are important." He asserts, circling his hand around the back of your neck, squeezing once before he lets go.

"Not enough for you to stay. Or call." You mumble.

You aren't even looking at him and you know his hand is up over his face, shielding him from God knows what. 

“I needed you to stay the same. And you couldn’t anymore.” You want to turn and face him, argue that he changed you. You didn’t make your son by yourself after all. He stops you, keeps you facing your bedroom wall while he hunches over to press his face into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder.

"And I don’t want to need anybody, I haven’t in a long time."

"Least of all me, huh?"

“You know that isn’t true.”

“I don’t know shit.” You gesture around your hands waving over the entire of your bedroom. “Clearly. If I knew what you thought of me, we wouldn’t be here. In this fucking…mess. Right?” 

It’s another white flag, if you were being honest, an opportunity for him to take your olive branch and not smack you across the face with it. A sign that the fuel for this particular fire, at least, has begun to burn out, leaving little but glowing embers behind.  

In lieu of speaking, his arms tighten around you again. It’s not an answer, not really, but you leave it alone. You push on a different wound. And another. And another. You poke and prod Simon with every question you’d had while he was gone, and you don’t care about the blood you leave in your wake. 

“Does the force know?” They do now.

“How?” I told ‘em.

“Why’d you tell them?” It’s…You’re important.

“No we aren’t. Not to you.” A shake of the head and a quiet rebuttal.

Eventually, it feels like the two of you keep speaking in circles, he asserts things are different, you doubt and lay righteous blame, he apologizes and asserts things have changed now, and so on and so forth until the late hour tugs at your swollen eyelids. He pulls you down to the mattress, lays back and arranges you across his chest once more. Your legs fit together a little better now, and you can feel sleep slowly taking hold of you. 

Before you slip under, you murmur into his chest; "Simon.” He makes a low noise in his throat, an indication of his attention. “Do you love me? Did you ever love me?" It’s a plea for the truth, for an answer so irrefutable that it finally soothes the ache, scratches the itch, mends the torn fabric that lays between you.

"You're as close as I ever got." You feel his lips press against the crown of your head before you fall asleep, succumbing to a simple, dreamless slumber.

When you wake up the next morning, he's there. Not sleeping. His hair is a mess, and his face is bare. He's reclined against your headboard, reading a romance paperback you borrowed from the library, frowning at the yellowed pages like it's written in Latin.

When you start to cry, he holds you until Tommy stirs awake, knocking at your door for Sunday morning pancakes.

so...what'd we think? this one made my husband cry :)

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