#so that ‘no one would get up the nerve to bulldoze it’

[sluttyten]

You In My Arms

Chapter 8: All I Want

full masterlist || haechan masterlist || YIMA chapter index

summary: the first date with the girl who reigns in his dreams these days, and Haechan makes a big realization (and a few smaller ones)

length: 7,997 words

tags: exhibitionism, slowburn, friends to lovers, handjobs, blowjobs, public sex, fingering, general perversion, smut

previous chapter || next chapter  (Coming Soon)

“There’s no way you’re actually doing that!?” YangYang laughs loudly, staring at Haechan where he’s standing in the doorway of their shared bathroom. 

Haechan doesn’t look away from his reflection in the mirror as he readjusts his collar and checks his hair. 

“Why do you find it so hard to believe?”

YangYang appears in the reflection over Haechan’s shoulder, a shit-eating grin stretching his lips wide. “Dude, seriously? It’s because you’ve been friends for years. You fucked all of the other girls in our group of friends, but never once did you show an interest in her. And now, suddenly, you’re taking her out on a date?”

Haechan meets YangYang’s eyes in the mirror. “You know, sometimes we’re just blind and dumb when it comes to who is right in front of us. And sometimes it just takes a little extra time to make a move once you realize you have feelings for someone.”

And that brings a twisted look to YangYang’s face. “Gross. Don’t get mushy and emotional on me now, Haechannie.” He shakes his head and walks away, calling back over his shoulder, “So actual feelings are involved? This isn’t just you trying to, like, wine and dine her before finally marking another of our friends off your list?”

Haechan takes one last sweeping look at himself in the mirror before he shuts the light off and turns away. 

“First of all. I didn’t sleep with that many of the girls we were friends with in school. The girls in my dorm block, absolutely.” There was a reason he’d had to learn to avoid all of the girls that lived on the floor below him. “But Karina and one of Mark’s friends were the only ones we were actually close to. So, no, this isn’t me just trying to mark someone else off a non-existent list, dude. I like her.”

And if he doesn’t hurry up, he’s going to be late to their first date. 

Haechan doesn’t usually feel nervous about things. He tends to just bulldoze ahead and then feel regret later instead of nerves at the start. But he feels a little flutter of something as he returns to his room to apply some fragrance, to grab his phone and wallet and a scarf and his coat. 

When he turns around, YangYang is lurking in his doorway now. 

“Damn, what now, Yang?” He hisses, startled at YangYang’s silent appearance. Haechan starts to step around him, but YangYang moves too, blocking his path with a hand to Haechan’s chest. 

“Don’t break her heart, man.” His voice is low, a warning. This is the most serious Haechan has seen YangYang in a long time. “I like having her around too much. She’s a great friend, and if you fuck this up and suddenly she doesn’t want to be friends with any of us anymore….” He cuts himself off, shaking his head before he moves on, spitting, “Don’t scare her off with your pervy shit. She’s a good girl.”

Haechan just grins at that, heart leaping in his chest. Amused, he says, “YangYang, I know things about this woman that would make your hair curl. Don’t worry, I’m not scaring her off or breaking her heart.” 

He slaps YangYang’s arm, and with a laugh, he finally steps around him and heads for the door. 

Without his own car to drive, Haechan walks the several blocks from his apartment to hers. It’s a twenty minute brisk walk, and the cool air of the evening as the season takes its turn towards winter is calming. Twilight has fallen, giving the city a blue wash. Streetlights come on, the stars try to make an appearance. It’s chilly enough that Haechan thinks he can almost see his breath, and he tucks his hands into the pockets of his coat, hiding his nose and mouth beneath the curve of the scarf he has wrapped around his neck. 

She’s waiting for him outside her building. 

She’s bundled up against the cold too. A puffy coat and a hat with one of those fluffy baubles on top, which altogether makes her look absolutely adorable. 

Haechan laughs as he approaches her, lifting a hand up to play with the bauble. “You look cute,” he beams, unable to look away as she smiles back at him. Her hand reaches up for his, pulling it down from where he’d squeezed the fluffy ball at the top of her hat. 

“You look nice too, Donghyuckie. And you smell nice.” She doesn’t let go of his hand. 

Her palm is warm against his, though her fingers are cold, so he laces their fingers together and brings their folded hands into the warm pocket of his jacket. That seems to throw her off slightly, because when he looks over at her, she’s just blinking, staring quietly at the pocket their hands have disappeared into, a glow appearing to her face that wasn’t there before. But then she moves closer, her hand squeezing his inside the pocket of his jacket. 

“So where are we going?” She asks. 

“Dinner.” Haechan starts to walk away, and she follows, sticking right by his side. “And then afterwards, a friend of mine is having a free concert by the river. He’s really talented, so I thought that might be fun. Dessert after that, if you’re interested.”

She nods, her face bright as she holds Haechan’s gaze. “Are we walking everywhere, or do we wanna take my car?” 

Haechan drives, but they take her car. She chatters in the passenger seat, selecting music on her phone for them to listen to, and Haechan keeps one hand on the wheel while the other rests on his thigh. He keeps fighting the urge to reach over and take her hand. He likes the feel of her fingers between his, her palm warm on his. He likes the way that her perfume mingles with his at their wrists. 

He likes her. Plain and simple. 

She talks so much that Haechan wonders how nervous she really is. She looks calm on the outside, but then she’ll excitedly ramble to him about this story from her childhood for five minutes. It’s charming and cute, and Haechan listens intently to the story about her childhood stray cat that her parents wouldn’t let her keep, the one about her first trip to the beach that she could remember, the one about her memories of her first day at university and seeing Haechan then. 

He’s never heard her first impression of him before, so it’s fascinating to hear it now and to see the light smile on her lips as she talks about him, eyes distant with remembrance. 

“First day of orientation,” she giggles — his heart soars at the sound — and she looks ahead through the windshield. “I was so nervous because I didn’t know anyone in my orientation group, and my single acquaintance from high school that I knew there was in a completely different room, and I walk into the room they put us in. Everyone was either talking or sitting quietly by themselves and looking nervous, and I was one of the last ones to enter the room, and there were only a few seats left, so I just remember I booked it for the first one I saw. I remember looking around at everyone, at the student life volunteers who were orienting us.” Again, she laughs. “Do you remember that Xiaojun was actually one of them?”

Damn, Haechan had forgotten about that. He’d been a year ahead of them before he switched his major. 

“But then I was looking around the room, and I saw you just like two seats away from me.” And there is her smile, like she’s pleased but embarrassed, and he wonders if her cheeks are filling with warmth of her embarrassment, if so Haechan wants to feel beneath his fingertips, to cradle her face in his hands as he kisses that sweet smile. But he keeps his hands to himself and just listens. “Once we started the icebreakers, it became quickly obvious that you were pretty extroverted. You were chatty and funny. Back then your hair was like this light honey-brown and your face was still squishy and cute.”

“Are you saying my face isn’t cute now?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know you know that’s not true. Your face was just rounder then.”

Haechan remembers. At freshly eighteen, he’d still been a little round and soft. He’d come to school that autumn wearing the weight of his mother desperately trying to stuff her eldest son with as much love and food as she could before he left the nest. He’d been tanned from spending his last months of freedom on the beach. His hair was only that light because he’d been trying to impress someone who, as it turned out, had no interest in him at all. 

But Haechan remembers orientation too. He remembers when they were broken down into even smaller groups. Haechan, her, the person between them and one on either side of that trio were put together. She’d been a little quiet and withdrawn, and Haechan had tried to fill the silence (and talk over the only other guy in their group who’d thought he was in charge but who only came up with bad ideas),  but he remembered her. He’d noticed her looking at him with this soft look in her eyes, the way she’d laughed along with all of the things he said. 

“I remember you too.” Haechan nods as she quickly argues that there’s no way that he remembers her. “It’s true! I do remember you. You were quiet and cute, smart and you laughed so easily. You’re the one that came up with the idea that let our little group win the free snack vouchers, remember?”

She stares at him. 

“What? Am I wrong?” Haechan glances over at her, then back at the road. “They put our orientation group into smaller groups, we were together in ours, and we were told to problem-solve. There was one smarty-pants who kept throwing out shitty ideas, I kept making jokes, the other two didn’t contribute much at all, and in the end you came up with the solution. We won snack vouchers, and I kept complimenting you on your idea. Right?”

She nods. “Right.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Haechan laughs, noticing that she’s still just looking at him. “What?”

“I just…. Honestly, I didn’t think you noticed me at all until I started hanging out with the group months later.” She bites her lip and looks out the windshield again. “I remembered everything from that day because that’s when I first started crushing on you, but I never expected that you’d remember me from then.”

They arrive at the restaurant then, and Haechan pulls into a place to park. 

“You impressed me,” Haechan admits. “And then I kept seeing you around campus. We had a class or two together that first semester. When I wasn’t doing too great in the Psych class we had, I thought about approaching you to ask if you wanted to join my study group. Not that I had one, but I knew you were smart and nice, so I thought maybe I could at least study with you. But I always talked myself out of it, and then next thing I knew, I went to meet Renjun for lunch on campus one day, and there you were sitting and talking with him and Jeno.” Haechan shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips as the memory replays itself in his mind. 

He couldn’t believe two of his closest friends were apparently friends with this girl. He’d watched from a short distance for a moment or two, watching her laugh with Renjun, watching her excitedly turn to tell Jeno something. Her mannerisms were so cute, and when Haechan finally realized he was being creepy by just standing there watching, he approached the table. She’d looked up at him with wide eyes, her lips parted softly, and she’d let out a little “oh!” of surprise. 

After that, the rest was history. 

They’d become acquaintances who had friends in common, and then their overlapping friend group kept growing until it was common to hang out together. They’d gotten to know each other better, and Haechan had become preoccupied with other people to crush on and lust after, namely Shotaro’s girlfriend, and he’d completely forgotten to realize his feelings growing for her. Until a few months ago. 

Dinner is nice. 

They share dishes, drink some wine, laugh and talk and probably make lovey eyes at each other quite a bit. Haechan knows that he is. Every time she laughs, he feels like he smiles so dopey. Every time that her foot brushes against his beneath the table, his heart lurches. By the time the check comes, Haechan is fully enchanted with her. Of course, he already knew that he really, really liked her. He knew that he wanted to end this night with finally getting to be with her. But now he knows he definitely wants it more long term than that. He feels like a silly young girl in a fairytale, picturing an entire future just after a first date. 

The walk back to the car is the longest three minutes of his life. 

He’s holding her hand, but it’s not enough. 

He keeps looking at her flushed cheeks, at the shine in her eyes, and at her lips which are stained a slight shade darker by the wine. And he wants to kiss her, to hold her against him, to keep her warm tonight,  and taste her on his tongue in every way. 

When they reach the car, Haechan can’t hold back anymore. She reaches for the door handle of the passenger side, but Haechan puts a hand on the doorframe, and with his other hand he pulls on their intertwined hands. 

She faces him with a bright smile, with a giggle. And like she knows exactly what’s happening, her eyelashes flutter and she tilts her head, and when he leans in to kiss her, she moves to meet him. 

This kiss is better than the last. 

Haechan feels like he’s had to wait another eternity from that night to this one, though it’s only been somewhere around a week. But every hour felt like an eon, and now it’s all coming to a point right here in this moment when she presses her body against his, her hands sliding around beneath his coat to hold onto his hips, to draw him against her as she leans against the side of her car. His fingers dive into her hair, braiding through the strands as she opens her mouth to his kiss. 

He kisses her until he’s breathless, until she’s sighing his name against his lips, their breath clouding around their heads. 

“Are we still going to that concert?” She asks, brushing her lips along his jaw. “Or do we want to skip and go right back home?” 

The latter option sounds really good. 

But Haechan wants to do this date properly. 

“Concert first.” He suggests, leaving a too-short kiss on her tempting lips. “Then back to… to yours? To mine?”

“Mine,” she says with certainty. “My roommate’s gone for the weekend. And I’m sure YangYang is still at yours.”

Haechan nods and then laughs. “He threatened me when I told him I was taking you on a date tonight. He told me I’d better not scare you off with any of my pervy shit because you’re a good girl.” He kisses her again, laughing as she tries to slip him some tongue and keep him right there, but he pulls back. “I told him that you’re not as much of a good girl as you would’ve had all of us believing.”

“I’m a good girl,” she insists with a wide, mischievous grin that reaches her eyes. 

“Bullshit, baby.” Haechan kisses her one last time before he reaches around her to pull on the door handle. “Get in the car, and after the concert is over, I’ll get my evidence that you’re absolutely not the innocent good girl most of our friends think you are.”

She just smiles as she slides into the passenger seat. 

Again, Haechan is sorely tempted to drive back the way they came, to go back to her apartment instead of onward to the park beside the river. But he’s taking her to the concert specifically because he said he would, even if now she’s making that decision so hard to stick with. 

As soon as he’s settled in the driver’s seat with the car turned on, she slides her hand over to his thigh. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, trying to keep his tone casual. 

“Nothing.” She just smiles, trying to look innocent, but that mischievous gleam in her eye gives her away. “How far of a drive is it?”

He types it into his phone, his toes curling in his shoes as she starts moving her hand up and down on his thigh. His GPS presents the answer, the automated voice announcing that it’s about a twenty minute drive. 

“I can work with that,” she chimes, leaning her head against the headrest to look over at him. “What do you say, Haechan? You’ve been wined and dined, can I finally get a taste of you?”

Her hand slips higher, fingers brushing right along the center seam of his pants, over his balls, fondling as she finds his stiffening cock. He groans, dropping his head back. Is he meant to be able to say no to the offer? Not that he wants to say no. Sure, he’d wanted to do that whole proper date thing, but if she’s offering a handjob or road head right now, he can’t turn that down. 

“Let me get us out of this parking garage, and then you can do whatever you like, angel.” Haechan hears a little shiver in his voice, excitement and arousal as he grips the steering wheel and twists in the driver’s seat, putting the car in reverse. “Just wait a minute, and then you can….”

She palms his cock again. 

“You know,” she says, “I’ve been thinking of doing this since seeing you in Mr. Moon’s car. Specifically giving you a hand while you drive, I mean. Like I told you earlier, I’ve had a crush on you since orientation, so I’ve dreamed of jerking you off many, many more times before then. Among other things.”

It takes every ounce of his willpower to not look away from the car’s rear window as he backs up and tries checking his blind spots. He can’t look at her right now, no matter how much he’d like to. It’s too risky at the moment. There are too many fancy parked cars he could bump or back into, too high of a possibility that another car or a person walking could come along to hit. He focuses on backing out of their parking spot, and then passing along the curving path of the parking garage towards the exit below. But still her hand is kneading at his thigh or brushing the seam of his pants which is quickly growing strained as his swelling cock presses against it. 

The moment that they’re out of the parking garage, her hand flies to his belt. When they’re sitting at a stoplight two seconds later, she’s unfastening it, fumbling it. Haechan takes his hands off the wheel and his eyes off the red light in front of them to help her undo the belt and the button and zipper of his pants. Her hand slides inside, and he moans the moment that her fingers wrap around his cock and draw him out into the open. 

Her eyes gleam in the streetlights. 

“No road head,” she explains. “It seems a little too risky at the moment since I don’t know how you’ll react, or how quickly you’re gonna cum.” 

Haechan sneers. “What? You think I’m gonna last, like, five seconds or something? Baby, I think you already know better than that.”

She just smiles up at him. Her thumb slides in circles around his tip, and clear fluid is already gathering there, smeared around beneath her fingertip. 

The light changes to green and Haechan steps on the gas. 

And she starts moving her hand on him. 

“You’re gonna make such a mess, aren’t you, Haechan?” She’s teasing him, and the worst part is, that he knows she’s right. He does tend to make a bit of a mess, especially when he’s sitting in a car still fully dressed. He’s gonna get it all over his pants, but at least he’s got a coat that’ll cover the front of his pants when they get to the park. 

She strokes his cock slowly, but that doesn’t mean that every single motion doesn’t unfurl pleasure from the base of his spine, sending tendrils of arousal through his veins. 

Haechan does his best to focus on the road, to not just melt into the heat of her palm around his cock, to not dissolve when she leans over and drools spit down onto him to ease the glide a little more. 

“Fuck,” he curses, loosening one hand from the wheel to lay it against the back of her head. But she sits up instead of sinking her pretty lips around him. He doesn’t move his hand, just braids his fingers through her hair, tugging lightly when she squeezes her hand around him on the slow upstroke. 

Haechan blows down the streets of the city. 

He’s pretty sure he doesn’t run any red lights or stop signs. He doesn’t crash into any cars, curbs, or pedestrians. So he must be doing something right even as his focus starts to slip. 

A knot of pleasure is tightening between his navel and his cock. 

“If you haven’t cum by the time we get there,” she sighs, leaning closer to touch her lips to his neck — his cock twitches, a blurt of precum leaking from the tip — and she continues, “Then as soon as you put this car in park I really want to sit on your cock, Haechannie. It just looks so wonderful. Since you sent me that first video, I thought so. You’ll fill me so well, stretch me so nicely, and I bet you’d like to cum inside me like that wouldn’t you? With me riding you in the car? Like that video you stole from Renjun’s phone.”

Haechan’s hips jolt off the seat, driving his cock up into the tight fit of her fist. That video…. So hot. He’d thought about it and watched it quite a few times since he sent it to himself. The way the girl in the video’s ass had bounced, how her pussy had swallowed Renjun’s cock so nicely, and Haechan knew that his own cock was bigger than Renjun’s and it would’ve stretched that pussy even nicer. He’d fantasized too often about that, getting ridden in a hot, sweaty car, cumming inside her with his cum then dripping down her thighs. He’d wondered for a few weeks after Thailand, wondering who the girl had been, wondering if Haechan could track her down and get to experience that for himself. Of course, by that point, he’d already kind of started to realize he might have feelings for the beautiful woman who currently has his cock in her hand, so he’d given up on that brief fantasy. 

She kisses Haechan’s neck again, her hand massaging just right beneath his cock tip. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like you told me, you’ve gotten off to that video so many times. It’s your favorite.” Her teeth skim his skin, and Haechan’s heart thunders, pleasure arcing through him. 

“Wouldn’t it just blow your mind, Haechan, if I told you that I’m the girl in that video?” 

His mind goes blank. The world whites out for a second as his orgasm pulses through him. Only a self-preservation instinct keeps him from crashing the car as Haechan cums in sticky white ropes all over her hand and her steering wheel and his lap. 

She’s the girl in that video?

She’s the girl riding Renjun in the car with the gorgeous ass and beautiful pussy, the one who’d ridden Renjun’s cock like a professional cockrider? The one with Renjun’s handprints on her ass, cum spilling down her perfect thighs beneath the sundress. 

It makes sense, now that he actually thinks about it. 

He knew that she’d fucked around with Renjun during that period of time, but for some reason, he’d never considered that she was the one in the video. Then that must mean that she was also the girl in the other pictures and videos. How many times had he watched her without knowing it was her? How many times had he cum, fantasizing about her body and her moans without realizing they were hers?

It’s the sound of the center console popping open that breaks Haechan out of his daze. She’s rummaging through the contents of her car’s center console until she comes up with a pack of wet wipes. 

“What are you doing?” Haechan asks. 

“Cleaning you up.” She pulls a wipe out, cleaning her hand off first, and her wrist, then she tries to wipe his cum off her steering wheel. 

He’s silent for a moment, but then he asks, “Is it really you in that video?”

She looks up, barely more than a cursory glance, then says, “Yes. It’s me. He told me he’d told Jaehyun about the night that he and I exchanged orgasms during the movie, and Jaehyun wanted to watch us together. I was horny, he was willing to show off, so we fucked right here in this seat.” She points to the spot she’s sitting. “In the back of a parking lot on campus. That was my one request when he asked me if we could fuck for Jaehyun to watch, to do it somewhere semi-public.”

“Who’s the pervert now?” Haechan teases, but his heart is pounding in his chest, just picturing the scene from an outside perspective: her and Renjun in this car on campus. It would’ve been so easy to catch them. But right now it’s more than that, he wants to be in Renjun’s spot more than ever — to have her riding him in the passenger seat of her car in broad daylight. 

“All of those pictures and videos in Renjun’s phone…. All of them with a girl, those were me,” she admits quietly, still wiping down little spots in the car. “We weren’t a thrupple, I never got physically involved with Jaehyun, never even got to watch the two of them together, but every time that Renjun and I were together there was either photo or video or audio evidence. Sometimes we called Jaehyun and he would listen in or tell us what to do. It was all really hot.”

When Haechan looks over, she’s squirming in her seat a little. 

He’s still driving, but according to the GPS they’re almost there. She takes a new wipe to dab gently at the cum on the front of his pants. 

She tosses the used wipes to the floor at her feet, and then she shifts in her seat. 

Haechan glances over at her, curious, watching as she rearranges herself until her chest is against the center console. His heart picks up a thunderous pace. “I thought you said no road head?” He asks, moving his hand to the back of her head again. 

“Hey, Lee Donghyuck. It’s not too late for me to change my mind again. Keep your mouth shut or else I won’t do it.” She threatens, but he can tell that she’s going to do it regardless of what he says right now. She’s licking her lips, eyes fixed on his softening cock still wet with his cum. “You just keep your eyes on the road. Focus on getting us to our destination in one piece because now that we’ve talked about that video, I really, really have my heart set on riding you when we get there.”

Haechan does exactly as she says. He looks ahead at the road, noticing that they have just one more light, just one more right turn after that, and they’ll be in the parking lot. 

Her tongue swipes along the side of his cock. 

She makes a soft hum, and then she licks again, and then, as they pass over a slight bump in the road, she sucks the soft head of his cock between her lips. 

“Fuck!” Haechan groans, risking a look down. 

It’s worth it. Even if he’d crashed the car right then, the glimpse he’d caught of her with her pretty lips spread around his cock, her eyes watching his face, it would’ve been worth it. 

She sucks his cock, bobbing her head, tongue working to clean the cum that had spilled down his length from his previous orgasm. And she keeps moaning, humming with these little sounds of delight. His fingers tighten in her hair, and he can feel the blood rushing to his cock once more, him growing hard on her tongue. 

As he turns the car into the parking lot, he tugs at her hair. “We’re here,” he says.

She sits up, letting his cock fall from her lips as she wipes at the corners of her mouth. 

The parking lot isn’t full, but there is a decently sized crowd. Haechan pulls into the first open spot he can find, which just happens to be in a perfectly private spot. There’s a streetlight nearby putting off a silvery glow, making this spot just public enough to satisfy the woman in the passenger seat’s exhibitionist nature. 

“Well, angel?” He asks as he puts the car in park and pulls the key out of the ignition. “Are you all talk or are you gonna come sit on my cock like a good girl?”

For a moment, he thinks she’s actually about to tell him no as she glances out the car windows. Which would be fine, of course. If she didn’t actually want to ride him right now and had just been saying that to rile him up, that’s fine. They’ll just go watch the concert. 

But then she’s moving, hiking up the long skirt she’s wearing tonight, stockings on beneath it, and she’s slipping over the center console into his lap. 

Haechan’s hands move to her hips. His breath catches in his throat as he looks at her, both of them face to face. There’s a glimmer of saliva at the corner of her lips, and he lifts a hand to wipe it away with his thumb. 

“You’re so beautiful.” The words come out without him meaning to actually say them. 

“Are you just saying that because I just had your cock in my mouth?” She smiles, mirroring his position by lifting a hand to his face as well. “Or because I’m offering to ride you?”

Haechan shakes his head. “Secret third option: I’m saying it because it’s just true.”

By the streetlight’s glow, Haechan watches her face take on a flustered expression. She shifts in his lap, her thighs and ass moving against his thighs, her knees bump against his hips. Her thumb slides along his cheek, drawing connecting lines between his moles. 

He likes holding her just like this. Having her close and warm in his arms, the gentle fragrance of her perfume lulling him into a calm state where he could just sit here and look at her forever. He forgets that he has his cock out still and that she’s in his lap because she wanted to ride his cock. Her eyes are sparkling, her expression bright, and her hand on his cheek is so light that he wants to just lean into it. Of course, he still wants to feel her around his cock, still wants to have her moaning his name while he makes her feel good, her breath gasping against his lips as they rock this car and draw attention to themselves. But he’s perfectly content like this too, and that thought kinda surprises him. 

Haechan is almost always horny, always thinking about sex. But right now, he’d be fine with just tucking his cock away again, taking her hand and going to enjoy the concert. 

“Can we do this later?” He asks quietly, afraid of breaking this fragile moment. Her thumb twitches on his cheek, her mouth twisting a little, so Haechan quickly explains, “I want to do it right the first time. When we have sex for the first time, I don’t want it to be cramped in the car when there’s a concert happening nearby. The general public is right there, any random stranger may walk by, but…” He lifts his hand up to cup her hand against his cheek, which he leans into. “I want to take my time with you, babe. Just us.”

She smiles. “That’s a romantic notion, Lee Donghyuck.”

“I told you not to call me that.” But he isn’t so sure that he means it. He likes the way his name sounds from her lips, the way that her pretty mouth forms those sounds, curling into almost a smile around the Lee, a circle around the Dong, and then with another smile as she finishes out with the Hyuck. He would like the sound of anything she called him, honestly. 

“Oh, sorry,” she teases, leaning closer until her lips brush his ear. “Daddy?”

Haechan laughs. 

He pinches her cheek. “That’s not quite right either, but I like the attempt. Let’s go enjoy the concert, angel, and then I’ll take you home for some proper romance.”

She opens the driver’s side door, sliding out onto her feet, and Haechan takes an extra moment to stuff his cock back inside his pants, to grab the car keys and his phone, and as he pulls himself from the car, he checks to make sure that his coat covers up any of the stains from where his cum dripped earlier. He grabs a folded blanket from her backseat, and tucks it under his arm. 

He takes her hand again, and this time she hides their hands in the warmth of her coat pocket as they walk towards the site of the show. Haechan leans into her, arms knocking together, and he starts talking, telling her about how this is his friend Doyoung, who he met through one of the music courses he took as electives during university. Doyoung is attempting to launch his career, and he’s been signed to a company, though he’s still working to make a big name for himself. 

It’s a small stage with a decently sized crowd. Haechan notices that plenty of other people brought chairs for the lawn in front of the stage or they’ve brought blankets to sit on or wrap up in. Someone got a food truck for Doyoung that sits nearby with words of encouragement on the signage. They’re selling hot coffee, hot chocolate, and some warm snacks. 

They find a good spot to sit, and Haechan wraps the blanket around both of them as they sit down on the grass. She snuggles up to his side, drops her head onto his shoulder. The bauble on the top of her hat tickles his chin, but he doesn’t complain. He just lets her get comfortable, and when she shivers a little more, Haechan unwraps his scarf from around his neck to bundle it around her instead. 

“No,” she protests, trying to untwist it, pushing it back into his hands. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Stubbornly, Haechan just places the scarf once more around her, winding it in loops around her neck. “I’ll be fine. You’re the one that keeps shivering.”

She frowns at him from above the pile of the scarf. “That’s because someone had the bright idea to have an outdoor concert in the middle of winter.” 

“Do you want me to grab you a hot chocolate or a hot coffee?” Haechan offers. 

She shakes her head no very quickly, dropping her head down onto his shoulder again, and clinging tightly to him beneath their blanket, her hand twisting in his sweater. “Nope, you can stay right here. You can keep me warm.”

He’s going to do exactly that. He wraps both of his arms around her, drawing her closer. 

The concert starts just a few minutes later. Doyoung emerges on the stage and sings his heart-aching ballads, his sweet love songs, brighter sounding covers of pop songs. Haechan is surprised to find that there is a group of girls going wild for Doyoung, singing and dancing along to his songs, which means that even though he’s not a big name yet, that’s the beginning of his fanbase. 

Beside him, snuggled against Haechan’s side, his date tonight hums along to the pop songs. 

As the concert begins to draw towards the end just an hour later, Doyoung takes a pause on the stage to scan the crowd. Haechan notices the way he squints against the lights, his hand flexing around the microphone set in the stand. The fangirls go wild, waving and calling for his attention, but Doyoung keeps looking around until finally his eyes meet Haechan’s. He grins brightly and leans into the mic. 

Haechan’s heart begins to race. 

He’d told Doyoung he was definitely coming tonight after the invitation went out. He’d mentioned he was bringing a girl out for their first date, and Haechan had only told him that to tease his hyung, to tell him that Doyoung really needed to give his best performance to impress Haechan’s date. But judging by the gleam in Doyoung’s smile where it reaches his eyes, Haechan is about to face the repercussions of telling Doyoung about this. 

“I have a friend here in the crowd tonight,” Doyoung says, his voice magnified in the winter night. “He’s here on a first date with a girl he’s known for years and only just gotten the nerve to ask out. In his honor, our last song of the night is going to be a sweet love song! If you know the words, sing along! And even if you don’t, it’s a great song to dance with your lover.”

She sits up, lifting her head from his shoulder, and she turns her head. Haechan can feel her eyes on him. He glances slyly at her, just looking at her from the corner of his eye as he faces Doyoung on the stage. The music starts, and all around them in the crowd, couples get to their feet. An elderly couple that had been sitting in the back on a bench starts slowly dancing together as Doyoung begins crooning into the mic. 

“Do you want to dance?” She asks quietly beside him.

Haechan doesn’t hesitate to push the blankets from his shoulders, rising to his feet, and reaching back down for her hand. She keeps the blanket draped around her shoulders, still bundled in her hat and his scarf too, but she lets Haechan pull her to her feet. He brings her hand up to his shoulder, holding her gaze, and she brings her other arm up to curl around the back of his neck. 

When he slides his arm around her waist, pulling her body against his, he relaxes. They don’t really dance. Not properly. They just sway back and forth with their arms around each other, a juvenile dance in comparison to the grander style that some other couples are dancing right now. Haechan lowers his head to rest his forehead against hers. 

This isn’t much really, but it’s the best first date he’s ever been on. 

“How would you say I’m doing?” He asks, his heart beating a little nervously in his throat. “On a scale of one to ten?”

She’s quiet for a couple seconds too long. “Well, right now I’d say a three.”

His heart drops down to his stomach. 

“For the dancing alone, Haechan. Don’t stress.” She smiles, tightening her arms around his neck in a way that presses their chests closer together, and he wonders if she can feel his heart pounding. Her words only slightly put him at ease, but when she laughs, it does help a little more. 

“Do you want some professional ballroom dancing from me?” Haechan asks. “You want me to twirl you and sweep you off your feet?” He bends her backwards, and she shrieks out a laugh that has him quickly pulling her back up securely against him as heads turn their way.

She moves her head to the side, her laugh warm now where her lips press against his cheek. 

“No need for that. Just hold me like this. And as for the rank on a scale for the overall date,” her voice is warm and bright, a lighthearted tease as she says, “Definitely a solid nine and a half.”

Haechan nods, suppressing a shiver of arousal as her lips skim along his jaw. “And the half a point deduction?”

“Because it’s too fucking cold. I’m having fun, I like this concert, but I’d so much rather be back at my place in my nice warm bed. With you.” And with those words, she kisses him, her fingers pressing into his hair and against the back of his neck.

He kisses her too. Hungrily, deeply, wanting nothing more than to tear that blanket from her shoulders, spread it out on the ground, and lay her down on top of it to get to feel her body warm and bare beneath him and around him. He wants her now. 

“Fuck me,” he mumbles, cursing himself for choosing not to go through with it in the car earlier, cursing himself for not just doing dinner and then taking her home. Haechan just wants her right now.

Specifically, he only wants her. 

No one else around but her. Fuck the whole exhibitionist and voyeur thing they’ve been doing. He doesn’t want to share her right now. He wants her all alone with just him in the privacy of a bedroom, tucked between soft sheets that tangle around their legs and wrinkle beneath their bodies as he drives himself into her again and again. He wants to feel her moans where their chests press together, to feel her body reacting to him in uncontrollable bursts — the hiccup of her breath when he strokes just right inside her, the twitch of her thighs against his hips, the way she’ll squirm and circle her hips as her orgasm approaches, her pussy squeezing around him trying to draw him deeper, deeper….

The whole rest of the world fades away. 

The singing, the music, the crowd, even the wintry chill. 

Everything is her. 

Her breath, her perfume. The heat of her mouth and her body. The feel of her hands in his hair, her body in his arms, the throbbing of their hearts. Her voice just a breathy sigh of his name, lips making the syllables of his name sound perfect. “Lee Donghyuck,” she sighs, “Can we go?”

As if he could deny her anything she asked right now. She could ask him for murder and he’d probably do it. The stars, the moon, the whole damn galaxy and beyond. 

Is this what it is to be in love?

Is he in love?

He lowers his mouth to her throat, lips moving along the column of her throat, tongue tracing along the rapid beat of her pulse. Her fingers tighten in his hair with a quiet gasp. 

A million moments flash in his mind. The past, the present, the possibilities of the future. Her. 

Damn it. He’s in love. 

He doesn’t spare another glance towards the stage. Doesn’t pay attention to anyone he passes by as he pulls her along to the car. Or maybe she’s pulling him. Either way, they’re racing quickly towards where they parked the car. 

Luckily it’s a shorter drive from here back to hers than it had been from the restaurant to here. 

“I want to fuck you in your bed. Properly.” Haechan gasps as she pins him up against the driver’s side door of the car. Her lips are on his again, her hands gripping the front of his coat. “Just wait ten minutes, babe, and—“

She kisses him quiet, and he lets her. For now. She can take anything she wants right now. But as soon as they’re in her apartment, he’s going to be in charge. He’ll have her gasping and sighing and being such a good girl for him. 

“I’m so tired of waiting,” she whines. She drops her forehead to his chest. “Do you know how long I’ve liked you, Haechan? How long I’ve wanted you like this? I feel like if we don’t fuck within the next thirty minutes I’m going to explode.”

Amusement and arousal swarm through Haechan’s mind, obscuring any other possible forms of thought. 

Here she is, whining for him to fuck her. 

“Get in the car.” He swats a hand down against her ass. “The sooner you do that, the sooner I’ll have you home. How was it that you phrased it? Back at your place in your nice warm bed. With me. Passenger seat, princess. Keep your hands to yourself, and we’ll get there much faster.”

Of course, she takes his instructions to heart, and no sooner has she buckled her seat belt and he’s backing out of the parking spot than she’s got her hands on herself. 

She makes it difficult to focus on driving when he can see her hand on her chest, her other hand lifting the long hem of her skirt revealing an utter lack of panties again. His hold on the steering wheel slips, the car swerving as he turns out onto the main road. 

She keeps her hands to herself certainly. Warming herself up, getting herself ready for him. 

The world tonight is painted in hues of lust. In vivid lusty reds smeared like lipstick over skin and smooth silky shades of black, shimmering yellows and golds of headlights, the amber and orange of streetlamps flashing over bared skin in the passenger seat. Green lights spark through Haechan’s consciousness, only noticing them long enough to keep speeding forward, his hand inching across the center console to her bare thigh. Electric blue blur of the letters on the radio display in the dashboard, spelling out the titles of songs that Haechan can’t even hear over the sound of his own pulse and the sound of her voice growing raspy with lust around each sigh and moan, the soft whimpers of his name as her fingers move. There’s the purple shadows in the indents where his fingers press in, spreading her legs, pulling her thigh toward him so when he next glances over he can see it. The pretty shade of her pussy around her fingers. 

Haechan could paint a whole new world with the colors he sees right now. And in that world it would be only him and her, this woman in the seat beside him right now. 

She cums on her fingers, his name on her lips. 

Haechan is no artist or poet, but in that moment, as he pulls up to park at her apartment building, as he looks over at her where she’s all but melted into the passenger seat with a satisfied smile on her lips, he thinks he could be. 

He could paint a portrait of her like she is right now and hang it in the Louvre. He could write poems for her, about how she looks right now, how she makes him feel, and he would happily hear them read across the world.

He wants them all to know. Every single person. 

He’s in love. 

previous chapter || next chapter  (Coming Soon)

a/n: I'm genuinely so excited for y'all to read this chapter and the next one! I know how long you've all been patiently waiting for this slow burn to reach the peak where you finally get the burn, and I swear to you that it's finally coming in the next chapter. This chapter gave you just that little taste. But what do you think! Please let me know all your thoughts because I'm loving the feedback (both the compliments and the critiques! Keep them all coming!) Thank you so much for reading, and I really can't wait for next Tuesday to come for y'all to get the next chapter 😉

[loonylooly]

at this point i'm wondering what sarah is thinking when writing her love interests, like ok it's clear she finds them hot but like....are they good people

Rhys:

UTM lap dance shenanigans

throwing Feyre into danger constantly (Weaver, destroying cauldron, getting the book from Adriata, etc etc)

Still not doing jack shit about wing clippings in Illyria?? Emerie is right there, Rhysand, go enforce your damn laws

Insulting his wife's sister constantly

Almost killed his wife's sister cause she dared give her important medical information

Locked Lucien (MY BOY!!) in the house of wind

Locked Nesta in the house of wind

Didn't give Mor any warning that time he made her face her abusers and she cried i think (ngl i forgot most of it)

Ignoring Hewn City even tho...Kier is like the only bad guy we've seen from there?? Surely there's decent people in Hewn City, don't gotta make everyone suffer

Nesta windhaven kidnapping intervention so she stops spending Rhys' money (if it was really about her own sake, they would've put a stop to it much earlier)

Seemingly alienates everyone in Feyre's life that could and would stand up to Rhys for Feyre's sake. Lucien? Nah, shoo. Nesta? Nah, shoo. Weird thought but Tarquin? Yeah, makes her steal his book.

And last but DEFINITELY not least; demon baby wife death

HE COULD'VE TOLD FEYRE... OR ATLEAST NOT THREATENED TO KILL HER SISTER FOR TELLING HER WHEN HE HOULD'VE TOLD HER IN THE FIRST PLACE??

THERE'S PROBABLY MORE BUT MOVING ON

Cassian:

Barely ever stands up for Nesta in the IC

Aids in kidnapping Nesta to Windhaven so she stops spending whysand's money

Laughs at Nesta when she falls down the stairs

Aids in punishing Nesta for daring to tell Feyre important medical info

Constantly going agaisnt Nesta's wishes and trying to "save her" when she doesn't want him to

That one time Azriel asked Nesta if Cass had pushed her down the stairs...Like are we gonna ignore that?? Personally I'd have a quarter life crisis if my closest friend, who is like my sibling and has known me most of our lives, seriously entertained the idea that i would physically assault the girl I like

general aggressiveness all of ACOSF

aids in bulldozing Nesta's apartment

Rowan goddamn Whitehorn (Who I've yet to see people bashing him somehow,,, HoF rowan was like if ACOSF cassian had a horrific murder baby

Left his pregnant mate alone during a war cause he wanted to prove himself....like..idk man if i had the choice between war and taking care of my pregnant wife i'd pick the wife (did he know she was pregnant? i've kind of forgotten by now)

Rowan's kid would've been hundreds of years older than Aelin.....just think abt that

Literally everything he did to Aelin during training in HoF

Their argument where he PUNCHED HER IN THE FACE

Threatened to whip Aelin...I repeat....Threatened to whip Aelin, an ex-slave....

Told Aelin it'd be better if she died 10 years ago (unprovoked?? bitch you met her like 2 weeks ago just cause she's getting on your nerves doesn't mean you gotta wish DEATH upon her)

Literally was relieved to find out she was only 19 because if she was a few years older she could've been THE CHILD OF HIS BEST FRIEND.

No issue with marrying the cousin of his best friend's child....Imagine if he hadn't met Aelin first.. If he'd met Aedion first, Aelin would've always been the relative of his friend's son to him

FOR THE RECORD i hate all of the SJM age gaps but rowan and aelin's specifically irks me because Aelin LITERALLY CALLS HIM OLD throughout the WHOLE SERIES

Literally tells Aelin he doesn't care about what she's been through and that she is nothing to him after she confronts him for leaving her

Puts Luca in danger by sticking him on to a frozen lake with a monster inside where he'll DIE if Aelin can't save him

Funnily enough, some of the only seemingly decent person guys in SJM 1. Are completely forgotten about in the books or 2. SJM had to make them violently unlikeable

Like we've got:

Tarquin, seemed like a pretty good guy, rightfully pissed that the IC stole his family heirloom, shows up like twice in the books (LET HIM COME BACK SARAH I LOVE HIM)

Tamlin, was pretty decent in book 1, was made violently unlikeable in book 2 onwards

Chaol, very strong morals, generally a good person, loves his wife, made violently unlikeable and boring in late CoM, HoF, and QoS (ToD is one of my favorite books in the series, will praise ToD till the day I die, my boy EARNED his own book)

Aedion, seemed like a good person, strong morals, spent years trading his dignity for the sake of Terrasen, loved his cousin above all else, made violently unlikable in KoA (even tho I think he was justified in being angry about it, i'd be SO pissed)

Sartaq, good guy, strong morals, Nesryn's chapters were some of my favorites in ToD, Sartaq is one of my favorite SJM love interests, i'll never forgive author lady for forgetting about him in KoA (tho i guess she forgot about everyone from ToD? Yrene and Chaol are the only important ones, she barely even mentions Nesryn even though Nesryn's BEEN an integral part of the gang since QoS, giving her the Suki from ATLA treatment)

[simplygyuu]

Nouvelle Crown - 003 : 7 eleven?

tweets and written!!

synopsis : choi beomgyu, the second prince of the royal choi family doesnt have much of a life outside of his duties. even then hes not allowed to do much, his brother is the crown prince after all. but when he meets you, a regular commoner girl, through his brothers friend soobin he cant help but be intrigued. commoner life is so different from what he knows and you are the only person to treat him like the normal teenager he always longed to be. with you he gets to experience the normal, teenager life behind the backs of his overbearing family.

The last way Beomgyu expected to be spending his night was walking down the dark streets, not one guard at his side and only being accompanied by Kai. Honestly he was pretty fucking freaked out simply by the fact that he snuck out. Never has he done anything rebellious, too worried about being perfect enough to finally get some praise from his family. Being anything but perfect had never even crossed his mind (even if he happened to make mistakes from time to time, which usually ended up in a breakdown).

Either way he couldn't help the curiosity coursing through him as well. He never went outside of the palace grounds if it wasn't for a public appearance and he definitely didn't go to this side of town. What was up with all the overgrown plants and flickering street lights? Why were the shops so run down looking and small? He didn't know this was simply the lower middle class, not even poverty. He was just that out of tune with his own nation since he's always been so sheltered.

"I promise nobodies gonna be outside at this time, especially not at a 7 Eleven." Kai reassured him, confidently leading the way. Kai had a lot more freedom than he did, Beomgyu often longed to live as a Huening instead of a Choi. "Speaking of 7 Eleven, how do you not know what that is?"

"You know how my father is, Kai. Hes so crazy about me leaving the palace and coming in contact with 'commoners' and all that. He doesn't even want me learning about anything in our nation outside of the rich people stuff. Im still surprised he even lets Soobin hyung and my brother be friends." Beomgyu mumbled, eyes big and curious as he took in the unfamiliar scenery. He had a mask on curtesy of Kai, just in case somebody saw them.

They lulled back into a comfortable silence before Kai pulled him into a building with the most atrocious green, red, and orange color scheme. A bell jingles above their heads as they walked in, catching Beomgyu off guard. Hes never even gone shopping before, so this was all new to him.

"Im gonna go look for some jellies, you should explore. Who knows when i'll be able to get you out here again." Kai gave Beomgyu a little shove towards a row of shelves before walking away. Thankfully, Kai was tall and easily spotted over most of the shelves which eased Beomgyus nerves.

Hesitantly Beomgyu glanced around, standing there awkwardly for a few beats of silence before finally walking down an isle. Immediately his attention was caught onto the shelves filled with snacks ranging from chips to things like pickles and other snack foods. It was the weirdest assortment of foods hes ever seen.

While walking he wasnt looking straight, eyes glued to scanning the isles before he found himself bumping into something. A high pitched yelp met his ears, causing him to whip his head around to see a girl falling. Without much of a thought he jumped forward to put one hand on her elbow and the other on her waist for a split second as he kept her from falling. As soon as she seemed to be balanced again he let go and took a step away, immediately bowing towards her.

Now when you said you wanted to restock on peanut butter you didnt think that would lead to you almost being bulldozed over by this tall guy with pretty eyes and nice clothes. You hadnt even noticed him in the isle until he full on ran into you.

"Im so, so very sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you, I apologize for my careless actions." The man spoke, his eyes on the floor as he avoided eye contact guiltily. The way he spoke was different thats for sure, weirdly formal for someone who looked so young.

"No, its okay dont worry about it." You reassured him, you could feel his guilt coming off him in waves and it made you feel a bit bad for him. "It was a honest mistake!"

"Ah, still.." He trailed off, fiddling with his shirt before perking up. "What are you buying? I can get it for you! That way I can make it up to you." He exclaimed, eyes crinkling into an eye smile which made you assume he must be smiling underneath his mask. You didn't want to make him buy you something but he seemed pretty adamant. This could also be a chance of friendship, maybe you could agree then ask for his number so you could treat him to coffee as 'pay back'.

"Alright, if you say so." You finally said after a while of silence, turning back towards the shelf where you carefully picked a jar of peanut butter. You could feel his eyes on your back but you didn't say anything.

"Cmon then, this is all I wanted." You piped up, beckoning him to follow you as you approached the cashier. Out of the corner of your eye you saw how he wouldn't stop looking around the store in awe, has he never been to a 7 Eleven or something? You huffed a bit at the thought, thats just impossible.

As you gave your peanut butter to the cashier and heard the girl recite back the price you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. Turning around you saw him holding out his card hesitantly.

"I uh.. dont really know how to do this.." He mumbled, scratching his neck. You couldnt help but smile a bit even if it was pretty weird. Then, you actually noticed his card. Your eyes widened as you noticed he was holding out a black card towards you, how rich was this kid?

You took the card, making a conscious effort to not see the numbers since you didnt want to have some rich people on your back before inserting the card and stepping away to let him input his pin. A few minutes later you both were stopped in front of the exit as he bounced a bit on the balls of his heels and kept looking back towards the isles.

"Wow! You have a black card?! What are you doing out here then?" You couldnt help but ask once away from the cashier, eyes wide. Sheepishly he looked back at you and fiddled with his sleeves.

"My friend brought me along with him but I dont really know where he went.." He replied, glancing towards the isles again before focusing back on you.

"Hmm.. Hes probably getting a drink in the back. Its hard to see back there from here anyways." You informed him kindly, noticing how fidgety he seemed. "Oh, thats right! Do you think I could get your number? You seem cool and I think we could be good friends! Plus, I'll need to repay you for buying this for me."

For a few seconds he just looked at you with wide eyes and you couldn't tell what was going on inside that head of his. You assumed he was going to say no with how long he stared but you were pleasantly surprised when he finally took the phone from your hands to input his number. Once he handed it back to you, the contact 'Gyu' was added to your phone.

"Thank you! Ill send you a text, yeah? See you around, Gyu!" You said happily, smiling as you waved goodbye and stepped out the door easily. He would be a nice addition to the friend group, you hummed.

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previous masterlist next

notes : HI FINALLY THEY MEET! sorry if the pov changes are a bit confusing but i hope ur enjoying this so far!

reblogs and replies are really really appreciated and keep me more motivated to keep this au going :)

taglist (open) : @mazeinthemoon @pokyloky @run2seob @bluebearybeom @wonioml @rikismiel @yumilovesloona @captivq

[secretlythepits]

Telling the Kids

We keep pushing it off. Waited for a birthday to pass. Waited for the birthday weekend activity to pass. Waited for the busy day to pass. Last night we we supposed to, but there was a basketball practice we had forgotten. Also, we were both exhausted from long days. Husband works up his nerve at 9:30. No, that’s too late. We can’t tell them this and then send them to bed.

Maybe over the weekend so they have time to process it? he suggests.

I need a friend to take our kid when you have your biopsy next week. I need to be able to talk to people, but I can’t say anything until the kids know because we can’t risk their friends overhearing something before we talk to them.

Maybe I should do it alone. After school. Otherwise it will be so late. I’ll be the one talking anyway.

Ok. But I want to make sure you don’t say—

The word I’m going to use is “serious.” The cancer is back and it’s more serious this time. You have tests that will give us important information and then the doctor will tell us more specifics. I won’t say stage 4 because they can google that. I will answer questions truthfully.

Ok, that’s fine. You do it.

________________

Today is Tuesday. Our son has an important Algebra test on Wednesday that I have been begging him to study for. If I tell him today, will that impact the test? He also told me about a hothead friend who seems to be itching for a fight and trying to get everyone else involved. I asked him what he thought his friend should do and he was level-headed and practical about it. I warned him about being inadvertently caught in the crossfires and told him to remove himself from a situation if his friend starts talking stupid. But now I worry, once he has this news, will he want to jump into aggression to let steam out? He has never been in a fight. He lifts weights but is aware that he has a smaller stature than other guys. Kids’ emotions usually come out sideways.

Right now, as I type this on my phone, early in the morning, a backhoe is tearing up the street in front of our house. A bulldozer approaches and the backhoe pushes the broken asphalt into his front loader. Dump trucks and rollers will come by soon. We are getting a new street.

There were many, many years when this would have been the highlight of the year. My boys, who loved trucks, would have been outside in their footie pjs, star struck by the worker guys. For weeks or months, they would have re-enacted the job with their Tonka trucks.

Simpler times.

The juxtaposition of what would have been the greatest thing to ever happen in their little boy lives and the impending news that will mark the official end of their childhood—

Is more than I can bear.

But bear it, I will.

Wednesday or Thursday or next week or when the tests come back or after the school year or after the beach trip…

At some point, maybe hours from now, maybe days, I will muster up the courage to say:

Dad’s cancer has come back. It’s more serious this time.

[hartshorn-and-isinglass]

Yeah, no, I am 100% not going to shut up about this for the rest of the week. I wasn't expecting Saturday to live rent-free in my head like this. (I feel like I should go post a note of appreciation to one of the other blorbos on social media since I didn't get to introduce myself to him after the concert. I was just too spoon-depleted to do the fanboi thing more than once after being emotionally bulldozed by that concert.)

I've decided to go through my blog archives and... *~change some settings~* on things. Part of it is just straight-up paranoia even though everything was already anonymized and it's not like search works terribly well on this hellsite. But also... I've been on an entire-ass emotional journey for the past several days. I was not expecting to have such an extensive and personal conversation with Senpai on a first meeting, and it is rewiring my neurons about him. It was a wonderful, life-changing moment, and he is pretty much how I imagined him IRL. But now? I don't feel great about leaving the more unhinged posts up publicly.

I think my brain has officially collapsed the divide between Blorbo from My Media and the real person, and those kinda posts are just not what I want in relation to him anymore.

Like I said. Been a whole-ass journey.

Going through my old posts has also been an opportunity for me to re-examine what it was that I thought I wanted a year ago vs. where I'm at now. I keep going on about how my teenage self would have said yes immediately to Baroque violin had anyone offered, but... that was also me a year ago, before I'd started playing again. Reality has not been kind to my dreams of getting back to my former technical level within a year. But I keep thinking about how he did remind me that Baroque violin would actually put less stress on my neck if I'm using my left hand to support it. And, I would be vastly cutting back on high-position shifts, one of the main things aggravating my nerve.

Honestly, I think I'm kind of terrified of doing a thing that would be so meaningful for me on so many levels. Like, if I'm being real here, I am just a giant ball of nerves about the idea of having to invest a whole bunch of time, money and effort for the risk of discovering that this thing I thought I wanted so badly ends up being completely infeasible for some reason or another and it'll all turn to ashes in my mouth. I just... I just don't know if I have the capacity for that kind of heartbreak right now. I still feel so vulnerable, coming back into myself in the last couple of years.

But I keep coming back to the question: what might things look like next year?

I should go to bed.

[wrencatte]

was trying to give Jason another cat, but I ended up getting side-tracked by a headcanon I have about one of his Joker inflicted injuries, how it didn't heal properly, and the subsequent chronic pain that comes with it....

Jason wakes up to a paw on his face. It’s not the first time and it certainly won’t be the last, but it’s ridiculous every time. He presses his lips closed as he opens his eyes. Turtle stares back, eyes wide in the darkness, nose inches from his – close enough he can feel her whiskers. Her paw moves from his mouth to his nose in a little boop then back to his mouth. The amount of times she’s stuck the paw in his mouth has made him very quickly train himself to keep it closed during the waking hours. He grins and she lets out a little mrrp!, purring heavily on his chest.

Then her feeder clicks on and she’s gone in a blink, scrambling off the bed and bulldozing her way to the bowl. Jason sits up slowly, feeling the reemergence of every hit from patrol last night. His dreams were okay – better than okay. He doesn’t remember anything at all. But waking up is still a chore, muscles aching, nerves lighting up. His feet settle on the ground, and he hooks his hands over the back of his head, elbows on his thighs, and does his best to massage the pain away before it blooms into something that’s gonna knock him flat.

It could be worse, he reminds himself. It could be so much worse.

Jason brings his hands around, presses his thumbs to the hinge of his jaw on either side. One side is fine. Normal. The other one screams in protest at the pressure and he can’t stop the pathetic little whimper from escaping between his teeth. What hadn’t hurt (yet, his mind supplies him) now brings tears to his eyes, a sweat breaking out all over his body.

Oh. So it’s gonna be one of those days. Fuck.

The Joker broke his jaw. Shattered it really. It hurt so much to scream that eventually couldn’t. Couldn’t breathe around the blood in his throat. He remembers Bruce lifting him up, cradling him so gently, just before the end, and he couldn’t even get out Dad around the mangled bone.

Of course, as his luck would have it, the Pit didn’t heal everything. It couldn’t heal everything. Either it was too much damage, or it was too old, or a combination of both plus whatever resurrected him in the first place – it just. It couldn’t keep up.

Which means that his jaw likes to lock up occasionally. Another little check box on the endless list of shit that’s wrong with him. Makes it hard to talk, makes it hard to fucking eat – a great thing for a guy with all the food issues he has. Chronic food insecurity will do that to a person.

He cups the side of his face where it throbs, breathing through his nose as steadily as possible, willing himself to not burst into tears. It’s not the first time this has happened. It’s just – the first time it’s happened since he’s come back to Gotham. Since the weird orbiting the family has done has settled into being in the same space instead.

Jason doesn’t know how long he sits there, wondering how he’s going to function. His vision is blurry. His head hurts. His face is agony.

Fur brushes his leg. He blinks and looks down to see Turtle curling around his ankles the best she can at this angle. She pats his toes, rubs her face on his exposed ankle, purring up a storm. He’s never had a cat before and Alfred never purred this much, but he’s not complaining. Her purrs have become literally one of the most comforting things in his life and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

He scoops her up and cuddles her to his chest. She’s tiny compared to him, but she’s not scared. She’s never been scared even as a small kitten in that rainy alleyway. Turtle presses her nose to the underside of his chin and kneads his arm.

Jason swallows thickly around the nausea building up, his stomach churning. He’s too hot and too cold at the same time. He can’t afford to puke with his jaw like this. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses them to Turtle’s fur, breathing slowly. This is fine. He’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[camels-pen]

mmm read a hurt/comfort Zoro fic recently and like. I get it now. That guy DOES hurt so pretty. kinda wanna try my hand at it.

-

A voice disappeared.

Zoro stopped in his tracks, feet rooted to the spot.

Who was it? Where? How-?

Just barely, he managed to block a blade aiming for his neck.

Luffy was ahead of him, laughing his head off. The cook was a bright flaming beacon in the sky.

The rest? C'mon take a count, Zoro. Make sure.

Usopp. Nami. Chopper. Jinbei. Robin. Cook. Luffy.

What? Two? No, where were-

His breath hitched as he blocked another attack.

Calm down. Take a breath. Count again.

Usopp. Nami. Robin. Cook. Luffy.

Fuck. They couldn't-

No, they had to have left the battlefield. These guys were smallfry, even for the so called "weakling trio".

Zoro took a moment to focus on the enemy around him. He let off a tatsumaki before focusing again.

One at a time, Zoro. Come on.

Usopp.

Robin.

Sanji.

Zoro jerked, eyes wide and searching frantically.

"No, no no no no no. He can't have-" Luffy would never leave before the battle was done, not without making some kind of grand exit. He wouldn't leave without telling Zoro- telling anyone- about it.

He wouldn't up and disappear into thin air like that. Not unless-

Zoro shook his head roughly. They were fine, he just couldn't see them. It would be too much of a coincidence for them all to disappear like that. He just needed to count again, then regroup with Usopp, Robin, and the cook, and figure out what was going on.

Stay calm, Zoro. Losing your head won't find your friends.

So, again, Zoro breathed. And Zoro counted.

Usopp.

The only voice left, was Usopp.

Zoro wasted no time.

He sprinted as fast as he could, cutting down anyone in front of him almost as an after thought, as he bulldozed towards Usopp's voice.

He'd nearly made it too, when some dead man kicked his side hard enough to stop him in his tracks.

Zoro turned to him, a snarl on his face. "Get out of my way before I kill you."

"Huh?" The man sneered. "I should be saying the same thing, watch where you swing those swords, asshole."

Zoro was about to retort when he noticed Usopp's voice moving away from him. He didn't have time for this.

Without warning, Zoro moved to slice through his opponent and, to his surprise, the man blocked it with ease.

"You wanna go? Here and now?" the man growled. "I'll kick your fucking ass."

This man- Zoro has never met him before, but nonetheless felt he would need to pay him his full attention to have a chance at winning.

But Usopp was getting farther and farther-

Oh, Zoro could hit himself.

"USOPP!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, startling the man. "STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE, I'LL BE THERE SOON!"

Usopp didn't respond, but he stopped moving, and that was good enough for now.

"Hey!" The man yelled, pressing down on Zoro's swords. "Whatever you need him for can wait until after our battle's over. He's got his own problems to deal with."

Zoro didn't bother wasting his breath. He cut and slashed, throwing attack after attack without abandon. It didn't matter if he was wasting his energy, he needed to get to Usopp before- before-

The man, infuriatingly, blocked almost every blow, and got a few hits in on Zoro himself.

Zoro would get to Usopp, even if it killed-!

Suddenly, there was a crackle in the air and all at once, Zoro's nerves lit up with pure unfiltered pain.

He dropped to his knees, blurry vision wavering on black shoes. He couldn't feel his arms. Or his face. And his head was getting lighter and lighter.

Zoro's fading thoughts were prayers, to a god he didn't believe in, to keep his friend safe.

-

"GYAHHH, ZORO'S GONNA KILL ME!"

"Nami-swan, a little help please?" Sanji said, voice uncharacteristically strained.

"If you're asking, how can I say no?" Nami said, smirking. "Get out of the way... now!" The moment Sanji pushed off Zoro's swords to hop away, she brought down her Thunderbolt Tempo on top of Zoro. He fell to his knees before crumbling to the ground, twitching.

"You could've knocked him out on your own though, why ask for my help?" Nami asked.

"Ah well, it seemed he had a couple screws loose and I didn't want to kill what little braincells were remaining." Nami nodded in understanding.

The two of them turned to Usopp as he inched his way closer. He carefully prodded Zoro's thigh with his boot. "He's really unconscious, right? Not gonna get up anytime soon?"

Nami shrugged. "It's always hard to tell with him. But don't worry," -she stood tall, holding out her Climatact- "I'll shock him as many times as necessary."

"That means I get to live another day, so you have the Usopp deal of approval." Usopp gave her a thumbs up.

"What'd you even do to get him so pissed at you, Usopp?" Nami asked.

"Nothing!" He paused and looked away. "Well, nothing recently."

"He wasn't just mad," Sanji said. "He looked..." Scared, Sanji wanted to say. But the word was so... simple. Too simple. And it didn't explain the desperation in his eye. The wet sheen. The way he hardly blinked.

The way he kept himself facing the direction Usopp was in, revealing his constant use of Haki.

This wasn't just Zoro scared. This was Zoro terrified.

And Sanji had never seen him terrified before.

"...off," Sanji settled on, furrowing his brow. "He looked off."

Nami and Usopp hummed in thought.

The three of them stared down at Zoro's prone body. An ominous dark puddle started growing under him.

The three of them sighed.

"I'll call Chopper-" Usopp felt a tug on his ankle. He looked down. Zoro's hand was holding his boot. "I thought you said he was unconscious!" he yelled, trying to break his grip unsuccessfully.

Sanji poked Zoro with his shoe. Zoro didn't move. "He's still unconscious, so you're gonna have to be his teddy bear."

"What?! No!" He gripped onto Sanji's shirt. "Sanji-kun pleaaaaase free me before my ankle's crushed in his sleep!"

Sanji rolled an eye. "You'll be fine."

"Then can you go get Chopper? Zoro's losing a lot of blood."

"The mosshead'll be fine too. Also," -Sanji pointed to Luffy and Chopper doing some kind of strange combo attack, with Chopper in Heavy Point using Luffy as a whip- "I don't wanna break up their fun."

"Sanji-kun," Nami piped up. "Go get Chopper, please."

"Of course, Nami-swan!" Sanji immediately ran off.

-

The two of them quietly watched him go.

"Did you see what caused this?" Usopp asked.

Nami shook her head. "I know about as much as you do: Zoro suddenly taking out a big group at once and then charging towards you." She bit her lip. "I don't think he recognized Sanji."

Usopp sighed, squatting down to pull the bandana from green hair. He stared at the slackened face of his friend, hands tightening in dark fabric.

"What happened to you, Zoro?"

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Twenty-Four — Burden Borne

How much bloodshed? How many people would have to die so their graves could be the foundation of peace? How many more was I supposed to be able to stomach, to see as permissible? Why was there a fucking allowed amount in the first place? 

4.7k words | 16 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Death, injuries, natural disaster, murder, testing condoned by the US Government

“We’ll call you with results as soon as we get them,” the doctor said as the nurse rushed off with the skin biopsy. Dr. Sims nodded, thanking her for her time as she finished dressing another new set of stitches and snapping off thick surgery gloves, disappearing past the curtain and out the door. 

Dad was pacing now, his shadow casting across the floor again and again as he passed by the open window. Brent was in his chair, steering clear of his stomps lest he wished to be bulldozed over. Dr. Sims double checked the new set of stitches on my leg, shaking his head slightly. 

No one would talk, and I think that’s what scared me the most about this. I’d just found out Augustine had some mystery power when we fought, something Dad and Dr. Sims weren’t even familiar with, and no one would say anything! It felt like I was attending my own wake, like my fate was already out of my hands. 

Dad was the first to break. “You ever heard of anything like this?” He asked Dr. Sims. 

Dr. Sims stood, helping me cover my leg back up with the blanket. “A power that can negate someone’s healing? No.” 

Dad went right back to pacing. “I didn’t even know tar could be a power,” he muttered. 

“I’ve…heard rumors,” Dr. Sims said, moving back to his computer and scrolling through it a bit. “But nothing like this.”

“What do we do?” Dad demanded.

I could see how Dr. Sims tensed even with his back turned, how he hesitated for a moment before saying to Dad, “I want to get samples before jumping to any conclusions. I know someone who could help, but not without that tar.”

Dad glanced over at me — only for a moment, though. It seemed like he couldn’t stomach looking at me for too long. “I can’t go right now,” He said pointedly. 

Dr. Sims logged out of the mini-laptop and closed in, turning in place. “I’ll go back to Salmon Bay, see if I can find anything.” He was already shrugging on his jacket by the time Dad agreed. “I’ll call you if the doctors get back to me before I return,”

Dr. Sims then turned to regard both Brent and I. “If either of you can think of anything else, tell your father.”

He left on hurried goodbyes, leaving the three of us in an awkward and tense silence.

Dad wouldn’t stop pacing, and Brent refused to look me in the eye. Both seemed angry, though I wasn’t really sure why — well, no, I knew why Brent was. He was up in arms because I had the gall to give a fuck about him enough to try and keep Augustine from making him malleable. All I knew was I couldn’t stand being in the room much longer. “Dad?”

He only hummed in response. “D’you think it’s okay if I take that bath?”

I got final confirmation from the doctor that it was okay so long as I didn’t get that hole in my neck wet, and left the two of them to ruminate on their issues, giving myself the time to worry about my own. 

I wasn’t prepared to face my reflection and see that’s what I looked like. I felt like I was more bandage and bruise than human; so many parts of my skin lit up blue, like I rolled around in spilled ink. My back was steeped in iodine and littered with black stitches, the skin around the slice on my side was bright red. My neck was even a little bit swollen on the left of it where that ball of concrete hit it. I couldn’t stomach looking at myself for long. It was just another reminder of how wrong everything was. 

The shallow water soothed my aches, thank god, but all that did was clear up enough room for my nerves to take hold. All I could think about was my fear. Why wouldn’t I heal, what was wrong with me? The water slid off of my legs with a laze to it, my powers working against gravity. It reminded me of that dress of water in my…dream? Hallucination? Purgatory? I didn’t know what it was. I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to know, because that’d be some confirmation of whether Mom was real or not. I wanted her to be real, I wanted her to be there — but that’d also mean something would have to happen to me if I was to ever meet her again. And now that I was a broken Conduit…

It felt like too much of a possibility, returning to her. 

But fuck, I’d give anything to make that hug real. To make those reassurances real. I just wanted my Mom, was that so bad? I just needed someone to tell me things were going to be okay. 

I broke down thinking about how gentle she was, how I missed out on a lifetime of that. Hallucination or not, I was homesick for a place I couldn’t return to. 

I didn’t come back out of the bathroom for an hour, but it didn’t matter — neither of them changed places. Dad was still as a statue now, leaned against the wall and looking out of the window at Seattle, but otherwise nothing changed. 

Well, that wasn’t true. The television program ended to show the mid-morning news, and I froze in the middle of braiding my hair to look at what was on it. 

Elliott Bay was flooded, boats misplaced and docks completely shredded, the roofs of some shacks at the ends of piers floating freely in the flood. There were flashes of businesses partially underwater in West Seattle, of people in Queen Anne sitting atop their roofs waiting to be rescued. Downtown wasn’t spared; the base of the Space Needle was a pool, a few unlucky people in hi-vis coats wading through the polluted murk. The stream cut to a simulated chart of the flooding, captioned Christmas Eve Tsunami 2036.

“What happened?” I asked, moving towards the wall the television was mounted on. Slowly, as the ache was already permeating my body again. I might have to live in water just to make it through this healing process painlessly. I finished buttoning the spare soft flannel Dad gave me in place of a pajama shirt, staring at the simulation as ten foot tall waters overtook the map. 

Dad cursed behind me, and before I knew it, the television was off, him holding the wired remote like it was an IED. He looked at me, bug-eyed, and said, “Jean—”

Why was he so freaked out? “Was there a tsunami?” I asked, like it wasn’t painfully obvious. The west was littered with fault lines, there were three in the Portland area alone — was there an actual, big earthquake this time? Did it flood Seattle? 

Brent was white as a ghost when I glanced back at him, making me pause. “Did…did someone get hurt?” I asked. Tsunamis can go both ways, right? Did the reservation get flooded?

They both stayed looking at me like that, like they expected me to break, and I could feel realization settle into the ache between my shoulder blades as I thought about Christmas Eve. About how the last thing I did was summon a huge wave to wipe Augustine and the Archangel soldiers off of the earth. I wasn’t there to pull it back like I did the whirlpool, to control how the tides would fall. 

Oh God. There was no earthquake, otherwise the news would have said so. There was just a tsunami, and I had an idea where it came from. “Did…” I choked out. “Did I…”

Dad slowly laid the remote back on the bed. “It’s not your fault,” He began, confirming everything I needed to know. Everything except one thing. 

“How many people died?” I whispered. 

Dad shook his head lightly. “Jeanie—”

I was already starting for the remote before he could say more, but he didn’t fight to stop me. Guess he knew I was going to find out regardless, and decided it’d be better to deal with the fallout than the fight. 

I didn’t need to turn the volume high. I didn’t even really need to try and search for the answer; it was there clear as day on the screen, 134 CONFIRMED DEAD, Over 3,000 INJURED.

One hundred and thirty four dead. 

“No,” I muttered, my uninjured hand shooting to my mouth. Oh my god, I did this. I killed all these people before Christmas. “No, no, no.” 

I didn’t feel the ground rushing towards me until Brent snatched me from the air, his hold pressing into my injured side and making me yelp. None of that mattered. I deserved every bit of pain, I deserved to hurt. I didn’t deserve for Brent to catch me from my collapse and help lower me to the ground as I began sobbing, nor did I deserve Dad coming around the bed to take me from his arms. How was I supposed to act like being treated well was okay when over a hundred people were dead from what I’ve done?

I was deaf to Dad’s reassurances, barely able to see his figure past the blur of my tears — his figure on the television, I mean. There was layman footage of him pulling back a wave, just enough to make the rush an ebb before disappearing into the water again. 

The only reason people were alive was because of Dad. The only reason I was, was because of Dad. How much more reckless was I going to get? “I killed those people,” I whispered, aghast. 

“Jean, you weren’t there, you were gone before—“ Dad started, but I cut him off with my head shaking. 

“No, no.” I sobbed. 

“This isn’t your fault—“ 

“Stop lying to me!” I demanded on a screech that sounded inhuman. I couldn’t do this anymore! My entire life was a fucking lie, he didn’t tell me the truth when I asked what happened to Mom’s brother — I couldn’t stomach another something sugared in half-truths to help me swallow it down. He hadn’t even told me about this, and he had time to! 

It was my water, my tsunami, that did this. “I did this,” I sobbed. 

Was this what Augustine was trying to protect Mom from? Feeling like she was a monster because of what her powers could do?

I watched the sun set over a distressed city, all cried out. The flooding seemed to have receded mostly, if that segment was to be believed, but that didn’t mitigate the damage. The destroyed homes, the destroyed lives. My power could kill so easily, and I didn’t even stop to care about anyone else when I was freezing. 

I didn’t think at all. That was the issue — I didn’t think. 

“—anything, Jean?” Dad’s voice broke through my thoughts. 

“Hm?” I hummed, looking up. Dad and Brent were standing in the middle of some kind of delegation, Dad with his coat on. 

“I said: did you want anything from the cafeteria downstairs?” Dad repeated. 

I just shook my head, looking back out the window. How the hell was I supposed to eat when my stomach felt like this? 

There was some more muttering but none of it really reached my ears. Footsteps, the door closing—

And then someone sitting on my bed. 

I looked over to Dad just as he finished taking off his coat, and asked, “Where’s Brent?”

“Figured he could get his own food,” Dad shrugged, tossing his coat onto the seat of the chair. “Wanted to talk to you, too.” 

Oh, great. 

I dropped my eyes, raising my one hand to meet my other so I could pick at the PICC. “Jean,” he called gently. “None of what happened is your fault.” 

“How is it not, Dad?” I whispered. I wanted to put fire behind the demand but I could barely even raise my voice. 

“You weren’t…” he hesitated. “Aware for it. You didn’t intentionally push those tidal waves into Seattle.”

I might as well have. 

Dad waited a while longer, probably for me to say something, and sighed when I didn’t. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for this. You were trying to protect yourself — and Brent — and you did. You know how proud I am about that? You know how many times I had to fight Augustine before—“

“It shouldn’t be at the expense of other people,” I interrupted. “I was trying to stop Augustine from killing the Akomish and I just killed way more people than she would have if I stood by,”

“But you didn’t,” Dad said pointedly. “You didn’t just stand by. I think that matters more.”

“Yeah, tell that to everyone who lost family on fucking Christmas.” I snipped. 

“You’re not gonna be the hero to everyone,” Dad continued. Thank God he didn’t chastise me for cursing, I think I would have lost it if he did. “No matter what you do, someone’s going to see you as a bad guy. They did me—”

“You didn’t kill over a hundred people!” I cut him off, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “You kept me from doing more damage! You don’t get t-to sit there and act like it wasn’t a bad thing! You know it’s bad — that’s why you didn't mention mom killing her brother, and you wouldn’t have even told me about the tsunami if I didn’t see it! You know it’s something to be ashamed of,”

There were times, when Dad would engage us in our little arguments and debates, that he’d turn on the stoic lawyer thing and we’d definitely lose the fight. There was just something about arguing emotions versus logic against a person that made you talk yourself into a corner. He wouldn’t be emotionless, mind you — he’d validate points that we made, empathize. But it always felt like he was trying to teach us to not let our emotions be the only thing that drove us. 

Dad dropped the bloodsucker facade for this fight. His eyes softened at the tears pooling in mine, and he bit on his cheek so hard it looked painful. “You’d just gone through hell, Jean, I didn’t want to make it any harder for you—”

“You can’t use that as an excuse,” I cut him off. “I asked you about Mom and Uncle Brent days ago. You promised no more lies and the next day you lied!”

“I didn’t lie,” He stated simply. “Your uncle died because of a gang war. That’s true.”

Oh my fucking god. I ground my teeth once I realized what he did, the bastard. “You used your stupid little perjury loopholes on me?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant—”

“It was, Dad, it was very relevant!” I scoffed. 

Dad leaned forward slightly. “And you would have wanted to know that? You would have wanted to know your Mom killed her brother by accident and it haunted her for the rest of her life? Your mom was on anti-psychotics because of the damage it did to her. She’d sob about it at least once a week. Augustine used that fact to get her to do her bidding, brainwashed your mother into being her perfect little sniper. Your mom deserved to be known for more than that, for better than that.”

“I would have thought that either way,” I insisted. “I would have forgiven almost anything she did, but you — you didn’t tell me, and now it feels like I can’t even trust you to give me the chance to choose.” I motioned towards the television. “You didn’t tell me what happened so that I could — so that I’d just know—”

“You needed to rest and heal before worrying about anything like that—”

I pointed to my broken arm slung in a cast, at the way the purple of its plastic almost faded away into the purple of my bruising. “That would have taken weeks! You know it’s something I should feel bad about, and that’s why you didn’t tell me. So I wouldn’t be ashamed of how I killed people.”

“You did not kill them.” Dad insisted, stressing every word. “It’s not your fault.”

“I caused the tsunami. I wasn’t in control, I didn’t think. That’s enough,” 

Dad grabbed my other hand when I went to drop it, and it took everything in me not to pull away. “You were…you were dying, Jean. When we found you in the Sound a few days after you disappeared, you were in this mass that left you barely warm enough to have a heartbeat. If it wasn’t for the Sound doing that, you would have died. You can’t blame yourself for not having control when you were about to die.”

“You don’t understand,” I finally decided, looking away. Back outside of that window, back to the skyline of Seattle. How many of them blamed me for what happened? 

Dad inhaled, and for a moment, stayed quiet. I knew he was probably just building another argument, something I wasn’t going to relate to at all. Something I wasn’t going to accept. Then he spoke, and what he said caught me off guard: “Do you know how many Akomish died because of Augustine?”

I looked up slowly, eyebrows raising. “Huh?” 

“When you went over the Seattle Uprising in school, did they mention how many Akomish died?” he repeated. I shook my head. “Forty-eight. One hundred and thirteen were interrogated, stuffed with fucking concrete, and almost half of them died.” He sighed. “When Augustine got there after your mom and Eugene broke out, I’d just got my first power. I had it for probably fifteen minutes, max. She thought the guy I got smoke from told me about her plan — the breakout and the DUP funding, all that. When I told her all he gave me was his power…she didn’t believe me. She thought I was covering for him, that I was making fun of her, and I…I didn’t show her I had powers. I could have tried. I could have done something, anything…but I froze. I watched her put concrete in Betty’s legs and I did nothing. She went through the reservation interrogating people, sticking concrete in them all, and by the time I came back with her power so I could undo it, almost fifty people had passed. I could have kept everyone from dying, and I didn’t.

“And you want to know something else? I’ve killed.” He stated plainly, admitting to the crime. “I’ve had to, to survive. To keep you safe, like in that alley. But I’ve also…I’ve done it because I wanted to. That anger your mom felt enough of to hunt down drug dealers? I’ve experienced it. I followed through with it.” 

I could feel the blood rush from my face. Dad’s killed people too? 

“I’ve been on both sides. At fault inadvertently, and directly involved. I’ve been in a middle ground where it had to happen. I understand. And I have enough experience to know that, what you did? Is not your fault. You weren’t out of control, you didn’t do it selfishly. You were dying and you did what you could. There’ll…there’ll be death in fights like this. Archangel is out hunting for blood, and fights like this sometimes can only be won with loss. But you cannot blame yourself for every loss that happens. You couldn’t prevent any of them, you shouldn’t have to carry that burden.” 

War isn’t won in battles, but bloodshed, Augustine had said. 

How much bloodshed? How many people would have to die so their graves could be the foundation of peace? How many more was I supposed to be able to stomach, to see as permissible? Why was there a fucking allowed amount in the first place? 

I stayed silent, sitting there for what felt like forever, picking at the cuticles on the hand connected to my broken arm. “Do you regret it?” I finally whispered, unable to look up.

“What?” 

“Killing someone,” I clarified, meeting his eyes. “It…do you regret it?”

Inhaling, he nodded. “Yeah, I do.” 

“Why?” I asked, still nearly silent. “Why did you…” 

Dad swallowed hard, and he seemed to be so far away as he thought about why. “I don’t want to justify what I did,” he started, “I can’t. It was wrong. I was on a warpath and didn’t care about anything but revenge. But I swear, I regret it. It’s haunted me since. It’s not something you can just forget, no matter how hard you try. And I regret not being honest with you. I shouldn’t have white lied my way out of explaining what happened with your mom, I’m sorry.”

I nodded, not opening my mouth to spit out some form of it’s okay because it definitely wasn’t. I didn’t feel like it was, at least. All I could keep thinking about were the casualties. 

Dad squeezed my hand gently, and said, “You should eat. They’re wanting to give you an antibiotic to prevent infections and you can’t have those without food,”

“Yeah,” I muttered, “Okay.”

Brent didn’t seem like he was holding onto his anger anymore, at least. Thank God — I wasn’t sure if I could take any more fighting. He wouldn’t really meet my eyes either though, even when we were facing each other as night came, trying to fall asleep. 

That was harder than it needed to be: sleeping in a hospital. Every noise seemed to carry further than possible through the halls; every machine beep, every patient’s cough, every nurse’s footsteps. My eyes may have been closed but it sure felt like my brain stayed awake through it all — which is why it was so easy to pick up on the hushed voices on the other side of the curtain. 

“—hell do you think it is?” Dad finished. 

“Don’t know,” Dr. Sims muttered back. 

“You said you’ve heard of this shit as a power before?”

“Tar? Yeah. Way back in the day, DARPA caught this woman that worked for the First Sons, some scientist. Had tar powers. She was one of the first Conduits they started experimenting on before the DUP became a separate thing from the DoD.”

Only about twenty percent of that made sense to me. 

I quietly rolled over to face the curtain that separated me from Dad and Dr. Sims, whose silhouettes were cast against the blue wall from the light of the bathroom. Dad was holding up a long tube of something, Dr. Sims standing across from him, arms crossed. 

“DARPA? Like, the government?” Dad asked. 

Dr. Sims’ shadow nodded. “Yeah. Turns out, they were funding the First Sons, probably the whole reason Empire City happened in the first place. The tar had mind-control abilities, and they were using it for some sort of revival of the MK-ULTRA project. Killed her over a whistleblower before the media could investigate and swept it all under the rug,”

“Jesus,” Dad breathed out. 

“You’ve missed a lot the past sixteen years,” Dr. Sims laughed mirthlessly under his breath. “There’s a lot of shit the public doesn’t know. The First Sons even used this stuff to get people to attack MacGrath during the Quarantine. Made people sick too,”

Dad’s hand lowered. “And this stuff’s in my daughter? Is that why she won’t heal?”

“That’s the thing,” Dr. Sims took the tube back. “I don’t know if it’s the same, or some mutated version from the experiments, or what. I know nothing about this stuff at all.”

Dad’s next breath was shaky. “Fuck,” his head shook. “I’m scared, man. This is Abbs all over again.”

“You don’t know that, D—”

“She stopped healing first.” Dad interrupted — almost painfully. “You remember! The healing went first, and then the speed, and then the fuckin’—” he cut off when his voice caught. “I thought there was something wrong with her. I thought something about her flipped. If the same thing’s happening to Jean? That — it means it might not have been a coincidence.”

“You think it might run in the family?” 

“I don’t know.” Dad tilted his head back slightly, like he was trying to keep bile from appearing. “I don’t know if I think it’s hereditary, or if…if someone maybe did something to Abbs.”

“Del, you don’t know if that’s—“

Dad’s hand swung wildly in my direction. “My kid’s got forty-six stitches! Her arm’s broken! Only other time I’ve seen a Conduit like this is when Abbs’ c-section scar got infected. We don’t get infections, we don’t get stitches. I don’t know if it’s something hereditary, or because of that shit, but I don’t like that it’s happening again.”

I blinked out of my sleep then. Mom…stopped healing, too? That was where her sickness started?

Dr. Sims hummed gently. “I’m worried too, but remember the exact same thing is happening to those old DUP agents.”

“Yeah — ‘cause they’re forced Conduits! Jean’s prime—”

“We can’t make any assumptions until we know more about what’s going on.”

Dad’s hands came up to run through his hair, and I could hear him sigh deeply. “So then what do we do?”

“I could run a microarray on her, see if it’s genetic. I’d want Brent’s as a base sample too.”

“And if it’s not that?” Dad demanded.

Dr. Sims hesitated for a moment. “I…know someone that could help us,” he began. “Someone that’s seen this stuff in action. Might have some connections, too. But…” he drew off. “You’re not gonna like it.”

The shadow of Dad’s head cocked to the side in curiosity, and they were silent for a full ten seconds before Dad’s head snapped straight again and he said, “No. Absolutely not.”

“Del, listen—”

“Not happening. Do you not remember last time?”

“That was almost eighteen years ago—”

“And it hasn’t been long enough! You weren’t there, man. He’s weird! I got this speech that didn’t make sense and he — the fucker wouldn’t even meet me after everything—”

“You’re still holding on to that?”

“He’s not even a Conduit!” Dad hissed on a whisper that was bordering a regular voice. The closest he could get to yelling. “He has no business being involved is this—”

“He is the closest we will ever get to talking to Cole MacGrath,” Dr. Sims interrupted. His silhouette raised the tube and shook it at Dad slightly. “You wanna know what this is? You wanna help Jean? He’s the only one that can help. Him, or the government — and you and I both know how that would go.”

Dad’s hands came up, and while I couldn’t really tell what he was doing, I knew he was probably pressing his palms into his eyes like he always did when he was frustrated. But then his head raised and looked my way, and my breath froze. Did he know I was eavesdropping? 

No, he didn’t. Looking towards where I was seemed to be the last cannonball that broke down the wall of his objection, because he sighed, entirely complicit and absolutely unwillingly, “Fine. Okay. How do we get in contact with him? I haven’t talked to him since that shit with Wolfe,”

“We’ve got a system. He likes to stay off the radar, but he’s not too hard to find.” Dr. Sims tucked the tube away in his pocket, saying “Take out your phone,” while doing so.

Dad did, the click of him unlocking it echoing off of the sterile walls. “Okay, now what?” 

Dr. Sims held out his hand, and that twinkling sound that always accompanied his power came back. It wasn’t like Dad’s; Dad’s had the underlying tone of TV static, where Dr. Sims’ almost sounded like what I imagined wizard magic would sound like. Their side of the curtain lit up, making me squint in discomfort at the sudden light change, and by the time the sound ended and the brightness dimmed, Dad was in the middle of cursing. “Eugene — fuck — I didn’t mean now—”

“I can only catch his signal when I concentrate on it,” Dr. Sims shrugged. “Otherwise it’s scrambled.”

“Yeah, okay, but I’d have liked to have slept before dealing with him,” Dad grumbled, the hand holding his phone coming up to his ear. I could barely hear the ringing that came from the receiver; it sang once, twice, and then was picked up, Dad sighing as the voice on the other side answered. 

“Zeke Dunbar?” Dad asked. “This is Delsin Rowe.” His body turned slightly in place so he could look where he knew I was, a final reminder of why he needed to call. “I need your help.”

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Unlikely Places - Chapter 36 - Part 2

*Warning - Adult Content*

Chapter: 36 - Can You Accept That

"Sorry. I was thinking," he explained.

I nodded back at him in understanding.

It wasn't the first time I had seen Pierce space out when thinking seriously about something.

It was just the first time it had happened with such a serious personal conversation between us.

It wasn't his fault my nerves were invested this time.

Pierce finally began to speak.

"I can't promise you not to worry, Jackson. I just can't. I'd be lying while I said the words and I bet you couldn't make that kind of promise either," he tacked on, looking at me in question and of course, I couldn't.

If there was something going on with Pierce and I knew it, I would be worried about him and for him.

It came along with caring.

I sighed.

I understood his point.

He wasn't wrong but there was still a difference here and I needed him to understand.

"I..." Pierce held his hand up, quietly asking me to stop.

"I get it," he finally said.

"You do?"

Pierce nodded back at me.

"I do but I don't know just yet how to completely 'fix it.' You're going to have to be patient with me. My inclination in everything is to be that bulldozer, you know? My inclination where you're concerned is multiplied by ten."

"You are my responsibility, Jackson but not in a burdening way. At least not for me but the fact that you feel my natural tendencies to be burdensome to you is something I have to acknowledge and work on."

"Wait, I..." I tried to break in, feeling frustrated.

He wasn't burdensome to me, his feelings weren't burdensome, I just didn't.

"I just don't want you t-to see me as w-weak," I finally exclaimed, daring despite my embarrassment, to share one of my deepest secret fears.

He was always so strong.

He talked the talk and walked the walk.

He made bold proclamations, sometimes even outrageous ones but you could never tell what he was thinking behind that stoic face he put up.

He was fearless, he was strong, he was bold and I was his complete opposite in every way.

Comparing our differences, drawing attention to them was the last thing I wanted to do.

I guess deep down I still questioned what he saw in me.

Maybe deep, deep down I was scared he would see me as weak because I really was, no matter how hard I tried to say differently.

"Jackson," Pierce said, looking down at me with a slight frown.

"I..." he started to say something to me but stopped.

He tried a few more times to speak but each time he stopped himself until suddenly he shook his head in frustration and grabbed my face in between both of his hands.

"You're frustrating," he finally growled.

"You're naïve, you're inspiring. you're silly, you're loyal, you're anxious as hell, you're brilliant, you're considerate, you're ridiculous, you're adorable, you're-you're so many, many things Jackson but never once has the word 'weak' crossed my mind when I think of you. You are in fact, the complete opposite. The strength you have to get out and do what you do despite the anxiety is something you should be proud of."

"I do understand what you mean though and I guess maybe I have been watching you like a hawk ready to jump in and help when needed. Maybe I have been a little too diligent in my quest to vanquish anything in your way that may upset you and I promise to work on that."

"But you should know, I watch you like that, too because you are so damn hot that sometimes I just want to look at you and I'm sorry but I can't and won't change that. A man has needs and one of mine is gazing, watching, staring, observing, looking, beholding you."

"So," he huffed out after finally winding down.

"Can you accept that?"

"Oh my gosh."

I would have covered my face with my hands if I could have but Pierce's hands were still firmly holding me in place.

He was now grinning down at me wickedly enjoying my discomfiture and I never wanted to smack him more.

Even more than the first night we met.

He loved winding me up.

He could be so evil.

Before I could give voice to any of my whirling thoughts though, Pierce swooped in, his mouth landing firmly on mine.

From that point on any desire to speak fled as his warm lips worked my own with the sweetest of pressure that said so much.

Weakness didn't exist in this moment.

Just two men who cared deeply for each other, still learning about each other, sharing and growing to an understanding of what it meant to be together.

After long, long moments, Pierce finally pulled back looking flushed and quite pleased with himself as he stared down at my bemused expression.

A moment later he asked.

"Now what did you want to say to me earlier that had you stuttering by just saying my name?" 

[ibroketuesday]

The shift in their pattern was already occurring in S2.

Historically, Crowley’s job has been to initiate all forward momentum in their relationship, not just conflict resolution — he persuades Aziraphale into the Arrangement, he coaxes Aziraphale into stopping Armageddon, etc. Crowley tempts… and Aziraphale wants to be tempted.

Aziraphale wants to go along with Crowley (and to do what his heart tells him is right), but he needs Crowley to help him resolve the conflict between what Aziraphale feels and what Heaven demands. So Aziraphale demurs, all the while relying on Crowley to dismantle his protestations one by one until all his moral quandaries disappear and he can feel comfortable doing what he’s wanted to do all along anyway. He’s used to implying what he wants and then letting Crowley hold his hand and guide him there. This is what we see him doing in S2 with their stalemated romance — he is implying as hard he can that he would like Crowley to sweep him off his feet, and he’s eager for Crowley to make the first move… but Crowley isn’t.

Crowley’s always been happy (enough) to take the lead in their dance, but his role means he’s had to weather consistent rejections. He’s had to learn to parse Aziraphale’s “no” as “I’m not convinced yet” (honestly, is it any surprise they’re bad at really hearing each other?), he’s had to bulldoze his way past “we’re enemies” and “we’re not friends” and “I don’t even like you,” he spent what seems like the first thousand-odd years of their Arrangement having to coax Aziraphale into it every single time. All of that’s okay; it’s part of the dance, it’s what Aziraphale needs, it turns out okay in the end. It’s not a big risk and it doesn’t leave Crowley vulnerable.

A love confession, though? That’s a mortifying, terrifying moment of total vulnerability in the best of times. I think Crowley must have been petrified of the possibility of rejection. He needed Aziraphale to make it safe for him this time around, to take the initiative instead, but Aziraphale couldn’t do it. And when Crowley did finally get up the nerve, his worst fears came true.

For the record, I think Crowley is equally at fault in the divorce — he didn’t seek to understand Aziraphale or make himself understood, he just jumped straight to running away together — so I don’t want to see Aziraphale grovel while Crowley gets off scot-free. They both need to reflect and learn and grow. But yes, Aziraphale absolutely has to take the initiative in patching up their relationship. He has to accept who he is and what he wants and take the initiative to get it. That’s the only way for either of them to be truly secure in their relationship.

I cannot tell you exactly what the circumstances of Aziraphale and Crowley’s reunion will be

I can tell you that Aziraphale will be the one to instigate it

I am far from the first person to make this observation but Crowley and Aziraphale’s arguments follow a similar pattern: A conflict occurs, Crowley leaves, Aziraphale waits, Crowley comes back

That is not the pattern anymore

It’s already been broken at the very end. This time, Aziraphale was the one that left. Crowley waited. Crowley held firm this time and gave Aziraphale every opportunity to come back and he didn’t, and so, with that choice Crowley is… for lack of better words, done

He’s done chasing Aziraphale, he’s done with this game. Aziraphale didn’t just make him angry this time, Aziraphale broke his heart and Crowley can’t forgive that, at least not on his own

This is not me saying that there are 0 situations in which I could imagine Crowley being the one going back first. If you went to Crowley and said “Aziraphale is going to straight up die in the next ten minutes but you can easily save him” he would still save him. He still loves Aziraphale, he doesn’t want him gone like that

But he will not go back to Aziraphale on his own this time. This time Aziraphale has to come back to him

I can’t tell you why, I can’t tell you how, but I can tell you the roles in this dance have been switched. If it’s going to continue, Aziraphale has to take the lead

[koreihanna]

Losing Your Youth Amidst The Grand Scheme of Things

by Reihann N. Edres

Or does it not? I contemplated this title fifty times over before finally arriving at a conclusion and it still led me to an existential crisis. For some reason, the grand scheme of things is a loop of endless questions back and forth. Today, my quill trembles with the weight of my decision to divulge my perspective on this unending cycle: Losing Your Youth Amidst The Grand Scheme of Things.

A year ago, I joked to myself that I would lose my precious Spotify discount once I graduate because no Enrollment Billing Form could attest to my student status. And now, here we are, with reality serving me a piping hot dish of laughter! My discount has slipped away, just like my dreams of being a responsible adult.

The weight of that joke did not truly sink in until I found myself on the other side of the employment fence. Fate has dealt me a surprising hand. Not only have I earned my hard-fought degree, but I am also now a licensed nurse, serving at one of MSU-System's campuses, where I once walked the halls as a student. The pace at which these changes occurred left me breathless, struggling to keep up with the whirlwind of activity. Looking back to a year ago, I remember the palpable anxiety that gripped me, driving me to tears as I prayed that Allah (SWT) wouldn't let me end up married to a stranger or fail my board exams. The memories of those nerve-wracking moments still haunt me to this day.

I thought that was already the peak of my adulthood- a constant barrage of trials and tribulations. Like a bulldozer plowing through a mound of dirt, I was fueled by the fiery determination to redeem myself. The thought of finally ridding away those pesky acne marks, paying off debts, and splurging on all the things I couldn't afford as a poor student, propelled me towards the person I am now. Truthfully, I felt like a powerhouse, a veritable force to be reckoned with in my unwavering quest for redemption. But in hindsight, my goals seemed insignificant, almost trivial in the grand scheme of things.

Despite my newfound fulfillment, there are still some things that have remained constant like my student instincts kicking in, prompting me to brainstorm ways to snag a Spotify discount. Let us be honest, we all love good bargains. It's like a rite of passage, a testament to the resourcefulness that got me this far. So, even though my life has taken a different turn, my nature remains unchanged which most people question as if telling me to relinquish my youthful nature of sunshines and butterflies. As I contemplate this conundrum, I cannot help but wonder if perhaps this is why people age and grow wrinkled, as the weight of the world forces them to become old before their time.

The unyielding demands of life can be overwhelming, leaving one feeling drained and depleted, unable to resist the ravages of time. And should the world demand that I abandon my youthful nature, it would mean relinquishing the very things that helped me get to where I am today. It would entail giving up the simple pleasures, like worrying over a Spotify discount, or the bittersweet pain of letting go of old friends and memories, or just the mere thought of coming back home.

During high school, I had to relocate to the countryside abruptly—don’t get me wrong as it turned out to be one of my fondest memories. Throughout college, I had to live independently with family support coming only financially. My responsibilities although not apparent never afforded me the luxury of experiencing the simple pleasures of life such as observing the trees sway or the warmth of the sun on my skin. Now, at 22 years old, I find myself in a rare moment of reflection, pondering over the questions that have long eluded me: Is it still worth fretting over a mere Spotify discount? Are my worries truly trivial? Or can I really move forward when the world around me grows ever more complex and grandiose, while my nature remains unchanged?

[munson-blurbs]

Oh, Baby (Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader)

First installment in my Dad!Eddie series. Feedback and suggestions are super appreciated :)

Warnings: language, pregnancy, allusions to sex, allusions to abortion, mentions of Eddie’s deadbeat dad

WC: 1.5k

February 1992

It’s Saturday, a day where you normally slept in, but you’re abuzz with nerves that wake you at 7:00 AM. Your husband, Eddie, sleeps soundly next to you, arms splayed across the pillow and sheets bunched around his waist. His long curly hair is pulled back in a ponytail, though strands have fallen out of the holder in his sleep. He’s oblivious, blissfully unaware of the emotions that pang through your body. For a man who prides himself on being so in tune with you, whose tagline is “I know your body better than you do, babe,” he hasn’t picked up on the fact that you’ve been eating your pasta with butter because you suddenly can’t stand the smell of marinara sauce, or that you come home from work and immediately fall asleep on the couch, or that you didn’t ask him to pick up tampons from the pharmacy next to his record store this month.

You creep out of bed and tiptoe into the bathroom, digging quietly in the back of a drawer where you’ve hidden the EPT box. A few weeks ago, you would’ve been excited at the prospect of being pregnant with Eddie’s baby. Then he’d made an off-handed comment about not wanting to be a dad because he didn’t know how to be one, and that he was happy for it to be just you and him forever.

It’s the longest five minutes of your life, but when your watch finally signals that it’s time to look, you take a deep breath and peer at the counter. 

Two pink lines.

A sob escapes your lips and you clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from waking Eddie. You have no idea what you’re going to do. It feels wrong ending the pregnancy without telling him, but you also don’t want him to feel any pressure to be a dad. His own father had repeatedly told him that he was a mistake, that he was a burden, and you didn’t want to risk repeating the cycle.

You’re still mulling over your options when you hear the sound of footsteps shuffling towards the bathroom door. You cap the test and shove it in the waistband of your underwear, hoping it’s covered by your oversized T-shirt.

Knock knock knock.

“Sweetheart, I gotta come in,” Eddie mumbles sleepily. You can picture him rubbing his eyes and stretching, thinking about injecting caffeine directly into his bloodstream to wake him up. He’d been promoted to manager at the record store, and while the extra income was certainly helpful, it also means he’s a lot busier.

You open the door and smile weakly. He blinks a few times and asks, “Are you crying?”

“Just allergies, I think,” you offer, lying through your teeth.

“In February?”

“Yeah...winter allergies.” It’s pathetic, but luckily he’s still tired enough to leave the matter alone.

“Okay. Go back to sleep and get some rest. You need any medicine or tissues?”

You shake your head and pad on back to bed. The pregnancy test is still pressed up against you, and you shove it under your pillow as soon as you climb under the covers.

~

“Hey, Munson! Got anything new for us to listen to?” Steve Harrington walks into the record store around 11:00 AM, hoisting his son on his hip. “Maybe something with Elmo for Andy to rock out to?” He tickles the toddler, who lets out an excited giggle.

Before Eddie can respond, Andy wriggles out of his father’s grasp and makes a beeline for Eddie, crashing into his legs with a laugh.

“Hey there, bulldozer!” Eddie scoops Andy up as the boy tugs on a lock of his hair. “‘Course I got something for ya! Saved it in the back because I had a feeling Dad would be bringing you by today.” Steve always stopped by on Saturdays. It gave Nancy some time to herself, and Andy loved seeing his Uncle Eddie.

Steve, Eddie, and Andy walk to the back where Eddie’s stashed away a Sesame Street cassette. Andy’s face lights up when he spots the familiar Muppets on the cover. 

“Ed, do you and Y/N wanna swing by later for pizza?” Steve asks. Andy nods his head vigorously, which makes Eddie’s heart melt.

“I’d love to, but Y/N has been real weird about food lately,” he states.

“Weird how?”

“Like she doesn’t really have much of an appetite, and normal foods gross her out. Y’know, all of a sudden I can’t put cream cheese on a bagel because the smell makes her throw up.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Sounds like she’s pregnant, dude. Nancy had the same thing...I think they’re called aversions?”

Eddie practically falls over. “No, she can’t be...” But then it all clicks into place: the exhaustion, the short tempers, the nausea. “Oh, fu-fudge,” he amends, acutely aware of Andy’s presence. 

Steve laughs and claps Eddie on the back. “Congratulations! Maybe pick up a test for her on your way home.” He notices that his friend is eerily quiet. 

“It’s okay,” he says softly, taking Andy from him. “You’re gonna be a kick-ass dad.”

"No. I’m not,” Eddie argues, trying not to raise his voice. “I don’t even know how to be a dad. Mine jumped ship. Would rather rot in prison than raise his own kid.”

Steve sighs and tells Andy to go sit on the couch for a few minutes. “Listen, Eddie,” he starts. “You are not your dad. Not even close. You have a job that you like and you’re great at. You’re kind and patient with your wife. And, don’t tell Dustin, but I’m pretty sure you’re Andy’s favorite uncle.”

That elicits a small chuckle from Eddie, but he’s still ambivalent. “Sure, I can be a good uncle. But taking care of my own kid? That’s...terrifying.”

“Y’know, Munson, a few years ago, I also would’ve been terrified at the idea of you being a dad,” Steve jokes lightly, “but now? Seeing who you’ve become? You went from slacker metalhead to...well, responsible metalhead. And while your old man ran away from the challenges of fatherhood, you’re gonna stick around and fight like hell for your kid. I guarantee it.”

~

Saturdays at the store usually fly by, busy with customers, but today’s shift seemingly dragged on forever. Before jumping into his van and racing home to you, Eddie pops into the drugstore next door and grabs a pregnancy test. His hands are shaking as he counts out the change at the register. 

He finds you at home, asleep on the couch with reruns of some black-and-white show playing on the TV in front of you. He loves the coziness of the apartment that he calls home. You’re what makes it ‘home.’

Where are we gonna fit a baby? Eddie wonders silently before gently rocking you awake. “Babe, can I ask a favor?”

“Mm, Eds, too tired,” you think he’s asking for something sexual as you curl up into the blanket.

“No, no. Not that.” You hear the sound of a plastic bag and see that he pulls out an EPT box identical to the one you’d hidden in the bathroom. “Can you just take this for me real quick?” You seem confused, so he explains. “I was telling Steve about how you haven’t been feeling well, and he thought...maybe...” he trails off, shoving the box towards you.

“I’m not taking that,” you declare adamantly, determined to get back to your nap.

“Please, Y/N? Just so we know.”

“I already know,” you snap without thinking. “I’m pregnant. I have a doctor’s appointment next week to confirm and discuss my options, okay?”

“Y-you’re...wait, options?” He sits down next to you, rubbing your calf with his thumb.

You force yourself to sit up, and it takes all of your energy. “I know you don’t wanna be a dad, Eddie. I wasn’t gonna say anything until I was sure, but I’m not going to keep a baby that you don’t want. That won’t be fair to any of us.”

Tears pool in his eyes. “Listen, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared to death about having a baby. But I talked to Steve, and he helped me realize that I’m not like my own dad. If anything, I’m like Wayne, just looking out for the little lost sheep of the world. I want our place to be where our kid’s friends can come to be safe and just relax, maybe play a little D&D...” he smiles as he kisses your lips softly. “Our home isn’t going to be one to run away from. It’s gonna be the one people run to.”

You grab his hand and look deep in his big brown doe eyes. “So...we’re doing this? We’re actually going to bring a little Munson into the world?”

Eddie kisses you harder this time, gently placing his hand on your stomach. “I’m all in.”

[thehoundwrites]

Forgive me Father

MDNI - NSFW 18+

Note: Priest!Sevika x fem!reader basically you go to church one night and end up in the confession booth with Father Sevika, sevika is not a good priest, goes to bars, sleeps around, drinks, smokes, and gambles.

Tw: nsfw, relgion, smut, Fingering (vaginal), body worship, size kkinks, punishments, manhandling, spanking, Preist/Father kink, uniform kink, power dynamics, Degradation, praise, dirty talk, humiliation, public sex(?)

Word count: 3,176

Even when the sun was set, and the moon peered from behind the buldings. The sun persisted, fighting to stay in the pinkened sky and yet the streets looked the same. Strangers that stood on the sidewalks of your not so busy town still chatted as their voices got lower and lower drowned out by the hum in your headphones. It was a bustling night however, and you even recognized some faces when they smiled as you walked by. As if on instinct you’d give them a small polite smile back and  in an attempt to avoid any conversations you so desperately didn't want to have, so you decided to put your other earbud in to drown out the unwanted buzz. The air was dull however as the talking died down and everyone had returned home or were on their way, the pink and orange sky turning darker. It wasn’t a fearful dark, since you always took the same route after work everyday, left, left straight for a bit left, right boom home. It was always the same. 

The only change up in your life was when you got invited out clubbing with your friends. Most of them loved to part as much as the next guy, you all found yourselves in a new adventure and whichever guy who was unlucky enough to end up flirting with you ended up with a bruised ego. Your friends knew enough to talk you out of giving him actual bruises, fortunately.

It was content, and calm. But seemingly bland.

You were heading home from work now tonight, your nerves relaxed as you blared the music of your headphones into your ears. "Pink rover, pink rover please send the coward over, and if he starts to holler but a knife up to-" you always tend to get lost within your mind. Music playing lets you escape from reality, although you really should pay more attention to your surroundings. Like now, your shoulder collided with something hard. Someone’s arm you noticed when you took an earbud out to apologize, looking up to whichever poor soul that had to deal with you trying to bulldoze them. And to your surprise stood a woman in a dark cassock, her posture leaning over you a bit. As you noticed her hand curled around your arm, her palms were very big against your bare skin and her fingers nearly long enough to wrap around your entire wrist. "That was an awfully crude song you were singing, my child." You couldn't help it, your eyes were wondering. The black of her could clung to her shoulders so you could see the curves of her muscles, you could see her perfect torso but the coat hung loose around her legs, you couldn’t help but to wonder if beneath the loose drapes were as chiseled as the parts you could make out.

But it seems she noticed your lack of response and took advantage of the silence and invited you inside. 

"Why don't you come in for the sermon, perhaps God brought you here for a reason" she said her gray eyes looked kind, with an intense stare that almost made you melt. You thought she could read your mind for a moment, you didn't know if you wanted her to or not at the moment either.

"Sure, sounds fun" you mocked undecided on attending, waiting simply for her response, you realized her large hand had made its way up your arm to grip your shoulder lightly. "The answer to that would be, Yes Father." She said dark lips curling up and her eyebrows raised, face a bit to yours for comfort. So close that you could smell the putrid smoke of her cigarette in her breath. You gulped your body starting to shudder, a bit.

You felt your cheeks heating up a bit, you weren't sure about the signals, but God you wanted to be on your knees worshiping her. You decided what you had to lose. It's not like you had much respect for churches anyways why should you care if you embarrass yourself. 

"Of course Father, anything you want." You smiled sweetly, your eyes wide at staring at her lips wondering what they felt like on yours, imagining her black lipstick smearing across your skin.

"Good girl" she replied, placing her hand in the middle of your back, guiding you inside,  your jaw clenched and you felt like your ability to breathe was taken away by every touch. 

The two of you walked in silence down the aisle between the pews, you could feel your heart pounding  "It should start in a moment, please take a seat upfront." It seemed you were already in front of everyone, not realizing you had made it all the way across the room. Luckily not many  parishioners had decided to sit in the front pews however. 

"Yes father" you replied,  going to sit down, patting down your short skirt. With your dark clothing, black skirt, collar and ripped nylons you didn't feel like you belong here. You could swear everyone was judging you the moment you walked inside. 

Before the priest had let go of your back she whispered "Keep your legs open for me, princess." Your eyes widened a bit at her brashness. You went silent, licking your lips as your mouth felt incredibly dry all of a sudden. 

"Okay…" you were able to mumble out quietly. Your heart started pacing faster than you thought possible as you sat down, the tingling in your core happy to have some pressure. You'd realized your knees were weak ever since you felt her hand on you. The scent of cologne and smoke tickled your nose still squirming a bit and realizing Father had already started her eyes looked at you for a moment watching you squirm under her glare. Her eyes glanced down to your shoes and you remembered your legs were supposed to be open. Slowly you opened your thighs, eyes glued to the priest, she seemed pleased. Or you assumed by the smirk that grew across her face as she turned to greet everyone.

"Good evening Father Sevika" 

So Sevika was the Father's name, huh?

You kinda stopped listening after that though, you did try to pay attention. You zoned out after a while, and brought your phone out putting a headphone in. Your legs were still wide. The cold air from the air-conditioner had you squirming a bit trying to get relief. You felt hot even though your skin was ice cold. Maybe showing this much skin is actually a bad idea. Not for the reasons they tell you though, goosebumps were covering your skin. Your music started playing finally "I'm not fazed, only here to sin, If Eve ain't in your garden, you know that you can.. Call me by your name-" you brought back into church when you heard a specific word come out of Father Sevikas mouth as she addressed her parishioners, you pulled your earbud out to listen. 

"And in Mathew 5:28 But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his" her eyes wander over the crowd until the intense eyes met you, legs still hung open for her as she studied your body so intensely, you thought you were gonna melt, and she could probably see the wet spot growing in your panties. 

Sevika went on smiling at the crowd as if she wasn't just undressing you in her mind.

Thankfully the sermon was over sooner than you thought. You noticed the church grew quiet and you bowed your head with them simply so you wouldn’t stand out even more than you already did, a moment later everyone began to leave and you stood with them quietly as they paced and and you watched the father dismiss the last stragglers. 

And you approached her and the two people talking to her waiting for your turn, they said their goodbyes and began to head out. 

"May I confess something, Father." 

Sevika's eyes stared down at you grey eyes studying you expression as you tried to fein your best innocent, desperate look you could. Her eyebrows scrunched a bit and you could see her cheeks move a bit clenching her jaw. "As you wish, follow me child."

You did, you followed her into another room. And the booth was not what you expected; it looked like an oversized dresser with curtains. "God is forgiving my child, please confess thy sins so that I may offer you penance." 

You looked at her for a moment, you were hoping you could say it right to her face, that this entire time she'd been up there you'd been imaging all the ways she should fuck you let your hand trail up those perfect arms as she tried her best to resist the temptation, so you could see the way she would look at you. So you coils see those gorgeous gray eyes darken glaring at you like she would eat you alive. 

"Do you know what to do my child, or shall I teach you" 

"I've never done this before." You said quietly before she placed a hand on your back. 

"Simple, go inside and kneel. Confess thy sins unto our creator and beg for forgiveness." She wasn't looking at you though.

It didn't sound simple. 

"Yes Father" 

"Good girl" 

You did as you were told, moving behind the curtain and kneeled. You weren't quite sure how to start so you just went with what you've heard before. 

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned." You said, your hands against the edge of the room holding yourself still, the skin of your knees pressing into polished wood beneath you and it started to hurt. 

"I've never used a confession booth before and I’m sorry for that. I ask for your forgiveness for my greed, my unfaithfulness, my lust. I've drank so much in my life, I swear, I use your name in vain. But mostly I need forgiveness for my behavior. I've been partying so much, hooking up without any second thoughts. I know you teach that our bodies are a temple that we must abstain until marriage, but women are so gorgeous lord, you made them irresistible. Even your priest here. Father Sevika, my mind has been lusting for her since I bumped into her. I was hoping she was going to have me confess on the pews. I wanted to watch her face as confessed how badly I wanted her to fuck me. that I wanted her to look into my eyes, and watch me undress for her. That I'd get on my knees and worship her like a God… excuse my language…" you snorted you couldn't even keep your face straight anymore. 

"Her eyes are so intense, I felt myself melt from the heat, her hands felt so big on my back, I wanted her hands to go further, to smack my ass to grab my chin and-" the curtain whipped open behind you and made you stop dead in your tracks. You were facing the opposite direction but luckily you were able to stand before she stepped inside.

"Do you think this is a joke?" 

You began to turn around and when you did she was extremely close boxing you in the booth she had to duck a bit as you felt your back press against the jagged wall behind you. 

"No Father I-" 

"I do not care for excuses, I do not allow pretty girls to act like sluts around me without some repercussions".

"Reprecuss-?" 

She didn’t look mad, infact her face oozes arrogance. She stood tall, completely eliminating your ability to leave her arms on either side of you. An eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips, satisfied by the surprise and fear in your eyes at her sudden actions.

 

You felt her hands on your hips as she turned you to face the wall, the front of your torso against the wood pulling your ass out towards her. You felt her breath on the back of your neck, it sent chills down your spine. Her large hands trailing up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs rough calloused fingers curling around the hem of your underwear, her short nails scratching a bit of your skin. 

“What? Isn’t this what you wanted?” You felt her dark lips press to the nape of your neck, her hand groping your ass. 

You felt her pants press against the skin of the back of your thigh, your underwear barely covering any skin. Her hand was warm against your skin. 

“Father, please,” you whispered.

“That’s not what I told you to say.” She growled in your ear, a sharp ‘whap’ sounded as you felt a sting on your ass. 

“The answer is ‘Yes father’, and when I spank you. You say ‘Thank you father.’ When I'm inside you, you say ‘Please, Father’. Do you understand?” She asked her lips trailing down your back hot skin teasing your skin as she trailed downward. Her other arm at the side of your head palm flat against the wood keeping you in place. 

“Yes Father” 

She spanked you again, harder. 

“Good girl” 

Your eyes squinted shut your face scrunching.

“Thank you, Father” You choked as her hand rang against your skin again. She smacked you a couple more times and you thanked her as you were told until you moaned it out, in which she stopped. You felt her hand and body leave your body. 

You wanted to look back but you didn't have the nerve your chest was heaving. 

All of a sudden you felt her body press yours against the walls, muscles pressing against your back hard wood jutting into your stomach as her teeth grated against your ear. “Are you fucking enjoying this? You're fucking filthy aren’t you princess.” She asked, gripping your sides, pressing her pelvis against your back, her fingers dipping in between your thighs. 

“Ahh, Yes father. Please..”

“That's right, beg for me.” Her finger began to toy with your clit, messaging it harshly holding your body still with her other hand, her thumb teasing your pussy, the tip of her thumb barely pressing inside but barely. Brushing agonizingly at the sensitive skin right inside of you. 

“P- Please Father”

“God youre so fucking wet, you like this? Getting fucked in church. You must feel so special, are you? Or do you just slut yourself out to anyone who you think could make you cum?”

“Father I-”

“I asked you a question.” She snarled her grip tightening, it felt harsh enough to bruise. 

“Mhmm- not everyone. You’re just so attr-Ahh.”

You were cut off by her shoving a thick finger inside you roughly, her pace was fast as she pumped in and out of you, your panties pulled to the side, and her clothed leg in between the two of yours, her dress shoe hooked around your ankle to keep your leg in place. 

“I didn't tell you to stop.” She huffed, her raspy voice hung lower now, you could tell she was starting to get out of breath. 

“Ahh- please father, you just looked so good standing there- you are so big and domminent, I thought you would fuck me until I went dumb for you Father.”

“Yea- you want me so bad you’d slut yourself out in church. That if you flirted enough with the priest that you’d get fucked like the little whore you are, huh?” You felt her smirk against your shoulder as she curled her finger right at your sweet spot and your legs nearly gave out. 

“C’mon princess you can take it can’t you” 

“Yes Father, Please, Please God you feel so good- Fuck- Please father” 

You couldn’t help but to give in completely, you were completely at her mercy. 

She added another finger and you clenched around her, her pace quickened. She felt big inside you, even with only two fingers, her hands were large. You felt her lean over you, her lips nearly grazing your cheek as her hot breath hit your face. “You sound divine, keep begging and I’ll let you cum.”

“Yes Father!” You were desperate, you needed her so bad, her fingers pumped faster inside of you, the hand on the wall gone as you felt her breath hitch against your skin, you assumed you knew where it went. There was a string of pleas and mumbling “Father” Each time you did you could feel yourself growing closer and closer the knot in your stomach tensing your legs stiffening as you tried to hold yourself up. “Fuck please I’m so close, please father”

“The cum for me princess, Give in. ” She closed the gap this time you could feel the hard skin of her abs against your back, her other hand reached around and pressed on your stomach right above your waist, it was a bit wet before it trailed down to your clit adding the sensation you needed. You began to squirm your hips, moving in rhythm with her hands moaning out her name. She didn’t stop after that, she fingered you through your orgasm until you were leaning on her for support, unable to stand on your own. “Give me one more baby girl, I know you can.”

She continued to finger fuck you until you came again, her hands wet with your slick. She pulled out slowly letting you drip all over your thighs, her hands supporting your body as she pulled your panties back into place. 

She gave you a moment. “You’ll come back next sunday then? You can get on your knees for me next time.” She said, waiting for you to catch your breath, her lips brushing against the skin behind your ear. 

When you could you turned around out of her grasp and leaned your back against the wall. “Wouldn’t it be a sin to worship you?” You teased lightly, still a bit out of breath. “It is, however its still tempting-” she said, stepping in closer to her lips near yours. “Isn’t it?” The soft skin of her lips brushed against hers as you went in to kiss them. Her lips pressed back her body somehow finding a way to keep you in the booth still a tooth scraped against your lower lip so you parted them, she sucked your tongue into her mouth. 

This didn't seem too holy. When she pulled away you were breathless again. 

“If I come back I need to know something first… Are you a real priest?” You couldn’t help but to wonder. 

“With power comes, the power to do what I want. Including girls like you.” She taunted smirking at you before backing away leaving you leaning against the wall. 

“Speaking of, do you need a ride home. It's a bit dark for you to be wandering home weakly in that” she commented, eyeing your outfit. 

You probably shouldn’t.

“Please, Father?”

[luimagines]

a scenario where the reader flusters the chain pleas <:3

- bestie anon

Masterlist

Coming right up Bestie!

Part one will include Time, Warrior and Wind.

Content under the cut!

Time

You were on a mission. This man was stoic as hell. As much as you tried to tease and flirt and embarrass, Time would not crack. Not only did he seem to have infinite patience, but he was so.. passive to whatever you did.

It was almost insulting, the amount of effort you’d put into it only to get little to no response.

And then you got hurt.

It... could have been worse. But a hit to the head is a hit to the head and you were to be monitored foe the night.

It was late. The kind of the late where people begin to question their lives and their worlds and their perception of the universe. Perfect for an existential crisis. Time was awake with you, making sure you didn’t fall asleep on your concussion.

You were tired and a bit loopey and you knew it if only from the reactions you seemed to be getting throughout the day. Which was fine. That won’t stop you from being honest. You stared at Time as he stared into the fire, seeming to not notice where you had placed your attention. He seemed concerned, with his eyebrows furrowed. In retrospect, he looked pissed. But you couldn’t think about what for.

The boys were asleep and it was the perfect moment to speak.

“Time.” You call silently. He doesn’t respond.

“Link?” You try again and this time he snaps out whatever funk he found himself in. He turns to you. “Yes?”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, My Dear.” He says. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” You sigh. “Are you sure you’re ok? Everything is going to be ok.”

“I know.”

“You’re really smart and brave. You’ve been taking really good care of all of us.” You lay back down, speaking your pure stream of consciousness out loud. “And you’re really cool. There’s nothing you can’t do. It’s why the boys look up to you so much. Why I like you. I trust you. We all do. You’re important to us. You’re important to me. Thing’s are going to be ok. Just breath. It’s alright.”

Time’s breath hitches just beyond you and you can hear him move. You’ve looked away at some point as you were speaking. You don’t know when.

“You’re also really strong. Like super strong. I bet you can pick up Twilight and he’s... all muscle. I would Warrior but he’s skinny. ....Mostly bone. We have to get him to eat more.”

Time laughs somewhere near you.

“Wind also tries to copy you. I don’t know if you’ve seen him. He loves you. We all love you.” You try to get up but firm hands on your shoulders stop you. your eyes finally focus in front of you.

Time is beet red and smiling like a fool. Your tired mind tells you that he’s laughing at you.

“Time, I’m serious!” You borderline shout.

Time brings a finger to his lips and shushes you but you bulldoze on.

“You’re amazing and great and a hero. You’re so cool. Twilight is so trying to be you. He wants to emulate everything about you.”

“Ok, ok!” He whisper yells. It calms you down somewhat.

He’s laughing. Giggling, even. Like a fool. 

“You’re impossible.” He says gently. He puts you back down against your bedroll and adjusts the bandages around your head. You had forgotten they were there.

You frown. “You’re awesome.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“Say it.”

Time rolls his eyes and brushes the hair from your face. “I’m awesome.”

You’re satisfied. 

Warrior

Warrior wouldn’t have suspected a thing. You have had enough of Warrior being able to throw one witty one liner your way and it leaves you stutter stumbling through out the rest of the day without being able to form a coherent thought.

That being said you wanted to think about something that would really make him think about it.

You got it.

You steeled your nerve and walked around the camp to his side and pointedly took a seat. “Hey.”

Warrior looks at you. “Hello.”

You smile as charmingly as you can manage. “I have a question for you Captain.”

Warrior raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your actions. “Alright.”

“What does it take to make you go head empty?” You continue to smile charmingly, innocently, not wanting to have any cause for any suspicious.

Warrior snorts and shakes his head. “I’ll have you know that my mind is a steel trap and there is very little that gets by me.”

“Oh yeah?” You smiles wider, leaning into the tease.

“Mhm.” Warrior nods decidedly. “It’s very hard to pull the wall over my eyes and get me to forget about anything else that I may be doing-”

“Is that why your lunch is currently burning?” I point to the food he had over the fire and he bolts to it in a panic. He manages to save it in time and you’re left giggling where you sit.

Warrior sits next to you again, his food in his hand. He coughs and tries to meet your eyes but his bravado has been shaken. “So!... Is that all you had to ask?”

You nod and stand up. “That’s all Link.”

His blush deepens.

“Good to know that the Captain with the steel trap mind is looking out for us.” You laugh a bit louder and flick his forehead. 

Warrior looks away finally, his blush going across his face. “I am.... on it. You can coooouuuunnnnt ooooon me.”

“Good.” You snort and lean down close to his face.

Warrior turns and reels back by the lack of space you’ve left and you wink. You move away, practically skipping away.

Warrior is left mildly shaken and embarrassed. His hand comes up to cover his mouth, halfway covering the rest of his face. 

Legend, who saw the whole thing, is laughing to himself, barely hiding his snickers behind his own hand. 

Wind, who missed all of that, looks at Legend with concern in his eyes. “Are you ok?”

Legend can’t find it in himself to reply.

Wind

The shot hits the target dead on. Perfect bullseye.

A cheer makes it way from your mouth before you know it. “Good job, Wind!”

The boy in questions looks your way with a grin on his face. He moves the bow down. “Thank you!”

“You’ve been practicing.” You acknowledge and make your way closer to him. “You’ve gotten better so quickly. You’re a natural.”

The boy scratches the back of his neck. His cheek dusted with a light shade of pink. “You think so?”

“Of course.” You beam and hold your hand out for the bow. He gives it to you easily and you knock an arrow. The movements are practiced and flow easily through you as you pick your own target.

“I dare you to split my arrow.” Wind blurts out.

You turn his way with a single eyebrow raised. He flushes a bit more but to his credit, he meets you head on. “Do it.”

You snort and aim for his arrow. It takes a minute of careful planning, more careful that you were going for the first half before you let it loose.

It just misses. It hits the end of the arrow, slicing it in half as it enters into the target but not nearly as close as you wanted. You click, annoyed with the results.

Wind however, only gets more excited. “WOAH! You almost did it!”

“Yeah, almost.” You roll your shoulders. “I bet with some practice I could. I’ve done it before. But I think I’ll stop there.”

You hand the bow back to him. “It’s hard enough to do on a good day anyway. I’m just rusty.” 

It could also be because you’re significantly taller than him so the angle would be different anyway but you don’t want to rain on his parade.

“I’m gonna try to split your arrow now.” Wind pokes his tongue out and steadies himself. You notice something.

“Your forms a bit off for this.” You say gently. With the tip of your shoe, you line up his feet. You reach over and around him, fixing and adjusting his hands on the bow. “I’m sure that it works for you because you’ve gotten use to learning as you go. Form only does so much when you need to act fast in battle but for this case, hold it here and here. You’ll have better control.”

You don’t notice Wind stiffen and go red in the face once again. You step back, pleased with the minor tweaks and watch him fire it again. He also doesn’t split your arrow, but he does manage to shoot right beneath it.

“Aw, I missed.” He pouts.

“Try again.” You say as you ruffle his hair. “You’ll get there.”

When he looks up at you after knocking your hand away, you can see how red in the face he’s gotten. He could be embarrassed, you muse and step back.

“It takes time Buddy.” You wink. “I believe in you.”

He looks away and fixed his feet again. “Ok, ok, yeah.”

You snort and walk away, leaving Wind to practice his shooting alone. Sometimes it’s better to not have an audience.

Wind looks over his shoulder and sees you leave. He drops the bow and his hands fly to cover his face. His blush travels up to his ears and down his neck and it enough to weight him down into a squat. He doesn’t scream.

He wants to though.

It just wasn’t fair. Why are you so cool?!?

Part 2

[llamagoddessofficial]

Would the fae gods fight over Mc?

Oh, for sure. Especially if she's nearby- it's been so long since they felt anything like that, when their instincts say fight they will fight without hesitation. All three of them feel like she's 'the one', the one they've been waiting for, the one they can't give up... a clashing of titans is pretty much guaranteed if either realises they're going after the same mate.

Forest Gods court with illusions, but they'll also brawl with them too. Most fights start and end with that... two Gods' magics combining and trying to overwhelm one another, two overlapping sources of illusion fighting for dominance, a discordance of fake sounds and smells and images. Usually, it will become clear that one Forest God is much more magically gifted, and the other will back down... much like how most fights in the animal kingdom are just 'who loses their nerve first'. But that won't work in this case because none of them will back down.

Sans has the best illusion magic out of the three and would easily intimidate his opponents with large displays of magic, turning the entire world around him into whatever he needs it to be. Red is a jack of all trades, but he favours tricks, shapeshifting and vanishing and confusing his enemy into charging in the wrong direction, leaving them open for attack. And Skull... he's more bulldozer than Forest God at this point, he struggles with magic so he'd much prefer to drop the niceties and just use his metres-wide horns to plough his foes into the ground, an unstoppable force of nature.

(The only way they'd stop fighting is if Mc runs for it. The second they realise she's gone, they'll get too busy chasing her to finish the battle.)

[paperstorm]

Wait I want to hear the thousand year rant about the scene in s1e3 👀 If you feel like sharing. No pressure!

TK slams his glass of water down so hard onto the table that it sloshes out. The kitten is big mad. His brag about saving someone from the Crysler Building, lol okay sweetheart we see you. You're mad but you also want Carlos to think you're impressive, and relatable tbh, Carlos is a snack and a half and I would also want him to like me. Carlos's "if I was a less secure MAN" and the face he makes idk that's just so funny to me but also so stupidly sexy. And also fascinating because Carlos is kind of not a super secure man? Like in some ways he is, he's very confident and direct, but also he's so hung up on the fact that he thinks his dad thinks he's soft, right. Like he doesn't think his father thinks he's good enough, or tough enough or manly enough, and he lowkey thinks Gabriel thinks that because Carlos is gay, and that's kind of a massive issue for him. I guess probably the show didn't know that at this time, it's such an early episode and I'm positive they don't put as much thought into these things as we do lol because they're just doing their jobs meanwhile we (I) am over here losing our minds over every tiny detail. But still. Also the fact that Carlos had to work up the nerve to ask him out idk that's just so freaking sweet. That part of the line gets me every single time. Carlos liked him SO MUCH right from the very beginning. Carlos has one of those hopeless romantic hearts and he saw TK and just went "that one. him. that one's mine." TK just FUMING, the feral cat is absolutely furious but also kind of in the wrong here, and Carlos calling him on it. I LOVE a relationship where one person is used to getting their way and the other one just comes in like a bulldozer and holds up a mirror to them. One of the best things Carlos does for TK is allow TK to truly see himself. Carlos doesn't let him get away with his shit. He loves him, but he holds him accountable, and TK needed that. I headcanon that TK had very ... let's say indulgent parents lol. Owen was the absent father who probably showed up now and then with a bunch of presents, and Gwyn strikes me as a very "my baby has never done anything wrong in his life" type of mother, at least when TK was little. TK really is used to getting absolutely anything he wants and used to being a brat and Carlos doesn't let him and I love that. TK grows up so much through their relationship. And then obviously the 'and I'm packing a piece' line LIKE. I am obsessed, OBSESSED, with the way Ronen plays that moment. It's like 3 seconds but you can see like 8 different emotions pass over his face. The way he just stops in his tracks, his whole tantrum completely forgotten. The way he sort of looks down a little bit, like he's going "... where. Where is it tho. I've been with you all night how did I not know you have a gun on you. Where is it Carlos." The way you can see him almost surprised by the fact that he's so instantly turned on?? This man is a liberal gay from Manhattan he didn't ever think he would find a gun sexy but in this moment he does and it fully catches him off guard. The way Carlos can so easily disarm him with just a few quipped words??? TK is so shocked by it, he's so used to being in control I think and Carlos takes that away from him and it surprises him but he's so into it. TK in this moment is still in the headspace of not really WANTING to like Carlos, but boy does he. He was all up on his bitchy high horse and then Carlos said five words and TK just started hearing circus music in his head. See it is a mistake to get me going. I have a lot of thoughts and I really need to be told to be quiet.