#so this is either while she's still in her room and he's coming up to her to like. yell at break shit.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FIFTEEN ━━ Best Friends Who Kiss

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 6.7K

❀ ━ warnings: not much like a make out i guess

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: guys i’m lowk getting tired of this fic sorry about the long awaited update

THE MORNING SUN filters weakly through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the bedroom, but Paige barely registers it. She’s awake, but she doesn’t move at first, lying still, staring at the ceiling, willing herself to make sense of last night.

The kiss.

Her mind keeps circling back to it, replaying it over and over. It had been Jo that had leaned in. Jo had kissed her first. She’d been hesitant, but then she’d melted into Paige, letting her pull her closer. She’d straddled her, and Paige remembers the smoothness of Jo’s thighs against her own, the feeling of Jo’s ass in her hand, and—fuck. It had all felt so right. Like this was always supposed to happen, like this was the inevitable collision they’d been building toward for God knows how long.

And then Mia had shown up, and everything had shattered.

Now, Paige turns her head just slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Jo beside her in bed, curled up under the covers, completely turned away. The sight makes her stomach sink a little. This isn’t normal—not for them. They always sleep tangled together—legs twisted beneath blankets, arms thrown over waists, breath ghosting over skin. But now there’s distance between them, and it feels impossibly vast.

Paige swallows hard, guilt twisting through her. She had come back to their bedroom last night like nothing had happened, like she and her best friend hadn’t just made out, like she hadn’t run the second someone else had seen. She’d showered, letting the hot water consume her the way it had in the hot tub. By the time she’d gotten into bed, Jo still wasn’t there.

For a while, Paige had thought maybe she wouldn’t come at all. Maybe she’d stay with one of her sisters instead, avoiding her completely.

But Jo had come back.

Paige just hadn’t been brave enough to face her. So, she’d pretended to be asleep, keeping her breaths even, her body still, trying not to flinch when she heard Jo move around, when she finally crawled into bed. But she hadn’t reached for Paige, hadn’t curled up against her like usual.

And Paige hadn’t reached for her, either, unsure of where they stood and not wanting to overstep.

Now, Paige shifts carefully, trying not to disturb Jo as she slides out of bed. She hesitates for a second, staring down at her, waiting for her to stir, to turn, to do something. But Jo stays still, and Paige can’t tell if she’s actually asleep or just avoiding her the same way Paige did last night.

She’s not sure she wants to know.

So, she grabs her phone and steps out of the room, padding quietly down the hallway, down the stairs, into the kitchen. It’s still early, and the house is silent—no laughter, no movement, no sounds of Christmas morning yet. Just her, alone with her thoughts, which is exactly what she doesn’t want right now.

She sighs, unlocking her phone, tapping her dad’s contact. He answers on the third ring, his voice still hoarse, but better than the last time she talked to him a few days ago.

“Merry Christmas, P,” he says, and Paige closes her eyes, exhaling softly. Things would be so much easier if she was just with him and Drew in Maryland like usual.

“Merry Christmas, Dad.”

They talk for a little while, mostly about how he’s feeling—still sick, but not as bad. He promises he’ll make up for missing Christmas the next time he sees her, and Paige tells him it’s okay, because it is. She knew he wouldn’t have let her go anywhere else for the holidays if he had any other choice.

She talks to Drew next, who’s way too hyper for a.) still having bronchitis, and b.) for this early in the morning. It’s a short conversation—he gets distracted halfway through, yelling something to his mom, and then Bob is back on the phone, telling her they’ll talk to her later.

Paige hangs up, staring at her screen for a second before she presses her mom’s contact this time, FaceTiming her.

It barely even rings once before Amy answers, her face filling the screen. It seems as though she’s already at the beach, the early morning sunlight turning her blonde hair almost gold, her sunglasses perched on her nose. There’s an ocean breeze in the background, the soft sound of waves rolling in, and Paige kinda wishes she were there because damn, the Bahamas sounds like the perfect place to be right now.

“Paigey, hi!” Amy says, beaming, clearly thrilled to see her. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

Paige exhales a small laugh despite herself, because her mom’s excitement is kind of contagious. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”

“I miss you, I hope you and Jo are having fun! I’m so jealous you get a white Christmas, honestly. It’s so hot here.” Amy flips her phone for a second, showing off the clear blue sky and the sun in it. “Not that I’m complaining, but still.”

Paige smiles faintly. “Yeah, it snowed a little more last night. The mountains here are really pretty.”

“I’m glad,” her mom says, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. “Anyway, Ryan and Laur are off running around the water park right now, but I’ll call you again later so they can talk to you.”

Paige nods. “Sounds good.”

Amy studies her for a second, and that’s when Paige knows she’s in trouble. “You’re quiet,” the older woman says, tilting her head slightly. “You don’t look happy. What’s wrong?”

Well, shit.

Paige swallows. She should’ve known her mom would pick up on it immediately. Usually, Christmas is one of her favorite parts of the year—her inner child always seems to come out, and she tends to act like a giddy five-year-old. Clearly, that’s not the case today, because here she is, slumped against the kitchen counter, her face probably screaming something’s up.

“I’m fine,” she says automatically.

Amy lifts a brow. “Paige.”

Paige exhales slowly, looking down at the marble counter, her fingers trailing absently along the smooth surface. “It’s… I don’t know.” She hesitates, then finally admits, “I kissed Jo last night.”

Silence.

Paige’s stomach twists. She can’t read her mom’s expression because Amy’s sunglasses are back on, but she knows she’s being analyzed right now, picked apart like she’s under a microscope.

Finally, Amy sighs, soft but knowing. “I thought there was a little more to you and Jo than you let on.”

Paige groans, dropping her head into her hands. “God, is it that obvious?”

Amy laughs a little, which only makes Paige groan louder. “Not to everyone, I don’t think,” she says. “But I am your mother. And I know you. The way you talk about her—it’s different, P. Good different.”

Paige bites her lip, staring down at the counter.

It’s terrifying, hearing that out loud. If she’s truly not been as subtle as she thought, then maybe that means Jo’s noticed, too.

And if Jo has noticed, then what does last night mean?

“I don’t know what to do,” Paige admits, her voice quieter now. “I mean… it wasn’t just—it wasn’t just some stupid kiss. It was—” She swallows thickly. “It was a lot.”

Her mom hums in understanding. “And now you’re scared.”

Paige nods, shifting uncomfortably. “What if she regrets it? What if she doesn’t want—what if she doesn’t like me like that? I mean, I don’t know even know if she likes girls. She’s never said anything about it. And she just broke up with her boyfriend of, like, five years.”

Any gives her a knowing look. “Paige, do you really think Jo’s the type of person to kiss you like that if she didn’t feel something?”

Paige opens her mouth, then closes it. Because her mom is right—Jo isn’t the kind of person to just make out with someone, especially someone close to her, just because.

Paige wants to believe it meant something. That Jo really had kissed her because she wanted to, not just because it had happened in the heat of the moment.

But Jo had also taken forever to come to bed last night. And when she finally did—

“She wouldn’t even look at me when she got into bed,” Paige says, her voice smaller than she wants it to be. “She just turned away.”

Amy, expression softens. “Honey, she’s probably scared, too.”

Paige exhales heavily, raking a hand through her hair. It’s still messy from sleep. “I just—I really don’t want to lose her, Mom.” Her throat is tight. “She’s my best friend, and she’s been the only person that really understands me about, like, my knee and stuff. I don’t know what I’d do if I—if this ruined everything.”

Amy shakes her head gently. “Nothing’s ruined, P. I promise.”

Paige doesn’t respond.

Because she doesn’t know that. What if last night was a mistake? What if Jo does regret it, and now their friendship is going to be weird forever, and—

“Take a deep breath,” Amy says softly. Paige does. “And stop thinking yourself into a panic, okay?”

Paige nods, a little shakily. “’Kay.”

“You and Jo clicked basically as soon as you met. I don’t think this is going to change that,” her mom tells her. “You just need to talk to her. And I know that’s scary, but I also know you. You’re not a coward, you don’t run away from things.”

Paige huffs. “I ran away last night.”

Amy snorts. “Okay, fair, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to keep running.” She pauses, then adds, “And maybe stop thinking so much and just let yourself feel for once.”

Paige is quiet, letting that sink in.

Amy smiles, like she knows she just got through to her. “I love you, baby,” she says softly.

“Love you, too,” Paige tells her, managing a little smile.

“Call me later?”

Paige nods. “Yeah. I will.”

“Okay.” Amy gives her a final, knowing look. “And talk to Jo.”

Paige makes a face. “Ugh.”

Amy just laughs, and then the FaceTime ends, leaving Paige along in the kitchen, slumped against the bar stool, her chin resting in her hands, still so unsure of what to do next.

JO HAS BEEN avoiding Paige all morning.

Not in an obvious, duck into a different room every time she sees her way—but enough that her stomach clenches every time she catches a glimpse of the blonde in the corner of her vision, enough that she finds herself sidestepping conversations, pretending to be busy with her gear, lingering behind the others when they’re getting ready, taking an extra-long time tightening the straps of her boots just to not be near her. She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know what Paige is thinking.

And she’s scared.

Scared that Paige regrets it. Scared that Paige didn’t like it. Scared that she messed something up, that she’s made things weird, that last night had just been some moment of stupid impulse for Paige that meant nothing, and now she’s going to sit Jo down and give her some speech about how they should just forget about it, about how it was a mistake, about how it shouldn’t have happened. Jo thinks she might actually throw herself off the side of the mountain if that happens.

But thank God for Mia, actually. Because Mia, in all her little-kid wisdom, had begged Paige to go on the ski lift with her, and—since each lift only holds two people—that means it’s just the two of them. And Paige, who never knows how to say no to a kid, had smiled at Mia’s pleading eyes and agreed, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Which means, thankfully, Jo doesn’t have to ride with her.

Instead, she’s on the lift just ahead, sitting next to Peyton.

Jo exhales, adjusting her mittens as the chairlift ascends, the cold air biting at her face. The resort is quieter up here, the only sounds the mechanical hum of the lift and the occasional rush of wind through the trees. It should be relaxing. Should give her a moment to breathe.

But then Peyton turns her head and smirks at her.

“Soooo…” the older girl says, drawing the word out in a way that makes Jo immediately suspicious.

Jo eyes her warily. “What?”

Peyton tilts her head, still smirking, like she already knows something Jo doesn’t want her to. “Mia told me about what happened last night.”

Jo groans, dropping her head into her gloved hands. Of course Mia had told her. Mia, who had no concept of discretion, who had walked outside at the worst possible time and just stood there, grinning.

Peyton laughs at Jo’s misery, completely unsympathetic. “So. You wanna tell me what’s going on, or… ?”

Jo sighs dramatically, tilting her head back to stare at the sky. “I have no idea.”

Peyton just grins. “Joey, I didn’t even know you liked girls.”

Jo stiffens slightly, her chest tightening. It’s not that she’s ashamed of the idea—it’s just that she’s never really thought about it. Not in a real, this applies to me way. But she supposes she’s gotta figure it out now, just like she has to figure out the shit with Paige.

“I don’t,” she says at first. But then Peyton raises her eyebrows, giving her a really? look, and Jo immediately feels her face heat up despite the cold. “Okay, maybe I do. I don’t know. I just—I just like—”

“You just like Paige?” Peyton guesses.

Jo hesitates. Then, quietly, she nods. “I mean, yeah.” She sighs, staring out at the snow-covered trees below. “I don’t know. I haven’t really gotten through all the technicalities of it.”

Peyton hums, considering that. “Well,” she says, “does Paige know that you like her?”

Jo scoffs. “I mean, I kissed her.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean you told her.”

Jo presses her lips together. Because, no, she didn’t.

Peyton shakes her head, amused. “Well, I have some good news for you,” she says, nudging Jo’s shoulder lightly. “She definitely likes you back.”

Jo immediately shakes her head. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Yes, she does.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Josephine,” Peyton says, giving her a look. “Come on. Have you seen the way she looks at you?”

Jo swallows, shifting uncomfortably. She doesn’t want to think about the way Paige looks at her. She doesn’t want to let herself hope—and she doesn’t want to know what happens next, if that hope is real.

But Peyton is relentless. “She’s, like, obsessed with you,” she continues, counting things off on her fingers. “She’s always touching you, always staring at you, always acting like you hung the fuckin’ moon or something.”

Jo clenches her jaw, shaking her head slightly. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Peyton sighs, rolling her eyes as if Jo’s stupid. “Why would she kiss you if she didn’t like you?”

Jo shrugs, feeling her stomach twist all over again. “I don’t know. She kisses a lot of girls.”

Peyton snorts. “Okay, well does she kiss a lot of her teammates?”

Jo blanches at that. Because, no. No, Paige doesn’t.

Peyton smirks, satisfied. “Exactly.”

Jo exhales, her heart thudding too hard.

“I don’t think she would’ve kissed you back unless it meant something,” Peyton says, softer now. “And I don’t think you would’ve kissed her unless it meant something, either.”

Jo swallows hard, staring at the mountains in the distance, her fingers curling into the fabric of her gloves. She doesn’t know what to say. Instead, she feels her heart thud rapidly in her chest, her mind running in circles around everything Peyton’s insinuated. Paige likes you. Paige kissed you back because she wanted to. Paige wouldn’t have done it if it didn’t mean something.

Peyton doesn’t push. She just lets the quiet settle between them, lets Jo sit with it.

But then, after a while, she exhales and shifts in her seat. “I get it,” she says gently. “Why you’re freaked out.”

Jo closes her eyes for a second. The shift in tone, the look Peyton gives her. She already knows exactly where this is going. 

“You just got out of something,” Peyton continues. “Like, less than a month ago.”

Jo tenses, doesn’t meet her sister’s eye.

Peyton sighs. “I know how much Asher meant to you. I know how much you were planning on him. And I know it’s gotta feel—” She hesitates, searching for the right word. “Weird. To have feelings for someone else this soon.”

Jo swallows, forcing herself to keep looking forward. She doesn’t want to talk about Asher. Doesn’t want to think about Asher. But of course, it’s Peyton. Of course, she sees through her like she always does.

And of course, she’s right.

Because Jo did plan on Asher. She planned on forever with him. She spent five year (or, really, her whole life if she’s honest), thinking that was it, that they’d go the distance, that everything they’d built—everything they’d been—was unshakeable. That she’d never have to think about this—about feelings for anyone else, about wanting anyone else, about what it means to like someone new when the ghost of someone old still lingers in the back of her mind.

But here she is, less than a month later, having just made out with Paige Bueckers in a hot tub last night.

God.

“I just don’t want you to rush into something,” Peyton says, her voice careful, measured. “Not when you’re still—”

“Figuring my shit out?” Jo offers.

Peyton huffs out a soft laugh. “I mean, yeah.”

Jo exhales softly, running her gloved hands over her thighs. She knows Peyton’s right. She knows she’s not really emotionally available right now. It would be stupid to jump into something—anything—so soon after the end of a near six-year relationship. It wouldn’t be fair—to her, to Paige, to anyone.

But it’s also Paige.

Paige, who makes her laugh in ways she forgot she could. Paige, who takes care of her when she can hardly take care of herself. Paige, who looks at her like she’s something worth looking at, like Jo is worth knowing, like Jo is worth wanting.

Paige, who kissed her back last night and felt like something Jo had been searching for, even though she wasn’t supposed to be searching for anything at all.

“I don’t know,” Jo murmurs finally, shaking her head. “I just—I don’t know.”

Peyton studies her for a moment, then nods, like she understands. “That’s okay,” she tells her. “You don’t have to.”

The lift slows as they approach the top of the mountain, and Jo is more than ready for the conversation to end. She grips the safety bar, rolling her shoulders back, already shifting into action mode. As soon as they hit the snow, she pushes off smoothly, coasting to a stop a few feet away. She drops onto one knee, strapping into her board, movements quick and practiced.

She feels Peyton’s eyes on her.

“What?” Jo asks, snapping her goggles into place.

Peyton raises a brow. “What, are you just gonna leave without them?”

Jo knows exactly who she means—Paige, Mia, their parents. She keeps her expression neutral as she shrugs. “It’s fine,” she says. “If P or Mimi need help, they have Mom and Dad. Let’s go.”

Peyton doesn’t argue, but Jo can tell she wants to. She hesitates for a second longer than necessary, like she’s debating whether or not to call Jo out for clearly avoiding Paige. But in the end, she just sighs, pulls down her own goggles, and says, “Alright.”

And then they’re off.

Jo cuts through the snow carefully, the wind rushing against her face, the world blurring at the edges. When you’re snowboarding, there’s no thinking, no feeling, no space for over analyzing. Just movement. Just speed. Just the sharp, exhilarating rush of letting go.

So, that’s what she does.

JO’S SITTING on the bed in the bedroom, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. It’s the only thing she can focus on right now. Her thumbs move over the screen without any real intent, the blue light flickering, almost like it’s keeping her tethered to something—anything. She doesn’t want to think. Doesn’t want to feel. Doesn’t want to worry.

The day has been a blur of distance. Too many spaces between her and Paige, though she’s the reason for most of it. But every glance felt loaded, every second stretched longer than it needed to. Jo told herself it was for the best, that she needed space, needed time to think, to process. But deep down, she knows that the silence felt more like a slow burn, a slow and uncomfortable ache that she couldn’t—still can’t—escape.

And then the door is opening and Paige walks in.

It clicks shut behind her, the sound final, and Jo’s stomach does a flip. She doesn’t look up immediately. She stays glued to her phone screen, even though she can feel the weight of Paige’s gaze.

Paige sighs, the sound almost too heavy for such a soft, small thing. It fills the space between them, and that’s when Jo finally looks up, her heart beginning to race.

She watches as Paige scratches the back of her neck, one of her nervous habits. Jo forces herself to breathe. She doesn’t know what’s about to happen, doesn’t know what to expect from this conversation. All she knows is that her entire body is on edge.

Then Paige asks, “Uh… can we talk?”

Jo swallows, the anxiety catching in her throat. She doesn’t even know how to answer, what to say, so she just nods. She scoots back a little on the bed, making room for Paige to sit. It feels like the most awkward thing they’ve ever done, like there’s too much space between them already. But she forces herself to breathe, forces herself to be still. “Yeah,” she says, voice a little too tight.

Paige sits down on the mattress, and then goes quiet, looking at the floor. Jo doesn’t say anything either, unsure of what should be said. She tries to form the right words, tries to form anything, but it all feels like it would just come out wrong, clumsy. So, she stays silent.

Paige is the one to break it. “We’ve been avoiding each other all day,” she says, stating the obvious.

“Yeah,” Jo murmurs, the word barely leaving her lips.

“I don’t wanna do that anymore,” Paige says, her voice softer now, almost a little uncertain. The words hang in the air between them, like a fragile promise.

Jo’s heart stutters in her chest. She wants to say something, something that won’t make this worse, something that will make Paige—and maybe herself, too—feel better. “Me neither,” is all she’s got, but it’s true.

Paige lifts her eyes to meet Jo’s. Her gaze is intense, a little searching, but also guarded, like she’s trying to read Jo’s expression, trying to figure out what’s going on in her head. And then Jo sees it—that look. The kind that makes her insides twist, that makes her want to curl into herself and die.

It’s the way Paige’s eyes linger on her face, the way she takes in the lines of Jo’s expression, as if she’s deciding whether or not she’s about to let Jo down easy.

Jo doesn’t want that.

She doesn’t want Paige to pity her. Doesn’t want her to give her some soft, carefully worded rejection, something that’s meant to ease the sting. She doesn’t want that look to mean that what happened last night didn’t mean anything, that it was a mistake.

So, Jo says it before Paige can get the words out, before anything else can be said.

“Hey,” she says quickly, too quickly, like she’s scrambling to control the situation. Which, she kinda is. “It’s fine. Seriously. We don’t have to, like, say anything or whatever. What happened happened. Let’s just not be weird.”

It’s a half-hearted attempt at sounding nonchalant. And maybe it’s a little too causal, a little too defensive, but Jo can’t help it. She needs the reassurance that nothing has changed—that this won’t ruin them. She needs Paige to tell her it’s okay, that they’re still them—that she hasn’t messed this up entirely.

But Paige doesn’t say anything at first. She just stares at Jo for a long, drawn-out moment. It’s as if she’s trying to figure out if Jo really means it, if this is what she really wants, or if she’s just saying it to avoid confrontation.

Jo starts to doubt herself, stars to wonder if she came off wrong, if Paige actually wanted the kiss more than Jo thought.

But then, Paige shakes her head. “Yeah,” she says slowly, like the word is almost twisting around her tongue. “Yeah, exactly.”

Silence falls over them again, like a blanket. Jo doesn’t like it. She’s tired of it. So, the words spill out of her before she can think better of it: “Do you want your Christmas gift?”

The question feels like it might be a lifeline, something to break the tension, something to shift the conversation away from all the uncertainty she’s feeling.

Paige blinks, caught off guard for a second. Her eyes flick to Jo’s, and then she straights up a little, her shoulders pulling back in a way that looks like she’s remembering something important. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, do you want yours?” she asks, voice lighter now.

Jo can’t help but laugh, just a little. It’s a short, breathy sound, but it feels like a small release, like she’s letting go of some of the anxiety she’s been carrying. “Well, duh,” she says, trying for playful, a smile tugging at her lips.

That seems to shift the mood some, and then they’re each standing up, going to their bags. Jo grabs the wrapped box, and sits back down on the mattress. Paige follows, sitting beside her, a much smaller box in her hands.

“Okay, open mine first,” Jo says, her voice more confident now, more sure of herself. She hands the box to Paige, feeling a flutter of nerves in her stomach.

Paige takes the gift, her fingers brushing against Jo’s hand as she does, and Jo’s heart skips a beat at the contact.

When Paige opens the box, her jaw drops a little, and Jo can’t help but feel a swell of pride. It’s exactly what she hoped for—Paige’s surprise and delight, the way her eyes widen as she takes in the gift.

The shoes are exactly what Paige had been obsessing over for months, the ones she had tried to get but had sold out before she could grab them. Jo, on the other hand, had been lucky enough to snag them before they were gone for good, and now here they are, right in front of Paige.

Paige’s voice is soft, almost in awe, as she stares at the shoes. “Joey…” she says, her tone slow and filled with something Jo doesn’t know. It’s more than gratitude, more than just being impressed. It’s like there’s something deeper in the way she says it.

“Do you like them?” Jo asks.

Paige’s eyes meet hers, a flicker of something there—something that makes Jo’s heart thud a little faster. “I love them,” Paige confirms, and the smile that spreads across her face makes Jo’s chest constrict. The blonde nudges her own small box toward Jo, saying, “Your turn.”

Jo opens it slowly. When she sees the necklace, her breath catches in her throat.

It’s a diamond-studded clover necklace—delicate, simple, but beautiful. Jo runs her fingers along the edge of the charm, feeling the smooth coolness of the metal. It’s perfect. On the back of the clover, the word steady is engraved, small but clear, and Jo’s stomach sinks just a little, the weight of the word—the weight of the gift—settling.

Paige watches her closely, her expression soft, as if she’s trying to gauge Jo’s reaction. “I know you get anxious before games,” she says gently, like she’s afraid Jo might somehow not like it. “I thought… maybe this could be your good luck charm. A reminder to stay steady.”

Jo’s heart hurts at the thought—how Paige knows her so well, knows the way her anxiety flares before a game, knows the way she holds herself together even when she’s not sure she’s capable of it. This feels like something more than just a gift. It feels like Paige sees her, understands her.

The knot in Jo’s throat tightens. “It’s perfect,” she says. And it is. More than she can put into words.

But at the same time, it stirs something in her, something she can’t quite control. The fact that Paige knows her this well, that she’s thought of something so specific and so meaningful—it makes Jo want her more, in a way that’s dangerous. The kind of wanting that burns slow, that builds over time, that’s impossible to ignore.

Paige smiles softly, and Jo’s heart skips a beat. “Help me put it on?” Jo asks, her voice a little shaky even though she tries for it to not be.

Paige doesn’t hesitate. She nods, and Jo turns slightly to the side, lifting her hair out of the way. She feels Paige’s fingers brush against the back of her neck as she secures the clasp, and the touch sends a shiver down her spine. Paige’s fingers linger there, just a moment longer than necessary, and Jo feels a heat settle in the pit of her stomach.

When she turns back to face Paige, she finds that the distance between them has closed just a little. Paige is closer now, her gaze intense, like she’s studying Jo with an almost unreadable expression. There’s something in her eyes—something that makes Jo’s pulse quicken, something that makes her wonder if Paige feels it too.

And then the blonde is shaking her head, the motion slow, like she’s trying to pull herself together, trying to sort through whatever’s going on in her head. “Okay,” Paige starts, and she sounds uncertain and shaky, so unlike herself, “I know you said that we don’t have to say anything—but I… I can’t not.”

Jo feels her eyes widen a little as she takes in the words. She looks at Paige, really looks at her—sees the vulnerability in her eyes, the way she’s holding back, the way Jo can see she’s biting the inside of her lip.

Paige swallows, her eyes not leaving Jo’s. “Because I liked it, Jo,” she says, her voice quiet but somehow steady. “I liked kissing you. And I was really glad that you kissed me. I—I don’t wanna just forget ’bout it.”

Jo feels her heart stop and stutter in her chest cavity. The words stab through her, consuming her like a virus. She’s still silent, still staring at Paige, trying to make sense of the words. I liked it. Her head spins at that, the sheer honesty of it.

“Really?” she manages to get out, her voice sounding strained, uncertain. She needs confirmation, needs to hear it again.

Paige nods, the motion slow but sure, her eyes still locked on Jo’s. “Really,” she repeats, and there’s something in the way she says it—like she’s laying herself bare for Jo, like she’s giving her this piece of her heart and hoping that Jo doesn’t crush it in the process.

For a moment, they just stare at one another, neither of them saying anything, neither of them moving. Jo feels the pull of Paige’s gaze, the way it tugs at her chest, her stomach, her being. It’s like they’re suspended in this moment, where everything is possible and yet nothing feels safe. She doesn’t know what to do with it—it’s so unfamiliar. Jo feels heat creeping up her neck, feels the way her palm have started sweating, but she can’t look away from Paige. She can’t stop herself from wanting this—whatever this is.

But then, her brain snaps into focus, a sharp reminder of everything they can’t do, everything that stands between them. “P, we… we can’t,” Jo says, her voice low, almost too quiet to hear. She feels her heart pounding in her chest as she says it, but she knows the words are necessary, knows she can’t just let this moment slip by without addressing the reality of the situation. “It’s not smart. We’re both dealing with our own emotional problems, and we’re teammates, and we’re roommates, and we—we can’t.”

The words feel like a sudden weight that’s fallen over the room. Jo’s stomach lurches as she watches Paige’s face fall slightly, the light dimming from her eyes for just a second before it flares back to life. It’s the look of someone who wants something—badly.

Paige shakes her head, her face resolute. “I know. I know that,” she says, sounding like she’s trying to convince herself. “We… we don’t gotta be anything more. We can just be… best friends who kiss?”

Jo feels a laugh bubble in her throat at the ridiculousness of the suggestion. But as she looks at Paige, she realizes that she’s not joking. She’s serious. She’s offering something—something that could make the ache in Jo’s chest go away, just for a moment, without any strings, any commitment, anything that could really ruin them.

“Is that the best idea?” Jo asks slowly.

Paige shrugs. “Prolly not,” she admits, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at her lips. But then her gaze sharpens a little, her expression becoming more focused. She leans forward just a fraction, her body language pulling Jo in, even as she tries her best to keep her distance. And then, quietly, Paige says, “But now that I know what it feels like, I just wanna do it again.”

Jo feels her lungs clench, her breath hitching slightly. Every inch of her body is screaming at her, telling her to pull away, to put some distance between them. But she can’t move. She can’t breathe. All she can do is watch Paige’s lips, watch the way she’s leaning closer, the way she’s asking without asking, the way she’s giving Jo a choice without giving her a choice at all.

Before Jo even realizes what she’s doing, she hears herself say, “Me, too.”

And just like that, Paige is kissing her again.

Jo’s brain short-circuits the moment it happens. It’s like she’s been set on fire, every nerve in her body lighting up at once. Paige is warm, solid, and everywhere—her hands gripping Jo’s shoulders, pulling her in, her lips moving against Jo’s with a kind of certainty that makes Jo feel dizzy. It doesn’t start hesitant like last night. This isn’t about testing the waters. It’s intentional—like Paige knows exactly what she wants, and she’s done pretending otherwise.

Jo lets her take the reins without even thinking about it. She likes the way Paige moves, the way she presses in closer, tilting her head just right to deepen the kiss further. Jo does her best to breathe properly as Paige shifts, her fingers skimming down Jo’s arms before settling on her waist, her grip firm but not forceful. The touch alone sends a shiver down Jo’s spine, makes her stomach flip in a way that should probably concern her but doesn’t, because all she can focus on is Paige—the way she smells like something clean and warm, the way she tastes like mint and something sweeter, something her.

Jo’s hands move on their own, sliding up the curve of Paige’s back, feeling the way her muscles tense and shift beneath her fingertips. It’s intoxicating. It’s too much and not enough all at once. She’s never felt like this before—like she could drown in a person and not even care. It wasn’t really like that with Asher.

The bed is suddenly shifting beneath them as Paige moves, pressing in closer, slotting herself more firmly against Jo’s body. Jo barely has time to register the shift before Paige’s hands are on her shoulders again, guiding her, pushing her gently until Jo’s back hits the mattress.

Jo inhales sharply at the change in position, a sharp thrill shooting through her chest as she feels the weight of Paige hovering over her. It’s dizzying, having Paige above her like this, her hands braced on either side of Jo’s head, her body caging Jo in but not in a way that feels trapping. No, it’s the opposite. It feels steadying, like Paige is something solid in the middle of all the chaos in Jo’s head.

Paige pulls back just slightly, just enough to look down at Jo, her breathing heavy, her lips pink and a little swollen. “This okay?” the blonde asks, her voice a little gravelly, a little breathless.

Jo can’t do anything but nod, can’t do anything but stare up at Paige and try to memorize the way she looks right now—hovering above her, hair falling into her face, lips parted like she’s barely holding herself back.

Paige makes a soft sound—relived, maybe, or just impatient—and then she’s kissing Jo again, pressing her back into the bed. And then she’s slotting a knee between Jo’s thighs, pressing down—not too much, not enough, but also just enough that Jo feels it everywhere. A slow-burning heat unfurls in her stomach, her breath stuttering against Paige’s lips.

Paige deepens the kiss more, her tongue sweeping against Jo’s in a way that makes her whole body tighten. Jo’s hands grip at Paige’s t-shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric like she needs something to hold onto. Paige’s hands skim up Jo’s sides, light and teasing at first, the touch barely there. Jo kisses her harder, leaning into the way Paige’s fingertips trace just beneath the hem of her sweatshirt, like she’s seeing just how much she can get away with.

It’s then that her hands slip beneath Jo’s sweatshirt, palms pressing flat against her ribs, and Jo nearly gasps into her mouth. It’s striking, the contrast of Paige’s warm hands against the cool skin of her stomach, the feeling of Paige touching her like this, in a different way than ever before.

Jo sucks Paige’s tongue in her mouth, their teeth clashing just a little, making Paige groan. Paige’s hands reach up further—and then they’re cupping Jo’s tits.

It’s not careful, the way she does it. Not uncertain. Not hesitant in the way it might be with most people. No, it’s instinctive. It’s like Paige didn’t even think about it, like she just needed to do it, like it was inevitable. Jo stills, her breath stalling in her throat, because this is just a little more than “best friends who kiss.”

Paige must realize it too, because she also freezes Her breath fans warm against Jo’s lips, her forehead pressing against hers, both of them unmoving now. Paige’s hands are still beneath Jo’s sweatshirt, still there, and neither of them are saying anything, neither of them are pulling away.

Jo’s chest rises and falls with deep, uneven breaths. She can’t think straight, can’t form a single coherent thought beyond the way Paige feels against her, the way Paige’s hands feel on her.

Paige exhales, slow and a little shaky, murmuring, “We should probably stop, yeah?”

Jo’s head spins, her body still thrumming. But she nods, because she has to, even though every single nerve in her body wants to just keep going. “Yeah,” she breaths out. “Um. Yeah, we should.”

Paige stays still for another second, like she doesn’t want to move, like she’s debating whether she even can. But then she finally pulls her hands away, rolling off of Jo, onto her back beside her. Suddenly, Jo feels cold. Feels the absence of her immediately. But before she can even process that loss, Paige is tugging her right back in, wrapping a firm arm around her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies are flush together again.

Jo lets her. This is familiar territory. She turns into Paige, burying her face into her neck, gripping at the hem of her t-shirt. She feels Paige’s lips in her hair and Jo sighs, melting into her further.

This is fine. This is good. This is normal. And maybe it’s none of that, maybe it’s entirely new and bad. But Jo can’t find it in herself to care. Because being here, like this—she could get used to it.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 16

Hi! Ch 17 is done and will refocus back on Batsis 🙃idk when ch 18 will be done because I feel like I'll rewrite a lot of it over and over again until I either like it or get tired of it :))) so, ENJOY!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 16 >>next(TBC)

Jason was the first to walk into your room. Not like he hasn’t memorized every little detail. He enjoyed sneaking in to look at your drawings, seeing what he had missed while he was dead, the trinkets you had. Unlike the others who were afraid to touch stuff, to even look around, he walked around like he owned the place. And then his foot fully broke through the already brittle floorboard you broke.

The crime lord pulled his foot out, cussing and swatting away at Bruce’s worried words and helping hand. “Huh.” Jason furrowed his brows, crouching and pulling out two shoe boxes and a few dusty drawings. “Never saw these.” He said while sitting down with one box, the drawings were quickly snatched by Damian and the other box was opened by Duke, everyone taking a journal from it.

Jason’s box was full of sketchbooks and newspaper clippings of her achievements. These sketchbooks seemed to be focused on the family and their bat counterparts. He snorts at a drawing of a Robin where you wrote “Booty shorts are a terrible choice for fighting crime” immediately showing it to Dick. “That’s your robin.” The acrobat mutters, pouting. “What?!” Jason pulls the sketchbook back to squint at it. “Nuh-uh! And even if it was, it’s still your fault! I was trying to imitate and impress you.”

Dick in any other situation would have teased him for the slip, but he couldn’t. He remembers how angry he was at being essentially fired and replaced, not for being unable to continue, but because Bruce felt guilt at how close Dick was to death. And then Jason came, and then he died. Dick remembers how mean he was to both Jason and you, just because he was afraid. Afraid of getting attached, afraid of letting someone in just for them to end up like his parents, and afraid of being replaced and brushed off.

But that’s what he did to you. He and Jason learned to get along, but to you, he was still distant, he brushed you off despite how he was afraid of that happening to him. He remembers always glancing over his shoulder at you after finding an excuse to not interact with you and how it always hurt seeing how sad and defeated you looked, how one day you just stopped even acknowledging him unless he talked to you.

The journals didn’t help his guilt. “I always wanted a big brother. Richard doesn’t seem to like me, but he has started getting along with Jason. I think it’s because I’m a girl and Jason is into gymnastics like him. Maybe he'll spare me some glances if I show interest in that too.” Ignoring how many times you misspelled gymnastics, his fingers traced the words a few rows below simply stating that he refused and yelled at you for getting in the way.

Stephanie and Duke were raking the little books for a mention of them besides “Bruce took in another kid.” They both felt guilty for not trying to get to know you, but while Duke was fixated on him being older and knowing he should have tried, Stephanie thought it was weird how you didn’t come to either. You were still a kid, still young, still curious- so why didn’t you go out of your way to greet them to get to know them, even Damian asked them questions. “Stephanie and Duke do seem nice, friendly. But so did the others. It’ll be another rejection.” Oh- you had given up trying to fit in their lives by then.

Cassandra felt a lot of emotions, sadness mainly. She didn’t mean to come off as rude and mean, like she didn’t care because she did. She cared. She still does- it’s just the anxiety you displayed, the sadness that slipped through- she didn’t know how to deal with it, it was overwhelming to her, so she ran, hid, and watched you from the shadows. Cassandra loved watching you paint and take care of the garden, it was her favorite activity. She handed the diary she finished to Bruce. She has many regrets, but this one she’ll fight to fix.

Barbara and Tim didn’t want to read what you had to say about them, they knew. So, they stuck to Alfred to see the many trophies you had. They brushed you off, brushed off anything you tried to do to impress them, Tim going the extra mile by belittling you. Barbara wasn’t present much, she wasn’t Bruce’s kid. But Tim, like the other, was. He saw how heartbroken you were when they’d have family nights and nobody bothered inviting you, how after Cassandra came and they welcomed her with open arms you just stopped bothering, ignoring everyone, doing your own thing. He didn’t say anything, didn’t fight for you, he saw everyone ignore and brush you off, so he did the same, finding you annoying for no other reason than you simply existed. You existed and were the only person he could be mean with without anyone saying anything. The only person he could express his anger on. Tim cringed at the memories. You were just a child.

Alfred knew he mostly gave you attention out of pity rather than a pure need to take care of a kid who needed reassurance and love. His loyalty and care stood with Bruce, first and foremost- and yet it hurt to see himself through your eyes. Cold, only doing his job, just another shadow, were some of the words you used. He couldn’t read more, it reminded him too much of the words he used to refer to his own father once upon a time, so he carried on with cleaning. His hands shook as he wiped medals, trophies, shelves, dusty paintings, anything he could.

“Why are the science and sports medals hidden behind the others? They’re still first place.”  Tim couldn’t help but mutter out loud. “She didn’t do those because she liked or wanted to. She won those to impress us, specifically, you two.” Jason muttered as his eyes skimmed through the diary in his hand, skipping things about him. He changed, he isn’t running after Dick anymore, there’s no need for him to read what he knows he messed up. You already told him, anyway.

Damian is honestly happy you left before he came to the manor. Seeing the drawing for more than just lines, the subtle way you drew hints that the family were barely strangers to you, always in their shadows, their back always turned to you, their faces always devoid of features, just blank voids- he knew what you were trying to depict, he saw the anger and sadness and despair in every stroke. To him, these were as good as words written in your diaries. He is happy because he didn’t want to see how you would have drawn him, what kind of feeling you’d attribute to him because he knew he wouldn’t have been kind. Damian would have seen you as a threat, an obstacle to his place as the rightful heir. He would have been mean, throwing insults, he would have tried to kill you. He also knows better now, they have lost their chance, he was sure of it, but not him.

Bruce had been clutching the same journal for a while, his eyes unable to leave the little throwaway comment in a long paragraph. “Officer Gordon lied to me. He lied when he said Bruce Wayne is my father, he lied when he said Bruce would love me.” He’s been afraid to see more, but what else could he do? He wasn’t stupid. Emotionally constipated, sure, but he knew his indifference and coldness hurt you, especially at a time when he knew all you needed was warmth and hugs, but he was so scared of the whispers in the back of his head. He was sure keeping his distance would have kept you safer than him being close to you.

His eyes continued reading, and reading, and reading, until he couldn’t anymore, the tears making everything too blurry for him to make out. The younger you blamed herself, deemed herself inadequate for his love and attention, but as you grew you realized that you’re not to blame, you were the child, and he was the adult. “He’s supposed to be my dad but he doesn’t even act like my legal guardian. If it wasn’t for him being a public figure, I would have forgotten how he looks.” And “He publicly recognized everyone else. Everyone but me. Is he so ashamed of me that he just wants me to rot locked away in this hell he calls home?” just kept flashing in his mind as he buried his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. He was relieved that he didn’t remember how you sounded... He just cries harder at the traitorous thought.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“-and you know, getting used to the dorms and all of that.” Mark shrugs. Before you could tell Debbie about your day, you covered your mouth, sneezing into your elbow. “Bless you.” Debbie and Mark said after your third sneeze in a row. “Thank you. That was weird.” You hummed while sending Jason a text to stop talking about you. Lately, superstitions have grabbed a hold of you. “Um, anyway- I spent my day like usual, helping around, uh, spent quite a long time at the altar meditating- John taught me how to summon stuff.”

Your smile matched Debbie’s once she complimented you for doing so much in one day, chest puffing at her attention. Your eyes went back to your phone only when the conversation changed, being met with two photos, one of Bruce curled on your bed, clutching one of your plushies to his chest while reading and crying, the second was of Dick in a similar state, but on the ground clutching at your drawing and paintings. “Couldn’t catch the others.” Jay texted after. You cringed and swiped your thumb to text back. “Fuck that’s pathetic. Weirdos. Tell Bruce to stop touching my plushies.”

Your brows furrowed, your other hand immediately zooming in on the picture of the man. “That mother- mmm.” You stopped before you could cuss, texting the crime lord again. “And stop reading my shit! They’re supposed to be private!!!” Jason didn’t respond back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Damian’s eyes tracked over every single letter his mother wrote, memorizing every word, every phrase, skipping over her displeasure with how his father had treated you, over her questions on how the man had been treating him.

From how effortlessly his mother deemed that his sister had moved cars, buildings, and people, to how Talia had called her a lovely young woman but starved for praise and love, mentions of her lip trembling at the genuine compliment Talia had given to how willing his sister was to help with even mundane stuff such as carrying bags for the elderly- he took it all in.  

He memorized everything and then let the letters about the few days Talia had observed you go through the flame of the little candle he had lit, the fire slowly eating the paper as he set it in a tray. His eyes moved to the papers branded with Gotham High’s emblem. Damian doesn’t need the letters, not when he’ll crawl his way into your life soon enough.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676

[niwaart]

SEE WHAT I CAN DO

<PART1> <PART2>

Y/N finds out that the spoiled rich boy is Batman, and not only that, his new partner is Richard... She's been home for two months and Richard for a month, so why is Richard becoming so close to the rich boy? At first he was mad at her and her father, and now they're like family? She suspected it for a week, and now she finds out why, Batman and Robin... Another reason to hate the spoiled boy and his adopted son. Ever since she found out this secret, her hostility towards the spoiled boy and his adopted son has become stronger and stronger.

Her fights with Richard were continuous, she didn't yell at him or start any fights, but he was the one who created the problems which Y/N ​​ended either by hitting him or threatening to burn their things which made him silent and afraid until he found a new problem to create, and worse? Her father, the spoiled boy, stands by his adopted son instead of his own blood daughter, but it's okay, she's not as easy as her father thinks, during Richard and Y/N's fight, Richard was the one who started the problem by saying that he doesn't like her to be in the same room as him, Y/N ignored him, after all empty talk doesn't do anything and can't affect anything, but Richard couldn't stand her silence so he took her headphones from her and broke them... Richard came to his senses after breaking Y/N's headphones and wanted to apologize but it was too late because Y/N didn't hesitate to take Richard's stuffed animal and throw it in the fireplace to burn, Richard screamed in horror and tried to pull his stuffed animal out of the fire, tears were streaming down his face while Y/N looked at him coldly. It was the perfect time for Bruce to enter, all Bruce saw was Richard rushing to his doll, he leaned down next to Richard and asked him what happened while wiping Richard's tears. "Y/N threw the only gift I have from my father into the fire!" Bruce was shocked and turned towards Y/N angrily while Y/N was collecting the scattered pieces from her headphones "Why did you do that?!" Bruce stood up and approached her, Y/N did not show the slightest horror or fear from him, on the contrary she looked at him angrily. Her silence was a signal for Bruce to slap her... Richard trembled from the loud sound of the slap, while Alfred rushed into the room... Bruce felt a moment of regret for hitting her, as he watched Y/N's tears.

Y/N turned and ran... not to her room, but to the Batcave, Bruce saw that she didn't go upstairs so he followed her and was surprised that she was inside the cave, he and Alfred quickly ran and what he didn't expect was that Y/N would destroy his things, starting with the computer whose screen was broken and Y/N who was breaking the keyboard, Bruce tried to grab her and stop her but he failed as Y/N quickly ran away from him and grabbed a small bomb which she activated and threw at the place where Batman and Robin's suits were, Bruce shouted "No! Stop!!" Y/N felt a burning sensation from the blow on her cheek, so she wouldn't stop until the pain stopped. The bomb exploded and Robin's suit was completely burned while Batman's suit was damaged and half burned. Bruce quickly grabbed Y/N and shouted at her angrily as Y/N looked at her work in the place with a smile and tears staining her cheeks. Alfred ordered Bruce to be quiet as he led Y/N out of the cave, Richard was standing at the entrance of the cave looking in horror at the destruction inside the cave and to Y/N, he swore that night that he would never come near her again or try to cause trouble for her again.

After that night, the atmosphere in the house was worse than before, Richard was avoiding Y/N and keeping a distance between them, Bruce couldn't look Y/N in the eyes who was still staring at Bruce coldly and with anger now, and Alfred who always tried to lighten the mood. The situation continued like this even after Richard and Y/N turned 19, where a huge fight happened between Richard and Bruce, after which Richard decided to move out of the house, less than a month later Bruce adopted another child, Jason Todd, Alfred asked Y/N to welcome him, but her trust towards the people of Gotham was zero percent now, he didn't bother her but he was intrusive on her in the smallest things.  He annoyed her by asking her what this is, how this is, why this is... but he was better than Richard to her, he called her big sister which surprised her, so she accepted him a little... but he is still Robin, who helps Batman, her damn father... Y/N turned to look at Jason who was sitting with her reading a book, maybe Y/N was spoiling him a little, he asked her if it was okay if he read her book, Y/N didn't mind so she gave him the book, but she didn't expect him to take the book and sit next to her like an obedient child... Jason was much thinner and smaller than her, she couldn't stop herself from giving him candy... yes she spoiled him a lot.

It was a normal day, Y/N was sitting in the park under a tree next to Jason who was holding one of her books, Jason looked nervous, he would glance at her from time to time, Y/N noticed his strange behavior so she pushed her shoulder towards him while looking at him curiously, Jason opened his mouth but closed it then opened it again... "Y/N... Can I ask you a question?" Jason looked at her expectantly, Y/N nodded yes, Jason continued "You can't... Can't you talk?... I asked Alfred and he said he didn't know if you could talk or not, so I was just wondering if you were mute, and I don't mean anything bad I promise! I was just curious-"

Y/N looked at Jason with a small smile."Who said I was mute? I'm not."

Jason jumped up in surprise and looked at Y/N and grinned widely. “You can talk!” Jason looked at Y/N like a little puppy wagging its tail excitedly. Y/N nodded her head as she petted his head, something she was used to doing now. Jason hugged her tightly “I’m happy, can you talk to me more?” Jason looked at Y/N with puppy eyes which made Y/N hesitate to turn him down “Um… okay, but only when we’re alone, okay?” Jason nodded towards Y/N vigorously “Yes! Yes! Only when we’re alone!” Y/N laughed at Jason’s excitement as Jason smiled proudly for making his sister laugh..

Y/N never expected to wake up one day and find that her little brother is dead... She was standing in the rain while Alfred held her umbrella and Bruce sat on the ground in front of Jason's grave, muttering apologies and blaming himself... Y/N couldn't hold herself back from screaming at him. "Yes, cry you son of a bitch, this all happened because of you!" Alfred and Bruce were surprised. It was the first time in over 5 years that Y/N spoke. Bruce was about to reply but Y/N didn't finish yet. "Shut up!! You're the one who caused his death!! You're bringing nothing but trouble with you!! So crying and apologizing for your sins doesn't do anything!! And you call yourself the protector of the city when you can't protect your assistant!!! You fucking lying useless son of a bitch!!" Y/N pushed Alfred behind her and headed to the mansion while leaving Alfred behind with Bruce who was in shock, Y/N wiped her tears as she headed to her room, she would never forgive that bastard, her mother died first, and now her little brother, she would definitely ruin his life now.

@crazycaoticsimp

[orcasoul]

Marcus Acacius Headcanons:

Marcus Is Overprotective When You Go Into Labour

Warnings: swearing, graphic description of childbirth, blood, complications.

Word Count: 2, 027

"That's right, just breathe through it, My Lady," one of the midwives whispers into your ear as you are gripped by yet another contraction, fingers digging into her shoulders and forehead resting on her chest while you are practically doubled over. "This is impossible!" you grit through clenched teeth as you ride out the crippling wave. "It's what our bodies are made for, My Lady." You press your hands into your lower back as you begin to pace the room slowly. "Where is Marcus? He should be here by now."

"He'll be here any moment, I'm sure. Why don't we get you into bed?" the midwife suggests. "No. I'm not having this baby without him." "I'm afraid it's not up to you, My Lady. Baby will come when it's ready." You walk to the balcony doors, searching for any sign of your husband, tears building in frustration. "I can't do this without him," you cry before another contraction clenches your stomach. It's much stronger this time and it steals the breath from your lungs. From out of nowhere the sound of hoofs echo through the courtyard and if you hadn't already been crying, you would have now, in relief as you see Marcus jump down form his horse before the animal has even stopped.

Suddenly, your feet feel warm and wet and you look down to see a puddle surrounding you. "Oh god, my waters have broken!" "We have to move you to the bed now," another midwife says and they both take a hand each to walk you over. The door bursts open and Marcus rushes to over to you, breathless and wide eyed. The midwives let go of your hands and Marcus holds you steady by your upper arms. "Marcus!" you gasp, clutching the sleeves of his tunic. "My love, I came as fast as I could," he says through heavy breathes. He turns to the midwives. "How is she?" "The labour is progressing well, General," a midwife answers.

"Arrrgh...!" you wail, collapsing into Marcus' strong arms. "It's okay," he soothes. "Let's get you into bed." Marcus helps you onto the bed, laying you back against the propped up pillows. He leans down to kiss your forehead despite the sheen of sweat coating it. "Marcus, it hurts!" you grip his hand, squeezing tight. He holds your hand in both of his, wishing there was more he could do for you. He's never felt so useless. "I know..." his voice cracks at the sight of your distress. "But you're strong and you can do this, I believe in you." The midwives are now either side of you, one of them setting down towels on the bed.

The other turns to Marcus. "General, would you wait outside please? We must examine your wife-" "No! I want you to stay, Please!" you plead frantically, not letting go of Marcus' hand. "My Lady, we must examine you privately-" "I'm not leaving her!" Marcus interrupted, sharply. "But sir, it wouldn't be appropriate for you to remain for-" "I don't give a fuck for propriety! I'm not leaving this room! She needs me." The midwife nods her head in respect, "Yes, Sir." They do their checks and you're surprised when they tell you it's already time to start pushing.

Three hours later and you're still pushing. Wave after wave of pure agony rips through your abdomen as you bare down with all your might. Marcus has slid behind you, his legs on either side of you while he supports your weight against his body. One hand is taking the brunt of your pain while the other dabs at your forehead with a damp cloth. "I don't think I can do it anymore," you say, sluggishly, head lolling on Marcus' shoulder as the latest contraction eases. "Yes you can. You're more than capable, darling. You're doing so well," Marcus encourages you. The midwives have now been joined by a Medicus. Marcus had insisted on summoning a Medicus after two hours of slow progress. Better safe than sorry. Your back arches against Marcus and you scream. The contractions are now only a minute apart.

"Isn't there something you can do to help the baby along?!" Marcus asked the Medicus, trying but failing to keep his frustration hidden. "She's been at this for hours." "We're doing everything we can, Sir," the Medicus reassured. "Is it normal to take this long? She's exhausted." The Medicus sighed, "Everything's fine, General. It's perfectly normal for this stage to take a few hours or more." Marcus knew he was being overbearing, but he doesn't care. All that matters to him is the well being of you and his child. So used to being in control is he (wether it's on duty or at home) that having to rely on someone else leaves his nerves feeling frazzled.

He's always been a rock for you; always been able to make anything better and now for the first time, he's completely helpless. A sob so desperate breaks from you that Marcus can literally feel his heart crack in two. He brings one hand up to cup your cheek, wiping away the tears with his thumb. "It's okay, my love, I'm here," his voice shudders as his eyes fill with tears. "You're strong. You've got the heart of a warrior, you know that? Just think, when it's all over you'll get to hold our precious child safe in your arms. Just a little longer, my sweet. You've got this." "Marcus, I ca- arrrgh!" Marcus' body instinctually tenses along with yours, as if the action could somehow impart some of his own strength into you.

"My Lady, you must stop pushing!" a midwife suddenly instructed. Marcus' head snapped to the midwife. "Why?" "What's wrong?!" you both said at the same time. A moment of silence passed as the midwife leaned in closer to examine you, but to Marcus it felt like an eternity. "Tell me what's wrong!" he commanded, his patience wearing thin. "The baby's breach. Everything will be alright, but on the next contraction you'll have to push harder, My Lady." Marcus shuffled behind you, tightening his hold on you. "You can do this-" "I can't do-!" you cry in desperation but it's cut off by another need to push. "That's it, that's it. It's coming. keep pushing..." the midwife cheers you on. "The body is out!" she smiles widely as you collapse back against Marcus.

He can feel the heat from your flushed cheeks against his neck, your breaths ragged against his skin. He turns to press a kiss to your forehead, stroking your sweat slicked hair from your face. "Okay, one last big push and your little one will be here," the midwife excitedly exclaims. Without another word you tuck your chin into your chest and give it everything you've got. "That's it, you're doing it. It's almost over," Marcus praises you as you give one last scream. Then the most beautiful and anticipated shriek fills the room as the new life makes itself known. "It's a girl! Congratulatios, My Lady, General." The midwife holds the baby up and Marcus takes in the sight of his impossibly tiny and beautiful daughter. Her scrunched up little face framed with dark little curls makes his heart skip a beat.

He watches in awe as she is placed on your chest, your sobs of pain now replaced with tears of joy as your hands gently stroke her body, whispering how much you love her already. Marcus cups the back of her head, feeling her delicate warmth. "You did it, my strong, fearless wife!" he coos into your ear, unashamedly crying along with you. He couldn't be more proud of you; more in love with you than he is in this moment. But this bubble of joy is suddenly burst when your arms and head drop at the same time, your body going limp. Marcus looks frantically between the Medicus and midwives. "What's happening? What's wrong with her?!" The Medicus quickly places a towel under your legs. "She's losing too much blood." One of the midwives takes the baby off your chest, telling Marcus to move while the others lay you down.

Marcus hovers near the Medicus as the man and the other midwife jump into action, his heart in his throat. "Help her! Please, you have to stop the blood!" He can see they're doing all they can but as he watches, horror-stricken he just can't stop himself. "Do something!" he yelled in despair. "General, you must wait outside," the midwife holding his daughter steps in front of him. "I'm not leaving her!" "You must!" she now speaks more forcefully. "I know you're worried but you have to let them do their job if they are to save her. You must give them space." Marcus looks at her, a panicked haze clouding his mind. "And your daughter needs you, now." Those words alone brought Marcus back to clarity.

He takes his baby into his arms, the midwife wrapping a blanket around her and despite his every molecule screaming at him to go to your side, he leaves the room. He paces the hallway outside the door, whispering comforting words to his daughter as her eyes, your eyes, stare up at him. "Your mothers' a fighter, just like you, my angel. She'll be fine... Please," he prays the last word, hoping the gods will take compassion on you. A little while later the door opens and Marcus freezes when the Medicus walks towards him saturated in blood. His breath catches in his lungs, sharp and painful. No, please no! "She's stable, Sir," the Medicus informs him. Marcus' shoulders sag, the tension flowing from his taut frame.

"She lost a lot of blood and will be very weak for a while. She'll need plenty of bed rest for at least the next several days." "Thank you!" Marcus breathes out in utter relief. "Thank you for saving her. Can I see her now?" "Of course." The Medicus leads Marcus back into the room, where the midwives are tucking the quilt over you. "We'll give you a minute," a midwife says and they leave the room, closing the door behind them. Marcus pulls up a Curule (chair) next the bed and sits down with the baby snug and asleep against his chest. He gently takes your hand in his, the contact causing your eyes to flutter open. You smile wearily, squeezing his hand.

"Hi, darling..." his brows knit together in a sympathetic frown. "You scared me so badly back there. I thought we were going to lose you." "I'm... sorry," you mumble, voice strained from hours of screaming. "No, you've nothing to apologise for," Marcus kissed the back of your hand. "You did an amazing job." Your gaze falls to the baby. "Is she okay?" Marcus smiles, looking down at her in adoration. "She's perfect, just like her mother." "I need to hold her. I need to feel her, please," you say, almost in tears. "Okay, don't move. I'll bring her to you." Marcus carefully lays her down on your chest and his heart feels ready to burst at the sight of you both. Nothing in his life could have prepared him for this moment; the moment his life became whole.

"We're a family," he whispers, voice strained with trying to hold back a wave of emotions. You begin to cry again but this time Marcus isn't worried. The look of pure joy shining in your eyes is an image he'll always remember. "I love you," he whispers, voice filled with conviction. "I love you, too," you pause and look to your daughter then back to marcus with a beaming smile, "We love you." Marcus leans over to kiss both you and the baby. He truly is blessed by the gods. He has achieved so much in his years; wealth, respect, glory. But it means absolutely nothing compared to what he has now. Until today he didn't realise that this is what he was made for; to love, cherish and protect his family, and he'll do just that until his dying day.

[elleandstufff]

Only the Best for Our Girl ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Despite many setbacks, your two boyfriends want to make sure you have an amazing birthday <3

Thanos/Choi Su-bong x fem!reader x Nam-gyu 

Requested by @heartlivv !! Hope you had a happy birthday <3

Warnings: Stressful at first but then very fluffy, birthday surprises, Team Thanos cameo because I love them all, honestly just super cute stuff! <3 2k words

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

You groan as your phone alarm blares in your ears. You sit up and pull your phone from underneath your pillow to shut it up. It’s dark in your bedroom, but you still can see that neither of your boyfriends stir at your sides. The two of them were out late at the club–Nam-gyu working and Su-bong performing. You unfortunately couldn’t go because you had to be up so early for work. 

You scroll through your phone for a minute to wake yourself up. You already have a couple of birthday messages from distant great aunts and a random classmate you haven’t spoken to in years. You nearly groan. Your birthday. You haven’t exactly been dreading the day, but you haven’t been looking forward to it either. Last year you were sick on your birthday, and your festivities had to be cancelled. This year, you have to work on your birthday and you have no plans. 

You decide to stop wallowing and get up. You climb over Su-bong like you usually do, since he’s the heaviest sleeper out of the two of them. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t stir. 

You get yourself ready and to work on time. You spend the whole day working your ass off. Today conveniently ends up being twice as busy and stressful as usual. None of your coworkers realize that it’s your birthday either. It’s not like you want them to kiss your ass all day, but it would be nice if someone would at least acknowledge it. All employee birthdays are posted on the bulletin in the break room. You always told everyone else happy birthday, brought them little gifts even. You would just appreciate it if someone could tell you happy birthday, or at the very least not throw on responsibilities that aren’t even a part of your job. 

The thing that’s bothering you the most is the lack of texts from your boyfriends. Birthday texts started trickling in from your friends as they woke up. But your boyfriends didn’t text you once. Usually the three of you texted as much as possible throughout the day in your group chat. It’s a busy day, but you check your phone every break you get only for it to be void of messages from the two most important people in your life. After lunch you start to worry. They wouldn’t forget, right?

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ 

Meanwhile, at your apartment, Nam-gyu shoots awake. He grabs his phone from the bedside table and sees the time. It’s way later than they were supposed to be getting up. He stumbles out of bed and rips the curtains open. The infiltration of light nearly blinds him, but does nothing to wake Su-bong. He sighs and shakes Su-bong awake. The ordeal takes several minutes until he sits up with a groan and reaches for his vape. 

Nam-gyu looks at him with wide eyes while Su-bong looks at him confused. He suddenly realizes and nearly chokes on his vape. 

“Shit, it’s our girl’s birthday and we slept in,” he says while coughing and swatting away the flavored vapor swirling around in front of his face. “I knew I should’ve cancelled that performance last night.” 

“Her birthday sucked last year, and we already fucked up this year,” Nam-gyu says. 

“Dude, we are not giving up!”

Nam-gyu looks down sadly. “There’s no way we would get it all done before she gets home.” 

Su-bong leaps out of the bed, his leg tangled in the sheet. He catches himself before he hits the ground, looking back at Nam-gyu with a goofy grin on his face. “You coming or what?” 

Nam-gyu follows after him, shaking his head. He had put together most of the plans and they were a lot. How the hell were they going to pull this off? 

Nam-gyu pulls the to-do list up on his phone and shows it to Su-bong. His eyes widen when he sees everything on it. “Shit. Where do we even start?”

“You go buy a cake, candles, and balloons. I’ll stop at the store on the corner and buy drinks and snacks. Then, I’ll come back and wrap all her presents.” 

Su-bong nods cartoonishly, before starting toward the bedroom to get presentable to the outside world. He stops halfway there and swivels to face Nam-gyu again. “Wait, what kind of balloons? And how many?” 

“Any, and a shit ton.” 

Nam-gyu starts getting himself ready as fast as he can. Su-bong probably isn’t the best person to send to get all this stuff, but they can’t be picky right now. 

He runs to the corner store to pick up a ton of sugary drinks, snacks, and ice cream. Back home, he almost forgets to put the ice cream in the fridge, but he remembers at the last second right before it melts. He pulls the pile of hidden presents from the closet. There’s so many that he has to make two trips to drag them all to the living room. They might have gone a little overboard with the presents this year. Actually, Su-bong had been the one that had bought you most of the presents. It was a lot, but they wanted your birthday to be special this year. 

Nam-gyu pulls out the wrapping paper that you had bought and used for both of their birthdays. He had meant to buy more, but the thought completely slipped his mind. He terribly wraps the first few presents before the wrapping paper runs out. He frantically grabs his phone to call Su-bong, but he hears buzzing. Su-bong’s phone is still sitting on the kitchen counter. Nam-gyu turns to the stack of newspapers and mail the three of you had been meaning to go through for weeks. Yeah, that could work. 

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ 

Su-bong hurriedly walks into the third store of the day. Apparently, balloons were harder to find than he expected. He didn’t know the first thing about shopping. You usually did most of the shopping. If he needed something he would order it online. Now he didn’t have that option, nor did he have his phone to look up what stores sold balloons. 

He rounds the corner to find a wall full of balloons. He sighs in relief, but there’s so many options. Nam-gyu said it didn’t matter, so he grabs as many packages of purple balloons as he can. Next, he heads to a bakery and picks out a cake that he thinks you’ll like. He has the baker write happy birthday in swirly purple letters. He smirks to himself as he heads home. The balloons and the cake match. He’s not so bad at this afterall. 

Back at home, he finds Nam-gyu folding newspapers and torn-out magazine pages around your presents. “We ran out of wrapping paper and you left your phone so I couldn’t tell you to buy more.”

Su-bong dramatically taps his fingers against his chin in fake thought. “Hmm… That’s a really weird way to say thank you, Su-bong, for driving to three different balloon stores and a bakery in record timing.” 

Nam-gyu gives a slight smile. “It was pretty fast…” 

Su-bong starts blowing up the balloons and fastening them to the wall like the picture Nam-gyu showed him. Nam-gyu finally finishes with the presents and moves on to setting out all the snacks and drinks. Su-bong hurries as he blows up the balloons. After what feels like a ton of balloons, he looks up only to realize that the balloons he’s already done barely cover the corner. He didn’t realize blowing up balloons was this hard. 

He keeps blowing up the balloons, not even stopping when he hears a knock at the door. Nam-gyu swings the door open to reveal Se-mi, Min-su, and Gyeong-su. Nam-gyu greets them, while Su-bong absentmindedly mutters a hello. 

“Hello to you too, Thanos,” Se-mi chides. “What’s got the two of you freaked out?” 

“She’s going to be home in like an hour, and Su-bong is not even halfway through with the balloon wall,” Nam-gyu says, while Su-bong blows up another balloon until his face nearly goes blue. 

“Well, whose idea was it to have the guy who sleeps with a vape in his hand to blow up a hundred balloons?” 

Nam-gyu and Su-bong look between each other. She’s got a point. 

Se-mi gets to the floor to start blowing up balloons. She ushers Min-su and Gyeong-su over who had already started eating the snacks. Between the four of them, they’re able to get the wall filled up with shiny purple balloons merely minutes before you’re expected home. 

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ 

Your work day finally ends. With a sigh, you head out. You still never received a single text from either of your boyfriends. They must’ve forgotten. 

You feel utterly exhausted, so you stop to get a coffee. Hopefully with the caffeine you can stay up and at least do something with Su-bong and Nam-gyu, but it’s going to be an awkward conversation when you get home. 

You drink most of the coffee on the way home. When you get to the front steps of your apartment, you nearly trip and what’s left of your coffee falls to the concrete. Could this day get any worse? 

You unlock the door to find the house completely dark and quiet. They’re seriously not even home? 

You flip the switch on to see a wall full of balloons. Confused, you step inside. 

“Surprise!” Your boyfriends and best friends all jump out from various hiding places. 

Your hands fly up to cover your face in shock. Su-bong and Nam-gyu run at you with giddy smiles to envelope you in a giant hug. You can’t help the giant smile on your face as they kiss both of your cheeks. “I thought you guys forgot!” 

“Pssh! What? We would never forget!” Nam-gyu says. 

“Yeah, we would just accidentally sleep in and spend the day frantically getting things ready on time!” Su-bong says, and Nam-gyu discreetly elbows him. 

“So that’s why you haven’t texted me all day.” The realization dawns on you. 

Next, you turn to Se-mi, Min-su, and Gyeong-su to thank them for coming. “Your dorks can be pretty cool when they try to be,” Se-mi jokes while you hug her. 

The six of you spend a couple hours playing party games on the TV and eating a week’s worth of snacks. After a while, you move on to open the mountain of presents in the corner. “You can start with this one!” Gyeong-su hands you a nicely wrapped present. 

“That one is from the three of us,” Se-mi says, then whispers, “But actually it’s from me.” 

You thank the three of them even though it is obvious Se-mi picked the gift out and wrapped it. You move on to the other presents. A few of them are wrapped in actual wrapping paper. The rest are wrapped in crumpled newspaper or magazine pages. All of them are poorly wrapped with huge chunks of tape everywhere. 

“We ran out of wrapping paper…” Nam-gyu sheepishly mutters, but you think it’s sweet that he still went through the effort of wrapping them all. 

As you open the presents, you realize that these are all things you had wanted throughout the year. Some of the items you had seen online nearly a year ago. 

“Everytime this year that you said you liked something, I wrote it down in my phone. I wanted to make sure you got everything you wanted…” Su-bong says, and the room breaks into awwws. 

Once you get through all the presents, Nam-gyu pulls out the birthday cake and ice cream. “Candles?” he says to Su-bong with his hand outstretched. 

“Fuck…” Su-bong’s face drops as he realizes. “I forgot them. But, I have a cigarette we can use!”

He digs around in his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He sticks it in the cake and lights it as they sing happy birthday to you. When they finish with the song, you “blow” the cigarette out then snuff it out in the nearby ashtray. 

You sit around the table eating your cake and thinking about how lucky you are. 

Your boyfriends notice your quietness as the rest of your friends bicker over something. They each take one of your hands in theirs. “You okay?” Nam-gyu asks.

“Yes,” you answer. “I’m just really thankful for all this.” 

“Only the best for our girl,” Su-bong says.

“Only the best,” Nam-gyu repeats.

˗ˏˋ Masterlist ˎˊ˗

[solanova]

i think about it

inspired by (i think about it all the time)

!365partygirl reader

warnings!

kinda toxic rafe, mentions of iud’s and birth control, cursing, c0ke and alcohol mentions

You sit in one of your friend's living room. He had gotten her pregnant over a year ago, and you were obviously by her side because you couldn’t fuck her over during pregnancy. After the first few weeks(wanting to give them time) finally meet their baby. She’s now a radiant mother and he’s a beautiful father, maybe you wanted a child. Rafe probably wouldn’t one probably.

Either way, they couldn’t, they’d have to be sober first.

You smile as you hold him, though he does hit at your chest making you laugh a little. After a few hours of helping around the house, you head out going to your car (that both you and Rafe bought together) As you drive you keep thinking about having a child. You start thinking about your future, this is why you hated being sober. You are both already in your late 20s, would it give you both a new purpose? Would it make you miss your freedom? What if he becomes a deadbeat..no Rafe wouldn’t leave you with a child to yourself.

As you pull into the side street of the condo you’d both lived in you lazily get up the steps. You couldn’t keep these thoughts anymore, you needed something to drink. You step in seeing Topper and Kelce with their girlfriends sitting with Rafe in the living room. Great. The one time you don’t wanna deal with people Rafe had them over.

He smiles coked out as he sees you “mm hey baby..come sit down.” You look at him annoyedly going off to the fridge. They’d drank the cold alcohol, you’d put in there. You hear them laugh at something and Rafe speaks up “You looking for that alcohol? mm we drank some of it babe..you should stay sober..” he speaks drunk and high.

You come over, your heels tapping on the wood “Get out.” you speak to the others they all laugh high and drunk “Get the fuck out! jesus christ!” you scream making them slightly jump, topper and kelce help their girlfriends up. You felt like..you were running out of time. Like it could end in a second. You watch them close the door, locking the bottom lock before doing so.

Rafe looks at you high, but sober enough to "What’s wrong. sum’s up if you kicking company out..” he groans out “I wanted that alcohol.” “told you I'm sorry.” “you didn’t put it in there, I did.” you choke out raising your voice “Stop being selfish.” “I’m not being selfish!” you watch him hand you one of those damn baggies. Pushing it on the floor “I don’t want it. I want you sober and I want to talk.”

He laughs. Of course he does. “yeah well-“You drag him by his hair to the bathroom, and next thing cold waters splash in his face. Due that you care too much, so you wipe his face gently, you both stay quiet as you lead him to the living room. “did something happen when you went to that friend's house.” he asks watching you grab a trash bag “throw up.” he laughs “what.” you hold it out still “throw up Rafe.”

After a good 25-30 minutes he starts to throw up and you throw it away, wiping his mouth. “I wanna talk still.” “about..? and you never answered my question from earlier. “should I stop my birth control after I finish my last few pills.” you mutter out. “what.” you stay silent for a moment “Should I-“ “I heard you but, why.” “why not.” “you’ve always taken it. If not we use condoms. Are you getting an IUD or whatever that shit is called.” “No. I'm not.”

“then why do you want to stop? I ain’t stopping you but if we ain’t using condoms or birth control then we ain’t taking a chance.”

“what if we had a kid? Not like we’re getting younger.” you murmur again “Jesus fucking Christ, baby. a fucking kid? you fucking party every day and you want a kid.” “and why not?” “babe, you know how hard it’s to get away from that? And get fucking sober. You're not gonna raise a damn kid drunk. I’m sure not while I’m high.”

“Then get off it!” you scream at him, and he grasps your chin tightly “Don’t yell at me.” you end up pushing his arm away “Get off me. I can be sober,” you speak lower with a certain tone. “Rafe. It..it feels like my life is so small in..the scheme of it all. What..what if it gave me a new purpose. “so you saying you feel like crap with me?”

“no! I'm not saying that, Rafe! God if I have a baby I’d want it to be with you. but you don’t want one. Not now. do you?”

“I might be shit filled with coke but that doesn’t mean that. It doesn’t mean i- fuck i..don’t wanna talk about something like this like.. this.” he groans out rubbing his face.

After this you hadn’t brought it up for the next 3 months. It never felt right to bring it up between late-night parties and getting in the clouds or drunk.

[wlwsoccerfics]

It has been a while(LucyBronzeXKeiraWalshxTeenReader)

AN:they are obviously not together in this but still raise their daughter together. Good co-parenting is Key. This Is basically another Part of my Fic 'Unexpected'.

Warning: diabetic seizure

Summary: you have a seizure caused by your diabtes cause your blood sugar is to low.

You really had no idea what had just happened for things to go south. Your vision was blurry and you felt tired but you decided to ignore it. Mattea (your girlfriend) realized you are acting different. So she tried to talk to you but you didn't even reply anymore. You just stared at her blankly. Sitting on the Couch in the Hotel Lobby next to her. She snapped her fingers together in front of your face, hoping you would react but it was like you were looking through her. Which you in fact were.

Lucy & Keira walked over with Leah & Beth. Lucy noticing right away what was happening so she sped up her walk a bit, kneeling down in front of you. Checking your blood sugar. Grabbing your emergency kit with your medication, to bring your blood sugar back to normal.

"what's going on?" Mattea asked.

"she had an absent seizure! Due to her blood sugar being all messed up." Keira explained. Kneeling down in front of you as well. Gently stroking your hand. Lucy sat down besides you to pull your back against her chest so you could lean against her.

Leah and Beth watching the whole thing with concern written across their faces. Mattea not leaving your side. Worried as well now. Thankfully you managed to snap out of the absent seizure. Looking around in confusion. Seeing everyone staring at you with faces full on concern. Noticing your Mom sitting behind you. And your Mama kneeling down in front of you.

"He..." You mumbled softly, still very much out of it. Wanting to say 'hey' but you couldn't get it out just yet. Your Mama gave you a gentle smile. Still full of concern.

"hey Sweetheart. you really scared us there!" She told you. For a few minutes it was quiet. Everyone gave you some time to recover a bit.

"what happened?" You asked them.

"you had an absent seizure! Your blood sugar was all messed up!" Your mom explained. "Almost gave me a Heart Attack!" She answered. Which wasn't a lie. She may have appeared to be calm but she wasn't. No ,whenever something was wrong with you she was worried. Of course she was. She was your mom after all.

"oh, i am sorry guys! I have no Idea why my blood sugar was acting up." You admitted. "But it can just come out of nowhere!" You added.

"it can indeed. for the rest of the day you will be with one of us! Either Mama or me will be with you!" Lucy stated. You couldn't even argue about this cause honestly you felt much safer that way as well.

Mattea kissed your cheek gently.

"glad you are better now!" She stated. You gave her a weak smile.

"yeah me too!" You answered.

"maybe take it easy today?" Leah spoke up.

"yes captain i promise i will keep it easy!" You told her.

"we will all make sure you keep that promise!" Beth said and offered you a small smile.

"okay little love, let's stand up." Your Mom answered gently . Wrapping her arms around your waist and standing up with you carefully. Making sure you were steady enough cause often your legs would be wobbly after having struggles with your blood sugar. Keira was standing in front of you. Just in case you would slip. You were a bit embarrassed about the fuss that was being made but it was also nice to know how many people cared about you.

You walked very slow, Mattea having an arm wrapped around around your waist as you Guys all walked to the Meeting room. Only ones there right now were Lessi, Tooney and Mary. The Goalkeeper was telling them a funny Story but they stopped when they saw you.

"kiddo, you alright? You look quite pale!" Mary stated. You were sniffling softly.

"could be better!" You admitted. Your Mama explained what had happened.

"damn that sucks, y/n! Sounds really scary!" Tooney told you.

"i don't know! I don't realize what's happening!" You admitted.

"shouldn't you be resting now?" Lessi asked.

"she is taking it easy! No wandering off without either her Mama or me!" Lucy let them know. You went to sit down but the standing in one place for a little too long somehow made you feel dizzy again. So Mattea and Keira were quick to grab you on each side.

"woah, careful Sweetheart!" Your Mama said and helped you sit down.

"after this team meeting you are off to bed, y/n!" Your Mom told you. Looking over at Leah.

"i will talk to Sarina so one of you can stay with her." Leah answered.

"thank you!" Your Mom said. The room slowly filled with the rest of the Team and Sarina held a little speech before talking about what she was planning on doing this Camp before leaving to a Game in two days.

Sarina was totally time with one of your moms staying with you while the rest of the Team was doing drills. You slept for most of the day while your Mama kept an eye on you. After Practice your Mom came to check on both you and your Mama. You loved that they managed to co-parent so well and Show that it's possible to raise a Kid even when you are not together anymore & have other Partners now. Even thinking about having Kids with the new Partners.

At night you went to Team Dinner with the rest. People asked how you were feeling right away.

"i am alot better! Thanks for asking!" You told them. You had some vegan Curry for Dinner, talking to some of your teammates. Facetiming Ona too cause she wanted to know how you were. You Loved Ona. She made your Mom really Happy and she was very sweet to you. Amazing Bonus Mom alert right there. And she was friends with your Mama. Couldn't have gone better for you.

You fell asleep quite fast that night. Your Mama was staying awake mostly though to keep an eye on you. The next morning you were able to join practice again and you did very well. Ready to kick some butt on the field the next game.

[junkpuppet225]

note: Daryl apologizes in the best way possible. Smut, hurt, minors DNI. You’re responsible for what you read.

Apologies

By the time Daryl came to find you you’re sitting in the shared homes kitchen surrounded by several women all wearing the same scowl on their pretty faces. The only one that looks up at him with a hint of concern is you, quickly returning your watery gaze to your still shaking hands in your lap as Maggie wraps an arm around your shoulders protectively.

“Daryl, maybe you should—-.”

Carol darts across the room placing a small hand to his broad chest as he pushes past her with ease trying to get to you. Rosita intercepts him next, crossing her arms in front of her and glaring. “She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.” You broke her fucking heart, puta. “M’sorry—-, I just… jus’ want to…” Daryl’s chest is heaving, panic rising as he tries to will you to look at him. “Y/N—-, please.”

You wipe at your eyes, nodding to Maggie as she pulls her arm from around you and turns to join everyone else in glaring at him.

“Fix this Daryl.” She demands, gathering the others as they leave you both alone and cast in darkness, the only sound coming from Daryl’s panicked breathing. “Y/N… I’m—-.”

“I can’t do what you asked Daryl. I couldn’t… live with myself.” You watch his body go stiff again as you take in a determined breath and lift your heartbroken eyes to his. “Daryl, I’m sorry…” Before you can finish your sentence Daryl is on his knees before you, palms gripping your thighs as he shakes his head in protest - swallowing his grief. “I’m sorry Y/N. I’m so fuckin’ sorry for saying that shit to you out there. I don’t want that—-.”

Tears fill your eyes for the millionth time tonight, blurring Daryl’s handsome face as he looks up at you with real fear in his eyes. “…p-please don’t cry…, m’sorry…” A sob escapes you as he places a hand on either side of your face, searching your broken gaze as his own tears threaten to fall.

“…we can’t bring a baby into this world.” Your voice cracks with grief as you repeat his earlier words, his thumbs brushing away the tears pouring down your cheeks as he shakes his head and brings your forehead to his. “We can and we will. You’re gonna be an amazin’ mom and I’ll… I’ll try Y/N. I’ll try for you… I jus’…, I don’t know how to—-.”

Daryl’s hands slide into your hair as you nod, another sob muffled by his mouth on yours as he pulls you to him and whispers more apologies against your lips. “I love you…, an’ I’m sorry for sayin’ that shit earlier. I never should have...” You nod again as his eyes close tightly. “P-please tell me you forgive me.”

All you can manage is another soft sob as you pull his face back to yours and kiss him again, brushing your tongue against his parted lips as an inaudible groan rushes from his throat and he tightens his fingers in your hair. Without breaking your kiss he manages to slip one arm under your legs and the other around your back, bringing you to his chest as you wrap yourself around him and moan into his mouth. Daryl takes two steps at a time up the narrow stairs, pressing you into his bedroom door while your tongue demands his, clinging to him as he pushes into the room slowly.

He doesn’t stop until you’re looking up at him from his bed running your hands over his shoulders and down his chest as you try to catch your breath. Daryl hangs his head, his hair falling into his eyes as regret washes over him. “Tell me you still love me - tell me I haven’t fucked everything up between us.” You grasp his shirt and bring him down to you.

“Daryl, I love you.”

“Tell me you forgive me.” He pleads against your lips. “I forgive you.” You assure him, feeling your heart seize in your chest. You love him and you love this baby you’ve made together. It won’t be easy bringing life into this dead world but it’ll be worth it to love someone more than yourselves. More than anything and you know Daryl will be a good dad. You’ll make sure of it.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ up for tonight Y/N—-for what I said and I’ll do everything in my fuckin’ power not to turn out like Will Dixon.”

You run your fingers into his hair. “You’re a good man Daryl - you could never be like him.” The doubt blooming in his chest makes him think otherwise but he nods once and returns his lips to yours as your body arches to him - rough hands sliding down your sides to grasp at your hips gently.

Gone is his demanding touch, desperate fingers digging into soft skin - his palms barely touch you as he pushes your shirt up your body - kissing the swell of your breast as you work your shorts down your thighs and pull at his own shirt, bringing it over his head as his eyes find yours.

The look on Daryl’s face brings your head back to the mattress, a surge of warmth filling your soul as his eyes wash over every inch of you - whispering how beautiful you are and how much he loves you. His name falls from your lips as you rut your hips against him - needing him inside of you as he works his belt loose and tosses it to the floor - his jeans following as you slip off your panties before he can rip them from your body. A moment later he’s stroking his hard length against you, running the head of his cock along your soaked slit as a groan rattles in his chest.

For the first time since the first time Daryl hesitates, memories of his reaction to your pregnancy flooding his mind. “Y/N….” You don’t miss the tremble in his voice - his eyes meeting yours as worry and fear stare back at you. “Daryl, it’s okay.” You promise - grasping his waist as he sinks into you an inch - growling at the feel of your soaked cunt as your fingers tighten around his hips. His breath rushes from his lungs as he pushes further - the hot vice between your legs clenching around him as you arch your back to take him in further.

You watch Daryl shutter before burying his face in your shoulder, filling you completely as he kisses your throat - whispering how sorry he is against the sensitive skin as you wrap your arms around him gripping the hair at the base of his neck as he thrust into you deeply bringing another deep moan from your chest.

“…you okay?”

You nod slowly, raking your fingers into the back of his hair as he thrust into you again. “I love you Y/N….” Daryl’s voice is so low you can barely make out the soft words against your jaw - mind spinning as your hips meet his desperately. He wraps a strong arm under your lower back to bring you closer, losing himself in fucking you slow and deep as you feel yourself coming undone - wrapping your shaking legs around him as wave after wave of pleasure surges through your body - soaked pussy clenching him so tight he can barely move. Another deep thrust and Daryl is coming too - groaning into your throat as he pumps into you desperately before collapsing to your chest.

“Shit—-, are you okay?” He pushes himself up on his arms and looks between you like he’s harmed you in some way but you’re still coming down from your own mind-splitting orgasm you can only manage a slight nod as Daryl lays his head against your stomach - wrapping his arms around you tightly. Your chest rises and falls as you place your hand to the back of his head and hold him to you - a mix of pleasure and grief, worry and excitement filling your soul as he places his warm lips to your skin.

[midnight-mourning]

Sharing Isn't Caring

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 13💘💘

Hello! Finally finishing these up, bit of a busy weekend and this one in particular got VERY long lol, that being said hope you enjoy!

Prompt: i really liked that one promptober you made about the reader having robophobia ( cause sun killed a few workers and has been avoiding him ever since, scary ass animatronic) is it possible to have a prompt where yn is doing better, has work besties. Aside from the constant threat of being brutally murdered by a friendly animatronic, theyre work life is chill. Its around valintines day where y/n has made friends with the cute new girl. Both have platonic feelings for each other while also being flirty (satire, gotta kiss the homies goodnight) with each other, kissing cheeks, hold hands, other friendly touches. However this does not go unnoticed by our favorite daycare attendants. They too try to be playfully flirty and touches yn any chance they get. However envy gets the better of them when they want to be yn's valentine...

Word Count: 3475

Content warning: non-graphic mentions of death, dying, violence, etc.

Read here if you prefer ao3!

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"Good morning!" A voice greets as you walk into the break room. 

You look up from your phone, small, tired smile on your features. "Ah, morning Jaz."

"You sleep alright?" She asks, taking a sip of her coffee. "You look exhausted."

You wince, a reminder of your nightmare last night coming forth. 

Running, running, running, tripping, falling. Claws sinking in, a scream ripped from your throat, cruel laughter ringing in your mind as it happens and being able to do nothing to stop it—

You shake your head. It was just a dream. They hadn't figured you out. At this point, you don't know if they ever would. Lucky, you'd been so, very lucky so far that they were solely focused on being your friend. Not a bit of suspicion in either of them as to what you knew. 

You hoped to god it'd stay that way, too.

Several months have passed, and you haven't beared witness to anything quite so terrifying since. Though, you'd made sure you wouldn't. You never let yourself get caught up in the evening hours, and you never let yourself be alone with either Sun or Moon. 

Save for the few times they'd managed to make such a scenario happen themselves, however.

Sun had meant it when he said he'd cure your 'robophobia'. They were sure trying their hardest, at least. 

Chatting with you every time you came to drop off a delivery or supplies, dragging you along to partake in some on days they were—suspiciously—lacking a helper. Sun particularly like to play hide and seek or house, whereas Moon wouldn't let you leave until you took a nap. 

Both made it their mission to be as up close and personal as they could too. Touches lingering just a tad too long, cornering you in one way or another, tones playful, cheeky. To an outsider it would seem like harmless fun, but to you, all it did was make you keep your guard up more. Which in turn, only made them try that much harder. 

It was a vicious cycle, but after the incident that occurred a little or a month ago, you could at least say—for now—that your chances of dying were significantly lower than you'd have thought otherwise. 

You'd forgotten your keys. Or maybe lost them, you still weren't entirely sure. You'd gone through every inch of the Plex where you'd been working that day, without a sign of them. There was only one place you hadn't checked, and it scared you to your core. 

You had debated whether to knock on the doors or not. Ultimately deciding that you'd rather take your chances slipping in and out unnoticed then actively invite the devil to your doorstep. Or you to the devil's, you realize there's little point to figuring it out much further. 

The speakers play the usual tune, the space is empty as can be as you peek inside. 

A quick glance around and you spy your keys on the desk. It takes everything in you to not make a beeline for them, instead walking calmly over and picking them up. You're about to turn back around when—

*Thump!*

Directly. Behind you. 

"Hello Sunshine! What brings you here so late? Did you stop by just to see little ol' me?" Again, that cheeky voice that perhaps only you can hear the sinister undertones of.

You suppress the scream and the shiver you want to let out. Instead, you turn around with a small, forced, smile. "H-hi Sun! I was just um, looking for my keys. And what do you know, they were in here all along!" You lift them up, making yourself laugh to keep your nerves in check. "I'll get out of your hair now."

"Silly, silly, I don't have any hair! And besides,"—a hand to your wrist, tone dropping just a tad—"You just got here. Would be a shame to leave so soon, hm?"

You start to falter. "I—"

"So come on then! You look ready to fall apart at the seams, and I can't have that happening to my favorite little assistant!" Sun shifts his grip to your hand, pulling you further along into the Daycare. "Don't you worry, I have just the thing to ease that tension."

He pulls you over a set of beanbags, he guides you to sit down in one, while he does in the other. Before you can blink, there's a coloring book and crayons in your lap. 

"Coloring is always soothing for the soul!" He states, finger pointing up in an affirming manner, then gets to work on his own book. 

There's only one thought in your head at that moment; you're going to die here. 

But, you're not quick enough to make a break for the door, so you have no choice but to accept your fate. Shaky hands gripping crayons in an attempt to distract yourself from your impending doom. 

As you go along, Sun pesters you constantly with conversation and questions. It confuses you, does he just like playing with his food or what? 

You answer best you can, but all the air leaves your lungs when he pops a question you were more than simply fearing. 

"—since we're such good friends, right?"

You freeze, and curse yourself for it, mouth feeling like glue as you tumble out a stuttered response. "Y-yeah. We're friends."

"Best friends?" Sun presses, leaning in close, you're waiting for him to take hold of you and slam your face into the mats just like—

"A-ah. Um, I don't know, I-I guess so? Sorry, I've um, not really had a best friend before..."

You were so screwed. 

Yet, Sun doesn't miss a beat, words a light as ever as he pouts. "Oh, well that won't do. I'll just have to keep trying until you feel completely confident in the notion that we are!"

And you were still standing the next morning. You don't know if it was a fluke, or what, but it certainly didn't seem that way. You'd take what you could get, though, and double, triple checked that you had all your belongings in their proper places from then on. 

Jaz clears her throat. Right. Back to the present. 

She'd been a nice change of pace over the last month or so. A fresh face to help you with things or pass in the hall. You were the same age, and related to each other a lot. It was… nice. To have someone to talk to, even if she couldn't know even the beginning of what you'd witnessed. 

But, you could tell her little things, insignificant, things that nobody could pick up on. 

"I had a nightmare, is all. I'll be alright." You sit down in the chair beside her, sighing. 

She tsks. "You seem to have a lot of those."

"It's not a willing participation, I assure you." You're rubbing your eyes when you spy a steaming mug being held in front of you. "Oh, you didn't have to do that."

A shrug. "Wanted to. Now drink up, I heard from Gary that we've got a lot of inventory to move today."

"Going to be a great morning then." You mutter into your cup as she snickers. 

Work had in general been a lot easier with the additional help, and just in general because of your new friend. She made you laugh, cheered you up on your rougher days, and was just in general a light in your life as of late. Not to mention, she'd inadvertently managed to help you overcome your fear of being touched you'd developed from witnessing the Attendants' actions. 

It was simple things, like touches to your shoulder and arm. Holding your hand and dancing around at the end of the work day, jokingly flirting and cheek kisses and the likes. No double meaning or the likes either, Jaz was just like that with everyone, you'd soon found. It eased you in a way you couldn't describe. You could relax around her and it felt like you'd gotten a bit of normalcy back into your day to day. 

Not to mention, through getting to know Jazz you'd gotten a bit more confidence in talking to others at work, and now had several coworkers you'd consider friends both in and outside of work. Things were… weird beyond that, but at least for the moment they were going alright. 

"So then I finally just told him, 'boy if you don't get your act together, she's going to leave you' and do you know what he said?" 

You snicker, adjusting the boxes in your arms. "What?"

"'But that's so much work'" She exaggerates the tone, with an extended groan and you let out a shocked laugh. "Like? Excuse me? You can't be serious right now."

You're still laughing hard as she pushes the roll cart through the Daycare doors. "That's insane. Does he just not care or is he stupid?"

"Between you and me,"—she leans in, voice low—"I think it's both. Fu-freakin' moron."

You giggle, about to give a quip in response when a loud voice interrupts.

"Good morning Starshine! Oh, and hello Jaz!" Sun stands just to your left, you don't know how you didn't hear him. "I didn't know you knew each other!"

Jaz lets go of the cart, arm wrapping around your shoulder. "Sure do! We're stuck being storage monkeys together. They've been a big help in showing me the ropes."

"As if you needed help, it's pretty straightforward." You set down the boxes in your arms finally. 

You glance over and see Jaz put her hand to her chest, feigning misery. "Oh, but if it weren't for you, i'd be completely and utterly lost! I don't know what I'd do without you, my best friend." She makes kissing noises at you as you laugh, gagging. 

"Knock it off." You swat at her lightly, then you look up to Sun. "If you just tell us where you want everything, we'll move it, Sun. Stop it!" You shove Jaz away as she pretends to try and kiss you cheek again. 

There's a snap then, drawing your attention to the attendant, you see the marker he'd been holding is broken in half, movements stiff as he glances down to look at it. 

"Oh. What a shame. Follow me, I'll show you exactly where to put everything." He turns, steps precise as he marches across the Daycare. 

While you pick up on the shift, Jaz doesn't seem to, simply taking hold of the cart again and following after him. You debate for a moment, and against your better judgement, swipe a wet wipe from the desk. The supply closet is tucked away in a hallway lacking light. So much so that it's Moon who finishes leading you. 

While Jaz starts to unload things in the closet, Moon waits at the doorway, attentive, unyielding in his gaze.

You clear your throat. "Um, need some help with that?"

His faceplate snaps to look at you and you swallow. It clicks to the side a few times as he examines you.

You nod to his hand, which you've no doubt is stained a deep purple by now. "I meant with the um, marker."

"Ah, thank you, Star." Moon snickers, opening his hand for you to wipe it off. 

You take his hand in both your own, wiping off where the marker has changed the color. It's a bit harder to do in this low light, but you manage. 

You don't expect Moon to speak up again. "Best friends?"

It takes a moment to click to you. "Ah. Yeah. We are."

Moon makes a noise then, grating, you can't make sense of it. So, you just ignore it and finish cleaning him up before going to help Jaz. Had you paid closer attention, you'd have noticed how tightly his hand grips the doorway, making it creak under the pressure. 

After that day, you notice that both Sun and Moon have somehow become more clingy. 

It wasn't just short conversations and little activities anymore. It was full blown discussions and non-stop things to do. Anytime you tried to protest that you were far too busy to spend so much time with them, they simply argued that nobody would say a thing. Which, they were right, your manager didn't seem to care in the slightest. 

Those touches from before were ramped up, in that there was more hand-holding, more hugs, more everything, that you'd let them get by with, that is. All of their previous efforts from before felt ramped up, and you had no idea as to why. Not to mention that they appeared to be more flirty as well.

And then came February. 

Right from the start of the month, something was different with them, you could tell instantly. And you soon found out what. 

When you came in to drop off supplies or such, there'd be little notes or doodles waiting for you. You'd find their comments going from less friendly to having a more flirtatious connotation. And all of it only got worse the closer you got to Valentine's Day. 

"Sunshine, come dance with me!" Sun would say, dragging you with him to spin through several songs. Hand on your hip and words soft as he gave you compliment after compliment.

Moon would do similar, asking you to sit with him and read the children stories at naptime, watching over your shoulder and softly singing your praises. Or even better, acting out the stories with you, especially enjoying the more romantic fairy tales in particular. 

And the thing was, much like their attempts at friendship, all this doting felt genuine. 

It confused you beyond belief, besides the fact that it concerned you deeply. You were already struggling enough with this 'friendship' you'd been cornered into with the murder robots, the fact that they were acting as if they were romantically interested was only making things worse. 

The morning of Valentine's you were a ball of nerves. You were hoping—praying, really—that they wouldn't try anything, though you knew the unlikelihood of that happening. At this point, your feelings were so confusing, twisted. You thought they'd approached you because they knew you knew what they'd done. And yet, countlessly time and time again you'd been—seemingly—proven wrong. 

"You alright over there, Sunshine?" 

You jolt at the nickname, sending a scowl Jaz's way. "Not cute."

"I think it suits you well." She snickers, checking her phone. "What's on the agenda for today, boss?"

You tsk. "Not your boss. And I have no idea, I haven't checked yet." You rub your face, pulling up your schedule, only to find it's blank. You sit up, muttering. "That can't be right..."

"Something wrong?"

You try refreshing the page, no luck. "Yeah, my schedule's empty. See if you can pull up yours."

After a moment, Jaz holds up her phone, her own schedule showing up without issue. 

You both share a confused look. 

"Dude, did you get fired?"

You feel flustered fear build up in you then. "Better not of. They have no reason to get rid of me."

It's then that you notice an email in your inbox. Clicking on it, you see it's from your manager, telling you to see him in his office about a 'change of location'.

"I don't remember you saying anything about wanting to transfer." Jaz comments as you stand up. 

You shake your head, grabbing your jacket. "I didn't."

On your way to your manager's office, passing by the Daycare, you hear a low whistle calling out to you. 

You turn, it's dark, the only light is glowing red eyes on the top of the wall. Knowing you don't have much a choice, you walk over. 

"Hi, Moon." You say, unsure. "How's um, naptime?"

He twists, hanging upside down from the wall. "Boring. No one to talk to."

"Well what about Jean—" You cut yourself off, words dying in your throat with realization. 

Moon doesn't catch it, instead snickering to himself. "Sick."

Something in your gut tells you that's not in the slightest bit the truth. 

"Ah. Gotcha. Well, I should get going now." You wave and turn around. "See you later."

*Thump!*

A hand resting on your shoulder, and the sudden up close and personal presence behind you startles you, to say the least. 

"Wait. Have something for you."

You swallow the urge to run away. "Oh?"

"Mmhmm." Moon hums, right beside your ear. "Close your eyes."

You do, it's not as if there's a scenario where you don't. 

A pause. You're half-expecting something terrible, be it something grotesque or even something as cruel as your own end—

"Open."

Flowers. It's flowers. 

Origami flowers, at that. You're impressed by the intricacy of the folding, they're delicate, precise. Something that would have taken even the most skilled of individuals genuine time and care to make. 

And you're being presented a massive bouquet of them.

"Wow..." You trail off, consumed with genuine awe. "I, for me?"

Moon snickers, faceplate spinning once. "Happy Valentine's, Little Star."

Right, Valentine's. You'd entirely forgotten for a moment. 

While you're in your daze, Moon plucks a flower from the bouquet and tucks it behind your ear. He then sets the bouquet into your arms with a gentle pat, then hops back up on the ledge. 

"See you later~" Another giggle, and he's gone, leaving you dumbfounded. 

Your boss hardly glances up at you when you step into his office. "Ah, finally. Sit down, let's make this quick."

You sit down, still not quite thinking clearly as a stack of papers is tossed in front of you. 

"Sign these, and then I'll switch you over to the Daycare in the system. Their liability and the likes since you're working one-on-one with the Attendant. Fionna will be in charge of you from now on, paychecks, etc. Think she lets the robot pick the schedules, for whatever reason. Any questions?" He finally looks at you then, raising a brow. "Quite the bouquet you got there. Do I need to get you a relationship form from HR too?"

You shake your head. "I, no. No, not at all. I, why am I being transferred?"

"Well, you asked." Your manager states plainly, then shrugs. "And you got a couple good recommendations so I figured 'eh, whatever'. You can start today once you're done here. Or take the day off, I don't care, not my problem."

You just sit there a moment, taking it all in. 

'You asked.'

You, asked.

You know a sign when you see it. And you know when an alarm bell is blaring in your head, it's best not to ignore it. 

But when you've got a gun to the back of your head, that's much harder to ignore. 

You pick up the pen, and sign. 

Your steps are heavy as you walk back to the Daycare. Jaz has texted you a couple times, your like a zombie as you type by brief responses. You don't know what to think. Should you be relieved, or counting your days? 

They wouldn't have put in this much effort if they weren't genuine. Surely they weren't running this long of a con. But then that meant they were genuine. The killer robots were infatuated with you. 

You don't know which is worse, you don't know which is worse, you don't know which is worse—

"Hello Sunbeam! I'm so happy to see you!" 

You look up, Sun stands before you, rays spinning gleefully. You didn't even realize you'd walked into the Daycare. 

He claps his hands. "Oh! We're going to have so much fun, fun, fun! We get to spend all day long together! Just you and me! And well, the children too. But still, isn't it great?"

"I, um sure. I guess so." You mumble out. 

The slight twitch to his rays doesn't go unnoticed by you. The slightest of shifts in his tone as he glares down at you.

"Come now, friend. Aren't you excited? After all,"—He suddenly bends to your height, leaving you face-to-face and inches apart—"Aren't we best. friends?"

You struggle to maintain eye contact, focusing slipping to the bundle in your arms as you try to think up a way to respond. 

A low chuckle interrupts your racing thoughts. "Ah, but maybe that's not enough for you either?"

"I, um." It is a miracle you've lasted this long with how you're fumbling over your words.

Sun's hands cup your cheeks, tone still a hum. "Love, all you had to do was say so. In fact, we wish you'd done so sooner." His smile presses to your forehead. "Not to worry, we're more than happy to make up for lost time."

You can only stare up at him with smothered horror as his thumb strokes your cheek.

"And now, there's nothing that's going to get in the way of that."

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Thank you @pip-plz for the request!! As you can see I had a lot of fun brining these two back lol

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

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[magixfairyix]

If I end up killing Riven in my rewrite, you better believe Darcy will suffer.

Her entire thing during the rewrite is trying to have control over every little thing in her life. She will pull several all-nighters because she doesn't want to sleep and risk nightmares. She will go fuck with a random guy's head after Liliss fucks with hers to get some semblance of control back.

And above all else, she is self-destructive.

She's not going to go out drinking or anything, but again, the all-nighters. If she feels herself getting drowsy she will drink tea so she doesn't fall asleep, pick at her nails, or run her hands through her hair because she knows that if she gets close enough to falling asleep she will panic and she will indeed lock herself in the bathroom and cry until she eventually collapses and falls asleep.

Riven is the first person Darcy feels comfortable around, besides Icy and Stormy. Hell, she actually manages to sleep around him on occasion. She allows herself to cry around him.

So here are the options for Riven dying:

Darcy accidentally kills him. This leads to Darcy wallowing deeply in self-hatred, and she feels like she is becoming Liliss. She killed one of the few people she trusted. She's losing control over her sense of self, even though killing Riven was an accident. Does she truly deserve nothing? Is she just a weapon? She's not pissed, she's just sobbing over his body and Icy/Stormy needs to drag her away from him.

Iorda (oc) accidentally kills Riven. There's a fight, she attacks Darcy, and Riven jumps in front of the attack because he still doesn't want Darcy to suffer even though he was just locked in a cell. If this happens, either Iorda isn't making it out of this season alive, or we continue with the Imprisonment AU idea (gurl gets locked in a cell until season 6 when she becomes of use). If this happens, I can see Darcy becoming far more ruthless and controlling, especially as the years go on. She is becoming more like Liliss, and she is forcing herself/learning to enjoy it.

Darcy finds out that Riven accidentally died during the final battle. She realized that she and her sisters caused this. I feel like if this happened she would protest more against helping Darkar while in Light Rock, and maybe would even 'heal.' But once she gets out, she's not as self-destructive as she was, but she's very apathetic about life. She just doesn't care.

OR Riven accidentally ends up dying in the cell. Darcy doesn't know how powerful her psychic powers are with the dragon flame, or maybe Liliss pulls some evil grandma shit. Once again, Darcy blames herself and is sobbing over his body.

Icy kills him. Darcy and Riven are fighting. Riven is pissed and feels betrayed, and Darcy is trying to convince him that she did love him and that she's sorry for all the manipulation, but she did what she had to do. Riven literally stabs Darcy in the back, and she chokes on blood weakly, "I know I... I... deserve this..." And then weakly, looking up at Icy behind Riven. "I'm sorry..." Riven gets stabbed and dies. Darcy feels more betrayed than hurt, becomes more apathetic and like she's never going to find something good in life.

[Draft of the 5th idea because the angst is real]

[A battle is going on at Cloud Tower, in one of the big rooms or smth]

Darcy, avoids an attack: W-wait, Riven let's talk about this

Riven: Talk?!

Darcy: Yes, talk

Riven: You threw me into a cell, Darcy! What the hell was that? After... after everything that happened—Actually, you know what? I bet all of this was just some big fat lie of yours, wasn't it?

Darcy: It... *sighs* It wasn't a lie

Riven: And how do I know that? How can I believe that everything you told me was just not some sort of manipulation? How can I trust that—

Darcy: Look, Riven. It wasn't just control. In the beginning, it was, but then...

Riven: Then what?

Darcy: I... trusted you and... I mean it when I say that

Riven: ...

Darcy: Please, just...

Riven: What?

Darcy: You can... still come with us

Riven: You three are starting a war!

Darcy: And we can't back out on it now. We have the dragon flame and things... We're already too far gone. I'm... too far gone

[Darcy steps forward and takes Riven's hands in hers]

Darcy: Please, Riven

Riven: ...

Darcy: I... I did...

[Darcy sighs, looking away slightly. The two of them embrace each other, Darcy calmer. Riven is tense. Darcy buries her head in his shoulder]

Darcy: I still do... Lov—

[Riven with a small knife, stabs Darcy in the back and she slumps down to the ground, breathing in shakily]

Riven: I-I...

Darcy, hoarsley: No I... I g-get it

[Darcy glancing up, seeing Icy approaching Riven from behind]

Darcy: I deserve it...

[Icy stabs Riven and BOOM BAM Darcy gets more trauma]

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒙𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏

🍓the strawberry shack masterlist🍓

summary - curtis decides to finally visit the strawberry shack after a hard days work.

warning - smut, oral, gloryhole.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Curtis may have been one of the lower class people that were put at the end of the train but The Strawberry Shack was open to all, no matter your status. Curtis didn’t know how the business had gotten onto the train and he didn’t care about going to visit it either. Until today, when he was in a particularly bad mood and in need of a release. He made his way through the other train carts, all while mentioning The Strawberry Shack so he didn’t get dragged back to where he came. 

Curtis finally made it to the section where The Strawberry Shack was set up, his eyes darting around as he made his way over to the receptionist's desk. Her eyes on him the moment he stepped inside, “Whatcha lookin’ for, Sugar?”

“Uh…” His hand comes up to mess with his beanie, eyes still darting around the room, unsure.

“How about something simple?” Curtis nods and the woman gestures towards a door.

“I… I don’t have anything to trade…” 

She waves him off with a smile. “First timers are on the house.” 

Curtis nods, walking towards the door that she pointed to. Once he enters, his eyes scan the room, searching for something, he didn’t know what exactly but something in his gut knew. His gaze lands on your hole, something piqued his interest about your hole and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He walked over, clearing his throat to announce his presence.

You lean against the wall, peeking out the hole to try and get a better look. “This your first time, Baby?” You watch the mysterious man shuffle from behind the hole, his hands tucked into his jean pockets. “It’s okay, I’m here to please you. You don’t have to feel anxious.” 

Curtis feels himself grow hard at the sound of your voice, wondering how someone could sound so… Perfect. Without a word, Curtis unzips his pants, pulling out his hardening cock. He grunts as he sticks it through the hole, head falling back as your lips immediately wrap around the tip of his cock. 

His hand rests on the wall while the other feeds the base of his cock through the hole, feeling himself throb as you take him deeper. He lets out low grunts and groans, your head bobbing back and forth. The sound of you slurping his cock fills the room, his hips slowly begin to move, thrusting himself into the hole as you continue to suck and lick. Your hands coming up to jerk off the rest of him. 

Curtis lets out a loud grunt, his cock twitching as cum shoots out of his tip, coating your pretty little mouth with his cream. You lick his cock clean, swallowing even though you don’t have to, though you always enjoyed the men you got, being lucky enough to get ones that tasted so good despite certain circumstances. You hum as he pulls his cock out of your mouth, tucking it back into his jeans, your tongue flicks out, licking your lips as you watch him through the hole.

Curtis grunts before turning away and walking out of there. He heads back to his section with a thought in mind that he’ll be back but for more than a blowjob.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[acourtofthought]

What’s your take on people saying that Elain and Lucien have no chemistry. I see that a lot in the fandom and I always feel confused it almost feels like I don’t know what I am reading cause I can remember when I read that first scene with them in ACOWAR my heart was bursting with all the angst. I read it over and over again but then people say they don’t have chemistry and I don’t know how to feel.

I think your reading experience and analysis is just as valid for you as theirs is for them and if you feel something while reading Elain and Lucien then who are they to tell you otherwise?

I might differ from E/riels when it comes to who Elain's endgame is and who Sarah has clearly set up as being the right guy for her but that doesn't mean I would ever tell them they're wrong for thinking Sarah was also building for something (whatever that may be) to have existed for Elain and Az, just like Sarah was building for something to exist because Chaol and Celaena even while she was kissing Dorian, or building something for Rowan and Aelin even while she was laying in bed beside him missing Chaol.

I think E/riels tend to take look at this book with a very simplistic lens (she wants to kiss Az therefore she must end up with Az even though her book hasn't even been written!) whereas I think Elucien's tend to look a little deeper, "just because this is what's written on the page right now I believe Sarah is laying the clues for a different path for Elain". So we don't necessarily need to see fireworks for Elain and Lucien right now in order for us to believe that's still coming.

As far as Elain and Lucien having no chemistry, I guess it depends on what someone's definition of chemistry is. Are we talking sexual chemistry? Banter? Heated arguments?

I wouldn't say their chemistry is jumping off the page right now but there are many valid reasons for that. I don't think Az and Elain's chemistry jumps off the page either, I would have never known he was harboring such lusty thoughts for her until we got his POV in the bonus. Remember the scene where Mor is wearing a white dress and Feyre looks over to see Az hungrily staring after her? Or when he looked at her with heat and yearning on Solstice while Elain sat in the room with him? His desire for Mor was blatantly obvious for anyone to see but the only thing anyone ever noticed for Az when it came to Elain is his kindness and later one charged look. After the blatant yearning he had on his face for Mor over multiple books, "charged look" is pretty anti-climatic. Not to mention his "soft voice, gentle hands, etc." when he's around Elain. To me that reads more like he's trying not to scare a frightened animal or child than having any real chemistry with his future wife that's supposed to be his equal.

With Elain and Lucien I think there is a lot of tension right now. When her eyes spark upon looking at him, when she felt him tug on their bond, when she locked eyes with him before he left to find Vassa. I think Elain is keeping her thoughts of Lucien hidden (Feyre confirms Elain is better at secret keeping than Az), therefore there's no way to get a sense of any chemistry between them because Elain has not really dropped her guard. Not to mention Elain was in love with Graysen and severely depressed the only time we ever witnessed Elain and Lucien alone together, he was struggling with his guilt over Jesminda's death and sadness over having no home. These are two people who were weighted down by some pretty heavy issues and now dealing with a completely unexpected bond on top of it so I'm not sure why anyone is looking for them to be laughing and carrying on. Az sat there listening to Elain talk about gardens, Lucien was sitting there listening to Elain talk about the loss of her humanity and Graysen. Elain gave Az gag gifts for Solstice, Elain is now suddenly ignoring Lucien. Frivolous might be fun, but it's not real so yeah, there might be more scenes where Elain and Az are in more relaxed scenarios which could translate to "chemistry" for others but these sorts of books typically prefer drama and tension for the endgame pairings which Elain and Lucien do have. Not to mention both Elain and Lucien are extremely polite and well-mannered, often hiding what they really want to say behind civility, so I think we are going to need scenes where everyone isn't staring them down to see what they're going to say and do. We finally had a scene like that for Elain and Az in his bonus and to me, it was cringey. Her hands were shaking, they shared no banter, Elain's mouth only "twitched" into a smile, he "left the rest unspoken" which means they're still not having any real conversations. Yes, they were down to hook-up but it felt empty and shallow to me, I don't consider that meaningful chemistry.

Do you remember in Pride and Prejudice, where Jane really did like Mr. Bingley but Darcy thought he was protecting his friend by telling him that she did not feel as strongly for him as he did for her so they left? And Elizabeth later yells at Darcy claiming that her sister hardly talks of her own emotions with her? I think that's a little of what we're seeing with Elain right now when it comes to Lucien. Not necessarily that she's in love with him but I think she's more intrigued by Lucien than anyone realizes. Just like we later found out Feyre wanted Rhys even UTM (then went on to accept Tamlin's proposal), just like we found out Nesta wanted Cassian from the first moment she met him (but went on to sleep with other guys), I think we'll see that Elain was equally as effected by Lucien but has been fighting it this entire time.

It seems purposeful that Sarah chose to have Elain completely ignore Lucien in the novella and SF. Chemistry cannot be determined if two characters never talk, barely even look at each other, and that to me means that now that Graysen is out of the picture, Elain and Lucien's chemistry would be much more difficult to hide so rather than give anything away she just chose to have them not interact. And I think just like we had the line in P & P where everyone is shocked at Elizabeth accepting Darcy's proposal because everyone thought she hated him, we'll see something similar for the other characters when it comes to Elain with Lucien.

[emmathefanficgal]

@konartiste Thank you for the tag! CAKE is a nice word! (I love baking cakes) and I decided to share some excerpt of my orignial works and one LOTR WIP... Who knows? It might motivate me going back to them.

Disclaimer : all those WIP need heavy editing and correction. please be kind! 🤣

C-Boromir's special day - A story about Faramir remembering his big brother. (This letter!!!!!!)

Clearly, something was bothering him. Something about today. He shook his head, too tired to remember, but there was reason to smile on this beautiful morning. One of them was still fast asleep at his side, blond hair splayed across the pillow. Faramir had to stop himself or he would have kissed her. But he knew his wife better than that. And he had no desire to wake the dragon she might be. As quietly as he could, he left the bed and after a quick wash of face and hands in cold water, he put on his clothes. One last look at the form in the thick wool of their bed and Faramir left.

A- The Saga of the Rising Moon - An original work, left on the page. I started writing in French and then found it too difficult. Another WIP. The story follows Aysun, the daughter of the moon god. It is in the aftermath of another war between the gods. And there is a particularly nasty one that Aysun is trying to stop. But things are never what they seem.

At those words, the leader reacted with a small snort. Then Jarek realized that she was a woman. A rich woman with two bodyguards? Did she even know how to use that sword? But he knew that a wrong assumption could lead to a quick death for both of them. So he kept his guard up while he added with a slight bow, "My lady, I understand that this is an unpleasant moment for you. But we can end this quickly with a little help from all of you. I'm sure you want to reach the warmth of an inn as much as we do. Give us what we ask and then go. As I said, all we need is a few coins and some clothes. Then you and I can go back to our respective lives..."

K - In the name of God - An original work I have stopped working on for a while. Set in a world that looks like a "Conan" movie but in a post-apocalyptic time. Tribes at war, political and religious turmoil. The heroine has been chosen by a god... And it is the cause of a lot of trouble, not the least because the God of War has chosen a woman as his anointed.

Kassara shook her head and looked at Kestrel, now lost in thought. With a grin on her lips, she walked towards the fragrant shop of a baker, well aware of her old friend's weakness. She wouldn't let him brood over it, and she wouldn't let her mood darken either. She hid her laughter behind a cough when Kestrel, finally realizing where they had stopped, made a small rumbling sound with his throat.

E - The Dark Lady by the Sea - Original work. Finished but not edited yet. I am stalling… It is a VERY long work and I know I still have so many things to find to make it better. The story is set in a medieval fantasy where magic is hardly present. We follow Domicia and Joscelin and the conflict between the nations of Callistina and Worlingar (names to be changed) that threatens everything they love.

Even though they were rumors. Though some of the peasants and citizens had heard them, most of the Callistinans had been relieved. Mathias was known and respected. To have him replace the Mad King had been a blessing to many. The Holy Empire had made a mistake. Did they really think her people would overthrow her? But stranger things had happened, and so Domicia would not ignore rumors and small skirmishes. She would come and talk and fight. But it was exhausting. And she knew that an accident could happen quickly outside of the castle. Who could stop an archer from shooting her? She never thought about it while she was riding. But when she was back in her room or in her command tent, she lay in the dark with her eyes wide open. She could have died today. Every day she was lucky to be alive. They had to find a way to stop this. At any cost. But was there a solution without bloodshed?

WIP Word Train

Rules: tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share an excerpt from your WIPs that start with that letter.

Thank you to @hobbitwrangler !!! ♥️ I tried to follow your lead by using a different WIP for each letter, though that was hard because I don’t usually have too many going at once! In any event, my word was GIFT.

G — A Sister’s Son (the birth and death of Théodred from Elfhelm’s view)

Grimbold was already at work restoring order to the ranks, arraying men and arms where they would be needed should the retreat of the enemy prove only temporary, but Elfhelm had no mind for those tasks now, knelt down in the freezing rain at Théodred’s side. Have pity on us, Béma, he pleaded, equal parts desperate and outraged. He isn’t yours to take.

I — Untitled Prequel to Askance showing Vidumavi and Valacar meeting and falling in love

[Vidumavi:] “If what I’ve heard of Gondor is true, their prince may be more comfortable taking his guidance and direction from Vidusunus or one of the other men.”

Vidugavia laughed and shook his head. “I’m not worried about giving Valacar a little discomfort. No one ever got smarter or stronger or braver by being comfortable. If he’s truly here to learn, he’ll do well to take his lessons from you.”

F - Untitled fic about Dúnhere and his wife Lithcynd, the architect of the muster of Rohan

Four months shy of thirty, striding around in a decidedly unladylike pair of trousers with a messy top-knot and a mouth that inclined toward profanity, no outsider would have pegged her as the Lady of Harrowdale or the finest logistical mind in Rohan.

T - Sleepless (little character study of Elfhelm up late one night on the road to Minas Tirith)

The barrier between what a man thought and what he would say aloud grew its thinnest in the moonlight, and Elfhelm found himself drawn aside more often after dark by those with a sense of urgency to their words, a need to share worries and hopes or to unburden secrets before the chance was lost forever.

No pressure tags to @konartiste @sotwk @torchwood-99 @foxinarda @lady-of-ithilien or anyone else who’d like to give it a try. Your word will be STAR.

[thedreadvampy]

so me and Sam FINALLY watched the last season of Capaldi's Who

and tell me how, after literally over a decade and for perhaps the first time in his fucking career, Steven Moffat wrote a not just tolerable but really actually good two-parter and fully stuck the landing. like the editing and pacing were still a bit off but the storyline was original, fun, interesting and emotionally invested, and most importantly, rather than ending on a damp fart or the most furious autofellatio in history, the final part didn't fumble it and ended in a way that felt emotionally satisfying and like it made sense for the characters. like the last time he successfully wrapped up a multiparter in a way that didn't feel cheap and hollowly disappointing to me was literally The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances, and a) that was in 2005 and b) tbh The Doctor Dances is about a tenth as compelling and memorable as The Empty Child.

so after 12 years of either hackery or great ideas that fall apart in the second act, Steven Moffat writes what I would genuinely consider to be a memorable Good Doctor Who serial. it ends with bittersweet pathos, a solid closer for all the main characters, and sends Moffat's showrunning career out on a genuine high despite failing ratings and budget cuts (and the fact Doctor Who hasn't been consistently good since about 2009). good job Steve. with grudging respect I admit you pulled it out of the bag on this one.

wait what's this there's one more episode left? and it stars Mark Gatiss? and you literally spend the whole episode inexplicably just shitting all over the legacy of Doctor Who by inventing a version of the First Doctor that bears literally no resemblance to the character that William Hartnell actually played, just so you can spend the whole episode saying misogynistic things to run yourself off to how much more Totally Feminist your version was than the version you made up in your head of what Doctor Who was like in the 60s? and it added literally nothing to the season except to take all the wind out of the sails of the actually good finale you already wrote?

even when he writes a good episode this fucker still finds ways to disappoint me.

[makkie-is-screaming]

I fucking can’t today

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either. 

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck. 

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right? 

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked. 

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him. 

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor. 

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies. 

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything. 

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you. 

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?” 

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face. 

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember. 

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex. 

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either. 

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault. 

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs. 

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ INSPO

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist