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sunnami · 6 months ago

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the 5 times you did (not) love each other and the 1 time you did.

summary. as the title suggests. this one was a request! i hope you enjoyed my version of this anon.

pairing/s. poly!marauders + lily / reader.

wc. 4.1k

tags. hurt/comfort, angst, peter pettigrew mention, not proofread, like seriously, fluff, happy ending.

cws: brief mention of violence and blood.

note: i am alive?? crazy. i began this fic, whilst sick, around august, nursing the worst headache ever. i wrote the middle of this fic, sick. and i think it's only fitting that i finished this fic. sick... honestly, i did not proofread any of this, i just know i lowkey love it. after the first one-thousand words, i just spiral and become delirious, so i don't even know what happened here. my first request finished! yippee! and thank you all for 2k :< i love you all so much.

SIRIUS BLACK did not love you—not even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.

After Peter Pettigrew’s slight against his family, Sirius would never hold warmth or pity for the skittish mouse ever again. He was played for a fool. And, he did not know which betrayal had hurt more. Peter’s—or yours. (Had you known all along of your adoptive brother’s plans? Did you not think for one second that Sirius would, without a sliver of hesitation, put himself in the way of a killing curse to keep you safe? He’d have died before ever letting the fire in your eyes wither to ashes. Clearly, you did not share the same sentiment.)

He wanted nothing to do with you. Ever. And if the rat-bastard dared to show his face, not even Death would know where to put Peter’s body to rest. Sirius would keep him alive until he begged for death—until the idea of living frightened him more than dying. And for you—beholder of his heart, captor of his soul, and co-possessor of his mind—he could only hope that you stayed far away. You had wrecked him—all of them.

He wanted—

He did not know what he wanted.

For when it came to you, Sirius Black was reduced to a man wandering the deserts—mistaking clouds for water, and the sands for grass blades. You had ravaged every fiber of his being; consumed his every thought and word. The most ironic part of all was that if you had been the one standing there—Sirius would have let you Avada him. Dumbledore could scold him in the afterlife—Sirius could care less. He’d have snapped his wand in half and asked someone else to fight you because Sirius had vowed from the moment he met you that he would never harm a hair on your head. He would never be the reason that tears stained your pretty cheeks.

Well, apparently, trust and promises were not worth a damn thing nowadays.

No, he did not love you—even as you stood on the steps of Grimmauld, your hair ruined by the downpour of rain. Your lips bruised and bitten from a nervous habit Sirius had yet to break out of you.

“I didn’t know, Sirius,” you whispered—your voice the only sound falling on his ears amidst all the thunder and lightning. He only saw you. “Y-You have to believe me. If I knew—Gods, I would have told Dumbledore in a heartbeat. Fuck. I thought you knew me better than that.”

He thought so, too.

“Did you know?” Sirius began, taking a step forward and into the storm, a demeaning sneer on his lips. “That when Voldemort stood in our home, your portrait was right behind him? That was all I could look at. If I had died—you would have been the last thing I saw.”

You had not replied.

Sirius grit his teeth. “Go,” he said, voice hoarse.

“Go!” he yelled, grateful for the rain as it masked his own tears as you flinched from the sound of his voice. Not the thunderclap, the lightning strike—but it was him who scared you.

(But you had done so first.)

When you apparated away, Sirius crumbled to the ground and pounded his fists against the asphalts where you were moments ago, screaming and cursing until he saw blood flowing with the rainwater.

It was laughable, really. The way he did not love you.

It was not love that drove him to madness, pummeling Gideon Prewett into a bloody pulp for mentioning your name during a meeting with the Order. He had presumed you to be a Death Eater alongside your brother—Sirius instantly saw nothing but red. (He condemned Bellatrix, his own cousin, for becoming a madwoman. Yet, here he was, unraveled by the very thought of you. The very whisper of your name.)

But whatever it was that had turned him into a fool and a hypocrite all at once, it was not love.

ii.

JAMES POTTER had no love for you—make no mistake about that. He loved love, and he did so fiercely and truthfully. But you and Peter had broken his trust—defiled his loyalty from the moment your brother had brought Voldemort to his doorstep. (Did you know that as he begged and screamed for Lily to hide with their son, Harry—he thought of you? For a fleeting moment, he saw your face, marked by fear and tear-rimmed eyes. And James knew straight away that he would spit on Tom Riddle’s bare feet if only to keep his family safe. If only to see you once more. Alive and well. But, you must not have thought the same—if you had conspired with Peter to sell him and Lily out to the Devil reborn.)

The thought of you breathing was enough to keep James alive.

But, that was not love. It was a mockery of it.

No, he did not feel so much as a twinge of emotion for you. Not even as Mad-Eye Moody brought your limp body back to Grimmauld. It was not love that threatened the magic in his being—that simmered in his blood until the painted walls saw an indent of his fist. (“Poor thing,” McGonagall cooed as she pressed her palm over your forehead. Despite some of the members’ growing distrust for you, you still took an Unforgivable in their stead. “We can only wait. . . Four Cruciatus curses. . .”)

What more did James need to want to rip Peter apart limb by limb?

It was not love that rooted his feet by your side. Sitting hunched on a chair too small for his height, bags beneath his eyes, and the pale of his lips becoming noticeable to everyone who spoke to him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you lovelessly—hands desperately clutching your own. Sirius stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, dagger-like eyes waiting for so much as a twitch of your finger. “I’m sorry.”

It was a plea this time.

He only hoped you did not ask him to love you. For James could give you the world, hand-pick the stars, and burrow his body deep beneath the ground if you had asked for it—but he could not love you.

Everyone had told him not to hope that you would wake up. That your pretty eyes would not flutter open, and you would no longer look at him as you had before. But James was stubborn. He was selfish as he was stubborn. He did not love you—but he needed to hear the sound of your voice. And James would take it any way that he could. The soft cadence of a whisper, or a rough utterance of a single word. Molly Weasley told him to accept reality for what it was. (“You need sleep, dear,” the matriarch fussed. “There’s nothing we can do. Look at the Longbottoms. . . We can do no more for this one as we had done for them.”)

In the still of the night, he left his reveries on the cold of your skin. “Wake up,” he demanded.

“Wake up or else you’re the traitor everyone thinks you are,” James hissed.

But his words held no heat—and his heart held no love for you.

Make no mistake about that.

Then, when you finally woke up, disoriented and throat parched—a hazy recollection of the weeks before—James made sure that no more than four people could enter the room. He did not care if a hurricane, or if Voldemort himself—James had faced him once already, after all—threatened to break the door down. You were theirs to protect.

(But not to love.)

“We need to begin the questioning, James, you know that,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt, almost exasperatedly; weary lines written across his face. James would not allow even a toe beyond the doorway. An interrogation meant you had something to do with the attempted murder of James and his family. Whether or not you were innocent, James did not care—he just wanted you safe.

(And a small part of him already knew that you were not your brother’s keeper. Just as they had absolved Sirius of his family’s sins. It would be unfair to not show you the same grace. But before his mind knew that, James’s heart and soul had known the truth all along.)

He found Sirius gently tending to your every need, and already James knew that was Padfoot’s way of begging for forgiveness. The ebony-haired man hung onto your every word. He winced when you flinched, and pressed his apologies to your forehead, rasping for a kindness he did not deserve. Not after what he did. How he turned you away and cursed your name. How they betrayed you.

James did not love you.

But what else could he call the manacles that bound his hands and forced him to his knees when it came to you?

Not. Love.

iii.

REMUS LUPIN could not bring himself to love you. But, he could not love Sirius, Lily, and James either. He was undeserving of such a privilege. But he was not allowed to love you; Remus could only hope that you saw even a shred of worth in him—to wrest each word from his lips and every breath from his lungs. But, he did not love you. No.

Because loving you meant he was to tell you of your brother’s crimes. And Remus could not hurt you like that.

“P-Peter?” you had asked, wearing the eyes of a fretful sibling. Remus lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair gone astray behind your ear. Bellatrix had done a number on you—just as she had done to Alice and Frank. Remus was fairly certain that Sirius was off on a hunt for his cousin, his mind toyed with by the barbarity of war. What they could not do for the Longbottoms, they’d wring themselves dry to do for you. After the Lestranges’ attack, you suffered damage to your throat and memories. Remus could not bear to see you in such pain.

He could not give you love, but Remus would offer up to you his every limb, and the weary skin upon his bones.

“They. . .” Remus grimaced. How could he act as the bearer of bad news? He’d rather dive headfirst into shark-infested waters. Be anywhere else but here. In fact, Remus would rather snatch you away from the funereal walls, and hold you in his arms in the quietude of dawn, than be the one to bring anguish to your eyes. “They’re looking for him at the moment, love.”

One question lingered in your eyes: Why?

Luckily, Sirius was always the better one at sharpening a blunt knife. “He was a traitor,” he spat like acid. “A traitor to the Order. A traitor to us. He’s no friend of ours. Not anymore.”

But Sirius knew—better than anyone else—how difficult it can be to truly hate little brothers, especially once they’ve gone.

“No. . .” You trembled, almost retching as you sobbed into your palms.

Remus held you then, the front of his shirt soaked in your tears, eyes firmly shut as you trembled and heaved in his arms. The sound of your guttural screams bounced off the four walls, and Remus had to bury his nose in your hair. You were alive. Safe. Breathing. But you felt cold as ice; an empty husk stripped bare for grief to take over. And Remus could do nothing but hold you. (He just hoped that wherever Peter Pettigrew was, Remus would not be the first one to find him. Otherwise, they would not be able to recover even a fingernail from his remains.)

“Hush, love,” Remus whispered into your ear as you cried yourself sick. Mourning the loss of your brother, reeling from the betrayal of a bond that was supposed to be stronger than blood. Remus would make him pay, he vowed as much to you. No, Remus and the wolf in him did not know how to love. But he knew how to hurt. And, that, he’d gladly do for you. His body was for you to use as a shield, his soul for you to strip bare, and his heart for you to thieve and never return.

“Don’t cry,” said James, a shadow cast over his frames. “Not for Peter. Never. Fucking bastard will get what’s coming to him.” He laid on the vacant space of the bed, gently untangling your hands that were pressed over your heart. “I’ll make sure of it.”

They all would.

But not because they loved you.

It was not out of love, Remus had to remind himself in the coming days, when he stayed diligently by your side as you recovered. Daily sessions with the best healer St. Mungo’s could offer—as if James would allow anything else. There were days your eyes would glaze over, your words rough and sluggish, and Remus would try his damndest to make you smile.

It was the least he could do.

For failing to protect you.

But that was not love.

(It was hope. Wretched, disastrous hope as he fell to his knees, and your name in between his teeth.)

iv.

LILY EVANS was a fighter in all the ways that mattered.

And from the very first moment she held Harry in her arms, eyes raking over his wrinkly, bloodied skin; all ten fingers and toes, her soft cries over his loud screaming—Lily knew she would trade her life for his in a heartbeat. Little, lovely eyes that would soon see the world in his own time. Lily adored him. Cherished every tear, snore, and giggle. She knew then, that a mother’s love was entirely different from any emotion she’d ever felt before.

This was proven the first time Harry had gotten seriously ill. A few weeks after the attempted murder on the Potters, Harry was ceaselessly crying—screaming, even, every night—red-faced as he fussed every breakfast and dinner. Lily found herself at wit’s end. Her protectiveness had gone up a hundred measures; wouldn’t let anyone besides family or Madam Pomfrey see Harry. Yet, even with all the draughts and silly-flavoured syrups, Harry wasn’t getting better.

“Lily dear, you cannot actually be thinking about this,” worried Molly Weasley as Lily stood in front of your door, holed away in the room where you had been recovering for the last few days. It would be the first time she saw you since the incident. More than anything she was afraid. Frightened that you would look at her differently. Whether or not that fear stemmed from love, Lily was not concerned. “We can call for another Healer from Mungo’s to have a look at Harry. . . Who knows what might. . .”

Lily held Harry closer to her, lips firmly pressed, attempting to ignore the way his temperature was unnaturally high. “Might what, Mrs. Weasley?” She knew Molly was only talking out of concern, from a mother’s perspective at least. But she knew you better than anyone else. You would never hurt her, or Harry, that much she was certain of. And if you were the traitor everyone else was afraid of accusing you of, a sentence delivered by association to Peter—then let the guillotine fall, Lily would carry your crimes for you.

She remembered ever-so clearly in her sixth-year, you with dreams glistening in your eyes. (“I’m going to be a Healer, Lils! Minnie said I’d be a great one. . . I want to protect those I love. . . I know I can do it. . . Oh, I can’t wait to tell Peter that I’ve gotten recommendations already to work at Mungo’s after graduation.”)

And Lily recalled at that moment, she had felt a different kind of emotion that she had never experienced before. It was not love, of course. Tuney said she was too young and too stupid to know what real love was. But, at sixteen, what else could describe the way her heart fluttered and the way her lips threatened to break out into a smile whenever you lit up talking about your future? (It was just a crush, young Lily told herself.)

Only to be crushed and cast aside in the face of the war, where fighters took their place at the forefront of the lines, mothers and children hid; healers stretching themselves thin to be here, there, everywhere; where traitors walked in plain sight.

“There is no one else I trust more with my life,” replied Lily.

And that was that.

Lily skirted around Molly and opened the door to your room, where Sirius, James, and Remus all stood at attention at the sight of her and Harry. She ignored them, and headed straight to your side.

“Hello, love,” she greeted with all the gentleness she was made of, a smile creeping up to her eyes as Lily watched you turn your head at the sound of her voice. Truth be told, she did not know what her end-goal was in coming here. But being by your side had always made life a little more bearable, like all the illnesses in the world could not bring her down. And so, her magic had instinctively summoned her person to you. She, at least, was relieved to see colour returning to your cheeks, though the red in your eyes had dulled the hues she adored so much.

“Is that. . .?” you croaked.

Lily nodded. “Harry, meet—”

One of the loves of my life, the most loyal and pure witch anyone ever has the privilege of meeting, someone I want to stay in my life forever.

Lily’s smile wilted. “A friend.”

Later, she would place Harry in your arms—her little hope embraced by her dream—and Lily would wonder if it was by pure magic that Harry calmed in your presence.

For if love could hurt and destroy, could it mend and heal the broken as well?

But what a shame, for not one in that room carried an ounce of love for you.

(She would die for Harry, yes—but she would live for you.)

YOU did not love them, either.

The very idea, thought—insinuation—was absurd. (Why, they deserved much better than you, after all.) With hands that failed to protect them, were you even allowed to hold them anymore? Did your heart have the right to breathe for them? You had failed as a sister and a friend—how much more would you have failed as their lover? Well, you’d never know.

Because you did not love them.

Merely wished them happiness and for the world to extend them kindness. For the sun to look brightly down on them, and for time to heal their scars and wounds. For if they were in pain, the earth would stop spinning. But such a request was not borne from love.

Surely not.

Because, then, that would have meant that it was love that teared you apart when Sirius cursed your name, when James turned you away, when Remus could not look you in the eyes, or when Lily—for all your history together—called you a friend.

The whole of you was made by the parts of them. Each memory welded into the crevices of your soul. From the moment you had all found each other in the same train compartment, same common room—there was a shift in the fates that bound all five of you together. (The ties were red, but the thread was not of love.) You did not believe in Professor Trelawney’s talks of providence and destiny.

Because if you did, then why was the universe so cruel?

Falling—not in love—for four people who could very much do without you in their lives. Lacking severely as a sister to the point you had not noticed your brother fading and fading away into the shadows.

Was love that unkind? That merciless?

Then, you did not want to love at all.

Oh, but magic or not, every creature on this earth selfish.

You were no different.

You wanted.

Oh, how you yearned.

“I LOVE YOU.”

You barely had enough time to react before Sirius pressed his lips to the side of your head, arm covertly sneaking around your waist. The sound of the train whistling as parents yelled their goodbyes filled the station. You stood in the midst of the crowd, eyes never leaving one window in particular as you waved at Harry, now eleven-years-old and now off to Hogwarts.

“Quite a random thing to say, husband,” you murmured, leaning into his warmth. “What for?”

“Just because,” he replied in turn with a fiendish grin. “Well, perhaps for choosing us, for choosing me despite all my fuck-ups. For existing. For being the beautiful, wonderful, kind, precious you. I could keep on going, my darling. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”

You wrinkled your nose, eyes rolling from fondness. “I love you too, quite unfortunately.”

He only laughed and pulled you closer to him. “Let’s go home.”

–

“I love you.”

In the house built by new memories, warded by stronger protection charms, and filled with warmth and love—James said this to you each morning before he left for the Ministry, promoted after the war as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Not one foot out of the door until he had showered you in kisses and the symphonies of his heart. James had always been loud, even in his time at Hogwarts. The war had not taken this part of him, and you figured James was too loud to let it be taken from him. He was unapologetically and unabashedly him.

And you had loved him fiercely for that.

“I’ll be home early tonight,” he said, a quiet intimacy washing over the both of you. The early birds of the cottage. “Wait for me?”

“Of course,” you answered without an ounce of hesitation, delicately chasing after his lips. “I love you. Be safe.”

“I love you.”

“Are you saying that to me or are you reading from the book?” you teased from where you laid on Remus’s chest, hours after James left for work, the afternoon bringing you two together in the living room. Lily was in the gardens, and Sirius was in the shed working on his motorbike. It was perfect. You felt the rise and fall of Remus’s chest beneath you, his heartbeat close to your ear. He was perfect. It was a miracle you had not fallen asleep to the tender lull of his voice.

“Both,” he responded, hand coming up to trace the bare of your skin—a miracle you did not crumble or burn instantly from his touch.

You hummed. “Then, I love you, too.” Then, you grinned, lifting your head to stare up at him. “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.”

And, oh, how photographs could not capture the beauty in Remus’s smile as his eyes regarded you with such fire.

“My heart, my light, my desire,” Remus began, one finger ever-so softly tracing the curve of your cheek. “In vain I have struggled, it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

–

“I love you.”

Said Lily as she lied in your shared bed, red-nosed and her cheeks pale, sluggish. The Christmas holiday was generous enough to gift her with an unfortunate cold that had been going around the wizarding world. “But, please, go,” she commanded weakly, gesturing for you to join Harry who was stood by the door. “It’s a lovely day outside for making snowmen with carrots as noses and snow angels. Not for taking care of poor old me.”

You rolled your eyes as you sat by her side, swiftly pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I love you, which is why I would rather much be here, taking care of the prettiest snow angel to ever exist,” you countered, bringing a spoonful of broth to her lips. “Besides, Harry here has something to tell you. He’s made friends at school. One of them is Molly’s little one.”

“Oh, you did?” Lily cooed, before sniffling weakly. “That’s lovely, darling. Tell me all about them.”

“That’s not all, Lily mine,” you began mischievously as Harry’s eyes narrowed at you through his glasses. “This friendship apparently formed after fighting a troll.”

“You what?” Lily croaked, emerald eyes shimmering with concern and near-dread.

“Did you really, Harry?” James popped his head in the doorway, clapping his son on the shoulder before ushering him inside the room. A spitting image side-by-side as they took the empty space by the foot of the bed. “Good boy. Father approves.”

“Of course you would,” Lily shot at him weakly, melting when Sirius then entered the room and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. “And where are you all coming from?”

“Outside,” announced Remus, tugging his tie from his neck. “Sirius and I took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to get some things that’ll make you feel better, Lily love.”

And as the snow fell outside, lazy winds against the window, your little family gathered in one room, there was one thing you knew for certain.

You loved them.

And they loved you.

a/n: i wrote all 4k words while sick. crazy. but anyway, i wanted to believe in love again so here i am. thank you all so much for being patient with me. i promise to do even better in the next fics!

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00fairylights00 · 2 years ago

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Chapter 2: Fancy Meeting You Here

Author's Note:

I am back again lmao, my workplace is going through a massive restructure and I am currently being tested for narcolepsy so writing was not at the top of the priority list but we're here yay! Wanna chat with me about this fic or other Little Nightmares-related topics, you can join The Pantheon discord server my friends and I run! The link is here! Warnings: gun use/mentions, mentions of previous open wound/injury, swearing

By the skin of her teeth, Maddie makes it out of her fight with The Viewer alive. Taking refuge in an old apartment she finds she isn’t as alone as she thinks she is.

I leant my body hard against the wood of the door and rested my shotgun against the wall before sliding down to the floor. Pain bloomed in my calf and I bit back a sob, lifting my pant leg up to reveal the damage. There was a tear through the back of my calf, the skin surrounding the injury red and raw.

The damage wasn’t deep but it would scar and it hurt like a bitch. I ripped my backpack and face mask off, pulling out the red first aid kit I’d packed. I downed a couple of painkillers with a mouthful of water, reaching for the rubbing alcohol and a rag, I pulled my glove off and shoved it in my mouth to muffle the inevitable yelps of pain I was going to make.

I took a deep breath and then all I could feel was red-hot pain.

Keep pushing through, I told myself, tears streaking my dirty face as I tried hard to keep my voice down while I cleaned and bandaged my leg. I coughed into the dusty room while I caught my breath, the windows facing the courtyard were broken, the cold wind of the starting winter whistling through them.

I tipped my head back against the door and looked up at the ceiling, tracing the pattern of damp that collected in the corner. I heard shuffling somewhere deeper in the room but ignored it, it wasn’t loud or erratic enough to be anything too dangerous, probably a rodent.

Then there was a thready cough, still too small and weak to be anything worth worrying over but I definitely wasn’t alone in this room. I took another deep breath, quelling the curiosity that had risen in me, whatever it was, it wasn’t my problem.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Came a hushed whisper from around the corner, that sounded like a kid.

It was definitely my problem now.

I stood slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, following the gentle voice around an overturned sofa. It had to be a kid, and said kid had to have heard me come in, I wasn’t exactly quiet about it. I’d probably scared them half to death.

I placed my hand on the worn fabric of the sofa, wincing when I put too much weight on my bad leg, but this gave me the advantage of seeing movement. There was a cardboard box pressed into the corner of the room, covered by a ratty towel that swayed slightly. I got down on my hands and knees, crawling towards the box.

I put my hand in clear view of the opening, giving the kid a chance to run if they felt the need to, trying to remember everything Halle had taught me about building trust. When I got no response I lifted the towel, only for a tiny foot to stomp down on my other hand, I yelped at the pain in my hand and then the pain in my leg as I scrambled to get back. Yep, definitely a kid.

A hand peeked out from behind the box, pulling the towel away and showing off— a paper bag mask?

“Taken.” Came the kid’s icy response. The two small eye holes of his mask stared me down intensely. A boy, only a couple of feet tall and dirty from head to toe.

“I didn’t know it was taken,” I gestured to the surrounding room, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t trust you,” he looked me over, head tilting to the side, “bang stick?”

Bang stick? Bang stick. Gun, he was asking about my shotgun.

“The gun? It’s by the door, far away. It can’t hurt you. I won’t use it.”

He seemed to perk up at the sentiment, his body language opening up for just a second before he was setting his shoulders again, drawing back. He took a step out of the box, approaching me while I backed up to give him space.

“Hurt?” He whispered, I made a noise of confusion and then he pointed at my calf, covered in gauze and bandages, “are you hurt?”

“Uh yeah, yeah hurt.”

“Fix?” He looked back up at me, “How?”

“Uh, first aid kit. It has bandages and medicine in it,” The mention of medicine brought him all the way out of the box, the towel swishing forward and letting me see a second child that he was protecting, “Does your friend in there need help? Medicine?”

“Medicine, medicine! My friend, she’s hurting!” He stated with urgency, reaching forward to pull on my sleeve desperately. “Help?”

I nodded and got back up to grab the kit from where I’d left it by the door. When I came back he was holding the towel out of the way so I could see his friend. She was bundled up in all manner of fabrics, tossing and turning, a sheen of sweat on her face as she curled in on herself. I pressed the back of my gloveless hand to the sleeping girl’s forehead and reeled back in shock.

“She’s too hot.” I fretted, working on getting some of the many layers off of her. She had a fever so high I was sure she wouldn’t remember any of this, her breaths coming out in small, almost inaudible wheezes. I pushed her dark bangs from her forehead and she opened her eyes.

There was no recognition of danger in her expression, this kid was dying or at the very least accepting death. I felt my heart tug uncomfortably, she was also tiny, the fabrics swallowing her form as she whimpered. I sat on the floor with my bad leg extended as Paper Bag sat down close to her and started stroking her hair,

“What’s her name?” I asked, removing my other glove and rummaging through the kit.

“Why?” He asked, voice edged with suspicion.

“Because,” I smiled, “how else will I know what to call you two?”

“Six,” he pointed at his friend.

“Like the number?” I asked with amusement, he nodded. “And what’s your name?”

“Mono.”

Number based names, I wondered if they’d picked them out themselves. I pulled out a small bottle of medicine and a plastic measuring cup.

“I’m Maddie, it’s nice to meet you. Do you think you can help me out?” He nodded enthusiastically, “I need you to take this cloth and get it cold and wet, can you do that?”

“Yes, yes!” Mono took the cloth and rushed towards the open doorway to the kitchen, I put my focus back on Six, pulling her out of the box and propping her up between my legs.

She stirred minutely at the change of position before settling again. I poured medicine into the cup and tipped her head back, gently stroking her throat with a finger to coax her barely conscious body to swallow the amber liquid. Despite her lack of response so far the medicine certainly had her moving, she coughed and made a face at the taste. “I know honey, I know. Not a great taste is it?”

Mono returned with the cloth, handing it over and kneeling down beside my thigh. He hesitated for a moment, keeping his arms close to his chest and flexing his hands as he regarded me before giving up on his internal battle and leaning his arms on my leg and then his head on his arms. I folded the cloth up and started to pat Six down with it, focusing on her face and neck, she whimpered at the intense difference in temperatures.

“I’m sorry Six, I know it doesn’t feel great but we need to cool you off.” I soothed, Mono reached out to hold her hand, running his thumb over Six’s knuckles, the small action putting her exhausted body at ease.

“Still don’t trust you,” Mono warned, “not stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid.” I supplied softly.

“Not from here.” He stated matter of factly, pointing his finger at me.

“Not true. I was born here, in the city.” I explained.

“Really?” Mono crept a little closer to me, leaning in with interest.

“Yeah, I was rescued when I was about eleven years old,” I smiled, putting the cloth I was using on Six down, “in fact, I work for the people who rescued me now, that’s why I’m here.”

“Rescued?” His head tilted to the side in question.

“Yeah, some really nice people helped me and some other kids get out of the city, they helped to keep me alive. They get kids away from the city and help find them nice homes to go to, where they’ll always be safe.” Mono looked away, focusing on the wall as he pulled back from me. Letting go of Six’s hand and picking at his fingers nervously, “Mono, were you and Six going somewhere before you stopped here?”

His demeanour dampened very suddenly, soured in the way it did with kids back home when they did something they knew they shouldn’t.

“The Maw.” He murmured, my eyes grew wide and I leaned forward slightly.

“The Maw?! Do you have any idea how dangerous-”

“I do!” He burst, looking back at me. “Some risks are worth taking.”

The full statement rattled me, it wasn’t often that kids from the city could speak in full sentences. Most opted for broken phrasing or their own forms of sign-language.

“Why on earth would that be a risk worth taking?” I knew the answer, it was always the same but a small part of me hoped that I’d meet a kid who genuinely didn’t realise the danger of The Maw, that they were just a kid making a decision unsupervised. Something about the promise of an endless supply of food drew in children just as well as it did Adults.

“Something bad happened to Six, and now she gets hungry and angry. She’s hurting so much, I thought-” he cut himself off, taking a deep breath, “I thought if we could get to The Maw she’d never run out of food, so she’d never have to hurt again. But then she got sick, so we’re not going to make it.” He spit, his anger and disappointment was apparent.

I placed my hand on his back and immediately realised my mistake as he flinched, I pulled back slowly so as to not further frighten him, watching as he scooted away from me slightly, putting space between us and crossing his arms, closing me off. Despite not being able to see his face I could tell he was at war with himself, the committee could help these kids, I just had to convince them to come with us.

Which would be easier said than done.

Pale City kids were notoriously hard to recondition, many of the ones we rescued were sent off to more intense programmes where they could be better cared for. That wasn’t important now though, it would be wrong to leave them here, not when I knew I could get them help.

“You don’t need to go to The Maw, those people I work for? They can help you.” Mono ignored my offer, asking a question in the most sobering, haunting tone I’d ever heard a child take.

“She’s dying, isn’t she?” there was a wobble in his voice as he spoke.

I looked down at Six again, sweeping her hair back, the fever wasn’t worsening but it was too early for it to be getting better.

“It’s too early to tell but she’s really not well.” I said quietly.

“How do I know I can trust you?” He demanded aggressively, pulling his legs up under his crossed arms and leaning on them, chin pressed against his forearms.

“You don’t, but I’ve only tried to help so far, and I only plan to help going forward. So, it’s up to you if you think that’s worth betting on.”

Mono looked up at me, the eye holes of his mask staring through me, he tilted his head like a confused puppy, considering me carefully, before looking away and resting his chin back on his folded arms.

“If you wanted to kill us, you would’ve done it already,” he mumbled to himself, his gaze lingering on where I’d left my shotgun, “Six needs help, do you really think you can get her that help?”

“I know that I can, but I can’t promise the help we have will work.”

“But you promise that you can try?”

“Yes, and I will be with the both of you the whole time, if that makes you feel more comfortable.”

He scooted forward a little closer, still choosing to keep his distance from me. “I think I’d like that, I’ll do anything to help Six.”

“I’m sure she’ll really appreciate that.” I whispered, offering my hand out to him.

He raised his hand then stopped, coiling his fingers as he hesitated. I waited patiently on his decision, watching with a smile as he shyly placed his hand in mine, squeezing my upturned palm gently once.

I sat with Mono and Six until the early hours of the morning, sleep did eventually come for me despite my effort to stay awake but it was short lived as hazy morning light started to pour in through the window and directly onto my face.

Mono had been up and down all night, sleeping in tiny bursts, walking around the apartment and then settling down to sleep again cyclically. I could hear him moving something around in the kitchen, mumbling to himself.

I stretched my arms over my head, looking down at Six still curled up between my legs, she’d cooled down considerably but was still sleeping fitfully. I needed to check her over again and then check my own injury but doing that meant moving and as uncomfortable as leaning flat against a wall was, I was very cosy.

Holding Six’s head and neck up, I manoeuvred her off of my good leg. She didn’t so much as stir, not a good sign. When she was curled back under her makeshift blanket I checked her temperature again, a little warmer than it should be but not as bad as it was last night, she’d need another dose of medicine soon.

I crept up, biting down on my tongue when my cut skin exploded to life, burning uncomfortably. I got to work, changing the soiled bandages and gauze and taking more painkillers. With my leg looking better, I went into the kitchen to find Mono rooting around in one of the kitchen drawers.

“And what are you doing?”

Mono jumped, not expecting me to speak, paper bag turning to look up at me.

“‘Dunno,” he mumbled, “I’m not used to staying in one place for so long I guess,”

“Restlessness,” I said knowingly, crouching down next to him, “that’s very normal.”

“If you say so,” he shrugged, shutting the drawer.

We both went silent, not having much else to talk about. Mono stood across from me awkwardly, rubbing his foot against his ankle.

“You hungry?” I grinned at the sudden change in attitude, Mono bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Yes, yes!”

“C’mon then.”

He followed me back into the living area, trying to get a look into my bag as I rummaged for the travel food I’d packed. I offered him one of the cereal bars and he all but snatched it out of my hands, I’d need to figure out how to get Six fed, she was still out of it and probably wouldn’t have enough energy to chew.

While I was preoccupied with my thoughts there was a tug on the back of my jacket, I turned to Mono who was holding out half of the cereal bar, my heart warmed but I shook my head.

“You have it, there’s plenty in here and you need it more than I do.”

He seemed adamant however, shaking it at me in a gesture to take it, I wondered if he wanted to double check that it wasn’t poisoned or maybe he just wasn’t able to eat that much. I took it from his hand with a smile, sitting with my bad leg out and taking a bite. That seemed to placate him and before I knew it he was mirroring me, sitting with his legs out and snacking away.

“What is this stuff?” He asked,

“Do you not like it?”

“I do! I guess it’s just different from what I’m used to, I don’t recognise the taste.”

“It’s a cereal bar, it’s made of cereal, which is like oats and wheat that’s been mixed together and cooked, and syrup which is this sticky, sweet liquid that you can use in lots of things. The sweetness in the syrup is probably the taste you don’t recognise.”

“I really like it!” He giggled, the sugary treat disappearing under his mask.

I didn’t bother asking what it was the two children were used to, it likely hadn’t changed since I’d been in their shoes all those years ago. We ate in silence for a while before my curiosity got the better of me. I was so interested in how these two had become saddled to one another.

“So how do you and Six know each other? You said you’re friends right?” I asked, Mono sat for a moment, cereal bar disappearing under his mask again before speaking with his mouth full.

“We met in this cabin-”

“Finish what’s in your mouth first, I don’t want you to choke.”

It was hard to tell exactly what face he was making under his paper bag when he took those long, pregnant pauses. He stared me down, completely unmoving and then loosening up to continue his answer.

“We met in this cabin in the woods, it smelled really gross and I was looking for food but there wasn’t anything that looked safe to eat, so I was walking through the hallway and I could hear this music coming from the basement.”

I nodded along, taking a bite of my food.

“When I got down there I couldn’t see anyone, but the music was coming from behind a locked door. Six was inside so I thought ‘I gotta break her out!’ But really that was a bad idea ‘cause she wasn’t alone in the house and-”

“What do you mean?” I furrowed my brow.

“There was this mean old guy with a sack over his head living there! Six called him The Hunter.” Mono explained. So some horrible brute had scooped Six up and was keeping her captive? How charming. “He had one of those sticks, like your one.”

“A shotgun?” I clarified. “Did he shoot at you?”

Mono nodded quickly, I felt sick, how much of The Transmission’s horror had touched these kids, the things they must’ve done to stay alive made my blood boil. They were the ones who truly suffered at the hands of The Signal Tower, abandoned and left to fend for themselves.

I sat in shock horror as Mono continued to explain he and Six’s daring escape from The Hunter’s Wilderness. They’d weaved through long grass and crawled through empty fox dens, Mono had taken a rain hat from the corpse of a child in a cage and didn’t seem even slightly phased by it.

They treaded murky water in a bog, only to be backed into a shed on the wilderness’s edge, “Six had locked the door and she was trying to hold it and we were looking around for something and there was a… gun?” I nodded at his inquiring tone, shuddering at the implication, I knew where this was going. “There was a gun on the wall, so I pulled it down and Six and I were holding it up at the door…”

He trailed off, pulling his legs in and up against his chest, food long forgotten in his hand. I wanted to shuffle closer, do what I could to comfort him but I didn’t want to spook him, I had to remember I was still a stranger.

“Mono, did you shoot the gun?”

He nodded and I sucked in a breath. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fucking right, no kid should have to face the guilt that came with killing someone just to keep themselves alive.

And sure, The Pale Citizens are hardly people anymore but it doesn’t change the fact that they had been once, Mono and Six had been born into this world long after The Transmission had started so I couldn’t be sure they understood that Adults hadn’t always been this way, but I hoped that they did.

“The things you’ve had to do to survive, they aren’t your fault, you know that right?” I asked, Mono shrugged noncommittally.

“I guess so.”

Six stirred quietly across from us but didn’t wake up, Mono moved so he could sit with her and started to gently stroke her hair. We sat in comfortable silence for a while, Mono content to keep an eye on Six while I kept watch on the courtyard.

I watched the bleak weather move outside, light being streaked across the concrete as the cloud cover moved. The quiet started to creep up on the three of us again, I watched as Mono curled down next to Six and found myself starting to nod off too.

Then I heard voices, a group of them, hushed and frantic as they came closer. I shook myself awake, making the struggle to stand and move toward the door to pick up my shotgun. The commotion I was making woke Mono up from his nap, tiny fist disappearing under his mask to supposedly rub at his eyes as he yawned.

He pulled himself up to sit when he noticed that I was holding my gun.

“What’s going on?” Mono asked with an edge of rising panic, head frantically swivelling as he looked around the room for options to hide, his hand clasped tightly to Six’s singlet.

“I don’t know, stay with her,” I whispered back, “whatever is on the other side of this door I will deal with, I need you to do exactly as I say, do you understand?”

He nodded, the hand that wasn’t bunched in Six’s top was shaking in terror.

“Get yourself ready to move.”

I cracked the door open, the muzzle of the gun stuck in the gap and prepared to put myself between these kids and whatever was in the courtyard and then I heard a whistle.

A loud piercing whistle that made me want to cry with relief, I opened the door fully and the group of people surrounding The Viewers corpse turned to me.

“Halle?” I called out in disbelief.

“Madeleine!” Halle yelled, I shushed him hoping there was nothing else here but us as he rushed over to me. He took my face in his calloused hands, turning me back and forth as he checked me over. “What happened to your leg?”

“I cut it on some rebar by mistake, I’m perfectly fine.” I wrapped my hands around Halle’s wrists, I don’t think I’d ever been so relieved to see the old man.

“Why are you out here on your own?” The worried lilt in his voice dropped as his face warped with confusion, there was now a barely concealed fury burning in his eyes.

I was no longer relieved to see Halle.

“What do you mean?” I was unsure about what the problem was, he’d asked me out here why would he be upset with me?

“I mean, why are you out here on your own?” He repeated with more vigour, I started to reel with my own confusion.

“You-”

“Halle! We’re going down to the wharf,” Georgia called from her place across the courtyard, the group still crowding The Viewer I’d killed,

“I’ll be right with you Georgia,” He shouted back to her, then turned to me, “We are not done with this conversation.”

“Yeah clearly,” I muttered under my breath as he started to walk away, I grabbed his arm, “I found a couple of kids, I need Arthur to take a look at one of them.”

Halle stopped in his tracks, twisting back to face me with raised brows. “How bad?”

“If we leave her much longer she won’t survive, it’s a damn miracle she’s been able to hold out this long.”

There was that word again, miracle. If Six makes it, that's what she’ll be known as, and while I’m sure she’ll hate it, being a miracle is better than being dead.

I pulled Halle to the apartment door and peeked my head in, I smiled at Mono who visibly relaxed.

“Nothing to worry about, it’s just those nice rescue people I was telling you about.” I opened the door to let Halle see the two children, his expression steeled as he took them in.

“I’ll get Arthur,” Halle murmured, hand squeezing my shoulder.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I assured Mono from the doorway as Halle walked away, “we’ll get you out of this mess.”

“Okay,” Mono whispered.

It didn’t take Arthur long to make his way over, boots scuffing the broken concrete with force, I pushed the door open wide for him and watched him scan the room, it wasn’t long before he got to work, getting down on his hands and knees to assess Six.

Mono wasn’t far off, watching the red-haired man like a hawk, that unsettling, paper bag stare making Arthur clear his throat and look at me expectantly.

“Mono, did you and Six come here with anything? Any bags or other clothes?” I asked, trying to ease the tension as I stepped back into the room.

“No, but-”

“How long has her breathing been like this?” Arthur cut in, voice stern. The sudden seriousness he had taken on made my stomach churn.

“Been like what?” I was struggling to keep my voice steady as I asked the question. My palms started to sweat as I turned away from Mono and took a knee next to Arthur.

“Shallow and thready,” he clarified, starting to bundle the girl up as I stammered through my answer.

“I-I’m not sure.”

“Okay, don’t panic but we need to go now, just the journey back might be too long if we don’t start moving.” Arthur kept his voice low and hushed, an obvious attempt to keep the boy behind him from panicking but as I caught a glimpse of Mono over his shoulder I knew there was no point.

Mono stood up, body coiled tight like a spring, set to sprint should someone say the word. He’d picked up Six’s raincoat from where Arthur had discarded it when he was checking the girl over, the yellow vinyl having been in the way.

The coat arm was scrunched tight in his hand, white knuckled with nervous force.

“What’s going on?” Mono fretted, paper bag turning to face me head on. “Maddie, where is he taking Six!?”

“He’s just-“

I cut myself off as Arthur swept Six up, holding her tight to his chest as he stood. Mono jumped to action, fingers digging into Arthur’s heavy duty jeans and pulling.

It didn’t phase Arthur, shaking the boy off and taking long strides to the door.

“No! Put her down, let her go!” Mono yelled as he tried futilely to pull Arthur down, I grabbed for the boy’s shoulder and pulled him back until he was standing still. With Mono distracted for just a moment Arthur took Six and left the apartment complex.

“Mono, Arthur is a doctor. He’s taking her back to the boat which will take us back to the mainland,”

“Liar!” Mono yelled, beating his fists against my thighs. “You’re just like the rest of them! You’ll take her and I’ll never see her again, you’ll leave me here!”

I grabbed his wrists, holding them still as he panicked.

“Arthur needs to take Six away from The Pale City to help her,” I soothed, “I’ll be with you the whole time and you will see Six again, I promise.”

“I don’t trust you!” He cried, tears dripping from his chin.

“Listen to me— Listen!” Mono snivelled, I pulled my sleeve down and wiped at his tear-stained chin. “If Six doesn’t get proper help, she will die. Do you understand?”

Mono crumpled to his knees, his hands still held tight in my grip, anguished sobs wracked his body, I pulled him into a hug which he pushed against before changing his mind and melting into. He balled my shirt up into his fists and tucked himself under my chin as best as he could with his mask still on.

It took a few moments to bring him down, I’d never known a Pale City kid to be so loud.

“I will be with you the whole time, I am not going to leave you here. I know this is a lot to deal with so quickly but will you let me help you like I said I would?” I pleaded quietly, we were on borrowed time now and as much as I was trying not to show it, deep down I was panicking too.

Mono continued to cry, entirely unresponsive as he pressed himself impossibly close to my chest. I gently pulled him back, my heart tugging as he shook with unbridled fear.

“Mono, I need an answer.” I lifted his head to meet my gaze, relieved when he nodded frantically. “Okay, give me that coat and let’s go.”

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#little nightmares #little nightmares happy au #LN Fairy's Happy AU #six little nightmares #mono little nightmares #tw: guns #tw: open wound #tw: injury #And So The Rain Stopped #ASTRS #little nightmares fanfic #no one told me that being sick all the time was so exhausting #I have seen a specialist though which is cool #and I have to see my GP in August which is less cool cause they'll just blame me for what's wrong like they have for the last year and half #it's a whole thing #n e ways enjoy the new chapter!!#🕯️ in the palm of my hand #jul 2023

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munson-blurbs · 9 months ago

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Summary: A missing key and a terrible storm leaves you and Eddie stranded in the back of his van. What ever shall you do to pass the time?

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, friends-to-lovers, kinda sub!Eddie but he's mostly just a simp.

A/N: This will be my last 1k+ fic for a while, as I'll be focusing on writing blurbs for Corroded Coffin Fest throughout July. Why not go out with a (literal) bang?

“What do you mean, you forgot your key?”

Your eyes widen as Eddie flicks through the keyring. He shakes his head in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“I was switching keychains…I thought I put them all back…” He huffs out an irritated laugh. “Must’ve left the house key on the table.”

A warm breeze siphons through the humidity, gray clouds rolling in. August in Hawkins is unbearable as it is, and the sticky heat before a storm is downright brutal.

Eddie jiggles the doorknob once more, to no avail. “Jesus H. Christ.” He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy and knotted from the hot weather. “Back to your place?”

Before you can agree, lightning flashes and is swiftly accompanied by booming thunder. Your heart leaps into your throat and you jump.

“Scared the shit outta me, too.” Eddie laughs nervously. A fat raindrop falls from the sky and plops on his nose, rolling off of the side. Another lands on his cheek, then one lands on yours, until rain pours in a steady sheet.

Eddie grabs your hand, tugging you off of the trailer’s front steps and pulling you back to his van. He flings open the back doors, always kept unlocked unless he’s hauling concert equipment.

“Get in,” he orders, and you follow his instructions without a second though. Rainwater pools in the grass, dirt turning into mud beneath your sneakered feet. His hands grip your waist, steadying you as you climb up. “We’ll wait in here until the rain dies down.”

You ignore the lingering flames that his touch leaves behind and the way he’s now sitting right next to you. “It’s like a monsoon out there.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the storm raging outside. Raindrops sound like drum beats against the van’s exterior, a song you’ve heard many times before.

A chill sweeps over you, reminding you of the wet cotton of your t-shirt clinging to your torso. Your miniskirt hasn't fared much better, the light-washed denim now dark.

“Do you have a blanket back here?”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s, like, the one thing I don’t have.” He gestures to the cluttered space.

You offer a half-smile. “S’okay.” Your palms glide up and down your goosebump-covered arms.

He notices this, frowning. “Here,” he says. “My hands are bigger than yours.” He clumsily positions himself behind you, knees knocking against your sides. His grasp is strong but gentle, hands warming you up from the outside in.

“Thanks.” He’s close—so close—yet it feels like he’s never been farther away. Without thinking, you scoot back until your ass brushes against his fly.

“Sh-Shit.” Eddie inhales sharply. “That’s, um, dangerous territory.”

You raise your brows, though he can’t see them. “And rubbing my arms isn’t?”

Eddie peers around, chin resting on your shoulder. He looks up and says, “it doesn’t turn you on though.”

“Says who?”

He breathes out a laugh, stopping immediately when he realizes that you’re not joking. His voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “This…this turns you on?”

You nod, suddenly shy at the admission.

“How about this?” Eddie’s lips press against the back of your neck. One calloused hand reaches for the collar of your shirt, tugging it down to expose your shoulder. He kisses that, too, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.” His other hand snakes around your throat, holding it firmly but being careful not to squeeze. “We shouldn’t do this. S’gonna ruin our friendship.”

Gently, you turn to face him, legs straddling his waist. “I’m fine with ruining it if you are.” The words are murmured, muffled by the proximity of your lips and his.

Eddie swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with trepidation. “Just want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

He grabs your ass and pulls you closer until you can feel his erection straining against his jeans. You roll your hips, eliciting a moan from him.

“You—I gotta—” He unbuckles his belt, tossing it amongst the van’s clutter. “I’m so hard it hurts.”

You reach for his pants button, but he shakes his head. “I’ll bust if you touch me,” he sheepishly explains.

He takes off his own pants, which is much more of a chore than usual because of the rain-soaked fabric. He doesn’t bother to remove his Hellfire shirt, but you hardly notice. His tented boxers hold your focus, and despite his warning, you strip them away. You need to see what’s beneath them.

The sight before you is nothing less than glorious.

His cock is hard, curved slightly left, the pinkish-purple tip already leaking pre-cum. Your thumb traces the vein that runs along the shaft, and he shivers at your touch. When he looks at you with wide, wet eyes, you nearly melt on the spot.

“Is…Is this what you want?” Eddie’s voice is so soft you can barely hear it above the pouring rain. “Because…I want this so bad. So fucking bad.” Pleading, desperate, bordering on pathetic. Everything he showed outwardly, you felt on the inside.

You lean in, capturing his lips and pouring all of your desire into one searing kiss. “Don’t just want it. Need it. Need you,” you reassure him, feeling his length twitch against you. Taking it in your hand, you move your panties out of the way and rub the head against your clit. Every nudge sends a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. “Mmmph, please, please.”

Eddie wraps his hand around yours, guiding his cock into you. “There you go,” he whispers, hissing as you sink down. He fills you completely, bringing a pinch of pain as you adjust to him. “You okay?”

“Mhm. M-More than okay.” You grip his shoulders, curling your fingers into the shirt’s cotton fabric. Moving your hips, you work him deeper until he’s bottomed out, sheathed within you down to the curls at his base.

Everything is Eddie, and it feels so good.

“Can’t believe I’m inside you.” He tries to kiss you, the action hindered by a small laugh. “I’m actually—we’re actually doing this. Fuck, you feel so good!” The last sentence is a growl, raw and primal.

You hold on to him, knees scraping against the van’s worn carpet as your movements find their rhythm. There’s no more time for self-control. Only Eddie, his hips bucking to meet your core.

“Might…might not last long,” he admits, swiping at a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “You’re even better than my fantasies. Never knew you’d feel this f-fucking warm. Tight. Like you’re m-made for me.”

“Maybe I am.” You swoop down to suck on his neck. “Maybe I am made for you, and I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back and exposing more of his neck, which you dutifully continue marking. His thoughts are clouded by lust; neither of you speak for a while, the only noises are moans and the van squeaking on its axles.

“It’s always you.”

Your eyes meet his. “What?”

“In my fantasies. It’s always you. Every time I jerk off, I imagine your hands, your mouth, your perfect pussy—”

“Eddie.” His name is barely a breath. You clench around him just as he kisses you, and his teeth sink into your lower lip. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it produces a twinge of pain that has you skyrocketing towards climax. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He grabs your hips harshly, keeping you flush against him. The denim waistband of your skirt digs into your skin but you don’t care. Nothing matters, only Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…

“I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming.” He thrusts upwards in short, punctuated strokes, heaving as he spills into you.

The two of you stay like that for a few moments, catching your breath and processing what just happened. You confessed that Eddie’s touch turned you on, you rode him in the back of his van, and then he confessed that he thinks about you when he touches himself.

Oh, and he gave you an earth-shattering orgasm.

As if reading your mind, Eddie says softly, “you came…right? Because if you didn’t, I can—”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but giggle, silencing him with a kiss. “I definitely came.”

His chest sags with relief. “Good. Me, too. I mean, obviously. It’s right…” He withdraws, cock softening, his cum trickling down your thigh. “Holy fucking shit.”

There’s no masking his grin, visible through the t-shirt’s thin fabric as he pulls it over his head. With a careful touch, he wipes away his mess.

“I think I owe you a new shirt.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, tossing the shirt aside. “I have a million of these. Not the first time one’s been, uh, stained.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn crimson at his admission. He averts his gaze from you, bringing his attention to the foggy window. The condensation squeaks under his forefinger as he draws a smiley face through it.

“What do you wanna do till my uncle gets home?”

You, you think, but the last thing you need is for Wayne to find the van a-rockin’. “Maybe I could hear more about those fantasies of yours? And I could tell you some of mine?”

Eddie looks back at you, his spent cock still managing a small twitch. “Mmm.” His lips find your throat, sending vibrations through you when he speaks. One hand snakes between your bodies, his middle finger landing on your clit. He makes small, deliberate circles as he murmurs.

“Ladies first.”

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

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angelfic · 1 month ago

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never let me go.

PART ONE ➺ series masterlist

[jason todd x reader]

summary — you’ve returned to gotham after a few years away, having left as soon as you could to escape the constant reminders of your deceased best friend, jason todd. you expected to be haunted by the ghost of him the minute you stepped foot in the city, but certainly not like this — the city you call home has much more in store than you could have imagined. warnings — childhood best friends to lovers, mentions of death + mourning, angst a/n; my first jason series! i hope you guys like it and please let me know your thoughts! <3

You step out of the revolving doors of Wayne Enterprises, grimacing as you leave the sweet kiss of air conditioning blowing on your face to step into the suffocating August heat.

The humidity turns the whole city of Gotham into a pressure cooker, warm air sinking into the pavement and rising from the streets in thick waves like something sentient as it clings to your skin. Each inhale you take is more stifling than the last, the scents of gasoline, hot metal, the occasional waft of something fried from a street cart dizzying you.

Wayne Tower looms tall behind you, its glass windows tinted gold in the dying sunlight that cast you in a warm glow as you leave for the evening. Your work day is over, but the streets are still restless, businessmen bustling around trying to hail cabs, couples weaving through the foot traffic, kids running from their parents’ grasps.

You adjust the strap of your tote bag and start walking, the sound of your heels clicking against the sidewalk getting lost under the city’s constant hum.

The air smells like rain, even thought the sky is clear, just streaked with the last bruised colours of a sunset. It’ll storm soon, you think, squinting at the sky. Gotham in August always storms.

You walk faster, eager to get home and nearly bump into a couple of teenagers loitering outside a bodega. The neon glow of the sign flickers and spills onto the sidewalk, casting them in a sickly green hue. The glass doors swing open and shut as customers come and go, but the teens are laughing quietly, heads inclined towards each other and paying no mind to anyone else.

One of them nudges the other with an exaggerated shove, nearly sending them off the curb. It’s careless, completely normal. And yet you find yourself feeling suddenly hollow inside.

You snap out of it when they start walking, barely sidestepping in time to avoid colliding with the girl.

“Shit, sorry,” she mutters, stuffing a crinkled bag of chips into her hoodie pocket.

“No worries,” you reply automatically, but something in the scene pulls at you, holding you for a beat too long. The girl gives you a once over, her gaze lingering on your work attire — you don’t look like you belong here. She raises her brows, before turning away to join her friend.

The easy way they stand together, the teasing and the unspoken promise that they have each other’s back is clear as day with the way they angle themselves towards each other as they walk.

You want to open your mouth and tell them you once sat exactly where they’re hanging out, wearing clothes the complete opposite of the sleek pantsuit that’s basically become your uniform this last year. Using watermelon lip gloss and smudgy eyeliner instead of the sophisticated neutral tones that now make you look softer, unassuming.

Instead, you turn on your heal and continue to walk the familiar path home, lost in thought.

You’re fourteen, sitting on the curb outside the same bodega, nursing a stolen Coke between your hands. Jason is next to you, one leg stretched onto the sidewalk, the other bent up to rest his arm over his knee. He’s grinning, breathless and there’s a fresh scrape on his cheek from the chase.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he laughs, reaching over to shove at your shoulder. “I swear, I thought you were going to trip and eat the pavement.”

You glare at him, but can’t help the smile forming on your own face. “I wouldn’t have had to run if you hadn’t mouthed off to that guy.”

Jason simply shrugs, expression smug. “He was being a dick. You know I can’t let that slide.”

You shake your head, taking a sip of your Coke. It’s warm now, borderline flat, but it tastes like victory. The city hums around you, cars speeding past, the distant wail of sirens. The radio inside the bodega is playing something old and crackly and you sigh.

Jason leans back on his hands and tilts his head at you. “We’re gonna get out of here someday, y’know.”

“Yeah?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Where to?”

“Anywhere,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world for two teenagers with no money. “Paris. London. Some random island where nobody knows our names.”

“‘Cause everyone knows who we are right now,” you quip back.

He nudges your sneaker with his own. “We’ll be big shots. No more scraping by. No more running from guys twice our size. Well. My size. Thrice yours.”

You snort, letting that one go. The way he says it makes you want to believe it.

You lean back beside him, staring up at the night sky, barely visible with the haze of light pollution. “Being the smarter one, I think I should get to pick the first destination.”

“Deal,” Jason says, tugging on a strand of your hair and laughing it off when you swat his hand away. He swipes the Coke from your hands and takes a large swig. “Goodbye, Gotham.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and drop your voice to a whisper, almost like you’re making a wish, “Goodbye, Gotham.”

The sound of a car horn jolts you back. A cab driver is swearing at you for not looking at where you’re going, but you’re letting the words roll off your back, the phantom of Jason’s voice still lingering in your mind.

He’s gone now and you’re still here, because Gotham doesn’t let people go. Not that easily.

Bruce doesn’t ask you why you live near Crime Alley anymore. Dick doesn’t hound you about moving to a much nicer area every time he sees you — God knows you can afford it now, with the broke college student life well behind you. Even in an area as shitty as this, your apartment is a lot bigger than the one you had in New York during college.

Tim will still occasionally send you links to available apartments much nearer to Wayne Tower, but you don’t expect him to understand. He knows you grew up here, but he didn’t know you back then. He doesn’t know that you can navigate the area like the back of your hand and that you practically feel separation anxiety. You just tell him it’s easier to do your job as Wayne Enterprises’ Philanthropy and Outreach coordinator if you’re living in an area you’re actively trying to help.

It’s ridiculous, but you can’t sleep without the background noise that doesn’t come with the territory of a nice neighbourhood. Every time you visit your mom in her new place, you get antsy after half an hour and it’s not like she’s living in a mansion or anything.

You’re thankful you were able to get her out of working multiple jobs to make ends meet, and that Bruce was able to find her a much nicer position in one of his offices. Call it his guilty conscience, but you’re certainly not complaining.

You don’t talk about Jason with him, but he knows it’s one of the reasons you stay where you are. He knows you feel a similar sense of survivor’s guilt and that it keeps you staying in an apartment where the weekly rent is less than the cost of your work heels. An apartment where the keys get jammed into the lock every time you try to open the damn door.

Once you’re in, you drop your bag at the door and toe off your heels, with a sigh. The apartment is quiet, the way it always is. You should eat something. Maybe shower. Maybe call your mom back.

You open your fridge instead. It’s half empty, unsurprisingly, but it’s not until you scan the shelves that you realise you’re out of milk and cold brew. And, now that you’re thinking about it, anything that could be considered dinner.

For a second, you debate it. The bodega right downstairs is closed, and the only place open this late is a 24-hour convenience store a few blocks over. You could just deal with it in the morning, but the thought of starting the day without caffeine is enough to have you grabbing your keys and slipping on your sneakers.

The night air is thick and humid, and you find yourself grateful for the light rain spitting on your face and cooling you down. Thankfully, the convenience store is empty, save for Mr Ruiz, the old man who runs the place, who sits behind the counter, flipping through a newspaper. He looks up when the bell chimes.

“Late night, sweetheart?” he asks kindly, too used to your visits.

“Something like that,” you say, grabbing some coffee, milk and a pack of ramen for good measure. You pause for a second before grabbing some chocolate too.

As you set the things down on the counter, Mr Ruiz shakes his head. “You be careful walking home, alright? Some punks started trouble just outside here earlier. Nasty fight.”

“I’m always careful,” you brush him off, undeterred, fingers brushing over the taser in your pocket as you reach for your wallet. Jason had given it to you in the first year of becoming Robin. Tim has had to spruce it up a bit for you since, to make sure it still works. It probably works a little too good now, but at least you feel better walking the streets at night.

“Swiped it from the Batcave. B’s got a whole stash of them, he won’t miss one. Just zap and run, alright?”

You just laugh — it seems a little overkill. But Jason just crosses his arms, eyes turning serious for once. “Just take it. Please?”

“Alright, chill,” you say, rolling your eyes and gingerly plucking it from his hands and he visibly relaxes. “I doubt I’ll even need it. I have Batman and Robin under my belt now, don’t I?”

His smile falters for just a second. “Yeah, well. I can’t always be around, y’know?”

You raise a brow at him. “Could’ve fooled me. You’ve been at my house every day this past week.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he huffs out a laugh but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m always patrolling with B now, sure. But… you know it’s dangerous shit, right? Anything could happen.”

You frown, unsettled by his words for a beat before shuffling closer and flicking his forehead. He makes a startled noise and you smirk, leaning back against your bed, fiddling around with the taser. “Not to you, stupid. You’re always gonna be around to annoy me.”

“It’s a good thing Hood was around tonight,” Mr Ruiz says, bringing you back to the moment.

“Hood?” You blink, opening up your wallet.

He gives you a look like you’ve just asked him who Batman is. “Red Hood. Guy with the mean looking helmet? Ain’t afraid to get a little rough?”

The more you think about it, you have heard his name before, probably on the news. You don’t tend to spend as much time in your own neighbourhood, considering how busy you are with work. And you haven’t been back from college for long enough to be familiar with as many Gotham vigilantes beyond Bruce and co. At this point, there are so many running around the city, it’s hard to keep track.

“Yeah, sure. That guy,” you say, handing him a bill and nodding. “Good to know.”

Mr Ruiz shakes his head at you, bagging your things. “Just be careful. It’s Gotham.”

You nod, having heard those words a million times before and you offer him a smile before heading back outside.

Whatever happened earlier seems to have disappeared, the street completely empty. No signs of a fight, no lingering trouble. Just the flickering street lamp, the distant yells from a domestic dispute in some nearby apartment and that too familiar feeling — that someone is watching you.

Your fingers tighten around the taser in your pocket.

But when you glance up at the rooftop, as always, there’s nothing there. Just the city skyline stretching endlessly above you.

738 notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 26 days ago

Text

grey november

leila ouahabi x reader r moves to manchester to be with her girlfriend, leila. manchester, however, is very different from barcelona where r grew up. it's an adjustment, and one that's taking it's toll on r. leila notices, and tries to make it better any way she can think of.

basically r has seasonal depression. very light angst, mostly fluff and leila being the sweetest girl in the world 🥰🥰

—

Manchester was very grey. Of course you’d known that, but the reality of living it was something else entirely than hearing about it. Rainy and overcast could be cozy. Spending the occasional rainy day inside wasn’t something you minded living in Barcelona, but your move to Manchester had increased those rainy, overcast days.

It was your first winter there, the first time you’d be spending an extended period of time in Manchester. The first two years Leila had spent in England, you’d remained behind in Spain. Mostly because your career, your family, your whole life was in Barcelona. Except… it wasn’t. Two years passed of flying to Leila, and her flying to you, and you never got used to it. Never got used to waking up most days alone in the bed you used to share, cooking breakfast in the kitchen alone where she’d used to sing off key every morning. And after two years, and no indication that Leila was coming back anytime soon, you’d realized life was too short. There would be plenty of years in the future, after football, that you could spend with Leila in Spain. For now, though, you ached for her every day. For her infectious laugh, the lines by her eyes when she’d smile, the way she slept with her head shoved under her pillow instead of laying on top of it.

Leila had wanted you to come in the first place, yet understood it didn’t really make any sense for you. But as much as you missed Leila, every second of every day, she missed you more. She’d never ask you to move for her, but she needed you.

She’d cried when you told her you’d be moving to Manchester.

It was the end of May, one of the biggest months for your girlfriend and her team, and you’d taken time off work to go see her. The idea of moving to her had been swirling around in your head for a few weeks, and it slipped out one morning as she tried to extract herself from your embrace and leave for training.

“I just want to be with you. All the time,” she’d murmured.

And with very little grace and absolutely no planning, you’d replied.

“What if I moved here?”

First, it was disbelief you saw on her face. And then, when she was sure you were serious, large tears welled in her eyes as she tackled you back down onto the bed, shoving her face into the crook of your neck and repeating over and over that there wasn’t anything she wanted more than that.

Leila had been late to training that day, and you’d made the move in July.

The first month was perfect. August and September, as well. October brought colder weather, more rain, more clouds. November was where it really started to go downhill. Leila was away with City and with the national team for what felt like half the month, and you were just… there.

There, in Manchester, with only your job to keep you busy. Very few friends outside of Leila’s football ones. It seemed lonely, more than anything. You didn’t realize what it really was until it was already happening, until you’d slipped back into a place you hadn’t been in since you were an overly angsty teenager.

Every day was harder than the last, the ones without Leila being the absolute worst. But you couldn’t let her see, couldn’t let her know. Your sweet, sweet Leila would be crushed with guilt. She’d try to move teams or scientifically alter the climate in England. You didn’t want her to feel bad; it wasn’t her fault the weather had an alarming impact on your mental health.

So, when Leila was home, you were fine. You were good, because you had to be. You laughed at her jokes and let her put on a film in the evenings after dinner knowing full well she would start kissing your neck within 10 minutes, and the movie would be forgotten.

When she was gone, you let yourself crumble. Staying in bed longer than was socially acceptable, wallowing in the oppressive weight that had settled on your chest. And when she’d get back, you’d make yourself pull it together. It was a cycle, one that began in November, and by December, one that you weren’t sure how to get yourself out of.

The thing was, you were so busy acting fine that you forgot to make sure Leila actually believed that you were.

—

Leila had been gone all weekend. An away game in London and an issue with their return trip kept her gone an extra day, but finally she was due home. The weekend for you had been… well, what had become averagely terrible. Most of it had been spent doing absolutely nothing, all the while your mind raced with all the things you should have been doing. You simply didn’t have enough energy for any of those tasks, though, the exhaustion you felt bone deep and paralyzing.

A few hours before Leila was due home, though, you dragged yourself off the couch. If there was one motivator, one thing that could get you out of your head, it was that Leila couldn’t find out. She just couldn’t.

You weren’t sure she’d get it, to start with. Leila was… Leila. Sunshine and smiles and laughter, all the time. Even when you weren’t dealing with depression, Leila’s social battery could long outlast yours. She’d go out and do something social with friends every day if she could. You’d never been that way, needing time to recharge between work and… work the next day.

Before Leila, you didn’t do things on weeknights. But Leila brought you out of your shell, and you found yourself craving more time with others, as long as she was there too.

So as much as you were beyond sure that your girlfriend would work tirelessly to understand where your head was at, you didn’t think she could. You didn’t think she’d be able to listen to you explain what was going on and not try to fix it. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Leila’s help; it was that you knew she’d give you a million suggestions that you wouldn’t physically be able to bring yourself to do. And she wouldn’t get that, you were sure.

Leila couldn’t fix this, so there was no reason to burden her with it at all. As much as you wanted her comfort, you couldn’t push your problems on her when she wouldn’t have the answer.

So, you cleaned the whole house in two hours flat. Changed the sheets, vacuumed behind the couch, and made dinner. By the time Leila arrived home, the house was perfect. Nothing out of order, nothing to suggest you’d spent the whole weekend on the sofa crying or sleeping or just staring at the wall.

Of course, Leila could see it on your face the moment she saw you. The bags under your eyes, the way you seemed to drown in her clothes.

She swept you into a hug, tucking her face into your neck and felt you sag against her.

Your hair was damp and smelled like her coconut shampoo, and you were mumbling something about dinner and watching a movie, but all Leila could think about was the way you melted into her hug, and the look in your eyes as she’d come through the door. Relief, and exhaustion. Deep, all encompassing exhaustion.

Gently, she nudged you back a little, her eyes locking on yours as she studied you.

“Are you okay, my love?” Leila asked softly, her expression warm and inviting.

For a second, Leila thought you might tell her what was going on. Your expression wavered a bit, but you blinked hard and forced a smile, leaning in to peck her lips.

“I’m fine! Excited to have you back.”

It was a lie Leila could see right through, but if she knew anything about you, it was that you were too stubborn for your own good. Leila could push and push, ask and ask, but you wouldn’t tell her what was going on until you felt ready. There wasn’t anything she could do about that, so she just nodded, pulling you back in by your wrist and kissing you much more fervently.

By the time you broke apart, there was a dazed look in your eyes, but a different kind from before. Satisfied, your girlfriend tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Did you say something about dinner?”

It took a minute for the question to process, your mind suddenly overcome with the softness of Leila’s lips, the little sliver of abdomen peeking out from her crop top, her slightly tousled hair. She was so pretty. You never got used to it.

“Uh… yes. Yes, dinner. I made dinner.”

With a grin, Leila grabbed your hand in hers and pulled you towards the kitchen.

“It smells so good, amor. Like the best thing I have ever smelled!”

You rolled your eyes at her enthusiasm, heading towards the stove to take the pot off the burner. As you rounded the kitchen island, though, you stumbled, foot catching on the trash bag sitting on the floor. Leila was across the room like she had super speed, steadying you before you could really come close to falling.

The trash. You hadn’t taken it out earlier like you’d meant to. The house wasn’t perfectly in order. And god, neither were you. The façade you were putting on crumbled within a second, all the time you’d spent making sure you seemed fine meaningless.

It wasn’t really a big deal, that you’d forgotten to take the trash out. It was just the last straw of an horrible, overwhelmingly emotional weekend.

“I’ll take this out, if you want to pick a movie?” Leila said easily, oblivious to the way you were about to fall apart next to her.

Leila grabbed the bag, her back to you, pausing when you didn’t reply to her. Then, she heard a small sniffle. She knew that sniffle, knew it from when something bad happened to an animal in a movie and you tried not to openly weep. She dropped the trash bag, turning around with a furrowed brow.

“Cari?” Leila prompted softly, moving closer as she saw your lip begin to tremble. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

It was as if the question had unlocked a floodgate inside of you, and before you could even think to stop yourself, you were stumbling forward into Leila’s open arms, burying your face in her shirt.

“Hey,” she murmured, wrapping one arm tight around your midsection, and resting the other on the back of your head. “Hey, it’s okay, baby. Everything’s okay.”

Wordlessly, you shook your head against her, clinging on tighter because you honestly weren’t sure what would happen if she let go.

Leila wasn’t letting go, though. She tugged you in even closer, squeezing as she rocked the two of you back and forth gently. “I love you. I love you so much.” Her voice was barely a whisper in your ear, but it was exactly what you needed to hear from her. Because, god, you didn’t love yourself in that moment.

The tears began to stop much sooner than you were expecting, and Leila was turning off the stove and leading you into the living room within a few minutes. You moved away from her to sit on the sofa, but she shook her head, sliding onto the couch and pulling you to lay directly on top of her.

One of her hands slipped up the back of your shirt, fingers tracing mindless patterns into your skin. She cradled your head with her other hand, making sure you stayed as pressed close to her as you could be. Leila held you like she could make everything better just by doing so.

For a few minutes it was quiet. That was one of your favorite things about Leila; she was talkative and loud when she wanted to be, but she was also content to just… be with you. Just sit and let you gather your thoughts, no matter how long it took. Leila waited, more patiently than you thought you deserved.

Finally, you found your voice. “I’m sorry.”

Leila scoffed, and you were sure she’d have flicked you if you hadn’t just been crying.

“I do not accept, because you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“You just got home and–”

“And nothing, baby,”

“ –and I fall apart because I’m a disaster,”

“ You aren’t a disaster!”

“ –and you have to deal with me and you shouldn't have to,” you finished despite Leila’s interruptions. You pulled away from her embrace, sliding off her body onto the soft next to her.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line when you looked at her, frustration radiating off her. It was such a departure from her normal temperament that you forgot entirely if you had anything else to apologize for. Instead, you just stared into her deep brown eyes, waiting for her to say something.

“I… I don’t deal with you. You are not a problem I have to solve. I love you, it isn’t a burden for me to be there when something is wrong, when you are upset.” Leila’s voice was practically trembling with conviction, so you reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. It was obvious that it hurt her for you to feel this way, for someone she loved and cherished to put such little value in themselves.

“I know that, Lei. I know, I’m sorry. I’m just not myself.”

Your girlfriend softened, then, her spare hand tugging at the ends of her ponytail like she always did when she was nervous. “Why aren’t you yourself, hmm? What’s going on?”

And though you’d spent the whole weekend thinking about it, the whole month practically wallowing in it, there weren’t any words in your head that would convey the weight that you felt resting on your chest.

“I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to say it.”

“Is… do you want to break up?” Leila asked quietly, the tremble of her voice matching that of her chin when you snapped your head to look up at her. This was always what she defaulted to, and you should have known better than to speak so ambiguously. Leila loved so hard, so deeply, she often worried it was too much. She worried it would drive you away from her, as if you’d ever grow tired of her adoration.

“Leila, no. Never. It’s not that, you’ve not done anything wrong.” You reassured her the best you could, brushing a soft strand of pin straight hair away from her forehead. Leila released a deep breath, concern returning to replace fear in her eyes.

“Then what is it? You’ve been off for weeks.”

You shifted uncomfortably, hating that you hadn’t been as good at hiding it as you thought. “I think I’m depressed.” You admitted finally, staring down at your hands as you began to pick at your cuticles. Leila’s hand covered yours almost immediately, her other gently tilting your chin until you had no choice but to make eye contact.

“You think?” Leila pressed. “Or you are?”

It was just like Leila to make you be as vulnerable as you could be, but you couldn’t deny it was one of the things you loved about her. The way she always saw through your futile attempts to write off your emotions as only partially valid.

“I am.” Voice no more than a whisper, you shrugged helplessly, tears stinging your eyes once again. “I don’t really know what happened. I haven’t felt like this in years, but suddenly I’m here and it’s– I don’t know.”

Leila’s eyebrows furrowed. “Here? Do you think being here has something to do with it?”

At this, you averted your eyes entirely, pulling your hand out of her and staring at a spot on the rug, where the design swirled into several different colors.

“Amor, you can tell me.” Leila implored. “Please. Is it England? Being away from your family? Your friends? Your new job? Do you not like the apartment?”

Finally, you raised your eyes back to your girlfriends, finding a desperate need to fix looking back at you. Exactly what you hadn't wanted.

“No. I mean, I miss my family and my friends but I’m so happy to be here with you. I like my job, I love our apartment. It’s…”

“What, baby?”

It suddenly felt so ridiculous. So stupid. What were you supposed to say? The clouds are making me sad, Leila. The rain makes me want to curl into a ball in our bed and never get up again. The weather in this country is draining all the happiness from my body.

“It’s the weather. The clouds and the rain. And the cold. I just… I never want to leave the apartment. I never want to go anywhere because it’s terrible out, so I don’t go anywhere and then I feel terrible about myself. I miss the sun, Leila. It’s so stupid, that it’s having this much of an affect on me, but I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I’m losing myself.”

“Oh, baby.” Leila sighed, uncrossing her legs so she could pull you in close to her chest. “That’s not stupid, not at all. That’s a real thing, a completely real thing that you are dealing with.”

And though you’d known that, it felt like a weight off your chest to hear Leila say it. You allowed yourself to relax into her, allowed yourself to feel the weight of your emotion in her presence in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

“There are so many things we can try to help you. We can find you a psychologist, and get you back to Spain for some sun more often. We’ll fix this, amor, I promise. We’ll get you back to yourself.”

Leila’s words were mumbled into the top of your head, and you found them more comforting than you were expecting. Even if you’d known she’d try to fix it… even if you hadn’t wanted that. Leila was going to help you, and that was a massive comfort. You nodded into her chest, gripping tight to her shirt in a way you hoped would convey how grateful you were to her.

The two of you sat there in silence for several minutes, wrapped up together so tightly you weren’t sure where you ended and where Leila began. It all felt less heavy just then, more manageable. You knew, though, that telling Leila what was going on was only the start of the process.

—

The next day was a good one; the sun had emerged from its cloud prison for the first time in weeks, and you’d gone for a run. As much as you hated to admit it, the exercise helped, as did the sunlight. Leila had been gone before you’d woken, though you thought you remembered waking just barely to a soft kiss pressed to your head and sweet words whispered into your ear.

It was a recovery day for Leila, and she was meant to be getting treatment down on her calf anyway, which had been giving her some trouble. She should have been home just before noon, just as you’d arrived home from your run. As it was, you’d had time to shower and make the two of you lunch before Leila walked in the door, a full hour after she was supposed to get home.

You weren’t suspicious or anything, mostly just curious where she’d been. The question didn’t even have time to leave your mouth before it was answered, though, Leila practically bounding into the kitchen holding a bulky box in her arms.

“Hi my love!” She grinned, putting the box down on the counter and sweeping you into a hug. Leila spun the two of you around, pressing kisses all over your face as you laughed, the flutter of her lips tickling your skin.

“Hi, Lei,” you replied, Leila finally halting her attack on your face so she could kiss you once on the lips.

“Hi.” She murmured against your mouth. “I missed you.”

“You were gone for like… 4 hours.” You chuckled, winding your arms around the back of her neck and pressing yourself closer to her even as you teased her.

“Still missed you.” Leila smiled, her face overwhelmingly earnest and adoring. “I got you a present!”

“No, did you?” You teased, nodding at the large box sitting just inches away from you.

Leila just rolled her eyes, shoving you lightly as she reached for the box and tore it open.

“It’s a light therapy box! You sit in front of it, and it shines on your face, and it’s supposed to feel like the sun!”

Leila was so excited, yanking the rectangular light out of the box and presenting it to you with a flourish. Your heart melted, knowing then that Leila had stayed up long after you’d gone to sleep, doing research to try to figure out how to make you feel better.

It was funny, that you’d been worried about her trying to fix you before. Leila wasn’t trying to fix you, and you weren’t sure how you’d thought she'd do so. Your girlfriend just wanted to help. Help wasn’t fixing. It was just what a good partner did.

“Thank you, Lei. Really.”

Leila blushed adorably, pushing hair out of her face as she smiled at you. “Do you want to try it?”

Lunch sat on the counter behind you, but it wasn’t getting cold, and the hopefulness radiating off your girlfriend was enough to have you nodding enthusiastically. The next second, Leila had to light in one hand, and your hand in the other, yanking you towards the living room.

For just a second, you thought that if her love could cure you, you’d never have gotten to this point. But you had. Love couldn’t cure you, but it could help. And Leila was determined to help.

—

The light therapy box wasn’t the only thing Leila got you, but her other gift wouldn’t be ready for a few more weeks, until the two of you were home from spending Christmas with your families in Spain, before returning to England for New Year’s Eve.

The time you spent in Spain was perfect. More than perfect. You got to see your family, got to enjoy the warmth. Well, it wasn’t warm by some standards, but it definitely was now that you’d spent time away from Barcelona. More than anything, you got to spend pretty much every second with Leila. No football to interrupt, no media commitment, no national team. Just you and Leila, spending every day together however you wanted to.

As such, your mood had improved. It wasn’t perfect; you could still feel the echo of the deep exhaustion lingering in the peripheral of your brain. You were deeply dreading going back to Manchester and falling back into the pit of depression you’d found yourself in not too long ago. It terrified you, that things could get bad again and you wouldn’t be able to fix it. That this was just how you were now, how you would be for the rest of your time spent in Manchester.

You could go to therapy and let Leila sit you directly in front of the light box as much as you wanted. There were certain aspects of your life in Manchester, though, that just meant loneliness. And that was what got you more than anything else.

Unbeknownst to you, though, Leila had been considering this exact point. The two of you had talked it over, talked it to death why you were feeling the way you were. You maintained that it was just the weather, but Leila could tell you were lying. Could tell that her unavoidable absences at times were really taking their toll on you.

And, ever the helper, Leila had come up with an idea.

—

“Shh.” Leila whispered. “Stop meowing, you’re going to spoil the surprise.”

While you slept in, Leila allowed herself to be impulsive, something she often fought in the name of being a responsible adult. It was mid morning, the day after you’d arrived back in Manchester from Spain, and Leila had snuck out to retrieve her idea.

A small, white and black kitten, with ears too big for his body and the biggest eyes Leila had ever seen on a kitten. She’d almost cried when she saw him for the first time, the sheer level of adorableness emanating from the little kitten. Leila had known in an instant he was perfect for you, a little buddy to be here when she couldn’t.

She’d gone to get him while you were still asleep, picking him up from the shelter and stopping to buy about half the pet store on her way back. The kitten would have no shortage of toys or treats, that was for sure. But now, as she crept into the house with the kitten curled up in her arms against her chest, she began to get nervous.

What if you didn’t want a cat? You loved your friends' cats, had talked about getting a pet before, but… maybe you’d changed your mind? She should have asked you first.

It was too late now. Mostly because she’d already adopted the kitten, and partially because she was attached, too. This was her kitten, even if they’d only really known each other for an hour or so. All she could do was pray you thought this was a good idea, or she’d be stuck with a kitten she adored and a girlfriend who was furious.

The small kitten mewed again, and Leila froze, just a few feet from the partially shut bedroom door.

“Shh, pequeño. We have to make sure she likes you before she finds out how noisy you are.” Leila whispered, peppering kisses onto the top of the little guy’s head. He pawed at her face in response and she giggled, before slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Lei? Are you… laughing to yourself?” You called, having woken just a few minutes prior and heard your girlfriend mumbling to herself. “And did you meow?”

“Um… I have a surprise.” Leila called back, still not moving any closer to the bedroom. She was using the voice she used when she spilled an entire mug of coffee on the white carpet in the living room, and you were suspicious instantly.

You sat up, eyes wide with surprise. A surprise… that meows. It didn’t take a genius.

“Come in here and show me.”

It was silent for a moment, before Leila took a deep breath and moved closer, gently pushing the door open.

“Oh… oh my god.” You breathed, scrambling out from under the covers and moving closer to your girlfriend. “Is that a cat?!”

Leila nodded nervously, holding the kitten out to you with both hands. “Surprise?”

It was clear to you that Leila had not entirely thought this through, the anxiety on her face speaking for itself. Expression still unreadable, you took the kitten into your arms, almost cooing at how he snuggled into you, apparently sleepy from giving Leila a hard time earlier.

“I… I know I should have asked you first. But I also know you hate being alone here, and I’m gone so often right now, and I just thought not being here by yourself might help. I should have asked first.” Leila spoke rapidly, hands gesturing wildly as she spoke.

You weren’t really sure what to say. Leila was known to do impulsive things, absolutely more of a ‘don’t ask permission, ask forgiveness’ kind of person, but you’d never expected her to do this. On the other hand, though, Leila was right. Absolutely right, and you’d been thinking about how to bring the idea of getting a pet up to her. Apparently, you hadn’t needed to worry about it.

In your arms sat the sweetest, most adorable kitten you’d ever seen in your life, purring softly as you gently rubbed his head. And standing just across from you was the sweetest, most thoughtful person you’d ever met in your life; how could you be mad at her?

“You should have talked to me first.” You began, softening as Leila cringed and nodded, quiet apologies spilling out from her. “But this… this is kind of perfect, Lei. I was thinking about asking you how you felt about getting a pet. And this guy… he’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Leila exhaled, relieved as if she’d been told the world had narrowly avoided a nuclear crisis.

“Oh thank god. I don't know what I was thinking. one second, I just wanted to help you feel better, and the next… I was buying a cat.”

Your girlfriend seemed genuinely baffled at her own actions and you couldn’t help but laugh, tucking the kitten under one arm and lifting the other, gesturing Leila closer. She scooched in, slouching herself down so she could tuck her face into your neck.

“I love you.” She murmured. “I just want you to feel good, to be happy.”

You tilted your head so you could kiss her temple, overcome with how very loved Leila made you feel.

“You make me very happy, Lei. Thank you.”

Leila just held you tighter, thinking she’d buy every cat in the world if this was your reaction. She’d buy anything, do anything, to see such a happy smile on your face.

—

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso one shot #leila ouahabi x reader

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reasonsforhope · 7 months ago

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"In China, a landscape architect is reimagining cities across the vast country by working with nature to combat flooding through the ‘sponge city’ concept.

Through his architecture firm Turenscape, Yu has created hundreds of projects in dozens of cities using native plants, dirt, and clever planning to absorb excess rainwater and channel it away from densely populated areas.

Flooding, especially in the two Chinese heartlands of the commercial south and the agricultural north, is becoming increasingly common, but Yu says that concrete and pipe solutions can only go so far. They’re inflexible, expensive, and require constant maintenance. According to a 2021 World Bank report, 641 of China’s 654 largest cities face regular flooding.

“There’s a misconception that if we can build a flood wall higher and higher, or if we build the dams higher and stronger, we can protect a city from flooding,” Yu told CNN in a video call. “(We think) we can control the water… that is a mistake.”

Pictured: The Benjakitti Forest Park in Bangkok

Yu has been called the “Chinese Olmstead” referring to Frederick Law Olmstead, the designer of NYC’s Central Park. He grew up in a little farming village of 500 people in Zhejiang Province, where 36 weirs channel the waters of a creek across terraced rice paddies.

Once a year, carp would migrate upstream and Yu always looked forward to seeing them leap over the weirs.

This synthesis of man and nature is something that Turenscape projects encapsulate. These include The Nanchang Fish Tail Park, in China’s Jiangxi province, Red Ribbon Park in Qinghuandao, Hebei province, the Sanya Mangrove Park in China’s island province of Hainan, and almost a thousand others. In all cases, Yu utilizes native plants that don’t need any care to develop extremely spongey ground that absorbs excess rainfall.

Pictured: The Dong’an Wetland Park, another Turescape project in Sanya.

He often builds sponge projects on top of polluted or abandoned areas, giving his work an aspect of reclamation. The Nanchang Fish Tail Park for example was built across a 124-acre polluted former fish farm and coal ash dump site. Small islands with dawn redwoods and two types of cypress attract local wildlife to the metropolis of 6 million people.

Sanya Mangrove Park was built over an old concrete sea wall, a barren fish farm, and a nearby brownfield site to create a ‘living’ sea wall.

One hectare (2.47 acres) of Turenscape sponge land can naturally clean 800 tons of polluted water to the point that it is safe enough to swim in, and as a result, many of the sponge projects have become extremely popular with locals.

One of the reasons Yu likes these ideas over grand infrastructure projects is that they are flexible and can be deployed as needed to specific areas, creating a web of rain sponges. If a large drainage, dam, seawall, or canal is built in the wrong place, it represents a huge waste of time and money.

Pictured: A walkway leads visitors through the Nanchang Fish Tail Park.

The sponge city projects in Wuhan created by Turenscape and others cost in total around half a billion dollars less than proposed concrete ideas. Now there are over 300 sponge projects in Wuhan, including urban gardens, parks, and green spaces, all of which divert water into artificial lakes and ponds or capture it in soil which is then released more slowly into the sewer system.

Last year, The Cultural Landscape Foundation awarded Yu the $100,000 Oberlander Prize for elevating the role of design in the process of creating nature-based solutions for the public’s enjoyment and benefit."

-via Good News Network, August 15, 2024

#china #wuhan #thailand #bangkok #landscape #wetlands #sponge city #landscape architecture #flooding #climate action #parks #public park #green architecture #sustainability #good news #hope

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symbiomancy · 5 months ago

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be aware wolf —werewolf

—summary: you venture into the woods to hunt for werewolves | 1.5k | AO3 | monster masterlist

—warnings: monster x human, monsterfucking, p in v sex, knotting, creampie, stomach bulge, mounting, outdoor sex, implied voyeurism

It’s a simple cycle. Enter the woods. Keep the local werewolf population under control. Retrieve any animal carcasses you come across in the woods. Make pelts out of said carcasses. Keep them or sell them. Receive payment from the town for your hard work. Pack your things and find the next town with a werewolf problem.

There are quite a few steps, but it’s a simple, straightforward cycle.

You sling your shotgun onto your back and place a hand onto the handgun at your hip. Your other hand rests on the belt of silver bullets around your hips. The ground is dry and this place hasn’t seen rain in weeks. There are no tracks to go off so you settle for scouting tufts of fur.

Something catches in the corner of your eye as you step around a grand oak.

You whip your head to the side and meet the pair of yellow eyes from the distance. It’s late August, and the blessing of the summer solstice only lasts so long. The sun is long gone and the full moon has crested. Darkness creeps around you, the tall trees shielding you from the moon’s glow. A cool breeze caresses your bare arms. You can just about make out the creature’s outline in the shadows. It’s large, maybe about 6 feet tall.

Slowly, you slip the shotgun from your shoulder and raise the barrel in the wolf’s direction. You whistle.

“Here boy,” you call. The pair of eyes blink at you languidly. “C’mere. I got treats for ya.” Indeed, you do; an opened pack of beef jerky in your back pocket. “C’mon, I have a whole pack of you to hunt tonight and I like to be efficient with my time.”

The werewolf rises onto its hind legs. Oh, great, you think, there’s different species in the same genus for these fucks. Perhaps 8 feet tall is more accurate.

You adjust your hold and cock the shotgun.

The werewolf is gone in a blink.

Your pulse picks up and you whirl on your heel, shotgun still raised. These things are fast, always are but they’re also big. How hard is it to shoot one?

The sound of a branch breaking has you whirling around, finger on the trigger to take the shot —

A claw strikes out at you and catches on your belt, ripping it like it’s paper. Your belt and the bullets in their holster disappear from your waist, your pants ripped and a superficial gash in your hip. You lose your footing on a protruding root and fall onto your back, barely keeping your head from slamming against a thick root.

The werewolf drops onto all fours legs, standing over you, its front paws planted on either side of your head. Its warm breath fans against your face, your arms. Its teeth are bared. Saliva dribbles from its maw.

You spare a glance away from its face to assess your situation — maybe there’s a way to roll out from underneath it and scramble towards your shotgun, wherever it landed. Instead, you find yourself staring at its bulbous member, fully erect. It’s long and thick, precum glistening on its tip. You look away, heat flooding to your cheeks and cunt. In your defense, it looked at you first.

You slowly draw your foot back and strike out, hit the beast’s hind leg. It howls in pain and you scramble out from underneath it, roll onto your stomach and stumble upright. Your shotgun is just a few steps to the right.

A heavy weight slams into you from behind and sends you onto the ground. Your jaw collides with the ground and your teeth snap together. You groan, rest your weight on one elbow and place your free hand against your jaw, pressing against the sore muscles. Hot breath fans the back of your exposed neck and something heavy and slick presses against the flesh of your hip. U kick again and scramble forward, your gun just about in reach. Claws swipe at ur body, snag on your shirt and tatter ur barely intact pants.

The cool night air hits your throbbing cunt. You try to ignore it, want to ignore it so bad, to finish the job and go take care of yourself — the werewolf shoves its fanged snout against the back of your neck. You still, heart leaping in your chest. Its heavy member rests on the swell of your ass, hips rocking back and forth, shallow thrusts as if it’s looking for a warm hole. Your pussy clenches at the thought.

It finds that warm hole, pressing its cock against your entrance, just barely breaching it, and you groan. It’s not going to fit but damned if the beast won’t try to make it fit. Maybe it will fit. The wolf grabs your waist — fuck, it’s hand is big enough to nearly wrap around your entire torso — and jerks its hips forward. You gasp as it pushes in all at once, filling you so completely, so deliciously that you nearly see stars. It’s so big and thick, you swear you can feel every vein and ridge of it.

The wolf snarls, beads of saliva dripping onto the back of your neck and thrusts forward shallowly. You struggle onto your knees. It pulls out shallowly and thrusts back in until the bulb at the bottom of its shaft nudges against your pussy.

Heat pools in your stomach as the werewolf drags its cock in and out of your hot cunt. The ridges and veins of his cock feel like bliss, have you gasping for air. Its furry hips connect with yours, the sound of your bodies colliding muffled by his coat. But you’re so wet, every thrust into your sopping cunt is nothing but a wet squelch. It thrusts in without resistance, going in all the way and pulling out with ease. It pushes so deep into you, drags against your walls like nobody ever has. Your thighs are wet, almost shaking at the strain of holding yourself up on all fours.

Your hand slips out from underneath you and your shoulder collides with the ground. The werewolf presses forward — it mounts you, places a clawed hand next to your head for balance and drives in with newfound vigor. The tip of its cock hit so deep in you that you nearly see stars, try to blabber something, something incoherent between ‘no’ and ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘please please please please’. The wolf pistons in and out of our shopping cunt. Its tongue lolls out of its mouth, slobbers onto the back of your neck. The bulb at his crotch nudges against our opening with every thrust and dives slightly in each time. It’s wide and big and you gasp a pitiful sound when it slips into you with a painful stretch. It’s too much and too little at the same time. You try to clench around it.

The werewolf pauses and you want to cry out, beg it to keep going, to bully its way into your pussy until you can take its knot. You’re so full, so full, this thing is everywhere, in your pussy, in your guts, in the back of your throat. All you can manage is a pitiful croak before the beast is back on you again, resting its weight on your back. It picks up the pace, ruthlessly pistoning into you, bullying your throbbing, leaking pussy, rutting his bulb against it, almost stuffing it inside. It places one large clawed hand onto your thigh and pulls it to the side like that will give it more room. Perhaps it does but the stretch of your cunt and your thighs is too overwhelming to not focus on.

You press back against him as much as u can from your contorted position, meet his hips with urs in a frantic attempt to get your release. Your chest heaves as you attempt to match his pace, pressure building in the pit of your stomach. You’re babbling now, you absolutely are, begging for it to push you over the edge and stuff you full. It speeds up as if it understands you, pressing its weight on top you. Your cheek scrapes against the ground and in the corner of your eye, you can make out the bulge in your stomach as the werewolf thrusts in. It’s too much, too good, too deep, rubbing against that spot, knocking the breath from your lungs with every thrust.

You come with a wail, pussy throbbing and clenching around its cock, sucking it back in to keep it there. The wolf howls, head thrown back and buries its knot inside you. Its cock spasms and spills into you. Rope after rope of hot cum coasts your insides until you’re full, and then some. You feel it slide down your thighs, dribble from your pussy. You try to adjust yourself to get a look and clench involuntarily around the beast when you spot the shape of his cock protruding from your stomach.

The cool night air feels pleasant against your heated skin.

You look away from the unholy sight buried in your guts and let your eyes unfocus to bask in your post-orgasmic bliss.

One, two, three, four —

There are at least four pairs of yellow eyes observing you from the darkness.

note: I'm open to hearing about dead batteries!! be as graphic or non-graphic as you'd like:)

banner & divider by @/cafekitsune

#monster x reader #monster x human #teratophillia #werewolf x reader #werewolf x human #werewolf x you #werewolf smut #monster fucker #monster x you #monster boyfriend #monster imagine

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fading-event-608 · 7 months ago

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I started drawing this olive tree when I adopted Falastin's campaign in late August. I've had a 'break' because I couldn't draw for some time, but it's time to pick it up.

The goal is to get her 24 family members out of Gaza as soon as possible. They were displaced more than 20 times, and it's getting harder and harder to communicate with them; they need to walk long distances just to send a message. The prices are skyrocketing even more than before and with less and less aid coming through they need all the money in the world to just buy basic necessities.

It's been 11 months since the start of this genocide and half of her family is sleeping on the street. There will be temperature drops and torrential rains next week, and they can't keep on doing that.

Since the last time Falastin was actually accepted into Butterfly Effect Project and her campaign is a number 957 on the list. And of course she is still number 282 on The Vetted Gaza Evacuation List. Her family has many martyrs, and a part of her family's story was documented by Al Jazeera.

Please donate and boost this post, and keep in mind that you will be donating in SEK where every 1$ is 10.2 SEK. Any amount helps.

When we will reach 2,500$ I will add something interesting to the scene, so please keep donating.

#free palestine #gaza #palestine #please share #gofundme #from the river to the sea #signal boost #gfm #pixel art #verified gfm

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allywthsr · 7 months ago

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GENDER REVEAL | (l.norris)

summary: the day has finally come, you get to know the gender of your baby

wordcount: 2.1k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

notes: series part two has finally arrived

warnings: none! (I think)

Baby Series masterlist

You were twenty two weeks pregnant when the gynecologist told you, she could tell you the gender, she put a letter with the gender in an envelope and gave it to you. You wanted nothing more than to open the letter and read the gender, but you wanted it to be more exciting. So you gave the envelope to your best friend, she wanted to plan a big gender reveal / babyshower for you. Lando and you wanted the babyshower and gender reveal in one celebration, the schedule was tight and Lando couldn’t just take a week off from work.

Lando’s parents said the whole party could happen on their property, and you were thankful for that, your apartment never would’ve fit every single one coming, and renting something in Monaco was almost impossible. The England weather was often rubbish, but you prayed for sunshine and warm temperatures for the beginning of August, when the party was happening, if it was raining, the celebration could easily be moved inside.

The days leading up to the big day were nerve wrecking, Lando talked to his child every day, giving your belly kisses and you couldn’t wait to get to know the gender, and finalize everything.

The days leading up to the big day were nerve wrecking, Lando talked to his child every day, giving your belly kisses and you couldn’t wait to get to know the gender, and finalize everything. Two days before the big day, you received last minutes information from your best friend, what she had planned and what you should wear. Lando was bouncing around, he couldn’t wait for the reveal, just like the rest of the family and friends, every weekend the mechanics would ask him, if he knew more than the last time, they saw him, them being disappointed when he didn’t, so they were even more excited when the invite for the gender reveal came. Will and José bought pink and blue shirts, specifically for this day, just so they could follow the invite and wear something in the color they think the gender of the baby would be, like little kids they sent Lando a picture of them going shopping for the shirts.

And today it was finally happening, today you would know the gender of your baby, with butterflies you woke up and Lando brought you a toast with your favorite topping, you needed to eat something immediately after waking up, or you would hang with your head over the toilet. Lando went for a run in the forrest that stood around his family’s property, and you got up and did your morning routine in the bathroom, since being pregnant, your skin was almost perfect, you barely had to anything for it. You read on some dodgy website, that good skin means you’re pregnant with a baby boy, you couldn’t wait for later and finally know the gender. Of course the gender wouldn’t change anything, you would love the baby either way, if boy or girl, but you could finally think about names and stop calling the baby ‘the baby’, Lando was certain it was a boy, and always said he or him, while you didn’t want to get your hopes up, you were also hoping for a boy. Just the thought of having a mini Lando running around, made your heart melt, sure, Lando with Mila made you cry and a baby girl would be perfect for him to care and love, but you wanted a boy first, he could take care of his baby sister later.

You went downstairs to the kitchen where Cisca was sitting and drinking a tea, you greeted her with a smile and asked her how she was feeling. She stood up and ushered you to sit on her chair, with a small caress over your round belly, she made you a quick breakfast, not listening to your complaints about how you can make your own breakfast, and she should enjoy her tea. She was a full on mother, no matter to whom, she made you a small breakfast, and it automatically tasted better because she did it. When Lando came in, he kissed his mother’s cheek and you on your mouth, kissing your belly while you put your hand on his cheek. He smiled at you and kissed you on the head, „“I’m going to shower and then I’ll come back, yeah?“, you nodded and smiled back. He ran up the stairs, and you could hear the door slam, with a chuckle, Cisca sat next to you again, “I’m so excited for later, can’t wait to see what gender my grandbaby has.“

“Me too! In the end its important that he or she is healthy, but I hope for a boy.“

“We do too! Adam wants a little prince to spoil, do the racing with him, having him on his lap while mowing the grass.“

“Don’t get me too excited for a boy, Cisca“, you chuckled, but you knew you would be just as happy if a little girl was growing in you.

After breakfast, Lando came downstairs again and shortly after, the decorators came, they prepared everything your best friends ordered. It was supposed a rather small and intimate party, but by the time you and Lando made a list for who would need to be invited, you were already at fifty people. Almost the whole grid and their girlfriends were invited, plus Carlos’s parents and siblings, people like Zak, Andrea and Andreas couldn’t be missed. Obviously Lando’s family, your family, friends, and important people in your life got an invitation.

After a small nap on the couch with Lando, you went outside to check out the decorations, thankfully the weather was supposed to be wonderful, sunshine over sunshine. There was a huge balloon wall to take pictures in front of, a big seating area with tables, to eat, drink and fill out the forms your best friend organized, the buffet would be in the kitchen, to not have everything melt in the sun and the actual revealing part would be done in the back of the backyard, where no neighbor could see what was happening. You weren’t a rockstar, nobody filmed yours and Lando’s every step of the way, and you didn’t think the neighbors would share anything to the public before you did, but you could never be too careful. Your best friend let you decide on how to reveal the gender, and you settled on the basic smoke and confetti method, it was easy, but it looked amazing.

After the caters arrived and set up the buffet, you and Lando checked on it, trying little cookies and snacks. Cisca came in shortly after Lando filled his mouth with a blue icing covered sugar cookie, and scolded him for it, gently slapping the back of his head.

The first guests arrived a bit early, your family rung the doorbell and you jumped from your chair, walking quickly to the door, you haven’t seen your family for what felt like ages, with you living in Monaco and traveling constantly, you couldn’t visit your home as much as you‘d like, even Lando rarely got to see his mother and siblings, with his father being at every race, you saw him at the race weekends.

You tightly squeezed your mother and father, Lando followed you suit, embracing them in a tight hug, your siblings also didn’t get left out.

Your mother gave you a bouquet after she caressed your swollen tummy, clearly amazed at how big you‘ve gotten. The flowers were placed in a vase and Lando’s parents welcomed yours, they haven’t seen each other since the last Christmas, and the mothers immediately settled in the kitchen to talk, while the dads went out in to the garden to eye the decorations and talk about football and f1.

You and Lando went upstairs together, changing into a more party outfit. You put on a baby blue flowy dress, that settled nicely on your stomach, not making you look like a whale, but like a healthy pregnant woman. Lando also changed into a baby blue top and some beige pants, you both looked stunning, Lando couldn’t resist but to take what felt like a thousand pictures of you on your own or together in the mirror.

You settled on the couch, to wait for the first guests to arrive, and shortly after, the doorbell rung. You greeted Carlos and Rebecca and took their gift bag to the little table that was placed in the living room.

The more time passed, the more people arrived, you tried to keep it small, but with people knowing that many people, it was hard to decide what people should be left out, you simply couldn’t. Family, friends, and colleagues were standing around the garden, chatting, drinking, and eating to pass the time until the big reveal.

When everyone was there, you greeted them all again and held a little speech, thanking everyone for coming and for the gifts, explaining what was planned for the afternoon and where to find the food.

Your best friend organized a few little extras before it, every guest could write a small letter to the baby, that it could read once he or she was old enough, fill out a form and guess what gender, date and time it would be born, weight, height and many more things. The person that is most accurate, is going to win a small prize, you didn’t know what yet, but a trip to Monaco was a good idea.

On a small table there were some babygrows, and some clothing paint. If guests wanted to, they could paint on the babygrow and later on your child could wear it, it’s also just to have a sweet memory and keep the guests entertained.

You were chatting with your best friend in the kitchen, snacking on some pink colored cookies, from where you were standing you saw people fill out the forms, drawing on the babygrow or taking pictures in front of the picture wall. The professional photographer you hired for this day, was patient and took her time for everyone, who wanted pictures. You already had your little photoshoot, where every guest took a picture with you and Lando, the parents to be.

After almost two hours of people arriving and people filling out forms, or designing babygrows, it was time for the big reveal. Your best friend announced that it was time for everyone to walk to the back of the backyard and half-circle around you and Lando.

Lando stood next to you, holding you in his arms, and stroking your side, you both were shaking with nerves, good nerves, it was exciting to finally be sure what gender your baby has.

Your best friend gave you a smoke cannon, and Lando a confetti cannon, you both looked at each other, you could see how nervous he was, Lando gave you one last kiss and a stroke over your belly, when the crowd started counting down from ten, with every number passing, you felt the sparks in your belly explode, why were they counting that slowly?

When the one was called, Lando and you clasped the triggers of the cannons tighter and twisted the bottom, you squeezed your eyes shut, and only opened them when everybody was erupting with screams.

You opened your eyes and blue smoke surrounded you, with a gasp and tears threatening to spill, you turned to Lando and opened your arms, squeezing him tight, before he pressed his lips to yours and enjoyed the moment, caressing your belly.

“A boy! Y/N, a boy. We have a mini Lando.“

He kissed your cheek, before Max Fewtrell came over and hugged the two of you, more guests came over and congratulated you, you enjoyed each and every hug you received, thanking the person for being there.

Lando and you took a quiet minute inside the house, just hugging and talking about your baby, Lando got his boy, the one he wanted so badly. Now he could show him the world of karting, when he was old enough to get inside one. The room could be finalized, you could buy the first babygrow he would wear when he was born, a name could be chosen, and so much more.

The rest of the evening was spent talking, laughing and enjoying the time with your friends and families, you held your tummy, knowing a little boy would keep you up your toes in a few months, but you weren’t alone, you had Lando by your side, helping you with whatever it is you would need.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris one shot #lando imagine #dad!lando norris #lando x you

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