#they really made my week <3 NO SCREW THAT MY WHOLE LIFE-

[gomzdrawfr]

i almost forgot! i also did this, idk how to do chibi but i tried🥺

oh my god...ITSA ME....I LOOK SO COZY AND FUZZY WHAAAAA I LOVE THIS!!! my big ol eyes....THIS IS PERFECT!!!!!!!!!!

[sturnsdarling]

'Chris likes girls who don't like him back'

Late night streaming with your best friends turns to a conversation about the boys' type, and Chris gets called out

vibe check: flirty fluffy fun, 3/4 of my favourite f words

1.4k words

A/N: i had this idea literally straight away after what Matt said about Chris' type.........the idea of being Chris' best friend that he openly fancies but you're 'not interested' makes MY TOES CURL BRO LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING anyway I hope you love this. PART TWO IS INCOMING…

love and cigs, merc

"Matt he's right there what the fuck are you doing?!" you scream down the mic, nearly throwing your controller across the room as you jolt back in your chair.

You watch as Matt gets sniped in the head from the back, laughing as he wails on this desk, making the whole stream glitch and nearly crash. Chris is laughing along with you, trying not to make it obvious that he's watching you, and not Matt.

"Matt, bro you need to fuckin' up your game, y/n/n is actually carrying us right now." Chris says as Matt picks his chair up off the floor and sits back down in a huff.

"I always carry when I come on with you boys" you smirk, looking at the tiny square of Chris on your screen.

"yeah because you're a little sweat" Matt chuckles.

The boys had been streaming everyday for over a week now and, after some convincing, they managed to get you to join in on one of their games. At first you were apprehensive, obviously, but they explained that they were trying to diversify their platform and find a more mature audience so, actually interacting with girls on the internet was their first step.

You and the boys had been friends for forever, you met them through Nick in elementary school and had basically all been inseparable ever since, you'd been in some earlier videos but the fans back then made it very difficult to just exist around them so, you took it upon yourself to only exist in their real life, not their online one.

Cut to right now, you're nearly two hours deep in fortnite trios with the boys on stream, everyone was super excited to see you when they announced that they'd be joining and, other than a couple comments that you all ignored, it was going really well.

"Matt, someone asked what our types are" Chris laughed, reading the chat.

"I'm not answering that" Matt dead panned, screwing his face up at the camera

"I can answer it for you both, for sure" you chuckle, "chat do you want me to answer it?"

"yes, yes, yes, yes, omg yes" Chris was reeling off the answers in chat, "everyone wants y/n/n to answer, Matt should we let her?" Chris asked.

Matt rolled his eyes with a smile, "g'head, y/n/n, expose us" He chuckled.

"okay, so" you said, in your best girly gossip voice, "Matt likes nerdy, reader, soft girls" you begin to explain, your train of thought is interrupted by Chris erupting into laughter.

"dude she's so right! you love a girl that looks like she's always buried in a book" Chris wails.

"what are you guys even saying?" Matt complains, the smile etched across his face giving his tone a lot less power.

"you definitely want a girl who will go on a hike with you or some shit, Matt" You say, enjoying this whole interaction a bit too much.

Chris was keeled over in laughter, loving finally being able to talk about this kind of stuff on the internet without everyone going insane.

"I dunno why you're laughing so much, Chris, you're next" Matt states, Chris shrugs in reply.

"i don't give a fuck, call me out y/n/n, gimme the best you got" Chris sits back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

"hmmmm" you say, exaggerating your thinking, "what is the famous Christopher Sturniolos type" you rub your chin, pretending to be thinking deeply.

A knowing smirk is spread wide across Chris' face as he stares at your face on his screen, tongue prodding the side of his cheek.

"I know Chris' type" Matt adds, a menacing smile on his face.

"g'head matt, you take this one" you gesture to the boy on your screen.

"Chris likes girls who don't like him back" Matts brows raise in accusation towards Chris.

You try and hide the smile forming on your face, attempting to look as focused on the game as possible as your tongue prods at your teeth. Neither of the boys say anything, both of them cheesing, Matt in a teasing and knowing kind of way and Chris more so in a 'I cant say what I wanna say' kind of way.

"damn, Matt, you just called me the fuck out" Chris shakes his head, looking to the tiny version of you on his screen.

You're still quiet, trying to fight the smile on your face and look as focused as possible, you catch Chris looking as if he's looking at you on his screen and shake your head with a chuckle.

"what you grinnin' at, kid?" Chris smirks.

You raise your brows, shaking your head with a downwards smile, "no, nothin', nothin" you say, returning your focus back to the game.

All of the viewers watched the interaction and were blowing up the chat with comments about how Chris definitely likes you, saying things like 'did you guys see that?!', and 'think they're slick look at how they're both smiling!!!!!'. Chris was reading the comments and trying to hide the red blush crawling its way onto his cheeks, Matt was relishing in the fact that Chris was so obviously nervous, and you were just trying not to react.

"Chris, dude, you better wipe that smile off your face, chat's onto you" Matt pokes the bear.

"chat ain't onto shit, Matt, shut the fuck up" Chris says, trying to be serious but unable to push his smile down.

"you know i'm right though, you do like girls who don't want you" Matt pushed on with his joke.

"Matt, shut your fuckin' mouth, dude" Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head, his smile still prevalent.

You couldn't help but laugh, still pretending to not care about the situation unfolding. In hindsight, it probably made it all the more obvious that you knew exactly what Matt was referring to.

"you're awful quiet, y/n/n, you got nothing to say on Chris' type?" Matt extends his joke over to you and your attention is immediately on him.

"nah, you hit the nail on the head, I think" you shrug, stretching back in your chair and adjusting your headset.

"oh really?" Chris replies, brows raised in accusation.

"mhm" you nod, faux innocently.

Chris kisses his teeth, nodding and trying to hide the smile on his face once again.

"yeah, chat, Matts right, I like pretty girls, who don't like me back" Chris says, subtly turning his attention to you and then back to chat.

You roll your eyes with a smile, leaning forward once more to lock into the game.

"you're ridiculous, Chris" Matt chuckles into the mic, watching you shift in your seat, trying not to blush.

The rest of the game went off without a hitch, you guys went on to win multiple times and all the viewers eventually stopped trying to get the conversation back to Chris' obvious crush on you. You played until the early hours of the morning, joking and laughing with the boys' just like old times and relishing in the fact that you were finally able to be a part of their online presence again. When it hit around three a.m you told them you had to sign off, explaining that you had to be up early for college that morning.

"guys, I gotta go, but I'll text you when I wake up" you said, pulling off your headset, and brushing your hair back with your hand.

"alright, y/n/n, thanks for helping us bury kids, its always a treat" Matt grinned at you, shooting you his token boyish smile.

"you know I live to humble kids on fort, Matt" You shrugged, putting on your best boyish persona, earning a laugh from Matt

"okay seriously, I gotta go, bye chat!" you smile, "bye boys" you go to switch off your computer but you're stopped by Chris booming voice.

"bye, beautiful" he says, a cheesy grin on his face.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as an uncontrollable smile finds your lips, "bye, Chris" you reply, switching off your computer.

The whole chat erupts with people losing their minds over Chris calling you beautiful, the boys say nothing, Matt just shakes his head, laughing at the chat as he watches Chris, grinning with pride and completely unashamed of his very obvious crush on you.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think, at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny. 

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker. Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watch him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin’. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

[sheep-from-rad]

Hi! Sorry if this is weird or anything, this is my first time sending an ask lol

But I just finished reading your writing about the singer/influencer reader and omfg I love your brain. Like imagine the reader did a cover of/wrote like spit in my face by ThxSoMch or Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott (love her sm btw-) cause just imagine the GUILTTT

Imagine the Batfam listening to their music and just hearing the bitterness in their voice as they sing “Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong, In my defence I wasn’t supposed to be around this long, so” HGDECANZZKNFBVD

Anyway, I love your writing and I hope you have an absolutely amazing week! Take care of yourself too- drink water, eat some food and try to get some sleep ml <3

Nah anon you're cool. I love reading asks. ALSO credits to Luludelulusramblings, they made the originally made Influencer reader. Batfam belongs to DC as usual. Singer reader post: here

You know, in the Art History year 1901-1904, Picasso started the Blue Period where he only painted in the shades of Blue. It started due to the death of his friend, later his financial struggles, and of course the current state of the society. Blue Period art was so good but so doleful and depressing that no one wants to hang it in their house. Singer! Reader started their career covering mainstream songs, band songs, maybe even vocaloid. 

Their blue period started months before they planned to leave the manor. It was a simple cover of MARINA’s ‘Are you satisfied?’ A lot of burnt out overachievers ate that cover, even Tim himself. The song is basically the reader questioning the Wayne last name. Sure it was a goldmine to others but to them it’s a ticket to misery. One song cover turned into many song covers, enough to make a long playlist to play at 3 a.m. when you’re about to have a breakdown. 

The whole playlist? Batfam avoids it because it reminds them of the times they could have been giving you love but they didn’t BUT at the same time they can’t really avoid it. It became like those guilty pleasures playlist. Damian loves and hates reader’s ‘The Family Jewels’ cover because it reminds him of the fact that he and the reader are basically on the same boat. They were just children who needed attention and love. He got that attention and love immediately because of the whole league of assassins backstory. He won’t admit it but the weight of the role weighs like tonnes of iron on his shoulders. 

Jason, Bruce and Cigarette Ahegao will roll together so much. That man has twice the amount of trauma Bruce had and his coping mechanism sucks. All the aggressiveness was just a coping mechanism, underneath he’s a man with conflicted feelings and those years of being dead and suddenly being resurrected didn’t help. Let’s face it Bruce is a tired man who lives a double life. He's a man who dresses up like as a bat making sure the city is safe but he can't cover all grounds. The neglect on reader was unintentional but neglect is neglect.

Dick with reader’s cover of ‘Stressed out’ by Twenty one pilots, no explanation needed. ‘This is me trying’ by Taylor Swift with Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim. Cassandra and Stephanie being raised by villains and Tim being an overachiever to have his parent’s attention. His parents being always away and realizing he basically did the same thing to the reader by making them feel invisible. 

Double guilt if they left the playlist on autoplay and ‘Daddy issues’ plays. Any version but I think the original fits the bill. Reader ends their blue period with a cover of Mother Mother’s ‘Burning Pile’ basically saying ‘Yeah fuck it, it’s over. I’m burning it, I’m leaving it, I’m closing the chapter’. But to the Batfamily, it meant renewal and turning a new leaf, an invitation to make things better.

[clockwayswrites]

Not So Imaginary

Parts 1-3 Parts 4-6Parts 7-8 WC: 1177

“I brought you some more books to read,” Jason said as he entered the room.

After Danny had shown that they were clearly a person (a kid at that) and answered a few questions, they had been moved to an actual room on the Watchtower. Jason was pretty sure part of it was how he refused to leave the cell until Danny was moved, but he didn’t really care as long as it got his friend safe.

Danny looked up with a grin. They were pretty solid today, sitting cross-leg on the bed with feet and everything.

“You’re back,” the artificial voice spoke out from the tablet like device in Danny’s hands. It was a version of something called a SGD, Bruce had said, and was used by people who had trouble with verbal sounds. They didn’t know if Danny would always need it or if they’re vocal cords would come back as they continued to solidify.

“I am. B said I could stay a whole three hours today too as long as I ate a snack while I was here,” Jason said, holding up one of the bags he had.

Three hours still wasn’t a lot, but it was better than the one it had been the rest of the week. It took a lot of begging, but B finally agreed that Jason was well enough for a test to see how it went. Danny was still draining life force from Jason, and only Jason, which made certain Leaguers nervous about letting the two of them close. Jason had done everything he could to let it happen: he’d begged and argued, he’d eating everything Alfie wanted him to, he rested whenever Bruce wanted him too which was all the time, and he even agreed to stay benched for as long as it took.

That last one had really helped convince Bruce and Dick that Jason wouldn’t back down from helping his friend.

“Good. I am happy. What do you have?”

“You liked the Hardy Boys, right? I have a few more of those and I found you some science mags you might like,” Jason said as he flopped onto the bed next to Danny. He could feel the odd tingle travel up his arm as he leaned into Danny.

“Thank you,” Danny said with a wide smile. The tone of the electronic voice didn’t match the brightness of that smile, but it was alright. Jason could also feel how happy Danny was.

“You’re doing okay?”

“Yes.” There was a long pause as Danny found the right words. They were pretty quick already with preset phrases, but odder things still took longer than regular talking would. “WW took me to observation deck. We watched stars. She told me stories of stars from her home.”

“Yeah?” Jason asked, trying to keep his voice from hitching around the word. He couldn’t bug Danny with that yet. “You like her? Wonder Woman?”

“Yes.” The reply was quick, but Danny was watching Jason with furrowed brows. They pushed a sense of question through their bond.

“I’m fine. Just thinking through some shit,” Jason said with a wave of his hand. “But Wonder Woman is really cool. She’s my favorite too.”

Danny set the tablet aside so that they could run their fingers through Jason’s hair. It felt odd, what with not all of the fingers always being all of the way solid, but a good sort of odd. It seems Jason couldn’t just Danny’s concern aside.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?”

Danny let out what for anyone else would have been a sigh and gave a little nod. They shorted through the bag of books Jason had brought and found a Hardy Boy’s to hand over to Jason.

“What me to read to you?” Jason waited for the nod. Apparently it was really important to let Danny choose things right then, or so the adults said. “Okay, move over a bit, yeah? You’re hogging all the bed.”

Danny placed their hand to their chest, face screwing up in an affronted expression. It didn’t work though when Jason could feel the amusement through their bond.

“Yeah yeah, I’m a brute, now shove over,” Jason said with a laugh. He worked his way up until he was lounging against the head of the bed.

Danny didn’t move.

“You’re a brat,” Jason accused.

Danny gave a silent laugh, humor bumbling up in their bond, before they flopped over right onto Jason’s chest. Jason let a huff of a sigh, but ran his fingers through Danny’s hair like he knew they liked before he opened the book to start read about another adventure of the Hardy Boys.

It was easier to feel the drain like this, when they were so close to each other and touching. Jason had tried to avoid spelling that out too much to Bruce. He got that his dad was just worried, but he was afraid if B knew he’d tried to keep Danny away.

As it was Bruce was trying to send Danny away.

Jason brushed the thought aside, focusing on doing his best to give the characters good voices for Danny. At least it was a distraction from all the rest of Jason’s thoughts. Two chapters later the stopped to ask, “Want a break or do you want another chapter?”

Danny rolled over and off Jason’s chest to flop onto the pillow next to him and Jason froze. His shock must have been clear because Danny scrambled up off the bed until they were floating above Jason.

“No! It’s a good thing. Just… you’re getting some of your color back,” Jason explained. He should really stop staring. He should take Danny to a mirror to see or something, but it was just that… Danny was beautiful right then. He found himself reaching up to brush his finger tips of the bright freckles that were scattered across Danny’s cheeks and nose like a galaxy of stars.

Bright teal eyes blinked back at him.

Jason cleared his throat. “Right, sorry, let’s go let you look.”

Danny floated to the side, landing on their feet as Jason stood, and followed behind behind to the small attached bathroom. Jason guided Danny in front of the mirror. White was spreading into their hair now.

For a moment Jason was worried that Danny was frozen in shock, then the other leaned in close to the mirror, touching the surface before bringing their hand up to their own face. Suddenly Danny was moving, spinning weightlessly around Jason as they gave a soundless whoop.

“I know,” Jason said with a grin of his own. “Look at you! You’re really coming together now! I knew you could do it. I knew that you could come back.”

Slowly, Danny drifted back down so that the tips of their toes brushed against the floor. They rested their forehead against Jason’s.

He didn’t need words to understand what Danny was trying to say.

“Don’t have to thank me, stardust. I’ll always come for you just like you’ll always come for me.”

--- AN: Oh ho, is Jason starting to realize he has a crush? And what isn't he telling Danny? Hopefully this part is good, the weather is giving me such a migraine/making me super dizzy so my eyes are crossing some! (Yes, I'm resting, on the couch with a cat!)

I really should have made an update post for this... this supposed ficlet just keeps going! 7K now! Aaaah well. Anywho, stay delightful, darlings!

[sunfairiess]

Request for John b: reader finds out she is pregnant and is scared to tell John b because they are still teenagers

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐨 | 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐛 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞

pairing: john b routledge x fem!reader

tropes: 3rd person narration I accidental pregnancy | fluff

synopsis: based on that request.

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, teenage pregnancy

wc: 1k

it's my first time writing based on a request, so i really hope i did well! i’m so sorry it took longer than expected, but i just had the worst stomach bug of my life and couldn’t do much <3

song rec: next thing you know - jordan davis ♡

it always starts like this. two lines, one pink stick or three in her case.

pregnant. she was pregnant. she didn’t plan for this to happen, who did anyway? getting pregnant while still being a teenager. when you’re a teenager you can’t even take care of yourself, how can you take care of another human being?

oh, she was so screwed. her parents were going to get a stroke at the news, not to mention her boyf- shit. her boyfriend. how was she going to tell him? was he going to be happy? was he going to leave her? she felt like the floor was swallowing her.

she breathed deeply, trying to clear out her head, but all she could think about were those positive pink sticks. she loved babies and obviously she wanted them in her future, but having one so early in her life felt almost like a mistake. she only had that thought for a second, but hell she felt so guilty.

“babe you done in there? dinner’s ready!” she heard him shout from the kitchen. “coming!” she quickly took the tests and put them in her pocket. looking at her reflection in the mirror before going out, she decided that everything was going to be okay, or at least she hoped, and that she’d tell him in a week. she firstly wanted to take some time to think about it on her own, and to also talk to her parents.

the night she decided to finally break out the news to him, he had just came back from a day with jj and pope. she had cooked dinner, in hopes to relax herself a little bit, but the whole time she was cooking, she was thinking about what to say to him, which made her even more stressed than before.

now, she was pacing back and forth in the living room of the château, while her boyfriend was mimicking and recreating some jokes and obviously stupid things jj made during the day.

“john b.” nothing. he kept going on and on about his fishing trip with the boys. not that she didn’t like listening to him, it just wasn’t the right time to talk about fishing. “john b.” nothing. absolutely nothing. did he became deaf in an afternoon? “john b! i really need to talk to you.” his head snapped back at her, silencing the second he heard her shout.

“okay- yeah, okay, let’s sit down.” she smiled thankfully at his words. he took her hands, as they both sat on the couch, turning their bodies so they could face one another.

they stood silent for a couple of minutes, him not wanting to rush her and her trying not to freak out for the thousandth time. she then took a deep breath and gave him a soft smile, rubbing her thumbs on the back of his hands. “i- uhm, i-, i’m pregnant.”

a strangled whine left his throat as his eyes widened out, like he had just seen a ghost. “you- you’re pregnant.”

she nodded along. “i’m pregnant.”

“and you’re a hundred percent sure? like totally and completely sure.”

“yeah, i took three tests just to be sure.”

“alright, and how are we feeling about this?” his tone was low, and uncertain. he didn’t want to rush anything. he wanted her to know that she was his priority and he was going to do anything to support her.

“i- i don’t know. i mean of course i’m happy, a baby is a blessing, but we’re so young. we have nothing figured out, or nothing at all anyway. i was so scared to tell you because what if you don’t want it? what if you leave me? i can’t bring up a child on my own. and what if you get bored of me? what if i’m not a good mom? or if you-“

“woah, breath, baby. take a deep breath with me, yeah?”

he inhaled and exhaled slowly, making her follow his rhythm. he placed both of his hands on her belly, like he was trying to create some sort of contact with the little one. he knew it was way too early to fully addressing it as a baby, but either way that was his child. it sounded so strange to say that. being a parent while still being so young was certainly not in his plans, but that was going to be his son, or daughter. he would have part of his blood in them, maybe they would have his hair or eyes, even though he hoped they would take after his mother. he would’ve loved a little copy of his girlfriend running and laughing around the house.

“listen to me, baby. i would love nothing more than having a family with you. you are it for me. i wanna marry you, and have a bunch of baby us makin’ a mess ‘round the house. i would never, ever, leave you or our child. he, or she, is my flesh and blood, and baby, you are the person i love the most in the world. if you wanna go on with the pregnancy, you’ll be a wonderful mother, because you’re kind, and gentle and so loving. i know i can’t offer you much, but i promise, i’ll try to be the best father this baby could ever have.” he took a small pause, looking at her in the eyes, this time even more serious than before. “you’re gonna carry them for nine months, so you tell me what we’re gonna do, and i whatever you choose to do, i will support you every step of the way.”

her eyes started to fill up with tears, feeling fortunate to have him by her side. how did she get so lucky, she had no idea. there was no doubt john b was going to be the most wonderful and caring father.

“honestly, i’d like to keep it. i wouldn’t mind having a little john b blabbering about surfing.” they both shared a laugh at her words.

“very well, mama. we’re gonna figure everything out, don’t worry. i got you. both, of you.”

john b wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. it was going to be hard, and frightening, but they were together, and they were going to figure it out. they always did.

[maya-caffrey]

Human 101: Cooking

pairing: rk800 connor x reader

words: 2.1 k

warnings: language, self-deprecating humour, lack of proofreading, fic from reader's pov

summary: human 101 with (y/n) and Connor, a crash course on the basics of humanity, brought to you by sumo and a very sleep-deprived writer (comedy, fluff)

additional context: reader has a rampant crush on Connor, as established in Short Circuit, this could be treated as a sequel in spirit or just a standalone.

a/n: thanks for all the love for my previous fic, here's another one <3

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

Unlike other deviants, Connor took his time to come to terms with his deviancy. Imagine you live your entire life (even if your whole life was barely a couple weeks) thinking your only purpose was to, say, hunt dogs. What would you do if you woke up one day to find you were the dog all along? This feels like a bad analogy. You get the point.

That kind of revelation would definitely come with its own baggage. I mean, I can't even begin to imagine what it must've been like. So even if Connor has finally made his peace with being a deviant, I have made it my life's mission to help him experience the highs and lows of being fully human. Call it Human 101.

Lesson one? Cooking. Sure "Love makes us human" Yeah okay but if you really think about it, it is cooking. Literally no other species cooks. Everyone fucks. Go figure.

"Cooking is fundamental," I told him, as we stood in my kitchen. "It’s like… the ultimate human bonding experience. Families, friends, lovers-" I stopped myself there, flustered, oops, but he didn’t seem to notice. "It’s about creating something from scratch, with your hands. Plus, we get to eat it after. Win-win."

"I should inform you that I already have access to an extensive database of recipes and culinary techniques. If required, I can prepare any dish with precise measurements and optimal timing. There is a less than one percent chance of error."

"Oh, no no," I laughed. "We can't follow recipes, God, no. Cooking is about spontaneity. About chaos. Screwing up is where the fun is."

His head tilted slightly, LED blinking yellow as though he were processing my statement. "You believe the experience is improved by the possibility of failure?"

"Absolutely!" I said, grabbing a whisk from the counter. "It's not just about the taste, you know? You need to spill flour everywhere, accidentally burn the sauce, or switch salt with sugar. That's the human way. You mess up, you laugh about it, and sometimes you end up making something even better than you planned."

Connor stared at me for a long moment, as though trying to reconcile my argument with his programming. "This is… counterintuitive. But intriguing."

"Exactly!" I said, pointing the whisk at him like I’d just solved world hunger. "Now, step one: forget the database. No looking up recipes. We’re winging it."

He blinked at me. "Winging it?"

"Yes. We’re going to use whatever’s in the fridge and figure it out as we go. Trust me, it’ll be great."

He looked at me like there was a loading screen inside his head. "Statistically, this approach has a higher likelihood of failure. That is... good?"

"Exactly." I grinned, tossing him an apron. "Let's get cooking, Wall-E."

Connor caught the apron mid-air, holding it up like it was a wet sock. "Is this truly necessary for the process?"

"Oh yeah, big time," I said, tying my own around my waist. "It’s part of the uniform. Cooking without an apron is like... running a mission without a plan."

That got a faint quirk of his lips. "I wasn’t aware cooking was so strategic."

"It’s not," I said, pulling open the fridge and gesturing dramatically. "It’s pure chaos. Okay, what do we have?"

Connor peered inside with the precision of someone scanning a battlefield. It may as well have been, honestly. "Tomatoes, cheese, leftover chicken, and... two peppers approximately three days past their optimal freshness." No, I am not embarrassed about how I ration. Okay fine, a little bit.

"Perfect. We’re making pizza."

He straightened slightly, tilting his head at me. "A pizza is typically constructed using dough as a base. There is no dough present."

"There will be if we make it from scratch. Flour, water, some yeast if I remembered to buy it... probably. Easy."

As I started rummaging through the pantry, Connor stayed rooted in place, watching me like he was making notes like I'd be quizzing him on pantry rummaging etiquette later. When I turned around, a bag of flour in hand, I caught him staring.

"What?"

"I was considering how often you engage in these… unpredictable approaches. It’s unconventional. Yet, it appears to bring you joy."

I paused, caught off-guard by how earnestly he’d said it. "Yeah, I guess it does. Life’s too short to stress about being perfect all the time, you know?"

Connor seemed to mull that over, but instead of replying, he reached for the bag of flour. "Allow me. The chances of you spilling that are statistically high."

"Oh, wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," I said, rolling my eyes.

He smiled then- an actual, honest-to-goodness smile that made my stomach do a weird little flip.

We started working on the dough together. Well, I started working on the dough, he was fighting demons. It was hilarious. It was like the dough owed him money.

"Dude, dude, relax. The dough isn't your enemy. You're not interrogating the dough. You need to be gentle with it. We like the dough. The dough is our friend."

"The same way Hank is our friend?"

"Hank is dough, yes."

"Well, Hank is not responding well to my kneading."

Wait. A joke? Was that a joke? Holy shit.

I blinked at him, eyebrows shooting up. “Did you just…?”

His lips twitched, though it was still subtle. “I’m capable of humor when required.” I nudged him lightly with my elbow, the warmth of the moment sinking in. He gave the dough another half-hearted punch, then added, “I don't understand why Dough Hank isn't cooperating.”

“Well, firstly, stop punching it like it owes you money. You have to be gentle. Dough requires finesse.”

He tilted his head, his LED spinning in thought. “Finesse,” he repeated, his hands hesitating awkwardly above the dough.

His struggling with the dough was honestly the most adorable thing I have ever seen. He was trying, he really was, but his confusion from the dough not reciprocating for all his efforts and him not being able to wrap his head around it made for a hilarious staring contest between Dough Hank and Connor. He held it up and stared at it closely, possibly with malicious intent.

Earth to (Y/n), I stepped closer until I was pressed lightly against his side. “Here, let me show you.” Sliding my hands over his, I guided his movements, pressing gently into the dough, folding and rolling it in a smooth rhythm. “See? You’re not fighting it. You’re working with it.”

Connor followed my lead, his hands relaxing under mine. His head dipped slightly, and when I glanced up, I realized he was watching me instead of the dough. I was hyperaware of the fact that I was so close to him and was very sure he could figure out just how nervous I was feeling.

“So, we negotiate with the dough,” he murmured, his voice quieter, almost teasing now.

“Exactly,” I said, laughing softly. “Negotiation is key. Be nice, and it’ll be nice back.”

I watched him start over with dough Hank, this time, more gently. Like he was getting the hang of it. "I think I’m starting to understand," he murmured.

I raised an eyebrow. “Understand what?”

"What being human is about," he said quietly, his voice almost contemplative. “It’s about embracing it. The mess, the failure, the laughter. The joy of not being perfect. I quite like the idea of not having to be perfect all the time."

In all honesty, I was not sure how to respond to that. He looked like a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders like someone had just told him it was okay to breathe for the first time. And, for a moment, I almost didn’t want to ruin it.

His LED flickered a soft yellow, his eyes- those damn calm eyes- finally looking a little less... distant. It felt like I was staring at the kind of person you’d want to confide in, the kind who’d get it.

I bit my lip, trying not to smile. “You okay there, Connor?”

He glanced up, that soft smile still hanging on his lips. “I believe so,” he said, voice uncharacteristically light. “I think I’m finally making progress. With understanding humanity. And dough Hank.”

I snorted, quickly covering my mouth to hide the laugh. "Well, dough Hank was a tough nut to crack, but you did it, so good job."

He smiled, like he was proud of himself, and looked so damn cute. I shook myself out of my thoughts and grabbed the rolling pin, ready to get back to work. "Alright, now that we’ve figured out how to negotiate with dough, let’s make this pizza. We’re going all in."

Connor, still looking oddly content, glanced at the ingredients on the counter. "I assume we’ll be using the tomatoes, cheese, and chicken? I’ve been considering possible toppings. The peppers are not ideal."

"Connor, I have no regard for my safety and you don't have a digestive system. I think we'll be fine."

"Suit yourself, (Y/n)." Again. That damn lilt in his voice when he says my name. It's like he knows what it's doing to me. Asshole.

After about 20 minutes, Dough Hank had fully become Pizza Hank and it was finally time.

"Alright, Baymax. Moment of Truth."

"I must ask. What is with the various robot nicknames? Are they terms of endearment?"

"Sure, let's go with that."

"Noted. In that case, it only seems appropriate to assign you one in return... Sugar?"

"Oh wow, no. God, just, no."

"Sport?"

"Nope."

"Champ?"

"Worse!"

"I'm bad at this, aren't I?"

"Baby steps, C3PO."

I liked this. Banter, his company, this... the whole thing. Whatever it can be called. Watching him discover things I have known my entire life is such an enthralling experience. It's like that one revelation you have when you're like 7 or 8 when you realize that you are alive TM. Except this time, you're watching someone else have it. I don't know if any of this makes sense, but what I do know is that I don't want this to end any time soon.

"Wow, this is disgusting."

Pizza Hank was a pile of dog shit. It was like a troll and an ogre had a baby on my tongue. No self-respecting person would put that in their mouth a second time. My mouth hates me for this.

"I thought failure was welcome. Is it not?"

"Yeah, but this is straight-up nuclear, my guy. I wouldn't eat this if someone paid me money."

"Well, while I cannot taste food the way humans do, I am able to simulate the experience of tasting by analyzing the composition of the food. I could describe it to you if you would like."

"Really? What do you think?" he picked up a slice and confidently took a bite out of it.

"Yeah, this is awful."

I put my hands up in resignation. Cooking was a disaster. I am useless and do not deserve nice things. Pain is eternal and hell beckons.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time, this is all my fault."

"Failure, as you pointed out, is part of the process. And it wasn’t a waste of time."

I groaned, dropping onto a stool and burying my face in my hands. "It’s not even edible. We can’t exactly bond over a pile of inedible sludge."

“I don’t think the goal here was actually to cook something edible, was it? From what I understand, it was about experiencing the act of cooking- and bonding with each other. By that measure, I believe we have succeeded.”

I was caught off guard. He thought we "successfully bonded". Please excuse me while I pass away.

"You really think so?"

He nodded while smiling at me reassuringly while putting the mangled remains of pizza Hank back on the plate. "Besides, per my observation, your shift in mood could be a result of hunger."

"Yeah, I haven't eaten anything all day, have I?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"You wanna get good pizza and go to Real Hank's place?"

"I would love to. I have been meaning to see Sumo."

cut-scene from the car ride <3

"I just assumed the pizza would be edible. You know? I can call it optimism all I want but that's just a lack of planning."

"Is lack of planning an inherent human trait?"

"Oh, Yeah. Top of the list, actually."

a/n: now I liked Short Circuit more but here's part 2 <3 also yes I took the cooking makes us human bit from another popular tumblr post, i just thought it was hilarious

[pickingupmymercedes]

Another rant

So, got enough sleep, heard a few commentators and specialists opinions, and talked to a motorsports engineer (my dad btw - who has worked with Indy most of his life, and worked briefly with f1 in the 2010's) about the shenanigans with yesterday's race and here's some food for thought:

ALL cars are weighted before and after they get to parc fermé (so, that's Saturday and then Sunday) so George's was good before the race. (Back in the 80's Tyrrell used to fill balloons with water before getting weighted and then dumping the water during the race - hence weighing after the race as well)

It's not uncommon to get the fuel procedure wrong, there are more than a single tank so sometimes fuel can be left on the car, (So, at least that wasn't intentional)

Here's where things get interesting:

After pits the teams try and run deg rates on their used tyres to confirm if their strategies are well regulated with reality and if going long is a possibility. (Considering Lewis's second pit was H to H, Merc had data on how the deg was on those tyres and could -should actually - be able to project how the deg was going to be all the way to the end)

Other five cars made the one stopper work without being underweight and that's mostly because that was on the tables for them since the beginning and the teams got the cars ready with added in weights.

Import point - my dad was really fixed on this one - to make that one stopper work the cars HAD to carry extra added weight from the whole race, and the extra weight also affects how the tyres degrade (and of course, the overall results)

Considering George's and Lewis's post race interviews, I'd say Mercedes hadn't prepared any of the cars for that possibility because they honestly didn't believe it'd work

The back and forth between George and his engineer to decide to stay out went for about 3 laps, and in that time the data on tyre wear and deg shoud have been analysed and considered (by the whole of the engineers)

A possible reason why Mercedes didn't think George going for a one-stopper would be detrimental to Lewis's race (at that moment p1) was probably because their calculations were wrong, and they thought his tyres would eventually drop off (Lewis would easily catch him and they could try to get their two cars on podium)

And here's where things get tricky:

There's a somewhat unwritten rule in f1 that it's okay to offset strategies between your driver if the overall team result benefits for it, sometimes even at the cost of driver's positions. The only exception being when it's a VERY clear race win you're inverting. (Mclaren last week?!)

Yes, teams have given team orders to invert positions for a number of different reasons, but a 1-2 being inverted because of a strategy decision that left the lead driver (both quali and on the race) on the dark is a big problem. (Ferrari in the early 2000's with Schumi and Barrichello got soooo much heat for it. And probably why Toto had that face, he knew they crossed a line that was going to be hard to justify)

In any way, the mood inside that garage must had been atrocious for both sides. One was pretty much blindsided (Lewis side of the garage probably only learned Russ wouldn't drop off when the whole team did) and the other got dsqed by a mid-race decision that shouldn't have been allowed (btw those calculations are not only made by a single person, exactly as to not get a car dsq for a preventable error).

Honestly, I don't blame either fans (44 and 63) for how they reacted, because both drivers were screwed up by the team. But one probably has a mathematical reasoning behind, whilst the other has a imposing principles reasoning.

Now, something I'll give my two very personal cents about is I hope both drivers learn from that, specially George, because if Lewis can be on the receiving end of a trust breaking decision after 11 years and that many race wins and titles, you guys probably know where I'm going. And for Lewis, I hope he got the idea of how things are going to be moving forward (and this is not about priority it's about trusting the people they let almost dictate their lives for about 2 hours every GP)

[courtingchaos]

Rent the Space Inside My Mind

1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: Man, remember that picture you found? I wonder how you two decide to deal with that little hiccup...

A/N: I've finally come to the realization that this little fic is a labor of love for me. It's my baby so it isn't ever really going to have a real updating schedule. All of that to say, thank you for sticking around and reading you guys! Not a spoiler but just so you know, the end kind of reads like An End, but I have a lot more planned for theses two. This is just like, and end to the pining.

Also, I know others are reading this, but I'm giving a whole shoutout to @fracturedarkness who has been the best cheerleader for me with this story from essentially day one. Literally a ray of sunshine 😘😘😘

(If y'all want a soundtrack at all, just listen to Hozier's Wasteland! Baby. Seriously it's basically all I listened to.)

Warnings: SMUT! There's smut! Halleluiah! 18+ NSFW Minors GTFO

In sixth grade Eddie had caught mono. It was the first serious illness that Wayne had to deal with since taking guardianship four years earlier. Eddie had moaned around the trailer for two weeks, unable to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. He’d been exhausted and couldn’t swallow right. The fever he’d get at night made him nauseous those first few days and that’s the only thing he can compare this sick twist in his gut to. 

Between the picture clutched in your fingers and the intense look on your face, Eddie thinks he might just turn inside out. 

“Ed?”

It sounds like an accusation in his ears. You’ve found him out, evidence catching the light where it waves around between the two of you. Forget trying to tell you his feelings, he’s got a date with  buckshot later. 

He takes it back actually, this feels the same as the day you accidentally met his dad. The sudden visit on a rare stint between prison stays. The lead weight of fear and sadness and pure fucking rage making him go cold and numb.

Eddie is so tired of shit going wrong in his life. 

“Eddie?” How do you sound so soft when he has clearly screwed up so bad?

Also, he went for one shower after making a stupid mess and you decided to what, go through his shit?

Don’t start 

There’s a black mood he gets in sometimes. It creeps up his insides, stains him dark. It makes him mean and he doesn’t want to be mean, not to you. Not to anyone really. 

He knows on a deeper level this is his fault, it was only a matter of time before you found the picture. Tucked in books and forgotten in his sheets he’s honestly surprised it’s taken this long.  

“Eddie!” The sharpness of his name jerks his head out of the haze he’s in. Sees your eyes clearly and you’re not mad, in fact he thinks that might be a smile hidden under all the confusion. 

“Where did you get this?” Even and calm. Could you lend him some of that? His throat clicks when he tries to swallow. 

“I think uh, I think I took it. On ha-Halloween. Last year.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice, the deep scratch of it. “We were drunk at Hagan’s. I don’t know wh-“

“You took this?” Another wiggle of the polaroid. Your grip on the box of weed is still white knuckled. Okay, maybe that wasn’t a smile. He can’t really tell anymore, the panic settling in firing off all his alarm bells. 

“You weren’t supposed to find it.” He’s so quiet, hasn’t been quiet like this in a long time. Wasn’t even this quiet sneaking into bedrooms. 

You take a step forward and he launches back. Head hits the door frame and if god is real he would let the paneling swallow him whole right now. 

“Why do you have this? Why all the-” you gesture behind you, “why all my shit? You told me you hadn’t seen my Theo figure anywhere and she’s in the drawer with all my shit!” Your voice gets tight, face scrunching up in complete confusion. “I thought I was loosing my stuff but you’re just stealing all of it! My zippo! Eddie what the fuck?!” No, right, there’s the anger. He’s pressed so firmly against the door jam it’s guaranteed to leave marks for a week. You take another step forward and he has nowhere to go, pinned under your scrutiny and words and the waving hand holding his shame. But where your voice was rising in anger, it drops suddenly, slides into something softer. “Why do you have this?”

Yeah Eddie, why do you have it?

It’s a total accumulation of, let’s be real, two years of unrepentant pining. Two years of being a dick and going after easy girls because you were off limits in his own doctrine. Too good a friend to ruin the relationship, and too good a person to ruin with himself. It’s nights spent at the bookstore waiting for you to get off, watching with a burning in his gut as the dipshit college guy you work with tries to edge his way into a date. Blunts and cigarettes shared like kisses between lips he isn’t allowed to taste otherwise. It’s the grappling like two idiots fighting, breathless giggles and rough shoves that end in headlock hugs and usually him tapping out first, unable to stand being in your embrace if it isn’t for keeps. 

“I…” the space in his room is somehow bigger than it’s ever been, leaving him adrift in the chaos of his things and your things and the too thin air that you’re somehow breathing in just fine. There’s a stutter in his chest where he’s not catching his breath, the familiar heat behind his eyes where the tears are trying to rush forward. “It’s just-fuck! It’s such a creep…move I know and I just didn’t want to l-let it go because it was a good night and-and a good picture and your hand…” he’d dropped his eyes to stare at your feet, unable to say his half-assed explanation to your face. “Your hand. On my leg.” Just a whisper. Swings his hand limply toward you. “I just, it was a nice thought.”  His throat is tight and he’s afraid if you keep looking at him he might cry. 

He’s watched you take enough steps forward so you’re practically toe to toe with him. In his peripheral he watches you toss the box behind you onto the bed, your other clutching the evidence lightly taps against his chest and rests there. 

He looks up through his lashes and his hair, keeping his sight obscured like it’ll protect him from whatever you’re about to say. 

“I can’t believe-“ you cut off with a laugh and a shake of your head, that small smile he thought he saw turning back up. “I feel so fucking stupid.”

Eddie’s stomach has disappeared along with the rest of his insides. There’s never been a real foundation of proof for him, just stolen glances he’s caught you in. That lingering look you’d give him, the way you’d hang onto him longer during a hug sometimes. Mostly just blind hope and his own low simmering ego to egg him on. 

“Do you want to know what I did this morning?” He nods, he really does want to know. There’s the smallest drip of warmth trickling down his back with your words. 

“I woke up and I thought about you. First thought of the day.” A deep breath and he can see the pink blooming up out of the collar of his shirt you’re wearing. “I thought about you and I felt so stupid after, for sitting in the dark and pretending that you’d ever-“ You stop yourself again and drop your eyes to stare at your hand on his chest. 

“You thought about me?” He asks and you nod slowly. He’s got an idea about what that might mean. “Do you maybe also have a secret polaroid?”

A break in the tension and you take a step back, laughing. A real one he knows, warm and happy. The photo hits him in the chest where your hand just was, where you’ve just flicked it at him. “How long Eddie?” 

“What?” He grabs for the photo but it flutters to the ground. 

“How long have you liked me?” Your wide eyes and breathless question challenge him. When he doesn’t respond fast enough for you, you reach out and push his bangs away from his face, smoothing them back. His wispy armor is gone and with it, surprisingly, some of his fear. Your eyes are clear and waiting, smile still pulling at your lips. 

“I don’t, I don’t have like, a date. Like, a-awhile.” Eddie stutters like he’s never spoken these words before. Nerves replacing fear when it starts to finally dawn on him: this isn’t going to end in flames.

The hand at his forehead slides down and rests on his cheek. He hasn’t taken a full breath in since you pushed his hair back, never mind now that your cradling his face, but the fear has been slowly melting off his shoulders while you’ve been staring at him and when your eyes trail down his face, it and the sudden nerves all just disappear. 

He feels your fingers flex along his jaw and he finally takes that breath. 

“I’m not reading this wrong am I?” Barely a whisper but he hears you. Shakes his head and opens his mouth to talk but you cut him off, just as quiet, “I don’t want us to make a mistake.” 

“You think this’d be mistake?” The hurt leaks through without his meaning to. 

“God no, Eddie I-“

There’s a bloom of confidence he hasn’t felt before, something that twist up through his ribs and around his spine. “Good.” 

Reaching out for you feels natural. He’s reached out to you a hundred times before but he’s never slid his hands into your hair. Tucked them up behind your ears and pulled you in close, felt you gasp when he brushes his lips against yours. Your hands pull at his shirt where they’re both fisted in the thin material, keeping him close. When you push into him he feels your mouth open, tongue grazing along his bottom lip; white static across his thoughts. 

It’s 10pm on a Thursday night and your kissing him in his room. Wearing his t-shirt and pushing him against the wall while your kissing him. He feels one of your hands flatten against his chest and his heart rockets off and your still kissing him. There’s your tongue again begging entrance and he yields, feels that barbell slide across his own tongue and he’s done for. It’s better than he could ever fantasize. He wants more of it but you just aren’t close enough. He grips at your hair to pull you in, to try and deepen the kiss but there’s no where else to go. You mumble something against his lips but he just swallows the sound and slides a hand down your back till he can get his fingers up under the hem of the shirt, palm laid flat against the small of your back. 

“Eddie.” You sigh his name and he makes it a personal goal right then to get you to do it again. Your hands wander down his chest and he starts his own wandering down your neck, lips finding any open skin he can kiss. “Hold on, Eddie-“

“I’m not holding on for shit.” He says in between kisses. “I’ve been thinking about doing this for months.” Your laugh vibrates under his mouth and it makes his eyes roll. “Do you want me to stop?” He pauses under your ear, panting against you. 

“No.” You sigh and shake your head, leaning into his hand still in your hair. “No I don’t.” 

He spends a few more minutes pulling little sounds out of you that he’s filing away for later. Nipping at your skin when you run your hands under his shirt and push it up. 

“Can I?” The question isn’t even finished before he pulls the shirt over his head and throws it behind you on the dresser. “Oh!” A giggle when he lays his hands back on you, hands rucking up your own shirt where he can run his palms over your midriff. There’s no finesse to his kisses anymore, just laying them wherever he can, anything to make you giggle again. He moves his hands higher, pushing your shirt up so he can finally see your tits again. It’s been a whole ass year since your wore your dress and he’s dreamt about this every day since. He kisses the tops of them and is mesmerized by the way they bounce back under his touch. 

“Hello old friends.”

“Old friends?!” When you laugh they move with you and he has to force himself to look back up at you. 

“Yeah, you saw the picture. We’re well acquainted.” He buries his face down in your cleavage and you hear him take a deep breath. “How do you always smell so good?” He’s layering kisses again and you’re trying to move around until you can pull your own shirt off. “Hey don’t rush this, I have this perfectly planned.” 

“Oh, so you left the drawer open on purpose?”

“Absolutely, it’s been my months long plan.” He takes a step forward to force you back one. Eyebrows scrunched together he scoffs, “I almost let you catch me for a while and then it happens by mistakeand I act like it’s the biggest fuck up ever and now I’ve got you shirtless. Listen, I plan campaigns babe. You know I can write ten steps ahead.” He’s walking you backwards till your legs hit his bed, fingers holding onto your belt loops to keep you close. 

“Eddie?” You hook your fingers into the waistband of his flannel pants, pulling down till they shift off his hips. 

“What?” He’s distracted by your fingers sliding around his hips. 

“You’re so full of shit.” He laughs when steps out of his pants and sees you look down, an immediate tilt to your head. Your fingers still against his skin, skimming the elastic of his boxers but he knows you’re staring at the growing bulge. The clever remark he had ready dies in the back of his throat when he hears the quiet ‘hmm’, watches your tongue poke out to swipe across your lips.

“If you keep staring I’m gonna get self conscious.” One hand covers his mouth to muffle the end of his sentence while the other lightly rubs up against his dick through the thin cotton. Somehow he stays upright, mouth falling open under your hand to pant against your palm. 

“You got any other surprises for me Munson?”

Are you talking to him? He can’t get a braincell to function with the heat of your hand pressed against him, barely moving at all. The button on your jeans is about all he can fathom, getting them opened and remembering how a zipper works is next. Your breath bouncing off of his chest makes him shiver and kind of brings some of his brain back up and running. 

“I uh, I got a few tricks up my sleeve.” He tips you back till you sit and he follows close, making you lay down. You laugh when your back hits the bed and you keep laughing, body shaking as he works your jeans down your legs. 

“What’s so funny, giggles?”

“I’m just…this is the first time I’ve had sex in a bed.”

Eddie stops moving and looks up at you from your feet. “I’m sorry, what?” He hopes he’s just hearing wrong, on account of his brain short circuiting a moment ago.  

“Yeah, it’s just always been in the back of cars.” You say it so flippantly, like it’s just a thing that happened to you. “I mean, It’s whatever. I just realized no one’s ever pushed me back on a bed before.” Your grin is hazy when you look down your body at him but he’s stone sober now. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to any of those assholes and he knows it. You’re the best thing to happen to him, and somehow you’ve gone this long with shitty car hookups. 

“No.” He shakes his head and pulls your jeans off fully. Slides your socks off and tosses them in the pile of your clothes. “You’re lying, please tell me your lying.” 

“I’m not! There’s so much more room!” You wave your arms next to you like you’re making a snow angle in his sheets. You sit up quick, bracing yourself on one hand to reach behind yourself to undo your bra when he stops you. 

“You don’t have to do that, I can help.” He’s crowded up against your legs where you’ve dropped them both sideways. 

“I know that, I was just making it easier.” His face must drop because you huff at him. “Look, I’m not stupid Eddie. I just, haven’t had the best track record I guess. I just assumed-“

“That I was gonna be like the other guys.”

You shrug. “Yeah, Hawkin’s finest. You know.” 

That’s a little bit of a blow, he won’t lie, but watching you slam up your walls when they’ve been nonexistent all night makes him switch tactics. 

“You deserve better than that.” He swings his legs to the side so he can lean over you, one arm braced against your hip, the other tilting your chin to look at him. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you pout before, your bottom lip sticking out pink and wet and he wants to bite it. “I’m serious.” He leans in close, lips brushing yours. “Can I be nice to you?” He whispers against you and your face flushes immediately, eyes darting down to stare at the bed. He can’t stop the grin spreading across his face, delighted with how flustered you get. 

“I-you’re always nice.” You mumble, chin fighting to get away from his hand holding you still. 

“I can be nicer.” He closes the small gap and kisses you again, still holding your chin. He can feel your breathing speed up when it ghosts over his cheek where you’re nose is pressed. When he’s certain you won’t pull away he moves his hand to your back, unhooking the clasps one by one. Eddie pulls back to look at you properly, fingers lightly pulling the straps down your arms. “Can I?”

“You don’t have to ask.” You say, still nodding your head at him anyways. 

“It’s good manners.” He says simply, wiggling your bra off of you, tossing it to join the growing pile. You’ve shifted back to your elbows, further away from him but giving him a better view. None of his fantasies are measuring up to real life. Just watching the way your tits lay when you shift has him practically drooling. He runs a fingertip from between them and down to your navel, marveling at the softness of your skin. Runs that same fingertip over to a hip and you jump just a little. “Ticklish?”

“Maybe.” Your voice is wobbly, chest rising and falling faster. He lays his palm flat against your stomach and runs it up your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast and you sigh, letting your head fall back between your shoulders. 

“You are so fucking pretty.” Eddie means it. Even before all the crushing and jealously he could see it. With your head back he can watch the blush creep down your chest and he marvels at that too. 

“Eddie you can’t just say shit like that.” You sound strained from the angle your at. He runs his thumb under the swell of your breast again just to watch you shudder. 

“What, that your pretty?” He leans down to place a kiss on your chest, can feel your heartbeat tick up faster. He’s only got so much restraint before he grabs you up into his lap but he’s trying hard to be a gentleman about it. You deserve that much for your first time. Well, not overall but with him? Eddie’s determined to make you forget about every other guy who’s even looked at you. 

“Look at me.” He’s dropping kisses along your collarbone trying to get you to lift your head up. His hands have been itching to grab your tits but he wants you to stop being shy for a minute. “Please.” He’s trying to kiss up your neck when you finally lift your head. “Can you scoot up for me?” He asks and you oblige. As soon as your head hits his pillow he’s leaned back, pulling your knees back up so he wedge himself between them. He grabs your hand and pulls it up to kiss your open palm and you close your fingers around his cheeks, making him laugh. 

“Will you stop being cute and just touch me?” 

“How?” He kisses down your wrist, watching you get more flustered. 

“I don’t know, whatever you normally do?”

“No, that was with them, they don’t matter anymore.” He makes it to the crook of your elbow before he lets go and crawls over the top of you, getting in your face to stare you down. “What’d you think about this morning, hm?” He’s keeping track of all the little whimpers your making, the way you bite your lip when he makes you nervous. You won’t meet his eye so he follows your line of sight and you huff at him. 

“Stuff, Eddie. Oh my god.” You cover your face with your hands and he thinks he can feel the heat radiating off of you. It’s driving him crazy in the best way, he doesn’t think he’s ever had this effect on anyone before. 

“Aw c’mon. Tell me.” He kisses each finger before moving down to your knuckles and honestly, he just can’t help himself anymore when he brings a hand up to knead at your tits, a quick pinch of a hardened nipple and you gasp into your hands. “Was it this?” He pinches again and you wiggle under him, hips jumping up against him and he drops his head. You’re hot everywhere, and the core of you pressed up against him through his boxers is going to do him in if he’s not careful. “If you don’t tell me I’m gonna have to guess and this could be a long night.” He rolls his hips into you to try to get his point across and to try to get some relief. 

“Is that such a bad thing?” You ask, pulling your hands down to just cover your mouth. Your eyes are wide and glassy, pupils big and dark. 

“No, but I want to know what I do in these dreams of yours.” He moves back to your neck to make a path to your chest where he laps at your nipple. “Something like this?” He asks before wrapping his lips around and sucking, tongue flicking over sensitive skin. You arch your chest up and there’s a laugh caught in your moan. He moves over to your other side, nipping at you before mouthing at your other nipple, hand teasing at your hip. He snaps your underwear against you and you let out a quiet ‘ow’ and try to swat at his hand. “Or was I somewhere else?” His fingertips graze under the band and inch down. Your knees pull up tight around him and he’s so close to saying fuck it to his own game. 

“You were-fuck Eddie, you were going down on me.” You get so quiet, the one hand still on your mouth muffling your voice. 

“Oh?” He lets your nipple go with a wet sound, big grin already set in place. 

“If your gonna make fun of me…”

“Absolutely not.” 

You watch him over your hand place a scattering of kisses down till he hits your underwear, giving you one last questioning look before he hooks his fingers in and pulls them down. You’re also starting to feel a little self conscious when you realize he hasn’t taken his eyes off you. 

Payback

“Ed.” He just runs his hands up your legs, big palms warm against your thighs. He pulls your knees out a little further before leaning down and re-situating himself between your thighs, leaving open mouthed kisses along the inside. You’re torn between wanting to watch him and wanting to cover your face in embarrassment when he makes the decision for you, pulling at your elbow to drag your hand down to his head. He’s got that lazy smirk on his face and you can feel his breath skipping across too sensitive skin. 

“Give you something to hold on to.” You want to laugh but he’s too quick, fingers moving in to hold you open for him. Your head drops into the pillow when he licks a broad tongue from your center right up to your clit, your back arching up and Eddie’s laugh vibrates through you. 

“Oh fuck.”

“I haven’t even started yet.” You can hear the proud smirk in his voice and if you’d like to say something smart back you won’t, too focused on his mouth working you over. His tongue is soft, even when he points it, uses it to prod at your opening and you forget any remarks you might have had for him. 

“Eddie.” You pull at his hair when he wraps his lips around your clit and he groans. You’re stuck concentrating on his mouth until he slides one finger in and you choke on a gasp. He pulls his mouth away and lays his head against your leg, watching you from under his wet hair. 

“Is this what you thought about?” He can see you nod into the pillow, hand twisted next to your head in the fabric while he pumps his hand slowly. 

“It’s what I thought about.” He hooks his finger up, trying to find that soft spot to make you melt. “I think about it all the time.” The grip on your thigh is tight, keeping it close against his cheek. “Ever since you told me about those shitty dates.” 

“Seriously?” You lift your head, eyes half lidded and face scrunched up. 

“I should have nutted up and said something. They didn’t deserve you.” He pulls his finger out and you watch him suck it into his mouth, watch his eyes roll in his head. You groan and he adds his middle finger before he pulls his hand out, spit slick fingers running up over your clit, teasing you before he slides both back in. He leans in to run his tongue through your folds, watching you from under his lashes while you wriggle around and clutch at the pillow. The hand in his hair grips tighter and your legs squeeze up around his ears and he’s surrounded by you, the low chanting of his name keeping him planted in place. He finally finds that spot, feels you shudder under him before you moan, tilting your hips up to chase his touch. 

“Eddie Eddie Eddie fuck!” You keep rolling your hips against his face and he can’t help himself. He’s been pathetically rutting into the mattress listening to you whine and he can’t take it anymore. He taps under your thigh to get your attention, really gets it when he fully pulls away and you look down at him all concerned. “Why are you stopping?” 

“Good reason.” He stands up and pulls off his boxers, rooting around his nightstand for the condoms he knows are in there. He’s oblivious to you on the bed, sitting all the way up now and staring. Of course they’re not where he left them, instead tucked behind his lamp but he grabs one and climbs back on the bed before he realizes what he’s done. “Oh.” Eddie feels his face heat up when he looks down at himself. “I probably should have done that better.” He’s expecting you to laugh or sigh or say something witty but you just snatch the foil out of his hand and tear it open. You only pause for second before wrapping your hand around him and he’s positive this isn’t going to last as long as he’d hopped. When you roll the condom down he hisses and drops, head falling into your shoulder. 

“You okay champ?” 

He just nods and whines when you give him a few easy strokes, watching your hand move up and down his cock. You’re so much more gentle with him than he is with himself. Eyes half open and mouth hanging he’s sure he looks fucking stupid but he doesn’t care, doesn’t want you to stop touching him. When you scoot closer and pull his face up it takes him a moment to realize you’re kissing him, for him to react and do something. 

“C’mere.” He shakes out of his haze enough to move back between your knees, pulling your hips so your ass is flush against his thighs. He pulls your leg up to hook over his hip, placing a quick kiss on your knee before lining himself up.  He rubs the tip of cock against you, catching on your clit twice and making you whimper. 

“Please Ed.” He doesn’t need to be begged twice, grabs the base of his dick and sinks in slow. Sees your breath catch and your eyes roll, “Oh fuck it.” He bottoms out, can feel you clenching around him tight and hot and gasping and laughing and he looses all composure. Fingers dug into your leg wrapped around him he snaps his hips back and into you, punching out a sharp peal of laughter. He does it again, loves the way he can hear the choked off gasp in your throat. When he picks up his pace you grab at the sheets, twisting them up off his bed. 

“Fucking th-thank you-u!” It’s stuttered out between thrust, your face flushed and twisted up in a smile. 

“You know how many times I thought about this?” He has to talk, if he doesn’t talk he’s going to blow his load and he refuses to let your first time together end before a full minute passes. “Every time I looked at that picture I thought about it. I should have fucked you in that bathroom.” Your nails scratch at his thigh where they try to find purchase. “All the rides out to the lake oh fuck- I should have done this sooner, yeah?” He licks his thumb before bringing it down on your clit, running tight circles around it. Your back arches off the bed and he feels you clench around him. “Is that it? Right there-ohmygod.” It almost sounds like you’re crying his name just before you come, nails digging into his thigh when it crashes into you. He watches you tense up and then collapse against the bed, pliant under him where he starts to loose his rhythm. The heat that reached up fast burns up his spine while he watches you revel in your aftershocks, already trying to grab him down to you. The hazy look in your eyes and that grin you’re flashing him send him over the edge, burying himself with a deep groan, your name scattered between curses. He’s whited out until he can catch his breath, gripping your thigh until he can see straight. In the distant ringing in his ears he can hear your giggle under him, soft like the hands trying to pull him closer. 

“Hey.” Your eyes find his in his own haze, slowly coming back down to earth. “Come here.” Gentle tugs to get him to lay down but he shakes his head, asks for minute. He pulls out to get rid of the condom and disappears into the bathroom for minute, leaving you to roll around his bed. When he comes back he turns off his light. Sees that you’ve pulled the blankets up under your chin, one finger poking out to beckon him back in. “I’m cold.” 

Eddie would like to pinch himself just to make sure this is real. In all of his imaginings he never let himself have this part. The sex was easy to think about but this hurt too much to ever linger on. He finds his pants first before crawling back into bed, snaking a hand around your middle and pulling you into him. He wedges his nose up under your jaw and hums, leaving a few soft kisses in his wake. 

“Are you always this cuddly?” 

“I don’t normally get to cuddle.” You’re both quiet in the dark, hushed tones under the blankets. 

“Huh.” Your fingers tangle up in his hair, nails lightly scratching over his scalp. It sends a deep shiver down his spine and he has a split second where he feels like crying. “Their loss.” He feels the kiss you leave on his forehead and just buries his head further into your neck. You smell like you always do, sweet and deep and now a little like him. He drifts off without meaning to. 

It’s not daylight yet, but his room is lighter. There’s no alarm clock going off next to his head so he looks around, trying to find whatever it is that pulled him out of his warm cocoon. 

Bleary vision in the dark, he can barely make out your form jumping quietly into your jeans. He’s peering at you from under the covers, watching you get dressed. You stop mid jump to pick something up, staring at it before padding over to his dresser and tucking it into his mirror. He’s basically awake when you turn to open his door and he quietly asks you where you’re going. 

“Jesus fucking Christ you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” You clutch you chest and try to search through the dark for his eyes, finally see him when he pulls the sheets back a bit. 

“Seriously, where are you goin’?”

“It’s almost 5. I figured Wayne was gonna be home soon so I cleaned up the living room and like, I didn’t know if I should hang around?”

“You sleep over here all the time.” He slides a hand out from under the covers to make a grabby hand at you. “He won’t care.”

“Well I mean, I’m not usually naked in your bed dude.”

“Then leave your shirt on.” Eddie doesn’t understand what you’re not understanding. “I mean it, Wayne isn’t gonna care. If anything he’ll be happy I stopped bitching about you.”

“You bitch about me?”

“No, I bitched about not having you. There’s a difference. Now come here, I’m cold.” He lifts the blankets up quick, making a sweeping motion for you to get back in. “Plus, he won’t say anything unless you do. He likes you too much to embarrass you.” You’re out of your jeans again and crawling over him, trying to avoid kneeing him. 

“Aww, he likes me?”

“Well I like you too.” You’re barely settled before he’s wrapped around you, leg hitched over your thighs and pinning you down. “What’s that get me?” He’s nosing along your jaw again. 

“Depends what you’re looking for.” 

“Mm. Concert tickets to see Ozzy in Indy.”

“Oh that’s a big ask.”

“I see. How about a kiss?” He pulls back to smile lazily up at you. 

“I can do that.”

❣Tag List❣

@edsforehead @fracturedarkness @munsonsguitarpick @bebe07011 @ali-r3n @cantreadbutcute @eddiethesexy @emma77645

[miniherodesktales]

Note: I know this is full of continuity errors, but it was fun to play round with the idea.

Day 3: Parents

'Frank, I need a favour!'

Hollister shuddered and held the phone further away from his ear. His brother-in-law's roar of a voice always had that effect on him.

'A favour, Jack? And I owe you one because...?'

'Because, Frankie, you married my sister and ruined her life. In fact, you're gonna owe me for life for that. And well into my holographic life too, if I can get one, come to think of it.'

'What do you want, Jack?' Hollister asked impatiently.

'At some point this week you're gonna get a call from your recruitment guy on Io. He'll have a young kid on his books who'll need a job pronto that'll come with board and lodgings once he hits 15. Emancipation case.'

'Emancipated? Can't you feed him?'

He heard Jack sigh heavily.

'Emancipated, not emaciated, Frankie! Get yourself a dictionary will ya? And clean your ears out while you at it. The kid's 14, I'm helping him get away from his parents. It'll help a whole lot if we can prove he's got some kind of employment lined up once he's of age.'

'I've got enough waifs and strays onboard,' Hollister grunted. 'What's he like?'

Jack paused. 'Bit of a dreamer.' Another pause. 'Boarding school brat,' the lawyer finally confessed. 'Family tree full of soldiers, bishops, and minor royalty swinging from every branch.'

'Don't want him,' Hollister grunted. 'Tell him to suck up whatever it is mummy and daddy have done to him - maybe they didn't buy him the right pony for Christmas. Tell him to hide out at school until he can land himself a job at the local bank!'

'Heartless, Frankie boy, totally heartless! The kid needs a break. Sure, he's not the sharpest tool in the old box, but he's a fighter. Take him under your wing for a few years. A. J is going places, trust me.'

Hollister snorted. Jack was so full of it.

'What's A. J stand for?' he asked.

'Ace Jupiter.'

'You just made that up!'

'Do you know how many lost kids the state has to keep track of?' Hollister was pleased to hear that Jack actually sounded defensive for once. 'Labelling them by planet of origin stops us from getting them mixed up with the Earth and Saturn brats, you know? Plus, the protection of of a fake name. Plus...'

'What?'

'His parents must really hate him. Why else call him Judas?'

Hollister shuddered.

'So you'll take him then?'

'Do I have a choice?'

'Sure you do. But I'm giving you the opportunity to do something decent for once. To give someone the chance of a brighter future. With you he could build his career, find himself a woman -

'Or man,' Hollister added, warming quickly to the idea of being some poor mite's hero. A mentor. A mysterious benefactor. Someone who would actually mourn him when he died and would provide a wailing lament at his funeral along the lines of: "Frank Hollister saved my life!" A sort of father figure...He'd never have kids of his own...

'Or man!' Jack agreed. 'Kids, friends, home, pension. The whole shebang! A future, that's the gift you'll be giving him. Whaddya say?'

'Fine. I'll take him, keep him busy, keep him on the straight and narrow as long as he's on my ship. After that his life his own to screw up in any which way he pleases. Got it?

'Got it.'

'Fine. Send me Ace Jupiter....What a stupid name!'

Many, many years later....

'What did you think of Captain Hollister?' asked Lister.

'Not much,' Rimmer admitted. 'Kept getting my name wrong, stupid man. You?'

Lister idly flicked over the page of his magazine.

'Same,' he grunted. 'Not much else to say is there?'

'No. Not much.'

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

CS Winter Bingo--Square 6 (bundled up for the cold): A Match Faked for Christmas, ch. 5 of 5

Hi there and happy holiday season!  In an attempt to continue procrastinating my season 4 rewatch drabbles–and to not feel guilty about it–I decided to participate in the CS Winter Bingo event.  I received nine winter/holiday related prompts arranged in a square like a bingo card.  My mission is to make a bingo by writing at least three of my prompts before winter is over, but I’m hoping to do better than that!  I’m hoping to finish all nine!  Given the nature of the event, you can expect a lot of fluff (but then what else would you expect from me, after all?)  I’m hoping to keep them short as well, but I’m usually not nearly as successful at that.  And without further ado, let’s play CS Winter Bingo!

Rating: G

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list):

@jennjenn615 @laschatzi @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @kmomof4

@linda8084 @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82

@therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @anmylica

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

Word count: 2071

Today’s prompt: Fake Dating: Holiday Edition

Other chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma closed her door and then sunk back against it.  She was so epically, massively screwed!

After THE KISS (she couldn’t help but think of it in all caps), she and Killian had left the party rather hastily.  Ruby’s catcalls and innuendos about what they were off to do ringing in their ears.  They’d walked in silence across the street, and it wasn’t until they were in front of her door that Killian hesitantly spoke.

“Swan, perhaps we should talk about what just–”

She cut him off with a huge, exaggerated yawn, stretching her arms over her head to complete the effect.  “I’m exhausted.  I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Nevermind that it was only 8:30 pm.  She had to get away.  Had to.  She couldn’t have this conversation now.

She saw the disappointment flash in his eyes for a moment, and then it disappeared.  He took a step away and pasted a determined smile on his face.  “Good night Swan.  Sweet dreams.”

She assumed he headed back to his own house then, but she couldn’t know for sure.  She didn’t wait around to find out, merely let herself into her own home as quickly as she could.

And now here she was.

Emma was running.  She knew she was.  That kiss had been….she didn’t even know how to describe it.  It was addictive.  It made the whole party fall away.  There was no one else in the world but her and Killian at that moment.  She’d swear she’d heard bells ringing, angels singing, felt a bright, warm light cover them in glory.  She was pretty sure she’d touched heaven.

Emma groaned.  This was not her. She was mentally spouting so many cliches, she’d have probably made Mary Margaret blush.  What was Killian doing to her?

There had only been one time in her life that she’d fallen so fast and so hard for a guy.  She’d been sixteen when a much-older Neal had convinced her that she mattered.  That she was loved. That she had found home and forever and all of that crap.

And then he’d taught her a lesson she’d never forget.  He’d not only left her, he’d literally left her holding the bag for his own crimes.  Sent her to the slammer for almost a year.

What she’d learned?  Love was a myth.  Forever was a fairytale people told themselves to make themselves feel better in the midst of their crap lives.

Her brief relationship with Walsh years later–which had ended when he had an affair with a woman who had a truly bizarre fettish for flying monkeys–had only cemented her belief.

She really knew how to pick them, didn’t she?

And so she’d vowed to protect her heart.  Look out for yourself and you’ll never get hurt.  How had she let Killian slip past her defenses so thoroughly in only a week?

If she let this continue, if she didn’t cut things off cold turkey now, when things went south with Killian, it was going to hurt like a son of a bitch.

Something told her it might already be too late for her.

The tears sprang to her eyes, and she let them fall, as she moved away from the door, heading toward her master suite.  She’d take a long, hot bath, and then go to bed, and tomorrow….tomorrow she’d avoid him like the plague–and she’d keep it up until she got him out of her system.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was woken bright and early Christmas morning by the ringing of her doorbell.  Emma groaned, covered her head with a pillow and tried to ignore it.  Maybe whoever it was would get the hint and go away.

Riiiiiing!  Knock!

No such luck.

Breathing threats and murder, she tossed off the covers and padded to the door.  A woosh of cold air greeted her as she opened it, and he was there, covered in a thin coat of snow, wearing a delighted grin and bearing a steaming mug of something that smelled of coffee and chocolate and peppermint.

“Merry Christmas, Swan!” he said delightedly!

Unbidden, her eyes traveled to his lips and her heart stuttered.

It turned her annoyance into something approaching rage.  “Killian, we’ve talked about what happens when people wake me up at the butt crack of dawn.”

He grinned mischievously as he pushed past her into her home, blew out a breath and muttered something about the cold.  “Indeed.  I believe the consensus was that my murder could be avoided by bribing you with hot, festive beverages.”

She smiled in spite of herself.  Couldn’t help it.  How he managed to convey both childlike wonder, devilish mischief and steaming sexiness all at the same time was a mystery to her.

“I really should just kick you out on your ass, you know,” she said, her voice conveying affectionate exasperation.

He shrugged, handed her the mug and began the long process of removing hats and scarves and gloves and coat.  She barked a laugh at the sight of the ugly Christmas sweater beneath.  It depicted a pirate ship full of festively clad pirates singing “Yo, ho, ho, ho!  Merry Christmas!”

The ridiculous garment seemed to break whatever was left of the tension between them, and easily, almost effortlessly, they fell into the pattern they’d been following for the past week–talking and laughing and simply enjoying each other’s company.  Emma made him pancakes and he cleaned up after them.

She’d been afraid the next time she saw Killian, he’d insist on continuing the conversation he’d started when they parted the night before.  She’d been afraid he’d insist they talk about THE KISS and what it meant and where they went from there.  Instead, he seemed to have judiciously chosen to ignore it; pretend it had never happened.

But it was there, always there between them, an unspoken presence both delightful and terrifying.  They’d have to talk about it eventually, Emma knew that, but today was Christmas Day.  That was a conversation for another day.

“Forgive me for stating the obvious, Swan,” he said, after their breakfast was over, “but it snowed last night.”

She grinned.  “I noticed.  Looks like we got quite a bit.”

“I bet there’s at least 6 inches out there and it’s still coming down!”  A child who’d just found out he had a snow day from school couldn’t have sounded more excited.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you like snow?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he said.  “It’s pretty and it’s fun…and then when you come in from the snow, you get to warm up.”

He wiggled his eyebrows in exaggerated flirtation at that, and she laughed.

“So how about it, Swan?” he said.  “What say we build a snowman?”

“A snowman?” she said with a grin.  “Killian, I haven’t built a snowman since I was like ten.”

“Well then’d I’d say you’re past due, love.”

“It’s cold!” she whined.

“We can bundle up,” he wheedled.  “Come on Swan!  If you can’t act like a child on Christmas morning, when can you?”

She felt the last of her resistance fading, and she sighed exaggeratedly.  “Fine! But if I get frostbite, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

There was that smolder again.  “Never fear, Swan.  I’m more than capable of keeping you warm and keeping frostbite at bay.”

She shivered in reaction, her gaze moving once more to his lips, currently ticked up in a saucy smile.  Good lord, the man was going to be the death of her, but what a way to die!

Five minutes later, clad in two hats, a pair of gloves topped by a pair of mittens, a fluffy red scarf and her heaviest coat, Emma headed outside with her neighbor.

After building not one but two snowpeople, (Emma insisted that the second one was a snowwoman.  It was only fair.) Emma had stepped back to admire their work.  A moment later she felt a snowball pelt her in the middle of the back.

“Oh no you did not!” she said, grinning and then stopping down to fashion her own missile.

“I’m afraid I did, love,” he grinned utterly unrepentant.  “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

What she did about it was fire a snowball directly into his (far too handsome) face.

And with that an all out snowball war broke out, but never was a war fought with more laughter or playful taunts.  Ten minutes later, Emma picked up her newly made snowball and ran full tilt toward Killian.  Just before reaching him, she slipped, falling directly into him.  Her momentum toppled him, and the long and short of it was Emma found herself sprawled on top of Killian, both breathing hard, both looking into the other’s face with intensity.

The desire to lean down and kiss the hell out of him was so strong, it took everything inside Emma to pull away, wipe the desire from her face and offer him a hand up.

He looked disappointed for a fraction of a second before the grin returned.  “Truce?” he asked, offering her his hand.

“Only if you make me some more of that hot cocoa you brought that first day.”

“Done!” he said.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few minutes later, Emma sat at her counter, watching as Killian puttered around her kitchen preparing the requisite cocoa.  I’m gonna miss this, she thought as she watched him stir.

A pang went through her at the thought.  How was she going to go back to her boring, ordinary life before Killian?  It was like The Wizard of Oz–how Dorothy lived in a world of black and white, and didn’t even realize it until she’d gotten to Oz and suddenly saw all the colors.

How did one come back from that?

What if….what if she didn’t?  What if she let this thing between them play out?

The thought scared her…but so did the thought of cutting him out of her life completely.  Could she trust him?  Was she willing to take the leap of faith and find out?

“Swan?” Killian asked tentatively as he set a steaming mug of cocoa before her.  “That’s quite a tragic look.  What’s troubling you?”

She took a long swig of the sweet, creamy liquid, buying herself time, but finally she decided the time to be a coward was at an end.  She met his eyes.  “It’s Christmas, so I guess that means we’ll need to ‘break up’ soon.”

Was she imagining the disappointment on his face?

“The thing is,” she said, glancing away and then determinedly looking back at him.  “The thing is, I…I’m not sure I want to.”

Surprise replaced the disappointment in his eyes.  “Swan?  What are you saying?”

“I don’t know!” she burst out.  “I’m not ready for labels or making things official or whatever, but I don’t want to lose what we’ve had the last week.  There’s something there between us…at least…at least I think there is?”

His eyes gentled, and he reached over and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers.  “There is,” he answered simply. “And for my part…well, if I’m being honest, by the time I left your house on that first day I realized I was going to want more than fake dating.  Love, I know you’re afraid.  I don’t know why, although I hope you’ll tell me in time, and I haven’t wanted to push you, but if you want to know where I stand…I’m in it for the long haul.”

Emma dragged in a long breath waiting for the fear to come.  “Killian, if we start…something…between us and it goes bad, I don’t know if I’ll survive it.  Not again.”

He brought his free hand to cup her face, letting her hair trail through his fingers in the gesture.  “Emma, I don’t know the future.  I don’t know what lies before us, but I can tell you this.  I’ll always, always be at your side.  I’m all in.”

She looked intently into his eyes, searching for lies, searching for deception.  She found none.  “Then,” she said, meeting his eyes.  “Then I am too.”

His smile rivaled the sun that had just broken through the clouds, and then he leaned in and kissed her.

Six months later, David and Mary Margaret received a “save the date” for Emma and Killian’s wedding, coming up on the following Christmas Eve.

David figured there would be no living with her after this.

The End!

[jcbbby]

could you write something where the reader is going through it mentally with stress and anxiety and ed related shit to the point where it’s like effecting her physical health and jamie is trying to help her through it sorry if it’s oddly specific i was recently in the ER for a CT scan and it ended up being a stress induced headache and just wish i had someone to just comfort me 😭

oh, my poor friend!!! I'm so sorry you've been going through all that as of late. :( I'm glad the ER visit ended up being nothing serious, but as someone also recently in the ER for a CT scan...still not fun either way. and I've also HELLA been there, having anxiety and an ED affect my physical health. I'm sending you all the love I have in my heart, I'm here for you if you want to talk to anyone, and I hope you find some comfort in this lil fic. <3

warnings: mention of needles, hospital visit, mental illness.

-

You heard the front door close from across the silent house. Jamie must be back from his meeting this morning with his manager. You weren't sure how long he'd been gone, having been half conscious trying to sleep through this throbbing headache you had for the last...however long it had been. It started last night after a long day of errands and you went to bed without dinner, something you knew was probably bad to do but a sad part of you took a sadistic pride in that. Jamie kissed you goodbye when he left this morning, and low and behold, he came to kiss you hello in the same spot he left you earlier.

"Hi, darling." He spoke softly as he came through the doorway. "How are you feeling?"

You groaned slightly as you stirred, pushing yourself upright with your hands, resting your back against the pillows. You sighed, rubbing an eye.

"I'm just tired..."

You weren't lying exactly. Tired was the only word you could think of to describe how you had been feeling. The past few weeks had been very busy and stressful with Jamie's schedule. You were a person of routine; you needed to eat at specific times, the food you ate was carefully curated, you had a set routine for morning and night. The uncertainty of the day's timeline had wreaked havoc on your mental state. Jamie knew you had struggled with some mental issues, but you never let on the extent of it around him as best as you could. This time, however, it really overwhelmed you.

Jamie frowned as he walked toward you and gently sat on the bed. "Love, you've been in bed for almost 24 hours and you're still tired?"

"Well, and my head still hurts. It's just all at the back of my head...it's just throbbing." You screwed your eyes shut, bringing your hands up to rest at the base of your neck.

"Really? Have you taken any tablets to help?" He reached up to feel your forehead for any temperature. "You don't feel feverish at least."

You nodded your head lightly and then shrugged. "Didn't help."

"Do you think maybe we should get you into the ER? Just to be sure you're okay, since the medicine isn't helping and it's lasted this long?" He reached out taking your hand gingerly.

"No...no, I don't want to bother them if it's nothing." You shuffled yourself deeper down into the bed, as if getting comfier would convince Jamie you were fine.

"Darling, their whole job is to be bothered by people even if it is nothing. They're there to make sure it's nothing. Please, I just want to make sure you're alright, love." He squeezed your hand that he was still holding.

You sighed, squeezing Jamie's hand back. You didn't want to go to the ER. You didn't want to be a burden, not to Jamie or anyone at the hospital. Hospitals always freaked you out, too. The worst news of someone's life could be given in a hospital, and it always made you uneasy to be in one.

"Okay...okay, we can go." You looked up to him, eyes downturned in defeat.

Jamie gave a small smile as he got up and came around to help you out of bed. You felt weak and cold as you left the cocoon of the comforter. Black spots filled your vision as you stood up for the first time in hours, causing you to grab Jamie's shoulder for support.

"Stooduptoofast." You said through a scrunched face.

Without a word, you felt Jamie's arms scoop around your back and behind your knees, lifting you bridal style up into his chest.

"I'll do all the work then." He smiled before planting a gentle kiss to your forehead.

-

You sat in the ER waiting room for a couple hours, since you didn't appear to be in dire need of attention. Jamie held your hand as you used his shoulder as a pillow. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, bringing you a much needed sense of ease.

Jamie wouldn't let go of your hand the entire time you were back in a room to be seen by the doctor. He held it as the doctor and nurses conducted tests and asked you questions. He squeezed it and rubbed your back with his other hand as the nurse inserted an IV port to give you fluids, as per the doctor's orders. You flinched and looked away as you felt the sting of the needle in your wrist.

"You're doing great, darling." He whispered as the nurse walked out.

"What if I have a tumor or something? What if I'm having an aneurism?" You couldn't help but start to feel the slight panic set in while lying in the hospital bed.

Jamie came and sat along side you on the small rickety bed. "Oh, no, no of course you don't have any of those horrible things! We're just here to make you feel better, and you will in no time." He brought a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You leaned your head against his hand. You were so grateful for Jamie, he always knew how to make you feel better. He smiled and cupped your cheek.

"Hello! Oh, so sorry to interrupt." The doctor said from the doorway as you both looked over to him. "I just wanted to pop in to let you know that your work ups look pretty good. A little low on potassium, blood sugar is also very low, which might be why you're feeling a little weak and tired. But otherwise nothing of major concern. Your head looks okay, CT scan is normal. I would probably say a combination of stress and you're a likely dehydrated, which the fluids should remedy. Once you're finished with that bag there, I think I would be comfortable discharging you." He smiled.

"Sounds great, thank you." You smiled at the doctor.

"Wonderful, thank you so much." Jamie also smiled to him.

"Thank god..." You chuckled.

"See, you're alright and on your way to feeling better. I love you, darling." He kissed your cheek.

"I love you too."

-

Once the bag of fluids had finished, the nurses removed the needle and supplied you with discharge papers. The doctor was right, with the fluids, your head did start to feel a lot better.

Jamie took you home and you headed straight back to bed without a word. He followed you into the bedroom, leaning against the doorway as you climbed under the covers again.

"Do you want me to get you anything? I can make you something to eat." He looked to you, watching you settle in.

"No, I'm okay. Thank you though." You paused in your settling, looking over to Jamie. You knew he was right and that you should have something, but you didn't want to eat.

He let out a quiet sigh, slowly coming toward you and climbing into bed with you. He took you in his arms, looking to you with eyes, pleading.

"Sweetheart...please, let me make you something to eat. It's been over 24 hours since you last had something. It will help, I promise." He kissed your temple.

You turned to him, about to protest, but the look in his eyes hit you directly in the gut. He looked at you as if you were a fragile heirloom he had discovered in the dusty attic. He just wanted to take care of you, he wanted to see you shine again.

"Okay...you're probably right, babe. Thank you for taking care of me." You smiled meekly up at him.

He pulled you into him even tighter, wrapping you in a hug. He held you for a moment before pulling you back and holding you at arm's length. He caressed your shoulder with his thumb.

"Listen...I know things are tough for you right now...I know. But I also know that you are so strong. And even when you're not, I'm here to hold your hand and help you see it through, alright?" He smiled.

The tears immediately filled your eyes. Almost as if the love you felt for this man before you was spilling out through your eyes. You found your hands coming up to either side of his cheeks, pulling him forward to meet at your lips.

You pulled away, sniffling your tears away. "I do know that. You're always there for me. Thank you."

"You can thank me by eating the pasta I'm about to make you." He brought his hand up to playfully boop your nose. "Then we're even."

[kairithemang0]

Here's the really long post no one asked for.

So, I know like 3 of you are also Kingdom Hearts fans, this is for you guys.

A few weeks ago, I made a joke post with the caption of "no, Owen! Who else will I be gay spies with?" and someone replied to that with wondering how many people actually get the joke and we went on a whole thing about KH and SAF and it was a great time.

I've thought about that post a decent amount since then, and with my Treasured Memories edit from yesterday, it's got me thinking about the parallels between Rokushi (the ship between Roxas and Xion) and Curtwen.

Roxas and Xion are in a cult

Like that's just what organization 13 is. They take in stray Nobody's (which is what happens to the body of someone when they become a heartless) and tell them they if they work for them, they'll be helping create something what will get their hearts back.

So, how does this relate to SAF? While I wouldn't call their governments a cult, I would say they're trapped there after they join. You can't just retire from being a spy, even if you're not going on missions, you still have all those secrets.

The Organization won't just let Roxas and Xion go, especially since we know what they're using them for. Like how Curt and Owen are some of the greatest spies and are essential to their respective agencies, Roxas and Xion are the most important members of org. They're the only ones who can really help with the organizations goal because they can free hearts. Both of these duos are incredibly important, they're the ones doing all the heavy lifting. People like Barb and the Informant in SAF are important, of course, but they're not the ones out on the field.

Shifting focus, Curt and Owen's nights together are literally just the clocktower trips in Days. It's where Roxas and Xion's friendships really grow, even though they do go on missions together. They talk about their days, catch up, or just sit and eat ice cream together because that's literally what friendship is to them. Of course, Curt and Owen are doing a lot more than just sitting and talking, but it's still where they probably bond the most. They work together, yes, but this is their time off, when they get to let down their guard and be with someone they trust, which I doubt happens too much to spies who are also hiding their homosexuality.

As the game goes on, Roxas and Xion's time together eating ice cream gets less and less frequent, as their friendship becomes rockier and cracks in their trio start to form. I don't know whose Axel in this SAF au, which I guess is a problem with the au as a whole, but I think not having an Axel there is fine. The long and short of Axel's part in KH is that he knows the truth but can't tell Roxas and Xion because then he's at risk of danger and so are they.

So, things get worse and worse with Roxas and Xion over time, Roxas falls into a coma, and Xion begins to find out she's a replica (which is basically a vessel that memories were put into to give it life). This part will be important later. For Curtwen, this is their time together starting to show the cracks in their relationship, Curt will screw something up or he'll do something stupid, and they'll get into trouble and Owen will brush it off. Curt is an amazing spy, but sometimes he's in over his own head. They're also worried about getting caught.

I'd like to talk more about them getting caught, because I do think it relates to something in KH fairly well.

So, Roxas is something called a Nobody, and Xion is led to believe she is one as well. They're led to believe by the organization that nobody's do not have hearts, that they aren't meant to feel anything. In SAF, this relates to the way Curt and Owen's relationship is seen. It's a relationship that shouldn't happen, that'll get them kicked out of the agency and outcasted from society if anyone were to know. Hearts to Nobody's aren't supposed to happen, and yet Roxas and Xion still feel. This relationship isn't meant to happen between Curt and Owen, and yet they're still having it.

358/2 Days, the game Roxas and Xion star in, has been called a "playable tragedy". You watch these friends form these tight bonds, you watch Roxas and Xion grow heart and memories and become one with each other, and then Xion learns the truth. She was never meant to exist. The nobody's have been told that a lot, but she's not even a nobody. She's a robot that went against her programming, so to speak. The long and short of it is that Xion is another characters memories of this girl named Kairi. Everyone sees Xion differently, Roxas sees her with black hair, Axel sees her as a girl named Namine, a guy named Xigbar sees her as a kid named Ventus who at this point in release order has never even been mentioned by name. At first Xion was this hooded figure with no face, but as she grew with the people around her, she gained a heart of her own. To me, Owen was never one to stray away from the point of the job until he met Curt. Curt made him reckless, gave the job more fun because they were getting into danger together. Before Curt, Owen thought his job was boring because he was so good at it. He wasn't meant to be able to break away from this job, but Curt gave him reason to. Curt was fun and reckless and got them into more trouble than was probably worth, but he made the job interesting. Roxas and Xion work together as a team because they were practically made for each other (and in canon are very closely tied together through heart shenanigans it's a whole thing).

Ok so back to the finale of Days. Basically, Xion gets reprogrammed and needs to kill Roxas. The reason being is that she doesn't want to do the bidding of the organization anymore and has been giving a chance to get out of it by, get this, literally offing herself. So the organization captures her and remakes her the way she was intended to be. When Roxas sees Xion's face, she doesn't look like Xion anymore. She looks like the person whose memories she's stole.

This is very DMA coded to me, not the whole offing herself to go back to her previous half, but the being remade to do the bidding of someone else. Xion still remembers that if she dies, she'll be dying for the sake of someone else, but her programming is telling her she needs to kill Roxas because that's what the organization needs from her.

I'm rewatching their fight scene and the line "this puppet will have to play her part" is veryyyyyy Owen got brainwashed by Chimera coded. I don't personally believe Owen got brainwashed, but OUGH ow.

This version of Xion, and Owen's mindset after seeing Curt again after four years, just wants to end the lives of the people they once cared so deeply for. To Curt and Roxas, the people that they love are just gone, the real Owen and Xion they can't get back. Xion appears as this armored thing of darkness to fight Roxas, and Owen is shown as someone who only sees Curt for all of the flaws he pushed away. This whole seen is very One Step Ahead to me. They're even swinging swords at each other and everything!

After their battle where Roxas wins, Xion and Roxas fall from the clocktower, the place they spent so much time together, and Roxas doesn't remember her. She begins to die in his arms, and for a moment all the memories rush back to him, he holds her in his arms before she dies. He gives the iconic line of "no, xion who else will I have ice cream with?" and then she disappears into darkness.

GUYS- THIS IS SO CURT AFTER HE KILLED OWEN I SWEAR-

Curt has tried this entire show to get Owen out of his mind so that he can go back to being a spy and doing his job. And he keeps failing. Now Owen shows up, and not only that but he wants him dead. They fight, and Curt wins. Now he's holding Owen after all of this pain, and Owen is gone again. And all of it is his fault. Owen's gone now, there's no getting him back. We don't know what Curt does to Owen after he dies, probably holds his dead body in pure devastation that he killed not only his best friend but the person he cared about so much. And Owen simply drifts away, with no way of getting him back.

Days ends with Roxas in a data version of the town he spent so much of the game in, new friends, new problems. He ends up dying as well. In SAF, this is probably whatever happened post canon to lead to Curt's death, whatever that may be.

So Xion in the real organization 13 is floppy disk Owen and when Roxas comes back it's actually a clone of Curt guys trust me on this-

Sorry, this is long and probably doesn't make much sense. I love 358/2 days, story wise it's one of my favorite KH games. And I obviously love Spies Are Forever, shocking absolutely no one. This was honestly just fun to write, I know this'll probably get at max like 3 notes but yknow what whatever.

Also I'd like to briefly talk about the name I'm going for for this ig au? This comparison let's call it.

358/2 days is a reference to the time roxas and xion were in the organzation together. the /2 (over 2) means it's over 2 people. So missions is the 358 missions Curt has gone on, some with Owen, and some not. We don't have an exact amount of missions, but for this I'm going with 358 because idk it just works in my head

[mageknight14]

Not sure how to phrase this but my hot TWEWY take is that NEO has more fleshed out character relationships and subtle writing than the original.

I’ve seen a lot of people disregard NEO for seemingly not having as much "depth" as the original when it comes to its themes and character writing but it genuinely does, it’s just a lot less upfront about it. I think the main thing about NEO is that its writing style will fly over some people’s head because of two things:

1. It’s a sequel to a game that spelled out so much of its core themes and character development that you’d have to be blind as a bat in order to miss it so when NEO goes for a much more subtle approach, it’s not going to reach everyone.

2. The game very much relies on you analyzing and replaying the game in order to get the most out of it and discover the depth for yourself in a genre in which most people will just beat the game and call it a day.

Hell, this even extends to the game’s combat: it’s incredibly deep, not just compared to the original, but a lot of Japanese ARPGs in general with how synergistic its various options are but it relies on you actually analyzing the mechanics despite how simple they appear to be at a glance.

One of the things I immediately noticed upon replaying the game is just how many details there are that requires you to have context from the end of the game and especially the secret reports before truly understanding them. NEO does this thing where they show you the ramifications of and RESULTS of a character arc, with the actual buildup to it being shown, not told, through character interactions and minor changes in behaviour that you're probably not gonna catch unless you pay attention, or you're playing it through a second time and therefore have more context to do so.

Shoka is one of the best examples of this aspect of the game’s subtle characterization in action, because what you see in the game after she joins you is actually after her character arc. Her moments of personal conflict and deciding what to do is actually primarily in week 2, and you will never notice or really realize the significance of things like Shoka being so upset over Motoi on Rindo's behalf, because she's Swallow and knows how much he cares about him until you experience it a second time around. Not to mention the hints towards her fairly depressive home life and state of mind, as well as lack of regard for her own life except for when it concerns the people she cares about.

It made me realize that with the way Rindo’s time travelling is handled, where you see a bunch of supposedly inconsequential details that you understand only when you have to go back and connect them all, that the WHOLE game is written like that, which is most obviously seen with characters like Shoka, Susukichi, Fret, and Kanon once you reread it all.

These scenes with Kanon are a pretty good example where in the second timeline, she already knows about Fuya challenging the Ruinbringers whereas before she didn’t and it’s interesting when you consider the parasitic relationships the teams have with each other due to how they have formed an unspoken agreement where the top 3 teams (sans Ruinbringers) keep their footing by sending new teams to last place, which the Wicked Twisters screw up just by existing. It’s small but it really shows just how much thought the devs put into the characters’ individual mindsets.

[ksbbb]

ur okay to answer all of the questions? 🤭😅😆

😂😂😂 for you? I will 🫂

list 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)? A lot of material to work with considering we have to fill in gaps. Multiple characters to use. Lost of works to explore and plus there’s so many head canons that you can get lost and have a whole day to fill. 😂 they finished the show too. I will add that. Some shows get canceled.

A head cannon you weren’t sure about at first but you have come to like?

Liam not being able to cook. It sounds silly but at first I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and I enjoy the thought of Theo being the cook and perfectionist with it.

a character that fandom has helped you appreciate?

Derek Hale. LISTEN. Don’t come for me. Originally I didn’t like Derek because he was mean to Scott at first and I didn’t like how he threw Isaac out of the loft with no place to go. 😤 however, I’ve come to the conclusion through the fandom that he has grown and he went through a lot. He also did come back to help Scott.

say something nice about a ship you don't ship (it can be another ship in your fandom, a mutual's OTP, etc)

Stalia. Stiles helping Malia and them looking out for each other was always really sweet to me.

Something you see in fics a lot and love

Theo moving in with Liam. I think we have established this happened for real in our teen wolf world.

Something you see in art a lot and love

Theo and Liam in Theo’s truck driving around.

your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

Enemies to lovers

Sharing a bed

Reluctant friends/allies

you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

Season 5 . Yes it was a little rough and a lot of holes, but we got Theo and the chimera pack. It also gave a horror type vibe which I loved .

Plus plus… we were introduced to

A ship that isn’t your OTP but you enjoy

Scisaac. I don’t think anything else needs to be said.

a blog (mutual or one you follow) that has made your fandom experience brighter

@thiamsxbitch @wolfboy88

If you’re a writer or an artist what work are you proud of making? 

Hmmm. I think I always come back to this but

your favorite type of fandom event (gift exchange, ship week, secret santa, prompt meme, etc)

Thiam gift exchange was fun. I also liked the thiam reverse big bang and seeing all the artwork

Compliment someone else in your fandom

Well… that’s hard fjfjfj. I like everyone but I will say that green zone is the best written fic I’ve read in a long time. @chasing-chimeras

A ship that always makes you smile 

Scira . 💙💙 so wholesome

A character that always makes you smile

Scott

A thing in canon that everyone loves that you also love

Morey. I mean, Jeff didn’t screw that up in in the show. The movie we won’t discuss .

tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

The development of Derek and Scott’s relationship from angry stand offish allies to brothers. I think it’s cute and now that I like Derek I love it. 😂

Your first fandom

Vampire diaries but I wasn’t a writer or artist for it

Your current fandom

Teen wolf

All American

Shadow and bone

Supernatural

a fandom you're not active in anymore but that you still really like

Vampire diaries

A fandom friend you have known the longest

@waterloou 🫂

the fandom you're curious about because of a mutual

Hmm 🤔 idk. I’d have to think but one tree hill has been on my mind to watch because of you @thiamsxbitch

how has fandom positively impacted your life?

I met some fantastic people and for that I will be eternally thankful

A piece of advice for taking care of yourself in fandom spaces?

Take breaks and don’t look at numbers. It’s easy to get lost in it but what’s important is that you enjoy what you’re doing. If you don’t like it and it becomes a constant stress for more likes or comments, then it’s time to step away.

It should be fun

[heecase]

Midnight Rain Chapter 3:Deceitful Truths

Synopsis: You've always been a planner. You had your whole life planned out, but Heeseung breaking up with you for a chance to become an idol wasn't apart of your plan. So now you're stuck with supporting him from afar. Until a college boy sweeps you off your feet. Everything was supposed to be perfect. Then why were you still yearning for your first love? Pairing: Idol! Heeseung x Fem! Reader; Nonidol! Yeonjun x Fem! Reader Word Count: 3.1k Genre: Angst Warnings: Heartbreak; Lying; Cheating; Arguing; Toxic Relationships; Domestic Violence; Physical Violence; Blood and Bruises mentioned; Gaslighting;

A/n: The story is all fiction, please don't take any depictions of the boys to heart. I love them all dearly and their personalities are only meant to progress the story. Any feedback is welcomed! Please enjoy~

Previous | Next | Masterlist

“Are you sure about this?” Heeseung asked for the umpteenth time, as he fiddled with his hands. Heeseung and Chaewon have been discussing her master plan on how to get you to break off your engagement with Yeonjun for the past few weeks. At first he was confident and willing to do what it takes, but he was starting to have doubts.

“If I wasn’t then why would I be doing this?” Chaewon sighed, looking at him through her computer screen. “Look, Y/n is very good at putting on a brave face but I can tell when she’s not okay and I’m tired of sitting around while she keeps getting screwed over by him.”

“What do you mean?” His doe eyes saddened at the mention of your fiance. Should he be surprised though? It’s been years, of course you would move on.

“Well to put it bluntly, He’s a piece of trash that should’ve been thrown out years ago.” Her eyes darken as she continues. “I’m convinced he’s been gaslighting her into stay with him because he knows how important her life goals are to her. But he’s been cheating on her and I have proof. She’s stubborn but she’s not stupid enough to stay with him once she sees the pictures that I have. There’s no way he’ll be able to talk himself out of this again. So that’s when you’re going to make an appearance back into her life. Start slow, just be her friend. Be there for her and don’t expect anything more. Once she’s ready, she’ll come back to you. I’m positive about it.” She smiled as his eyes shined with hope.

“I hurt her so much when I left, I’m terrified that she still hates me because of that. I mean she did run away from me at that party.” He signed, running a hand through his hair.

“Listen, she was upset when you left but she never held it against you. She never hated you. I never knew why but all throughout college, I would occasionally catch her watching content from your group in the living room of our apartment. She would always have something with you on, when she was stressed or going through a hard time. She said that you guys gave her comfort and made her laugh when she thought she couldn’t anymore.” She reassured him. “I think she ran away from you because she was scared. She is still in a relationship, so she doesn’t want to cause any trouble.”

“I guess that’s a valid reason.” He pouted.

“Hey don’t be upset. If we stick to my plan, she’ll be back with you in no time.”

“How are you so confident about this?”

“Because I know her like the back of my hand and I only want what’s best for her.” She looked down at her phone to see an excited text from you. Something about Yeonjun and dinner, but she didn’t really pay attention. She was glad you’ve been feeling better in your relationship but that didn’t change the fact that Yeonjun was trash and it’s about time she did something about it.

After the argument with Yeonjun the other week, he’s been nothing but caring and attentive towards you. Almost like he felt guilty about the whole thing. Yes, he’s been a little more clingy and overbearing but it’s been a while since it felt like you mattered to him, like he was prioritizing you over everything else. It was odd at first but you can’t say you didn’t like the attention. So in return, you decided you wanted to surprise him with a special dinner. You were going to cook all of his favorite foods and tell him how much you appreciate and love him. You’ve been thinking about doing this for a while and today is finally the day. You got permission to leave work early and you even stopped at the grocery store on the way home, just to make sure all the ingredients were fresh. 

You hummed a tune to yourself as you made your way through the lobby and into the elevator. As the elevator stopped on your floor, you pulled your phone out to text Yeonjun about tonight. You wanted to surprise him but that also means he has to come home in time for dinner, so it was best to give him a little heads up. Satisfied with your text hinting at what you had planned for tonight, you walked down the hallway towards your apartment. 

“What the hell is going on?!” You scream as you open the front door and the scene of Yeonjun kissing another girl comes into view. “Are you fucking cheating on me again?!”

“Y/n, baby, it’s not what it looks like!” He yelled, pushing the girl off of him.

“Get out!” You pointed towards the door behind you. “Now! Get the fuck out of my house!” The scared girl grabbed her bag and ran out without a word.

“Y/n, listen to me! It’s not what you think!” He pleaded, trying to slowly make his way to you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! You lied to me. You’ve been cheating on me this whole time haven’t you?” Tears started rolling down your face and you tried to turn your head so he couldn’t see. Chaewon was right. You are fucking stupid.

“No! I didn’t lie to you, everything I told you was the truth! I didn’t invite her over here. She came on her own and forced herself onto me! I told her I have a fiance but she didn’t back off.” His words came out rushed but it didn’t matter if you caught them or not because you were sick of listening to his lies.

“Fuck you!” You threw the grocery bags at him, making all the ingredients scatter across the floor. “ I’m sick of this. I’m sick of you!” You took your engagement ring off and threw it at his chest. “We’re done. I never want to see your face again.”

“Can you stop being such a bitch for once?” He sighed, picking the ring up. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe shit like this happened because it was all your fault? You’re the one who lies to me. You’re the one who’s always been selfish.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?! I literally just caught you making out with another girl in our kitchen! How am I the selfish one? I gave you everything and this is what I got in return?” You yelled at him. 

“Fine, I’ll admit it, I cheated but don’t act like you're so innocent. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve started to emotionally distance yourself from me. We’ve been together for years, Y/n and you’ve never made me feel like you loved me.” He sighed, feeling insecure about the following words. “I know you’re in love with that guy you’re always watching on youtube and the way you look at him makes me sick. Do you think it’s easy watching the girl I love look at someone else with so much love in her eyes? You have never even tried to look at me like that and you wanna know the worst part? I’m right here. I’m right in front of you, and I’ve been here, every single fucking day for almost 5 years and all you’ve done is make me feel inferior to him.” He pointed an accusatory finger towards you.

“What are you talking about?! If you really loved me, then why would you cheat on me? Fuck, if you were able to make me feel half as loved as he does then maybe I would have looked at you like that.” You scoffed, wiping angrily at your cheeks.

“Are you serious? You think I didn’t try? I tried so fucking hard to make you love me, but you just wouldn’t. Do you think he loves you? Then where is he? Why isn’t he here with you right now? You need to wake the fuck up and realize that saying I love you and all that shit is just a part of his job. He doesn’t know you exist, to him you’re just another delusional fangirl.” He said through gritted teeth. The comparison was only making him angrier.

“It doesn’t matter if he knows me or not, he's a better man than you’ll ever be. At least he’s not a cheating bastard.” You said darkly, shaking your head.

“You’re so fucking stupid! I really thought getting engaged would fix everything. I thought that if we got married you would finally see how much I love you and then he wouldn’t be on your mind anymore. But I was wrong.” He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Maybe he wouldn’t be on my mind as much if you hadn’t made me feel so fucking alone. We live together. We see each other every single fucking day and I’ve never felt more alone in my life. I feel like decoration in this house. You only pay attention to me when you want something and every time I need something it becomes a chore. You tried to show me how much you love me?” You scoffed at him. “You’ve only made me feel like a burden to you. If shit didn’t go down like it did after we graduated, then I don’t think you would still be with me at all.” You cried, finally getting the weight off your chest.

“What the fuck are you talking about? What do you want me to do? What more can I do to prove to you that I do love you?” He tugged at the root of his hair in frustration.

“It’s already too late. There’s nothing more you can do to change my mind. Right now, I want you to leave this fucking house and never show your face in front of me again.” You tried to sound strong but your wavering voice was betraying you. His demeanor was changing, he was slowly losing control of his composure and that was never a good thing. Usually your fights never get this far because one of you would walk away first. But this time was different, you were determined to end things and if he walked away, he would be accepting it and he couldn’t do that. Not now. Not ever.

“No, we are not breaking up. We’re going to fix this. You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.” He walked closer to you, pinning you against the wall.

“We can’t fix this. I don’t want to fix this fucked up relationship anymore. I’m done trying. I’m done with you.” You stared into his eyes hoping you could convince him but all you could see were eyes filled with rage.

“No. You’ll be dead before I let you go.” He grabbed your arm as you tried to escape from between him and the wall.

“Let go of me you fucker!” You struggled against his strong grip. There was no way you would be able to win if it’s a battle of strength, so you had to play dirty and bite down on his hand to make him let go.

“You bitch!” The sting hit you before you were able to register what was going on. Your hand came up to coddle your bruised cheek as you stared at him with tears in your eyes. “Baby I didn’t mean to do that. It was a mistake.” Realizing what he just did, he tried to reach out to you, to comfort you, but you shook your head and tried to scoot backwards, creating distance.

“S-stay back.” You warned but it was useless as he continued to advance. He grabbed both of your arms, making you struggle against him.

“Baby, please stop fighting me!” He yelled as he shook your body. His nails were digging into your arms leaving bruises on your soft skin. 

“Yeonjun let me go! You’re hurting me! Help! Someone please-” When you started yelling for help, he slapped you again. This time you felt a warm liquid on your lip. Licking the liquid, you realized your lip was bleeding. 

“You see. This is what happens when you don’t listen to me. I don’t want to hurt you but you’re making it very difficult not to.” Terror flashed before your eyes as you felt his hand in your hair. You yelled out in pain as he started dragging you to the living room by your hair, and only let go once he threw you onto the sofa. You let out a whimper as you nursed your aching head.

“Now, are we going to talk this through like adults?” He sighed. You have to get away from him. You have to run, but he’s stronger and faster than you. He would catch you before you even make it out the front door at this rate. “Y/n! Are you listening to me?” You nodded, but you weren’t listening to him at all. As he started to pace back and forth, you tried to glance around the room, when he wasn’t looking, to search for an object you can attack with. Your eyes land on the vase of flowers that he got for you last week, when he grabs you by the chin to make you look into his eyes. 

“You seem distracted baby. Maybe we should just call it a night and we can talk about this tomorrow when we both have a clear head.” He stroked your cheek and you tried your best to not lean away from his touch. He’s gone completely psycho and if you do anything to trigger his anger again, you might not make it out of here tonight. So you’ll have to beat him at his own game.

“I was just looking at the pretty flowers you got me.” You tried to sooth his anger. “I’m sorry for being so mean to you. You’re right, I should’ve just listened to you from the beginning.” You caressed his face, while biting down on your inner cheek to stop your hands from shaking.

“Exactly, now you get it. But it’s okay. We all make mistakes. I still love you.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. You kiss him back but your eyes don’t close. You reach one hand up to the back of his neck, making him sit on the couch with you as you deepen the kiss and force him to lean towards the vase. You reached your free hand out until the object was within reach, but he caught onto what you were doing and he threw his arm out to knock the vase off the table, smashing it in the process.

“I’m disappointed in you baby. I thought we were finally on the same page.” He sighed again before grabbing you by the throat, smashing your body into the couch. He started to choke you as you struggled underneath him. “If I can’t have you. No one can.” His grip tightened even more as his eyes turned dark. He was gone. Blinded by his own rage and insecurities. You flung your arms out, trying to reach anything. As your hand was able to wrap around a remote on the coffee table, you quickly smashed it against his head, making him stagger backwards in pain.

You took a second to gasp for air before rushing towards the front door. “Y/n, get back here!” You could hear Yeonjun’s voice from behind you as you ran to the elevator. You pushed the down button and turned to see him already catching up to you. You can’t let him catch you or else you don’t know what else will happen. As you run to the emergency exit, you feel his hand grab a chunk of your hair as he pulls you backwards into his arms. Panic sets in and you throw your hands up, scratching at any part of him you could reach. Once your nails make contact with his cheek, you hear him yell out in pain, letting you go to nurse his wound. You took the opportunity to open the emergency exit and quickly made your way down the stairs. Fumbling slightly, you’re able to make it down a flight or two before you hear him coming after you. Your breathing was heavy and you felt like your legs would collapse from under you as they shake but the fear in your heart was overpowering all of your other senses. You just kept running. Once you made it to the lobby, you quickly rounded the corner towards the maintenance office. You pressed your back to the wall as you heard the door to the emergency exit open. You pressed your hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing as you pray Yeonjun doesn’t find you.

“Fuck, which way did she go?” You heard him say before faint footsteps were heard going away from you.

You kept the hand over your mouth as you peeked around the corner to see that he was indeed gone. For now. You tried to catch your breath but the adrenaline was making it hard. Your hands were trembling and your heart was pounding in your chest. What are you going to do now? You can’t go back upstairs because what if he comes back. You don’t doubt his ability to break down the front door if it means to get to you. He’s probably already on his way to Chaewon’s right now to look for you so you can’t go to her. You should go to the police but you don’t think they’ll believe you and if they end up calling him in then you’re more fucked. Your parents lived overseas so you can’t go to them, plus you didn’t want them to worry. Fuck, you were out of options. Maybe one of your other friends can let you stay with them until he calms down.

You pull your phone out of your pocket to scroll through your contacts. You didn’t have any friends that you could ask for a favor in a time like this and you mentally cursed yourself for being so introverted throughout university. You were close to tears when your finger stopped on Heeseung’s name. There’s no way he would have the same number from high school right? But he was your last hope, so you pressed the call button. The constant ringing heightened your anxiety. If the phone is ringing it means the number is still active but what if it doesn’t belong to him anymore? You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you waited for the call to eventually disconnect.

“Y/n?” Heeseung’s voice came from the other line. You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you let out a shaky breath.

“Heeseung, I need you.”

Taglist: @nobodyshallenter @sunsunl0ver @huening-ly @qeen123