#we wouldn’t know half the changes without them and their hard work and trying to keep to the base game as much as they can

[hanafubukki]

One of my worries for chapter 5 update has been how they would translate Meleanor’s lullaby 🤔 It has such a pivotal part in the story that I really hope they don’t change it drastically 🥲

But then I realized…I have a new fear. What if they change the incantation of Lilia’s UM 😭😭

Like they did with Silver’s and Malleus’s OTL 😔

What if they change Sebek’s??

Lilia UM and the importance of it to part 5 and especially 6….

I don’t know what would be worse, the “night blessing” change or Lilia’s UM 😭🥲

[covid-safer-hotties]

To My Unmasked Friend in the Fifth Year of COVID - By: Anna Holmes - Published Aug 17, 2024

I’m going to be honest with you, because I love you, and you deserve nothing but honesty. I’m going to try really hard not to be angry while I do it, but it’s probably going to slip out every now and again. But I need you to hear me out, all right?

By now, we’ve talked about my reality. My personal struggle with long COVID, the isolation I live in, why I am so angry all the time.

But let’s talk about you. You just went to a big convention overseas. You got on a plane, got a little gussied up, talked shop with some insiders, geeked out over awards and merch, ate, drank, were merry, left with your social cup and your heart full.

You’re a good person. We wouldn’t be friends otherwise! You’d never dream of tripping a person with a red and white cane, using the r-word, excluding a disabled person from an event because of something they can’t help.

You might even acknowledge that the COVID response from governments and organizations has been ableist and inadequate.

But you didn’t wear a mask.

For whatever reason — you wanted to show off your makeup, it makes you itchy, you believed the messaging that COVID is endemic (what does that actually mean?), you just don’t think about it anymore — you made a choice that actively excludes people like me from participating not only in an event like a convention, but society at large. And yes, it is a choice. Every time you step out into the world without a mask on your face, you have made a decision that your very good reason, whatever it is, supersedes the right of disabled and at-risk people to exist safely in your orbit.

Well, hold on, you say. It’s not any one individual’s fault, it’s the inadequate public health messaging. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying?

And I have. In the past, I have talked about how it is unconscionable that health authorities have thrown their hands up and rescinded guidance that would have saved hundreds of thousands of lives and prolonged a pandemic that, to hear them tell it, has been bested. It hasn’t. Worst of all, the financial motivation that we all know is driving this premature victory lap isn’t even being fulfilled. Long COVID and other post-COVID complications are costing the global economy one trillion a year. Meanwhile, article after article handwrings about nobody wanting to work anymore, about the sagging college application scene, about declines in military enlistment, and the strain on our healthcare systems.

All of this is very much the fault of our leaders, who have decided the political ramifications of “normalcy” are more important than the health and lives of the 400 million people living with long COVID across the globe, the immunocompromised folks who are increasingly being shut out of every conceivable public space, and the disabled community which has been screaming into the wind about our marginalization since before the virus even hit US soil.

But I want to be very clear. You are helping them do this.

The reality is that we have been living in this deeply flawed landscape of “personal choice”, and you’ve made yours. You’ve opted not to look into how densely clustered cases are. You’ve stopped listening to your friends who have informed themselves. You’ve given yourself permission to put COVID on the back burner. You’ve earned it, right? Four and a half years of trauma?

COVID doesn’t care if you’re tired of being scared or careful or considerate. COVID is not something you can personally overcome by being smart or virtuous or brave. It is a virus which only seeks to infect and replicate, and it is getting very good at those things. While you’ve looked away, my community has been scrambling to avoid variants that skirt immunity and don’t show up on rapid tests until day five-seven. The constant battle has changed since you were last in it. It’s not sufficient anymore to get your shots and test before a big event. You could well be asymptomatic and infectious, or have symptoms and convinced yourself it can’t be COVID because that second line hasn’t popped up.

You have come to the conclusion sometime between 2022 and now that you just have to decide what level of risk you’re comfortable with and live with it. The problem with that is scale. It’s you and everybody else doing that, and a lot of people have decided they are comfortable with a high level of risk. Despite what you’ve been told, you’re not just making that decision for yourself. You are making it for every person you come in contact with.

Think back to the early tense days of 2020. We were told to select a “bubble.” Those people would be our social lifelines, and through those, we could control our exposure.

My bubble is quite small. It includes my husband, my sister, and two friends I see relatively frequently.

My husband goes to work via the bus, and to the grocery store. Every person he comes in contact with there has the potential to infect him, and then he has the potential to pass it along to me. He mitigates this by wearing a well-fitted respirator at all times.

My sister goes to work at a busy public place. She masks when public facing and takes it off in the back office. She goes to restaurants, bars, concerts, hangs out with friends and her own partner unmasked. About 75% of her interactions have the heightened potential to infect her, which she might then bring into my house when she visits me.

My friends do not mask anywhere except my house when asked. They attend concerts, shows, cons, bars.

Obviously, I am in control of whether I wear a mask around these people. And as we approach one million new cases a day, I will be around everyone but my husband. But science is clear: reciprocal masking is more effective at infection control than a single person masking — especially when that single person is trying to protect themselves, not others.

This is settled science. We’ve known this since 2020. It says clearly that the choice you make is not personal- it has implications for everyone you come in contact with.

And being clear — if I could, I’d make everyone wear a mask for their own health. I don’t want people suffering with what I have. But you’ve been told this lie that you can take your risks for yourself, so you feel comfortable going out without a mask. You’ve been told this lie that it’s possible to completely recover from a COVID infection, so you assume that even if you do catch it, that’s what’ll happen to you, despite evidence showing that every body is indelibly changed by an infection, and that risk only grows with each subsequent infection.

And the greatest lie of all — that only the sick or elderly have anything to fear from COVID — has given you unfounded confidence in your own “good” genes or immune system or fitness. You can get long COVID even if you’re in peak form — in fact, may even be more likely to be hit hard.

So you have decided, individually and collectively, that only the sick or elderly should have to take precautions, and you freewheel through life, only to get surprised and dismayed when you bump into COVID in the wild. It’s back, people declare every summer or winter, as though it ever left.

But I want you to really think about the implications of your choice. Besides yourself. Because let’s be honest here, that’s who you’ve been thinking about, right? Your risk. Your comfort. Never mind your bubble, never mind the bubble of everyone you come into contact with, never mind the people like me who are literally hiding from people like you.

You’re not masking at the doctor’s office. You’re not masking at the airport. You’re not masking at the giant superspreader you just attended, and you’re not masking in the bars and restaurants where we know the virus flourishes. And then you’re bringing that exposure back to your family and friends. Back to the grocery store, where you run across people like my husband, shopping for someone who is unsafe to leave the house, or your elderly neighbors, or an immunocompromised employee.

You’re a good person, or you like to think of yourself that way. That’s why when you’re asked to mask, you dismiss it out of hand — because that changed behavior implies that you’ve been doing something wrong.

And my friend, I’m telling this because I love you: you have been. You might have been doing that on faulty information, but be honest with yourself and with me — you’ve heard me begging people to take this seriously. You’ve seen the information I’ve been sharing. You have had the opportunity to seek out the correct information all along, and you have chosen not to.

It isn’t too late to change your view of the risk you’re imposing on the people around you. It’s not too late to push public health to become more effective. It’s not too late to act in solidarity and be the inclusive person you think you are. It’s not too late to take care of yourself.

Ultimately, that’s what I have been screaming myself hoarse about. I don’t want you to end up with what I have. I don’t want you to inadvertently impose that on someone else. And yes, I’ve been angry, because you’ve been advertising your absolute lack of concern with group shots of your naked faces on social media. It doesn’t seem to bother you that I am stuck at home like it’s 2020, except for doctors’ appointments that I literally have to risk my life to go to. You’ve told yourself that it’s not your problem, because only the sick and elderly have to take precautions.

You know better. You can do better. For your community, yourself, and me, do better.

Please. I love you.

Anna

PS. If you’re feeling upset and embarrassed right now, the best thing you can do is take action. Get yourself good masks (the surgicals and cloth ones don’t cut it anymore), donate to mask blocs so others can access good masks, write to your representatives and the President, comment on upcoming CDC guidance, schedule yourself a booster, and talk to your loved ones about doing better, too. The only way we get out of this is with community care. So care.

[janeyseymour]

I Wouldn't Tell Anyone

based off of that tiktok trend: "i wouldn't tell anyone i won the lottery, but there'd be signs".

WC: ~2.75k

Melissa Schemmenti has worked at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School for years. And in those years, the one constant in her life has been Barbara Howard. The two had started the same year, and while many things have changed, their friendship would never. No, Melissa had watched as Barbara married Gerald, witnessed the woman’s growing belly as she carried both of her daughters, had seen the ups and downs in the Howard family. And likewise, Barbara had been there to see the marriage to Joe, the divorce of Joe, the lean years… and everything in between. They’ve seen the way that teachers come and go, children grow up before their very eyes, and at this point they’ve taught children of students that they had in the starting years. Teaching practices have grown and changed- it’s really an ever-evolving world that they live in.

The second grade teacher had a solid wardrobe that she kept in rotation over the years- really just a few blazers, her signature leather jacket, the same shirt in various colors, a few pairs of slacks and jeans, and of course her heeled boots that she wore everyday without fail.

“Melissa,” Barbara had asked one day. “Perhaps you and I should hit the mall? I know some great places that have wonderful clearance sections.”

“Are you tellin’ me I need to change out my wardrobe?” the redhead teased as she threw her bag over her shoulder.

“You know that is not what I am saying, woman,” Barb rolled her eyes. “But I see the way that your shirts are starting to wear thin. I also need an outfit for the end of the year banquet that this damned superintendent is forcing me to go to.”

“When you’re part of a committee, you have to go to that kind of stuff,” the second grade teacher had smirked. “Why you think I ain’t a part of all that?”

Even after the two of them hit it off, going to the mall whenever they found themselves with enough money to spare to treat themselves to a shopping spree, Melissa’s outfits still mostly circulate without fail. 

Years pass, and then she meets you one night while she’s out at the bar. She walks in, and you’re captivated. You don’t know what draws you to her, but whatever it is is magical. Your eyes hardly leave her stunning figure as she dances. You know that by the end of the night, you have to at least attempt to make a move on her.

And you do when she decides to take a break from dancing to come over to the bar. Conveniently, the only opening is by where you’re sitting and nursing a margarita.

By some grace of God, she’s been watching you too- trying to figure out how to start a conversation with you over the loud music and people dancing all around you.

She saunters up to the spot that you’re at and smiles at you. Wow… her smile is radiant.

“How come a pretty girl like you ain’t out there dancing with someone?”

“Just came here after a hard day at work,” you shrug. “Wanted a marg, thought maybe the music and drinks would brighten my spirit.”

“Well, you got the marg,” she gestures to your half empty glass. “Why don’t I buy you another, and then we can listen to the music together?”

“I’m sure you have friends here that wouldn’t want me crashing.”

“I’m here alone,” the redhead reveals. “The name’s Melissa. And you are?”

“Y/N,” you tell her.

“Well, Y/N, why don’t you let me buy you a drink, and we can be alone… together.”

You end up getting her number as you part ways for the night, and simply text her when you get home that night, time and place.

She’s just walked into her own house when your text comes through. How does Renata’s Kitchen at 5:30 on Tuesday sound?

I have to wait tomorrow and Monday to see you?

I mean, I could grab a coffee tomorrow after church if you’d rather that, the redheaded beauty sends.

You send her the address of your favorite coffee place, which just so happens to be hers as well. You wonder if the two of you have ever run into each other and just not known it at the time.

The outing for coffee ends up being an entire day’s worth of just walking around the city together as you chat about life. You find out that she’s a second grade teacher at one of the local schools and that she has Sunday dinners with her family every week (that is actually the only reason she has to regretfully leave you that day) among many other things. She finds out that you work for one of the local law firms down the street from Abbott, ironically enough. How have the two of you never bumped into each other, or at least seen each other? You get to your place of work at the same time as she does, you’ve both gone down to the same Wawa at the same time for lunch because your lunch hours coincide, and she quite literally walks past your firm to get to happy hour specials with her coworkers.

Once she leaves you to head to her family dinner, she texts you to let you know that she would still love to do dinner with you on Tuesday. You excitedly reply that you would be absolutely delighted. 

The two of you have been going out for quite some time now, and it’s quite funny that you’ve both kept it on the down low. You’re a bit concerned that while courtrooms have progressed with society that if your relationship were to become public, it could get in the way of cases. And she, similarly is nervous that she could face backlash at the school she works for for being in a homosexual relationship. So, neither of you have said anything to your coworkers. And it’s all going swimmingly. While you had both just stumbled upon each other one night at the bar, not expecting to find each other, here you are two years later as a happy couple.

You land the case of a lifetime, one where you could make a decent profit off of your already relatively high paying salary. On top of that, you know that you’re about to be promoted after working with this firm for the last five years.

You end up winning the case, bringing in some good money, and then you’re moving up the ladder and finding yourself with more cash outflow than you know what to do with at the moment. It’s too much for you, living in a small apartment in the city by yourself with nothing else to worry about. So, when your girlfriend comes over to your apartment for dinner, you propose something.

“Mel?” you ask as she stands at your stovetop. She hums to let you know that she’s listening, but her eyes stay trained on the vegetables that she’s chopping right now. “How would you feel if we moved in together?”

The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board halts, and she turns to face you. “What?”

“We’ve been together for almost two years,” you tell her. “I just got that nice promotion, plus a huge payout from the settlement with DuBoise, so… I was thinking maybe we could move in together? Find a nice townhouse somewhere in the city and settle into our lives together?”

About a million emotions flicker through the redhead’s face before it settles on a smile. “I think that might be a good idea.”

So, after months of looking, you both say goodbye to your small apartments and are able to move into a beautiful townhouse in Queen Village. When Melissa files the paperwork to change her address for paychecks, Ava comes flying into the staff lounge with her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.

“Uh, ahem,” the principal coughs out and raises her brows, waving the paperwork in front of the second grade teacher during lunch.

“What?” your girlfriend grumbles as she grades a few papers and shoves a forkful of her salad into her mouth.

“Since when did you move?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” Melissa shrugs.

Barbara’s brows furrow. She wasn’t aware her friend was moving house. “Oh, Melissa. Could you not afford the place anymore?”

“Girl, she upgraded big time! Went from living in the slums to a three bedroom townhouse in Queen Village!”

“Queen Village?” the kindergarten teacher repeats.

Again, the redhead just shrugs.

“Melissa, how did you manage that? I know what you make, and there is no way you could afford to live somewhere like that!” Janine cuts in.

“Can it, pipsqueak,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “Let’s just say… I have my ways.”

Nobody is brave enough to ask the mob-like woman what the hell that could even mean.

“Well, when do we get to see the place?” Jacob tries to invite himself over.

Green eyes glare over at the man. “If I can help it, never.”

“Oh c’mon, Mel Mel,” Jacobs whines out. “I lived with you at one point! Why can’t we come see your new place?”

“At the time, I did not know it was you,” the redhead huffs. “And then you moved out on me.”

“Because I found 

The second grade teacher blows out a breath. “Maybe once I have it all furnished and put together.”

So, once the two of you have the place put together for the most part, the Abbott clan makes their way over while you’re out of town for a convention that you were forced to go to.

To say that the crew is beyond impressed is an understatement.

“Melissa, this is beautiful,” Barbara compliments.

“How? How?” is all Jacob and Janine can stutter out.

The redhead just smirks. “I know a guy.”

They leave not knowing that the guy that she knows is you- her girlfriend of almost two and a half years at this point. And because it’s you, and you have an unwavering love for Melissa, the house is impeccable and everything she could ever want it to. You take good care of her.

Since moving in together, Melissa’s meals have only become more extravagant. With both of your finances almost entirely combined at this point, you spoil her with the best foods and ingredients that you can get her at any moment. So when she comes into the staff room with way fancier dishes for her lunch, it raises a few eyebrows. The teachers have seen Melissa stretch a dollar like a big headed baby stretches a… the redhead smirks.

“I know a guy,” is all she offers up.

The eyebrows of her coworkers only creep further up her head when she comes in with leftovers from one of the nicest restaurants in the city- a place known nationally for the delicate dishes and absolutely delectable desserts.

She’s eating the extra slice of cheesecake the two of you had brought home when Janine leans over. “How’d you get that?”

“I know a guy.”

“You sure seem to know a lot of guys.”

They have no idea that there are not multiple people- you are almost singlehandedly responsible for the lavish lifestyle that your girlfriend suddenly leads. 

Somehow, Melissa is forced to go to one of the banquet dinners that the district is holding because she’s hit a milestone in her teaching, and they’re highlighting her. So, of course Barb offers to go with her to try to find something nice to wear to the dinner that she too will be attending.

“Oh, I think I actually have an outfit,” the redhead refutes the offer. “But thank you.”

“Girl, you never turn down an opportunity to go out shopping,” the kindergarten teacher raises a brow.

“I just… know a guy that already bought me an outfit.”

Melissa shows up to the event looking like a million bucks, and Barbara almost can’t believe it. The redhead’s hair is curled to perfection, the dress that she’s in has clearly been tailored to accentuate all of her curves and to be the proper length. The shoes that she’s wearing are not the black heeled boots Barbara is so used to seeing her work wife wear- no, instead she’s got on a pair of heels that have to be at least two hundred dollars if the kindergarten teacher had to guess. 

Of course, their picture gets snapped and is posted to the school website a few days later. 

At lunch, while Janine is eating and on her laptop, her eyes go wide. “Melissa!”

“What?”

“You looked beautiful the other night!”

“Thanks, kid.”

“How did you get all of that?”

“I know a guy.”

Jacob moves his chair so he too can get a look.

“Melissa, that is…” he thinks to himself quietly. “At least a six hundred dollar look! For a school event? Girl, where are you getting all of this stuff?!”

“I told youse, I know a guy.”

It’s a weekend when the Abbott crew decides to get together, and they all have plans to go to Barbara’s house for game night, but Gerald gets sick and they can no longer use the Howard residence.

“Well, I guess we should cancel,” Melissa sighs as they’re all leaving the school that day.

“What if we just came to your place?” the kindergarten teacher asks. “It’s the only other space big enough to accommodate us all.”

Begrudgingly, the second grade teacher agrees. As everyone is on their way over, she calls you.

“Hello?”

“Hey hun,” she says softly. “So… change in plans for tonight.”

“Oh? Do I get you all to myself tonight?”

“Not exactly…” the redhead trails off. “We’re moving game night to our house.”

“Oh,” you say softly, your face dropping as you thumb through papers in your office.

“Yeah,” she hums.

“I mean, I guess I can go out to dinner with my mom or something to pass the-”

“What if we just… came out? At least just to the crew,” your girlfriend suggests quietly.

You mull that option over for a few seconds. “Y-yeah. If you’re ready for that.”

“I am if you are.”

“I can pick up dinner,” you tell her. “I should be out of here by 5:30, and then I can head over to grab some food before coming home.”

“There’s…” she counts in her head. “eight of us.”

“Eight?”

“Somehow Mr. J wormed himself into this get together,” Melissa laughs softly. “Something about getting the band back together- whatever the hell that means. 

Once you’re free from work, you head over to one of the nicer restaurants in the city, and because you and Melissa have become frequent flyers there, they’re able to oblige your request for a few trays of food. You leave a generous tip before packing the food into your car and making your way back to your townhouse. 

Upon pulling in, you take a few deep breaths before gathering your briefcase and the food and making your way to the door.

When you push it open, all eyes are on you.

“Hey,” you sigh as you kick off your shoes and head for the kitchen table to put down all the food.

“Melissa, you didn’t tell us you have a roommate, never mind a hot one!” Ava grins.

The redhead just rolls her eyes before glaring. That glare is gone though once you make your way back into the living room and sit down next to your girlfriend.

“Hey babe,” you smile at her before kissing her cheek softly.

“Babe?” Barbara’s eyes go wide. “Melissa Ann, do you have a girlfriend?”

The redhead just smirks. “Oh, did I not mention that I am happily in a relationship and have been for two and a half years?”

“Wait a minute,” Mr. Johnson furrows his brows and looks you over. “Ain’t you one of those fancy lawyers that works at the firm down the street from Abbott?”

You nod. “Hi. I’m Y/N.” You cordially shake everybody’s hand with a kind smile.

“Wait,” Janine pieces it all together. “Is this why you moved and could afford this place? Why your meals have gotten a lot fancier, and how you could afford the clothes you wore to the dinner the other night?”

Melissa just nods. “I guess you could say… I won the lottery with this one.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[chillinglyadventurous]

You’re Losing Me

And I wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her

Collab with @ford-pines-lover

Word Count: 2,024

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

You’d battled with yourself for hours. Should you leave or should you stay? Your heart begging you not to leave him. You loved Ford for years. You’d loved him for so long. He was all you knew anymore. You weren’t happy, but you knew what to expect. Your mind, however, was overriding your aching heart. You had to leave. This wasn’t a healthy relationship. Hell, there was no relationship. Not anymore.

The room felt heavy and weighed down. Every ‘I love you’ that was ever uttered in this room was echoing off the walls. Hopes unfulfilled and love that hard worn impossibly thin mocked you. Were you really about to throw away the last ten years of your life?

You gave a breathless sigh as you stared down at the half-packed suitcase on the bed. Half-empty. Even your luggage laughed at you, pathetic. You just couldn’t decide. You’d packed and unpacked your bag about a dozen times. Even now, all you wanted to do was empty it again, fold your clothes, and put them back where they belonged. You couldn’t leave him. With every sweater or pair of underwear you packed, the good memories came flooding back. Every sweet thing he’d ever done for you washed over you, begging you to stay. But, you realized your heart was just playing tricks on you, taking over with each faltering thought. You deserved better than this.

With a sigh, you slipped your favorite sweater out of your bag and held it close to your chest. How many times had you found yourself curled up with this sweater, his sweater, while you waited for him to come to bed, hoping to hear his footsteps coming down the hall? Each strand of yarn held memories, the good and bad. You remembered him handing you this very sweater on a cold night, wanting you to keep warm. You remembered crying into the collar when he’d left without a word to explore.

Setting the sweater back down, you rubbed your eyes, trying to fight back the tears stinging your eyes. You’d cried too many tears over him already. You couldn’t let anymore fall. Despite the ache in your chest, a dull pain, you didn’t want to leave like that, crying. You were doing what was best for you. You wanted to leave knowing you were thinking over yourself for once. You were walking about because you deserved better than half-hearted affection and quiet resentment. You deserved someone who would love you.

You went back to the dresser, folding up more of your clothes. With each article you pulled over, memories came in. Everything was linked to him. There were outfits you wore on dates, lazy mornings wrapped in his arms.

You left one thing in your dresser, knowing you’d never wear it. The silk slip was offensive, emerald green. You traced the black lace with your fingers. You’d bought it for your ninth anniversary, something you had thought would catch his eye and pull him away from his work. It didn’t. You didn’t care that, someday, you’d have someone who would appreciate your efforts, worship you in such a beautiful thing. No, it was cursed and it was his problem now. Maybe he’d find it and realize what he lost.

You emptied out every drawer and the closet. Standing at the nightstand, you contemplated taking the framed Polaroid there. Graduation. Ford’s arms were thrown around you, both in your cap and gown. The tiny diamond on your finger glinting in the sunlight as he kissed you hard. You’d forgotten he asked you to marry him. So much had changed since then. You hadn’t worn that ring in years. It was somewhere in that room. You didn’t know where and you didn’t care enough to look for it. He could keep that too.

Despite your better judgment, you threw the small frame into your bag. In truth, it was a keepsake. You still loved him. You wanted to remember him. Still, you hoped this would scare him enough into changing. Maybe he’d call you in a panic, crying, begging you to come home with promises that he’d change. You rationalized it as a reminder of what you didn’t want to go through again, but, deep down, you knew you’d never be able to give him up.

You zipped up your suitcase and headed out the door. This was it. There was nothing else left to do. If you stayed, you’d only be hurting yourself and you’d done that enough.

I’m getting tired even for a phoenix, always rising from the ashes

You hadn’t gotten far when your car phone rang. You knew it was Ford. He was the only one who had the number. He was the only one who ever called, so, you let it ring. It rang and it rang. You had already made your decision, already put so much distance behind you, so why was it so hard to ignore him? Why did hearing his voice feel like everything you’d wanted and feared at the same time?

“Hello?” You finally whispered, voice barely above a breath.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could hear him exhale shakily. “Please, come back,” his voice cracked, rough around the edges in a way that you’d never heard before.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to hold firm. “Stanford, I can’t keep doing this. I told you, I need more. I can’t keep standing on the sidelines, waiting for you to notice me.”

“I know,” he replied, a quiet desperation in his tone that caught you off guard. “I know I’ve put you second to my work and I hate that it’s come to this, but, please, just come home. I’ll make this right. I swear it.”

You wanted to believe him, but after so many broken promises, it was hard to let hope grow again. “I mean it. If I come back, things have to change.”

“They will,” he promised, the conviction in his voice so strong it tugged at something deep inside you. “Please, just give me this chance. Come home.”

Against the whisper of doubt in your mind, you turned back. The drive home felt surreal, every mile bringing you closer to him, to the life you’d almost left behind. How could you be so stupid? How could you give up the best thing that ever happened to you?

When you opened the front door, Ford was waiting, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. There were dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped, but his gaze held something you hadn’t seen in years. Full and unwavering attention.

He didn’t say anything, just reached for you, pulling you close, as though he were afraid you’d slip away if he let go. For a moment, just being there, held by him, it felt like everything might actually be okay.

In the days that followed, Ford kept his promises. He would set aside his work to spend time with you, listening intently to everything you said, his eyes warm and focused, as if rediscovering what he’d nearly lost. Each morning, he’d greet you with coffee and a kiss, taking a few extra moments to linger, his hand gently tracing the lines of your face. He even pulled back from some of his more intense projects, choosing to leave the lab earlier, allowing himself to be with you in ways he hadn’t in so long.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you had Ford to yourself. The two of you would share quiet, easy dinners, laughing together over silly memories. Finally, he was the man you met in college again. He’d pull you close at night, his hand slipping into yours, murmuring soft praises into your hair. You allowed yourself to believe that maybe this was real, that he’d finally chosen you.

Weeks passed and he stayed true to his word, keeping that fragile spark of hope alive. Ford seemed more at ease. You’d catch him smiling over his morning coffee, a relaxed grin on his face that warmed your heart. He made time for you in ways that felt new and precious, taking you on little outings, finding new ways to bring you into his world.

But, as time went on, his old habits started to creep back. Just little things at first, lingering in his study a bit longer than planned, muttering about a project or theory instead of letting you finish the story you were telling. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself that this was just who he was, that a few hours here or there wouldn’t matter. After all, he’d proven he was willing to put you first. Surely, he could balance both, right?

Except the late nights began to stretch longer. His attention started to drift more and more. One evening, you sat beside him on the couch, recounting a funny story from your day, only to realize he was staring at the wall, eyes unfocused, his mind somewhere else entirely. You stopped mid-sentence, waiting for him to notice, hoping he’d snap back to you. Minutes passed and he didn’t say a word, lost in a world far removed from your own. Finally, he seemed to shake himself out of it, glancing at you with a forced smile.

“Sorry, darling. I was just thinking about something.” He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into his study.

Mendin’ all her gashes, you might just have dealt the final blow

You sat there alone, the warmth of his brief touch fading quickly, leaving a familiar chill in its place. You tried to ignore the pang of doubt, but it settled heavily, spreading like ice through your veins. The pattern was returning and, this time, it hurt even more because you’d thought things were finally different.

The days blurred together, Ford slipping back into his old habits, barely noticing when you reached out to him. Each night, he’d come to bed a little later, mumbling promises that he’d make time for you tomorrow, but tomorrow never came.

One evening, after a particularly long night of waiting, you walked to his study, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him, his back to you, hunched over his notes. You cleared your throat, trying to get his attention.

“Ford?”

He didn’t turn around, didn’t even flinch. “Just a minute, dear. I’m almost done.”

You knew he wasn’t. This was exactly where you’d been before, caught in the shadow of his work, waiting for scraps of his time. You stood there, watching him, a sinking feeling in your chest as he continued to scribble notes, muttering to himself about theories and experiments. The ache in your heart deepened, spreading until it became a steady, numbing truth. He had meant well. He’d truly tried, maybe even believed he could change, but Ford was a man consumed by his work.

The realization hit you all at once. You couldn’t live like this, couldn’t keep waiting for him to come back, to choose you, when he was always going to drift away again. With a quiet breath, you straightened, your heart steady as you turned back to the door. This time, there were no tears, no lingering hope. You weren’t angry or hurt. You just needed to move on. There was nothing left.

You promised yourself there wouldn’t be anymore chances. You told him there wouldn’t be anymore. You warned him and you, unlike him, were going to make good on your promise. You walked quietly to the bedroom and packed a small bag, taking only what you needed. No dramatic exits, no last words. You’d made your peace.

You closed the door behind you, the air felt different, lighter, as if you were finally free. For the first time, you were truly walking away, carrying with you a quiet strength and a promise you’d made to yourself long ago: you would rise again, this time for yourself, and build a life where you were fully seen, fully loved, no matter how long it took.

[inkdrinkerworld]

ahhh i love chubby!reader and spencer!! what if she overheard someone talking about her weight in a negative way and when she runs into spencer he instantly goes into his own kind of awkward comfort mode bc he secretly has THE biggest crush on you and any other time he would be VERY proud that he managed to get you to hug him but now you’re crying and oh no he doesn’t want you to be sad especially not over the way you look!!

It’s gross. To hear people make comments about your body behind your back in the way you do.

It’s all snide, backhanded comments disguised as compliments. Your stomach rolls because none of your team is near enough to hear them and you don’t feel like making a scene.

Your mind changes when you hear, ‘And it’s so obvious she likes him but what would he do with a girl like her? He’s less than half her size. She doesn't deserve someone like him.’

Your blood boils and you flick away imaginary dust and lint from your clothes before making yourself known.

“You might not like the way I look but you’re much more unattractive than you find me because that’s just vile. You should be ashamed of yourselves. It's none of your business but Spencer and I are dating.”

The local officers blanch and you walk off ignoring their stunned silence and stutters for an apology.

Your hands shake as you sit next to your team and you’re silly for thinking Spencer wouldn’t notice it. Spencer noticed when you had dusted the ends of your hair a week ago.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice so low it's barely a murmur. Spencer's eyes remain trained on you as you nibble on your lip trying to decide what to do.

"I've been better," you say and Hotch saves you from more questions by instructing, "Y/N I need you to speak to the local police and get every name they have for people who came in."

No one else notices the way your back stiffens as you stand. Spencer does, "I'll go with her, and we'll call Garcia."

Spencer takes you to a secluded hallway and tips your chin up, "What happened, sweetheart?" it's cruel for him to whip that out at work, but it has the same effect it does when you're at home curled in his lap while reading.

"The locals were saying things about me- which is fine, I'm not everybody's cup of tea. But they were extra mean and rude about it." you debate whether to say the rest, but it comes out before you come to a real decision. "They said they don't know why I think I deserve your attention and they said you're too small to be with someone like me."

Spencer gasps like you've burnt him. He feels heat searing his chest as he replays your words. He doesn't know exactly how to comfort you without his words being hard and rough.

"But I stood up for myself," that eases some of the pressure in his chest. "I told them they should be ashamed of themselves and that I wasn't just some girl pining after you and we were together."

Spencer presses his forehead into yours. "I'm glad you stood up for yourself, but you shouldn't have to defend yourself at work or in general. You're amazing and stunning and you're more than anything I could've dreamt up for myself."

His words are soft, sweet and it melts the remaining worry in your bones that even though Spencer loves you, he had regrets.

"They're fucking assholes," he deadpans quietly and you laugh. "But we have a job to do so we'll be civil for the rest of the time we're here but the second we're done, we're messing with them."

[ukrfeminism]

One morning in 2007, Frances Harper was taking a bath and listening to the local news on BBC Radio Suffolk when one story caught her attention. A young woman, Louise, was being interviewed about her life as a sex worker in Ipswich. “I couldn’t see how this interview was helping her situation at all,” says Harper, who was 60 at the time. “I got out of the bath and made some notes. I realised she needed a documentary to tell her story properly and I thought perhaps I could try to make it.”

Harper had never owned a video camera and had no idea how to shoot a film. She had spent the past four decades working in secretarial jobs, as well as raising her son and supporting her husband in his construction business. “I was busy but something was always missing,” she says. “Something I could do for myself.”

Armed with a sudden sense of purpose and without a current job to keep her occupied, Harper rushed out to buy a basic camera, read the manual and began looking up ways to contact Louise. The police wouldn’t share her details, but after finding the name of her solicitor in the local paper, she left a letter with the firm to be passed on. “Soon after, Louise phoned me and we decided to meet in a cafe in Ipswich,” Harper says. “I told her I’d like to make a documentary to share her story and help her. She agreed, and that was my entry into an entirely new world.”

Following Louise most days for weeks, Harper documented her life on the streets, her drug addiction and sex work, all while learning how to shoot and interview. “She told me that no one had motivated her or really cared about her life,” she says. “She was interested in art and history, so we went to galleries together and I even took her to an afternoon tea – all things she’d never done before. We spent a lot of time together because I had the time to spare.”

The more Harper got to know Louise, the more concerned she became about her life and especially her living situation. “She was basically sleeping in an electrical cupboard on the streets of Ipswich,” she says. “I started booking her into bed and breakfasts to keep her off the streets. It really showed me how lucky I had been. It’s changed my thinking ever since.”

Once she had enough footage, Harper put together a taster of the film and contacted the local BBC News office in Norwich. The idea of an older Ipswich resident befriending a young sex worker and producing a film was so unusual that Harper was invited to a meeting and commissioned to shoot a half-hour special for BBC East, which aired in February 2008. “I couldn’t believe that Louise’s story would be out there,” she says. “I hadn’t told too many people about it so my friends were shocked when it came out. Once it did, I also managed to battle with the council to finally get Louise a proper flat.”

Sixteen years later, Harper, 76, is fully immersed in film-making. After her experience with Louise, she became interested in the world of drug addiction and produced a film for Sky, which was narrated by Davina McCall and followed two mothers coping with the impact of their sons’ drug abuse. She has also completed a commercial film for the seaside town of Southwold and a charity short for an emergency response service. She is now working on a series about women in horticulture as well as a film about the life of female fighter pilots.

“I just can’t stop,” she says. “It really feels like I’ve found my calling. I get ideas all the time, although I can’t make all of them because I fund my own projects and it’s hard to come by funding for older people.”

But age does have some advantages. “I think people are more inclined to be polite around me because I’m older,” she says. “I’ve also gained newfound confidence through this work. I didn’t know whether I’d achieve anything but I just kept going. I weaved around the obstacles in my way.”

As well as changing her life, Harper has recently learned how her films have had a profound impact on other people too. “Louise contacted me last year and we just carried on talking as if no time had passed,” she says. “She told me: ‘You were the only person who believed in me.’ It made that decision to pick up the camera completely worth it.”

You can watch Harper’s films via the link below:

[justmeinadaze]

Smutty request here....massage therapist(s) Eddie and/or Steve 🥴

Got me feeling all the things

Happy Ending (Steddie X You)

A/N: So this intimidated me a bit because I don't a whole lot about massages and that field. But I ran with what I know and put a spin on it. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Masseuses Steddie and you and all that implies (I regret nothing), mentions of stress from the read and a broken heart, she is aware that they provide more than just massages, DP (I said what I said), they are gentle with her for the most part but their is slight allusions to Dom/Sub dynamics (spanking, some bratty behavior, and stern tones), I think that's it.

Word Count: 6244

“Trust me, Y/N, these two will change your life.”

“They’re masseuses. It’s a massage, Deb.”

“Yes and no.” You stare at your friend as you sarcastically blink in her direction making her laugh so hard she almost spits out her drink. “Yes, they massage your body but they also do…other��things…to help you relax.”

“Nope. No thank you. I’m good.”

“Y/N! Wait, come on.” She reaches for you hand as you start to get up from the lunch table you two were eating at. “Listen… you remember how hard things were for me a few months ago? I was working 80-hour weeks trying to get that promotion, my mom was scolding me because I’m still not married, and then add in being broke as hell.” Your friend sighed as you placed your palm over her hand.  

“Someone suggested them and I thought ‘Hey, what do I have to lose?’ When I met them, they were so kind and gentle. I swear for a second, I forgot I was even worried about anything. And that was before the…ahem…happy ending.” You blush as you both giggle. Debbie suddenly leans in closer to you, lowering her voice. 

“They both do the massaging part but you can decide who makes your ending a happy one. Personally, I chose the tall, pretty one. Not that the other one wasn’t cute…he’s just not my type, you know?”

“You can only have one?”

Your friend gasps as she playfully hits your arm. “You whore!”

“What?! I’m just asking! More so out of curiosity.”, you shrug. “I guess not everyone is into that kind of…kink but…I mean if you’re hiring them knowing what they do…wouldn’t you want to take the opportunity?”

“Goddamn, I will never understand why Tony cheated on you.” Your eyes meet hers as she softly smiles. “You’re sweet, funny, fucking gorgeous, and apparently really open minded when it comes to ménage à trois.”

You return her smile with one of your own as you lean back in your chair. “Yeah, well, if you ever find that out will you let me know?”

****

You sigh as you enter your big, empty apartment. Tony, your ex-fiancé, was supposed to come by while you were out today with your friend to get the last of his things. Now half of your home was quite literally gone. 

As you hugged your arms around yourself you noticed a note on the kitchen counter. 

“Y/N,

I think I got everything but if I forgot something can you save it and let me know? 

This was incredibly hard for me. I love you so much, baby. Can’t we just—”

You crumple the letter without bothering to read the rest. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. You heard it all before you caught him with her that night and after you threw him out.

After grabbing a beer from the fridge, you held the card Debbie gave you for the masseuses, tracing your fingers over the number.

“Ugh! Fuck it.”, you exhale as you reach for the phone.

It rings a few times but right as you begin to rethink what you’re doing; music suddenly blares through the line. 

“Yeah! Hello?”

“Um, hi. I’m looking for the Munson-Harrington massage people…thing.”

The man on the other end chuckles as he lowers the heavy metal in the background. 

“I don’t think I’ve heard us called that before. Massage people thing… Yeah, you got one of them here. How can I help you, sweetheart?”

“I, um, my friend recommended I utilize your services.”

“Do you always talk this dirty or are we special?”

“I don’t know. Are you always this much of asshole or am I just that special.”, you growl.

The music on the other end abruptly stops and you hear movement on the other end. 

“You sound like your absolutely special. Are you a little nervous?”

You sigh as you lean against the kitchen the wall. “Yeah. I’ve never done anything like this before. Not even regular…massages. Deb, my friend, said you guys changed her life. My life kind of sucks right now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to and you definitely don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. My friend and I just want to help you relax. Pretty sounding girl like you deserves a clear head.”

“Hm. I bet you say that to everyone who calls.”

“You’re right. I did tell the telemarketer before you that he sounded gorgeous.”

That made you genuinely laugh. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie. I’m the Munson in the name. What’s yours?”

“Y/N.” You slide down to the floor as you take another swig of the drink in your hand. “Is the Harrington part of your company there?”

“Yes ma’am, he is. Would you like to say hello?”

“If that’s ok. I don’t want to impose or anything.”

“HARRINGTON! There’s a pretty girl on the phone who would like to speak with you.”

You listen to Eddie pass the phone as he tells the other boy your name. 

“Y/N? Hey, I’m Steve. I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

“Are you an asshole like your friend?”

“I can be when I need to. Eddie! What did you do to this girl?”

“Nothing! She started it by calling and being adorable.”

“Oh my god.”, you giggle. “You guys are good.”

“And we haven’t even touched you yet.” Your breathing stuttered at his comment. He said it with so much confidence as if he already knew his hands (and services) would blow you away. “Are you still with me, honey?”

“Yeah, um, Eddie said that…we could go slow and if I didn’t want…the…”

“He’s right. We want you to be comfortable. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Y/N. If you just want a massage that’s fine. If you just want to talk that’s fine to.”

You exhale heavily into the phone before finally making up your mind. 

“Okay. I’m free on Friday.”

############

“Shit, shit, shit!” You continue to curse as you run down your apartment building hallway. “I am so sorry I’m late! Work kept me late and—”

You froze you saw them sitting outside your door, quickly rising when your eyes meet theirs. 

“Hey, no problem.” One of the boy’s grins as he extends his hand for you to shake. “I’m Steve. This is Eddie.”

“The asshole.”, he teases as his gigantic palm encapsulates your own. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off them; they weren’t what you were expecting at all. You assumed Steve was the “tall, pretty one” your friend had mentioned but to you they were both handsome. Eddie had that kind of metalhead look you’d seen walking the streets of your town with his leather jacket and long hair. His Metallica shirt rested perfectly above his belt that was holding up his blue jeans. 

Steve looked like the everyday 80’s guy you saw in most romance movies at the theater but his smile radiated a confidence that made you feel safe. His muscle-bound arms in his polo caused a little sigh to escape your lips as your eyes traced the rest of his figure. 

“Do we…have to do a chant or something?”

You glanced at Eddie completely confused until he gestured towards the front door. 

“Oh, fuck, right. I’m sorry. My head is just…” You clumsily turn your key in the lock and allow them entry into your home. 

“Wow. This place is really nice.”

“Uh, thank you. My fiancé, well ex-fiancé, and I wanted a bigger place closer to the city since we both worked over here. Do you…would you guys like something to drink?”

“No, thank you. We appreciate the offer.” Steve smiles in your direction making your knees a bit weak. “You can have something though if you want.”

“Thanks? I mean with it being my apartment and all.”

“Ah, there’s that sass I was waiting for.” Eddie flashes you a tooth filled grin.

After pouring yourself the strongest drink you could find, you watched them set up near your living room. Your eyes continued to rake over them as they exchanged small talk with each other, allowing you some space to get more comfortable with their presence.

The phone ringing startled you as you turned to give it your attention. Before you could pick it up it routed to the voicemail and Tony’s voice flowed through. 

“Y/N? Babe, are you there? Please, I just want to talk.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you listened to his excuses. You hated being alone and this gigantic apartment was just another reminder that he wasn’t by your side anymore. You missed Tony terribly but no one in the world had ever hurt you as badly as he had. “…I swear to God, she meant nothing to me. I’m just a fucking idiot.”

Feeling a sudden warmth, you opened your eyes to meet Eddie’s as he towered over you. You glanced at Steve whose own face reflected the same sympathy as his friend. 

“…I felt so fucking lonely, Y/N. You were always at work and I felt like you never had time for me. Baby, I know what it’s like to sit in that apartment all by yourself, hurting. Please just talk to me—”

“Hey. Just so you’re aware you are a fucking idiot. She’s not sitting here alone crying her eyes out over some asshole who broke her heart. Y/N has moved on and you should to. Stop calling.”

After hanging up the phone, the metalhead turned to face you again. “I hope that was ok.”

Before you could stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around his waist, clinging to him as you sighed into his chest. His arms gradually came down to hold you to him as his cheek rested on your head. 

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I’m not going to lie, Stevie, we may want to reconsider taking a payment in a hug because this is quite comfortable.”

They both laugh as you pull away and smile at them. 

“We’re ready whenever you are, honey.”, Steve grins as he points towards their makeshift table.

#########

Your eyes remain glued in front of you as you listen to Eddie move about the apartment. 

“Y/N.”, Steve whispers from behind you as his breath warms your ear. “Remember, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can just talk if you want or we can even leave. No hard feelings. We understand how uncomfortable this situation can be especially since you don’t know us but that makes it a little bit freeing to.”

“Can, um, can I ask you for a favor?” You softly smile when you turn to look at him and he nods. “Can you…take off my clothes? I-I-I don’t think I…”, you ask, stuttering through your nerves. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I can. Did you want to keep anything on?”

“Is that an option?”, you giggle. 

“Sweetheart, you hold all the power here.” Eddie slides up beside his friend, now jacketless with no shoes. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone let alone naked in front of someone. Tony wasn’t lying about that. I’ve always been busy with work and—”

Steve gently places his index finger over your lips. “Nothing that asshole says matters. I don’t care if you were on the moon, he had no right to cheat on you.” His finger glides down from your mouth to your blouse as he begins undoing the buttons while the other man shifts behind you and unclips your skirt. 

Both garments fall effortlessly to the floor as Steve continues watching your face for any signs of hesitation or discomfort. 

“We’re going to do this one at a time, ok? I’m going to take off your bra and then Eddie’s going to remove your panties.”

Once he gets your approval, he leans over your shoulder and begins unhooking your bra from your body. You don’t know if it’s because he’s being so sweet or if it’s because his strong cologne wafts into your nostrils but something inside of you causes you to turn and softly kiss his cheek. 

Steve pulls back slightly, looking through your eyes till a small smile flickers across his lips. He and his friend had been doing this for a while but not one of them had been as tender at you had just been. He knew there was something different about you when he spoke to you on the phone and he knew Eddie felt it to when the metalhead completely turned off his music to talk to you. 

He hoped he wasn’t misreading things and took a leap of faith as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead before tossing your bra near the rest of your clothes.

Strong hands on your waist turned you so you were now facing Eddie as he sunk down on his heels, dipping his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, and delicately tugged them down your legs. The pads of his digits traced along your skin causing a little shiver to run up your spine. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Y/N.”

“I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

His grin grows as he stands up and looks down at you. “I did have a date with that telemarketer I told you about. Turns out he WAS really good looking.”

Steve smiled behind you when you laughed, gently guiding you towards their table, and helping you up as you lay on your stomach. Folding your arms above you, you rest your head on them like a pillow. The metalhead digs in a bag before kneeling in front of you again till his face was level with your own. 

“Which do you like better?” He holds up bottles to your nose and you point to one that smells like vanilla. 

“What are those?”

“Oil. Steve’s the smell guy and knows how to utilize them better than I do.” He stands up and passes the bottle you chose to his friend. 

“Honey, we’re going to touch you now, alright? It might feel a little weird at first because of the oil but if at any point you get uncomfortable and want to stop or take a break just let us know.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes, unsure of what to prepare for but when a set of hands begins rubbing into you back, you can’t help but let out a soft, low moan. “Shit. I’m—”

“Princess, this is your house. Make all the noise you want to and please don’t be embarrassed.”

“You can also talk to us if you want to. Maybe about things you’re stressed about.”

A second set of hands find your calves and a strong exhale leave your lips. “Honestly, you heard my main bit of stress.”

“Fucker Magee?”, Eddie asks. 

“Yeah.”, you giggle. “Everyone in my life thinks I’m overreacting and I should forgive him.”

“Um, we may not know the whole story but the man you were going to marry cheated on you. I think you’re reacting properly.” Steve’s hands trailed along your spine and back down to your hips. 

“I went to visit him at work and they were fucking in his office. Some pretty, young, big breasted coworker.” 

“What a bitch.” You smiled as Eddie laughed at his own comment, his palms massaging along your thighs and back down to your feet. “For how long?”

“A few months. We…we were supposed to get married next month.”

Fingers came up to firmly knead into your shoulders. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” Steve watched your lips form into a thin line before you pressed your face into your arms. As soon as you felt your emotions were in check, you turned your head back to the side. 

“That feels good actually.”

“Did you think the massage business part was just for show?”, Steve laughed.

“I mean… I don’t know. I don’t want to be rude.”

“Said the girl who called me an asshole.”

“To be fair, you were being one.” It feels almost on purpose when Eddie’s fingers slide up between your thighs just barely near your core before sliding back down your legs.

“You’re not wrong, sweetheart.”

Steve’s own hands glide up your sides, grazing the sides of your breasts before looping back around to your shoulder blades.  

“I hope I’m not being too forward but you have a beautiful body.”

“No, you’re not being too…thank you. Um, you-you can go a little higher if you want.”

“Who are you talking to, honey? Me or Ed?”

“Eddie… You can go higher to. If you want to…”

The hands on your back lifted off you as Steve came around to kneel in front of you on his heels. “How about we take it slow, huh? One thing at a time.” His palm petted your head as he moved the hair back from your face. You let out a little gasp when you felt the metalhead’s fingers slide between your folds. “Are you okay?”

You nodded as you bit your bottom lip, lifting one of your legs up the table to allow him more accesses. This man felt like a master with his fingers as he rubbed circles slowly into your clit.

“Pl-please.”, you whine. 

“Please what, Y/N? What do you need?

“Can…can I turn around? On my back.”

“Of course, pretty girl. Whatever you want.”

They patient waited for you to roll over before Eddie placed his thumb back on your nub. You watched with heavy, lust driven eyes as he stuck two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them with his saliva, and sliding them into your sex. 

“Oh wow, princess. You’re tight.” He exhaled, trying to hide the little moan that wanted to be heard. 

Steve stood back up to his full height, coming around to stand behind your head as he reached down and ran his hands over your tits, massaging them gently but firmly. 

“F-fuck.”, you whimpered. As your back arched, you could help but notice the bulge in his pants. When you tried to touch it with your palm, he jumped back like you startled him. 

“Hey. Um, you…you don’t have to do that, honey. We’re here for you.”

“You don’t want me to feel you?”

Your voice sounded so small; Steve felt his cock twitch. “I…I do…I just…you don’t have to.”

Grabbing his shirt, you yanked his lips to yours. The combination of man and mint on his tongue had you clenching tighter around the other boy’s fingers making him groan, this time much louder than before. 

“I want to.” You slid further up the table, allowing your head to hang a bit over the edge, licking your lips as the man pulls down his shorts just enough for his dick to spring free. “Jesus. I’ve never had anyone as big as you are before.”

He smirks as he subtly chuckles. “You can’t say things like that or else I’m going to cum before you even touch me.”

Your tiny hand reaches for him as he steps closer, mewling when your tongue runs along his tip. You don’t see it but the men give each other a cursory glance. This is a little out of bounds for them in the sense of they rarely ever have the women they massage service them in this way and on the off chance a client does it’s usually during the second part when they are alone with one of them in the bedroom. 

Steve continues to be gentle with you as he runs his fingers through your hair when you wrap your lips around his hard, now throbbing length. Eddie thrusts his fingers into you at a faster pace and your moans vibrate through to the boy in your mouth. 

“Goddamn, Y/N. Your mouth feels so good. Your ex is a fucking idiot.”

They both take note of your reaction, your head bobbing faster as your pussy clenches again. 

“He really is, sweetheart. Makes me want to call him back and curse that fucker out.”

Tugging your head back, you continue to pump him with your fist as your hips began to grind up into the metalhead’s hand.

“Fuck, I’m…”

“That’s it, beautiful girl. Just let go. It’s okay.” Eddie pressed the heel of his palm against your clit as he moves his fingers move at a quicker pace. The sound of your slick fills the room and after a few moments your body trembles as you cum. “Good girl. Coming like that. Geez, I’m so fucking hard right now.”

Abruptly, you sit up and grab the back of the man’s neck as you bring his lips to yours. After your release, your kisses were much hungrier and you reveled in the taste him as your hands shot down to fumble with his jeans. 

“Wait…are you sure…you don’t want Steve.”, he asks between kisses. “You’ve kinda…got him…all riled up.”

“Want both.”

Eddie froze as he pulled his head back. When you tried to chase his lips, his palms gripped either side of your face forcing you to focus. 

“Hey, you don’t have to do that.”

“Want to.” You tried to lurch forward again but he was much stronger than you, holding you in place. 

“Y/N, princess, come down from cloud 9 and really think about what you’re asking for.”

You couldn’t control the annoyed exhale or tone as your eyes met his. “Am I not allowed? I can pay you more.”

“It’s not about the money. We—”, Steve began before you cut him off.

“Want me to be comfortable. I know! I know what I’m asking for. Now, do you want to fuck me or not!?”

Ringed fingers snaked into your hair and firmly pulled it back. Something changed in Eddie’s eyes; a look he saved for partners he had in his own bedroom. 

“Control the attitude, Y/N.”, he growled. “Listen to what he’s saying. It’s not about the money and it’s not about getting off. It’s not fun for anyone here if you wake up in the morning with regret. And while this little session here IS all about you, don’t forget we’re people to. We’ve been doing this for years and no one has ever asked to take us both one right after the other.”

“I’m not asking for that either. I want you both…at the same time.” They look at each other again, unsure of what to do or say. Your hand reaches out to turn his attention back to you as you lean your forehead on his. “Please, Eddie. I know what I’m asking for. I need it. I need you both. Please, please, please.” As you keep repeating your last word, you manage to fully unbutton his jeans, glide your hand through the waistband of his boxers, and rub your palm against his cock.

His jaw falls open as your lips trail down his neck.

“I mean…if she thinks she can handle it.” 

Eddie growled again with more vigor as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bedroom with Steve in tow. After tossing you onto the bed, he tore off his shirt, and you marveled at his tattoos, crawling on your knees till you were in front of him again. His hands laced in your hair as your tongue descended down his chest, stopping just above his waistline to allow him to shuffle out of his pants. 

The bed dipped behind you, suddenly feeling strong palms grip your hips and lift them a bit higher into the air. Steve’s own tongue licked a long stripe through your folds causing your body to shudder pleasantly at the feeling. Eddie held the base of his cock, allowing the tip to brush against your lips. 

You opened your mouth for him and he wasted no time pushing through, groaning when your warm saliva began coating him. The metalhead was much thicker than his friend and at times you struggled to take him, gagging around his dick as he occasionally hit the back of your throat. 

The strong vibrations of your moans as Steve latched his mouth to your clit had Eddie’s own eyes rolling back as he held on to your hair tighter trying to control himself from just face fucking you till he came.

You weren’t sure if it was on purpose or not but both men were still massaging you with their palms, Steve especially. His hands rubbed and caressed firmly up your lower back, around to your stomach, and down to your thighs as his tongue flicked against your bundle of nerves. While one of Eddie’s hands remained in your hair, the other ran between your shoulder blades and around to your front to knead your breasts adding to your high. 

Your mouth came off the boy in front of you with a pop as drool dangled from your lips. 

“Yes, Steve. Please, you’re going to make me cum.”

You practically screamed as he pressed his mouth further into your core, sucking and licking until you felt the coil snap as you came. Your upper half fell flat against the mattress as you panted, smiling softly as your body continued to twitch. 

Eddie’s fingers left your hair and moved to your shoulders as he lifted you back up to your knees so he could see your face. 

“This is the last time I’m going to ask, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Eddie, I’m sure I want you both inside of me.”

His head tilts to the side at your answer, mostly because it was said correctly, or at least how he liked his questions answered. He wondered if there was a submissive side of you that enjoyed it a bit rougher like they did. Both men NEVER brought that into the bedroom with a client and most of the time none of the women they were with never asked. 

You weren’t asking either but he imagined, like they did, that was something personal for you so you saved it for the man you were dating or intimate with. 

Eddie shook the thoughts from his head as his hand laced around your neck and brought your lips to his again. 

“Seriously, your fiancé is so fucking stupid to let you go.”

You smiled up at him and wrapped your arms around his waist as you yanked him closer to you for a hug. He could get used to this. 

“Have you ever done this before?”, Steve asked.

“This exactly, no. Have I ever done anal before? A couple of times. You may need to go a bit slow at first especially since…um…I’ve never had a man, men, as big or thick like you guys.”

You giggle when the boy exhaled again, grabbing your waist, and falling on to the bed with you on top of him. “You have to stop saying things like that. You’re going to kill me!”  

“What, do you want me to lie? ‘Oh Daddy. Your cock is average size and will definitely not split me in half.’” Your giggle turned into a full-blown laugh until you notice he had a funny little look on his face. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I was just—”

Steve leans up, cutting you off with a passionate kiss. “You’re an interesting woman. Eddie’s right. I seriously don’t understand why anyone would cheat on you. If you were mine, I don’t think I’d ever leave your side.”

“Aw…that’s creepy.”, you playfully smiled.

On impulse, he smacked your ass. They never did that first. Sometime a client would ask for a light spank but he just delivered you one he’s only given to bratty girls in his bedroom. He didn’t mean to but something about you made him comfortable.

“Shit. I…I’m sorry.” 

You shook your head, dismissing his apology as you kissed him again. Eddie reached over your shoulder to hand his friend a condom and they both hastily tore into the wrapper before sliding it on. His eyes met yours as he leaned back against your mattress and his hands gripped your waist.

“Whenever you’re ready, honey.”

Nodding, you exhaled the nerves as you tipped forward, and slowly lowered your body to his. You both moaned when his tip breached your entrance and Steve craned his neck to watch himself disappear inside of you inch by inch. 

“Fuck, baby. That’s it. Take your time.”

You heard the metalhead’s heavy breathing behind you as he stroked his cock at the site before him. The sound caused you to clench and a broken mewl left you as you pushed yourself further onto him. 

“Oh my god. You’re so…I can’t…”

His palm glided up your sides to caress your cheek. “Yes, you can, Y/N. You’re doing so good taking me already. Do you want some help?”

When you nodded, he firmly took hold of the back your neck and lowered you till your face was hovering over his. His hips thrust up to meet yours and your mouth fell open. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. I’m going to do it again, ok?” When you nod again, he pumped into you a couple more times till you felt him bottom out. “Good girl. Such a good girl. Jesus, so fucking tight. You feel so good, pretty girl. It’s Eddie’s turn. Let him know when you’re ready.”

After a few moments and subtly thrusts from Steve, you turned towards his friend and gave him the okay.

Hands spread open your ass and you tightened around the other man again when you felt spit hit your asshole and Eddie’s fingers massaging it in. Your body tensed slightly when the tip of his cock rubbed between your cheeks.

“Sweetheart, if at any point you want to stop, I want you to say ‘Red’ for me, alright? Can you tell me what I just said?”

“If…if—fuck—if I want to stop…say ‘red’.”

“Atta girl.”, he praised as he quickly leaned forward to kiss your temple. 

Prepared, Steve’s palms held on to your face as Eddie began to push into your body. Your head started to droop but his grip was stronger than yours. “Y/N, look at me, honey.” When you did what he asked, his thumb extended out to run along your bottom lip. “You’re doing amazing. How do you feel?”

“F-full.” The metalhead licked the pads of his fingers, looping his arm under your body to slowly and softly massage circles into your clit. “Oh my god!”

You tried to collapse against Steve’s chest but he still wouldn’t allow it. 

“Holy shit. Y/N, stop moving.”, he scolded in a firm tone before he realized what headspace he was slipping into and reeling himself back into the present. “Baby, not yet. You…you say you’ve never had anyone as big as us. I-I don’t know about, Ed but I’VE never…had a woman as tight as you.” He flashed you a small smile. “I’m trying so fucking hard not to cum right now.”

Eddie’s hair bobbed behind you and the man knew he was nodding in agreement. 

“You can—mmm—you can talk to me…like you did. I-I-I don’t mind.”

His eyes scanned over your face as your eyes closed. “Hey, I said keep your eyes open, sweet girl.” You purposely ignored him, grinding your hips forward slightly for good defiant measure. Both men grunted at the action but it was Steve who held your face tighter. 

“Look at me, now.” This time you listened. “What did I say, Y/N? Don’t fucking move. You need to be patient, little girl. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, I understand.” At that moment, the metalhead’s hips finally connected against yours. “You…you both can…move. Please, I need you to move.”

The man underneath you released your face and circled his arms around you as he pressed you to his chest. When they both thrusted into you at the same time, the euphoria you felt was indescribable. It was like they knew exactly what you needed and where they needed to be. Each stroke was strong and precise, hitting every nerve inside of you, and setting your body ablaze. 

“Go-go ahead, princess. You wanted—goddamn—you wanted to move so bad. Take over.” Eddie’s hand came down hard on your behind and you hurriedly (and willingly) did as he commanded. Their grunts and groans drove you crazy, egging you on as you bounced and rolled your hips as fast as you could. The obscene sound of skin hitting skin echoed in your room mixed with your whimpers of pleasure. 

It was almost too overwhelming as the ball in your belly began to wind faster and faster. Steve’s grip moved to your hips as Eddie held on to your shoulders.

“Cum, baby. Let go and cum as hard as you fucking can.”, the man under you whispered into your ear. Your forehead fell into the mattress beside his head as they both pounded into you. Their rhythm changed as they slowed, punching the air from your lungs as white blurs your vision. You scream into the bed below you as they fuck you through it, Steve lifting his hand to run his fingers through your hair.

“That’s it. Good-good fucking girl. Taking us both so well.” Eddie tilted forward, placing sloppy, wet kisses against your back as he rolled his hips. He soon followed after you, grunting loudly as he spilled into the condom. Steve, unable to hold back any longer, came as well, smacking his hips against yours and using you to milk himself dry.

#########

Eddie’s eyes blink open as his watch beeps signaling midnight. His eyes take a quick scan of the area, realizing they were still in your apartment. He and Steve were tucked under your sheets but you weren’t between them. 

“Steven.” The metalhead reached over to shake his friend’s shoulder. “Steve, wake up.”

“Huh? Wha?”

“Oh my god, you idiot. Steve. WAKE. UP.” Between each word, he firmly punched his arm causing the other man to grumble in anger.

“What?! Why are you in my room?”

“Oh, you know. I thought I could just use a nice Harrington cuddle. WE AREN’T AT HOME!”, he hisses. 

Steve rubs his eyes before Eddie’s words sink in and he bolts up right. “Shit. We fell asleep.”

“You don’t say.”

“Shut the fuck up, Munson. Where is she?”

As he shrugs, they both jump out of bed. Steve finds his clothes on the floor but the other boy struggles to find his. 

“I know I took them off here.”

“You did.” They both jump at the sound of your voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I woke up before you and noticed your clothes had oil on them from when you picked me up so I washed them for you.”, you softly smiled as you handed Eddie his jeans and shirt.

“Um, thank you. You…you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. I was hungry to I heated up some left-over pizza if you want some.”

Their eyes scanned over you as you leaned in the doorframe with a mug in your hand. You had changed into an oversized shirt with a metal band that Eddie definitely knew and some sleep shorts. Your hair was a little frayed but to both of them you looked like an angel. 

“I mean, you don’t have to. I don’t really know what the protocol is or how this works.”

“Well, to be fair, I’m not sure if you noticed but this whole thing was a bit off script for what we normally do.”, Steve grins as he nervously chuckles. He has no idea what they are supposed to do either.

You silently nodded before turning and heading back out to the kitchen as they follow behind. 

“How, uh, how are you feeling?”, Eddie asks. 

“Calm. Oddly relaxed. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve felt like this since before I got in engaged.” You hop up onto the counter before meeting their gaze. “Thank you.”

They smile as Steve heads for where their things were as Eddie grabs a slice of pizza. “I made some coffee to if you want some.”

“Did you put our table and all that way?”

“Oh, yeah. I cleaned it to. I’m not sure if you’re supposed to use a certain type of cleaner but I just used my 409. I folded it and placed it by the door with your bags. I, um, I wasn’t sure if when you woke up you’d…want to make a quick getaway.”

They exchanged a look as your head hung. 

“Why do you think we would want to do that?” When you shrug at Eddie’s question, he saunters casually over to you and lifts your chin with his fingers. “Let me rephrase. Is that what you want us to do?”

“Do you want us to leave?”, Steve reiterated. 

“Like I said, I don’t know…how this works…”

“That’s not what I asked, Y/N.”

“No…I don’t want you to leave.”

They both grin at your answer. “We don’t want to leave either.”

Eddie starts to giggle through his teeth as he jumps on the counter beside you. 

“What’s so funny, Munson?”, Steve asks as he comes to lean on the counter across from you both. 

The metalhead intertwines his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Nothing. Just…this gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘happy ending’.”

[theminecraftbee]

After forty-five minutes of no word, the three of them finally decide that someone should go check on Tango. Normally, Xisuma would have reluctantly advocated for just starting without him—it’s Tango, he’d probably gotten caught up in Decked Out work, he’d apologize and laugh it off later and wouldn’t change—but he’d seemed so genuinely excited this time. He’d rambled back at them the moment Etho had invited him to join in on the wither-mining. He’d promised he’d try to show up. He’d checked the time more than once.

It’s been a while since most of the hermits had seen Tango outside of his fortress. Or spoken to him for more than about twenty minutes if their name wasn’t “Zedaph”. Or—it’s been a while. That man is working himself to death, Xisuma swears.

(It’s… not Tango’s fault, Xisuma tells himself. He’d meant to have more done by now. The whole Empires fiasco had put a damper on that. Tango’s always been the sort to fixate a little on his latest project. Besides, all of the Hermits get caught up. It’s normal to occasionally go a week or two without talking to anyone else. It’s just that it’s starting to hurt a little, to reach out and get...)

(Xisuma will make up a better excuse. It’s why he volunteered to go check on him. Save Tango and Etho a little heartache.)

(Tango had been really excited—but so had Etho.)

It’s a short enough elytra flight to the Deep Frost Citadel. Xisuma takes a deep breath. He’ll probably have to locate Tango and convince him to come up from the outside. That place is a death trap already to half the server, and Tango’s normally in the maintenance tunnels instead of the main body of the cave, which are a death trap in a unique “largely unfit for habitation by anything breathing” way that Tango seems to be the only one who knows how to navigate. He’ll make sure he’s okay, and then…

Xisuma‘a thoughts come to a pause as he approaches. There’s someone else at the Citadel, standing near the base of the hill, just past where the borders of Tango’s snowy base fade into the grassland.

A few minutes of approach later, and it becomes clear it’s Tango. He’s standing oddly, his feet braced and arms unsteadily placed forward like he’s worried he might fall. When Xisuma lights another rocket, he looks up in Xisuma’s direction, but before really catching sight of Xisuma, he turns around and winces, rubbing his eyes repeatedly.

“Hello,” Xisuma says as he lands. Tango turns to—not quite look at him? Tango is looking in the direction of Xisuma, certainly, but isn’t quite looking at Xisuma’s face. Maybe there’s too much glare in Xisuma’s visor today?

“Oh, hey X! How’s it hangin’?” Tango says.

“Oh, you know, I was just here to check on you. You’re a bit late to our demonstration.”

“What?” Tango says. “It’s—of course it has.”

“Did you get caught up?” Xisuma asks. He tries very hard not to sound disappointed.

“I—yeah,” Tango says. “Sorry, I swear I set an alarm, but if you’re here I must be later than I thought.”

“Probably nearly an hour by now.”

“I’ve been—a whole hour? Feels like longer,” mumbles Tango.

“The others agreed to wait if you’re coming, and you’re already outside,” Xisuma says. “We can get over there in a few minutes. It’s not too late. Put on your elytra and—“

“No!” yelps Tango, stepping back, stumbling, and then, eyes wide, looking around like he’s trying to find something. “I mean, uh. Not used to open-air flying right now. I was planning on taking the nether but I ran out of fireproof potions and don’t have the blaze rods to make more, so here I am. I promise I didn’t mean to be late, I just…”

Xisuma has no idea where to start. But. “Tango, you built the nether hub? You know you don’t need fireproof potions to get to the Ancient City we’re using.”

“Haha, yeah,” Tango says, and doesn’t elaborate.

“So I guess you were going to the shopping district, to get more blaze rods and their portal?” Xisuma says.

“Yeah, uh, then I realized I, uh, don’t. Remember how to get there,” Tango says. “And, well, you know how it is. Even when you have permission to leave it’s still kind of daunting!”

His voice goes high and a little squeaky. His eyes, Xisuma realizes, have had a sort of wild fear to them since Xisuma first suggested stepping further than where he’s standing. If Tango had pupils, Xisuma imagines they’d probably be darting. The rest of his facial expression does the work well enough.

Xisuma really doesn’t know where to start.

“And you’ve been stuck here for… nearly an hour?” Xisuma says.

“Yeah. Man, I got permission to leave and everything,” Tango says again, which, okay, very concerning phrasing, Xisuma’s just going to put that away for the time being though, because there are a lot of other things to unpack here. “And like, I wanted to see the Withers and a Warden fight! Who would win, right?”

He still hasn’t moved. As Xisuma’s talked, he’s gotten closer to looking Xisuma in the eyes, but it’s more like he’s very confidently looking at Xisuma’s chin. He keeps squinting and blinking when his eyes aren’t wide with a wild, lost sort of panic.

He’s also still rambling.

“Probably for the best I don’t leave, though. I mean, I held you all up, I’d hate to hold it up further because I got caught up. I can just go back; best to keep doing my duty after all. Sorry about that!”

Tango turns back towards his base, as though making that excuse was the excuse he needed to go back towards safer ground. Maybe another time, Xisuma would have let that be, but the thing is, Tango and Etho had both been so excited, and Xisuma can hear the disappointment in Tango’s voice. He doesn’t want to be making this excuse either. Xisuma has no idea what, but something’s wrong.

(Well, Xisuma has some idea, but while he may be a derp, he’s pretty sure it’s rude to ask someone whether they’ve gone blind, developed agoraphobia, gotten possessed, or multiple of those things at the same time. If someone doesn’t bring it up it’s not Xisuma’s business, right? Right.)

(He’ll just…)

“…no, we want to do this with you,” Xisuma says. “Do you need help getting to the cave we’re doing it in?”

Xisuma can see Tango warring between the pride that stops him from asking for help and whatever it is that had paralyzed him the moment he’d tried to step past his base’s borders. He can see Tango war between how easy it would be to claim he didn’t have time and how much he’d wanted to see the wither mining.

“It’s all going to be underground?” he says.

Weird question. File that away. “Yep! Inside an ancient city!”

“And I got permission to leave,” mutters Tango. “So it’s going to be fine once I actually get there.”

“I can even grab some fireproof potions from Cub’s shop when we’re done,” wheedles Xisuma.

“…fine. Lead the way. Uh, and, if you could hold my hand. It’s… very hard to know where I am outside of my base when it’s so bright,” Tango says, voice a little small, and okay, so a mix of all three. Xisuma really should pry, but he’s got what he came here for, and it’s not really his business, is it? He’s sure Tango’ll work it out in the end. He’s a smart guy.

“Gladly, my friend. Let’s go die to withers sixty times.”

Tango laughs shakily. “Yes, let’s!”

Xisuma laces his fingers around Tango’s hand and, suddenly aware of just how many things there are to trip on, starts walking towards the Ancient City.

Gosh, but this is going to take an hour, isn’t it? He sighs and pulls out his messenger to tell the other two. A thought strikes him.

“You know, next time you have this problem, you should text ahead. You can use text-to-speech, you know.”

Tango barks a laugh, louder this time. “Yeah, sure, that’s going to be on my mind. Yeah. I’ll do that.”

Well, good enough for Xisuma!

They make their way to the Ancient City together.

[oracle-of-dream]

DSL

Minors DNI

Summary: Jake comes home after a night out with his friends asking what DSL is and why Heeseung says he has them. As his partner, it's your responsibility to be able to teach him thoroughly...

Warnings: Drunk Jake, Male Reader, Blowjob (Reader rec.), Cum swallowing

Wordcount: 3K

It was a Friday night. You looked at your phone, the clock on your lock screen glowed half-past midnight with your boyfriend’s beautiful smile behind it. You unlock your phone and start swiping through Tiktok while finishing up the last of your face care routine.

You wanted to call him. He was always there to be ready to put you to bed, or he’d call to say he’d be late. But you hadn’t heard from him… You told him you wouldn’t bug him while he was out, but you didn’t know how long he’d be gone for either. You remember how happy he was when you agreed to let him have a guy’s night with the rest of his buddies. You couldn’t just ruin his night now… 

You finished in the bathroom and moved into your bedroom. The only sound you could hear was the floorboards creaking as you walked, and the sounds from the different videos on your phone. Jake usually would be playing music or telling you about his day right about now. It felt so strange without him being there. After work, Jake would always come home to you and give you a kiss when he walked through the door. But he didn’t even stop at home to change out of his work clothes tonight. 

After turning off the lights and climbing into bed, you didn’t realize how big the bed was without Jake next to you. He’d insist on cuddling you so close that you’d be at the edge of the bed most of the night. The smell of his shampoo in your nose, and the soft sound of his breathing would rock you to sleep in an instant. But, without him, you were wide awake. The sheets were cold. Your arms were empty. Every part of your home was silent.

It felt like hours laying in bed, tossing, and turning. You checked your phone. Only twenty minutes had passed. Then you heard a noise coming from downstairs. You almost leaped out of bed, using your phone as a flashlight to lead yourself down the stairs and investigate. The sound was coming from the front door. Approaching it, you could hear voices from the other side.

“Jesus, Jake. Who told you to drink so much?” One man complained.

 A different man chimed in. “Can you hold him still? I can’t find his keys!”

“I’m trying, he’s hard to carry.”

“Well, I’m the one with his hands in another guy’s pants. I’d rather hold him.”

“You lost rock, paper, scissors. Now hurry before the neighbors think we’re breaking in or something!”

You unlocked the door and opened it slightly. Two men were on your doorstep; The one with silver hair, dark eyebrows, and a mole on his nose was holding Jake on his feet. The other had dark brown hair, a strong nose, and an awkward smile with one hand in Jake’s front pocket.

“Hi there!” The second said. “You must be y/n, we’re Jake’s friends.”

You nodded, at a loss for words.

He ripped his hand out of Jake’s pocket and dusted it off before extending it out to you. “I’m Heeseung, that’s Sunghoon. We’re all coworkers!” He nodded to the other man when introducing him. 

Sunghoon did a soft bow toward you. “Sorry to bother you so late at night. We just wanted to make sure he made it back to you.” Sunghoon shook Jake’s shoulder, earning a groan from your boyfriend.

“Is he okay?” You asked while opening the door fully.

“Totally, I think he just drank more than he could handle. Good thing it’s the weekend, ya know.” Heeseung cheered. 

You stepped out of your house, your bare feet on the pavement. “Jake, baby?”

Jake’s eyes shot open at you calling his name. “Angel? What are you doin’ out here, it's so cold.” Jake noticed you were barefoot. “You jerks let him walk out of the house without shoes!?” Jake squirmed in Sunghoon’s grip but the taller man shook Jake a little to get him to calm down.

“Please come in, you can put him on the bed upstairs. I’ll take care of the rest.” You guided them to your room as they struggled to get Jake to walk up the stairs.

They let Jake faceplant onto the mattress with a heavy grunt. 

“He’s a real handful, isn’t he?” Heeseung giggled.

You shook your head. “He’s never given me any trouble. He’s really good to me.” You rubbed his head, brushing his hair the way he likes.

Sunghoon tapped Heeseung on the shoulder. “Well I think we should go–”

“Go!? You still haven’t told me what it means yet!” Jake got up dramatically, before falling back onto the bed.

“It?” You questioned, turning to the other men for a clue to what Jake was talking about.

The two of them seemed to get awkward at whatever it was.

“What is it?”

Neither looked like they wanted to be the one to answer, exchanging looks between each other. Eventually, Sunghoon opened his mouth, “I think it’s better if Jake explains it to you. Maybe you can give him a definition when he’s in a better state of mind. Plus…” Sunghoon looked around, avoiding your gaze. “It’s more appropriate for us not to talk about it in front of you. I hope you can understand.”

You decided not to fight it. It was too late at night and you still had to deal with Jake. You walked them to the door, “thank you guys for bringing Jake back home. Have a nice night.” The door echoed with a loud thud as you closed and locked it. You could hear Jake stirring upstairs, whining for your attention.

In your room, you were welcomed by a half-dressed Jake on your bed, his shirt tossed aside on the floor. 

He giggled when you walked in. “Hey, you!”

Your lips curled in as you held in a laugh. “Yes?”

Jake steadied himself on the bed before slowly stumbling his way to you. “You’re the smartest person I know, y/n.”

“Thank you,” you blushed as you caught him in your arms. The smell of alcohol clung to his clothes and you could tell he’d eaten a bunch of mints before coming home.

“Since you’re so smart, you can tell me what a word means, right?”

You shrugged. “I’m not a dictionary but I can try.”

“What are DSL, Angel? The guys said I have them and I still haven’t figured it out. I’ll go crazy trying to figure it out!”

You tried to think. “Do you mean, DSLR? Like a camera? We have one somewhere.”

He shook his head. “Not a camera, they said I have it naturally. And that you love me because I have it… Do you only love me because of my DSL?”

You kissed his forehead. “Of course not. I don’t think I know what that means…”

Jake whined in protest. Clearly, he wasn’t going to settle down until you told him whatever it meant.

“How about I look it up on my phone? If you go get your pajamas on, then I’ll look it up and tell you.” You guided Jake towards your bathroom, where the closet was, and let him get changed as you searched for a meaning. You scrolled for a while before you hit an Urban Dictionary post about DSL. Your eyes widened at reading the title.

There’s no way that’s what they were talking about, right!?

“Angel? Did you find it yet?” Jake poked his head out from the closet to see you sitting on the bed, with your phone in your hand. “What does it mean?”

“It’s not that important,” you said as put your phone away. Trying to think about what to do with the new information you’d obtained. “So, tell me about guy’s night. Did you have fun?”

Jake let out a dissatisfied grunt before coming out of the closet. He had cozy pajama pants with small dogs on them, but no shirt.

“Oh, Jakie, where’s your shirt?”

Jake sulked his way over to you. “It’s still dirty… I forgot to do the laundry.”

“You don’t wanna wear another shirt?”

“No, I wanna match with yours.” Your pajamas were a different breed of dog than Jake’s. Your pants were shorts, made of soft cotton and a short-sleeved shirt. Jake slid his hands up your thighs, feeling the fabric, and moved up your torso. His hands were warm as they roamed across your skin, sliding under your shirt. He looked at you with puppy eyes, “Maybe, you can take your shirt off too and we can be matching?”

You squirmed under his touch, he tried snaking the shirt over your head. 

“Hey! You know I get cold at night,” you pulled your shirt down but didn’t push Jake’s hands out.

Jake squished and pinched at your skin. “I can keep you warm. All night…” His voice was getting deeper, more inviting.

“Jake, no naughty stuff tonight. You’re still drunk.” 

Jake puffed his cheeks out. “Please…” The more you looked at him, the harder it was to deny him. Jake could see you hesitating. He knew just how to play you right. He kissed you softly, taking one of your hands and interlocking your fingers with his. While his other hand guided yours downward until you felt his dick in your fingers.

You pulled away from his lips. “Jake!”

Your boyfriend fell to his knees. “I promise, I’ll be good! I’ll make you feel amazing, we can do whatever you want! I need to cum tonight, and I want to do it with you.”

Looking down at him, on the floor, and looking up at you with sweet eyes. You thought back to the word, DSL. You know Jake would never deny you if you asked, and you were never compelled to ask for something like that before. But his stance in between your legs had you throbbing. 

You looked down at him, caressing his face. “Anything?”

Jake shook with excitement, leaning into your touch. “Anything!”

“Then could you…” you bit down the lump in your throat. It felt embarrassing to say out loud, but the way Jake’s lips glistened from your chapstick was doing something to you. “Could you, use your mouth on me?”

Jake was still shaking in excitement, but his facial expression was clear. He didn’t get what you were asking.

“Jake, please don’t make me ask twice.” You begged as you moved your hand to the back of his neck and pulled him gently toward your pelvis.

Jake’s face suddenly brightened with understanding. “OH! Yeah, of course! I can do that for you!” He put his hands on your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, laying your legs on his shoulders. “I’m not really used to this, so I might not be very good at it, okay?”

You nodded, one hand covering your mouth with the other one holding you steady so you didn’t fall.

Jake took it slow. Rubbing his face on your crotch softly, feeling your bulge through your clothes. He readjusted himself so he was kneeling fully on the ground in front of you, just like how you would for him usually. 

Jake looked up at you, still rubbing against you. “Can I ask why you want to try something new tonight?”

You felt warm in the face from embarrassment but it got even hotter watching him casually touch you. Is this how he sees you when you do it!? “I-I want to tell you something first,” you say as you stop him from moving.

Jake leaned his head onto your thigh, listening intently.

“The word that your friends said… DSL, right?”

He nodded excitedly. 

“It means. Dick Sucking Lips.” You muttered, almost embarrassed to even say it out loud.

You watched Jake process the new information. He touched his lips, squeezing them slightly. “Do you agree with them? You think I have those kinds of lips, and that’s why we’re doing this?”

You nodded softly. 

Jake’s lips have always been very plump since you’d first met him, and soft every time you kissed him. Never once chapped. You could tell he always took care of his lips, and they had the cutest shade of pinkish-red to them. You’d never thought about how they’d look wrapped around you until tonight, but once it was there it was all you could see.

He giggled. “That’s fine then, I’m happy to make you happy, Angel. So don’t be shy to ask for my mouth every once in a while. You always work so hard with yours for me, it’s only right I return the favor.”

Jake tapped your butt and you instinctively lifted your hips for him to slip your shorts off. You hissed at the cold air that was now surrounding your shaft. It twitched, excited for what was next.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to…” You whispered to Jake as he eyed your dick.

He scoffed. “You do it all the time for me! I think I can handle it.”

Jake’s dick was longer and thicker than yours, but yours wasn’t little either. So you did worry about him at first. But Jake took his time with you…

He started with his hand, slowly pumping and speaking precum. Your head fell back at the sensation, but immediately snapped back when you felt wetness. Jake had spit on your tip, which made his hands slide easier.

“Oh, Jake, you’re not bad at this,” you groaned as your hand met his shoulder.

He lowered his head, and you twitched when you felt his breath against your cock. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he gently led your dick into his mouth. You let go of your breath in a loud moan as Jake bobbed his head, his hand pumping the part that his mouth couldn’t reach. Jake was much better at this than he’d let on in the beginning, he handled you like a pro. 

You felt yourself wanting more as you pulled a little closer, trying to get him to suck on more of you. Jake took a deep breath before going further, not gagging once. Your legs shook at his skills. 

“Holy fuck, Jake, you’re doing so good. So, so, good.” 

Jake sucked his cheeks in and closed his eyes as he took the rest of you. You reacted stronger than you’d thought and your hips moved on their own, bucking once into Jake’s mouth. You felt your tip hit the back of his throat. Jake gagged around you, and you knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of a surprise thrust. But when you let out a moan, your hand left Jake’s shoulder and tangled itself in his hair, not wanting to let him go.

“Sorry–I’m sorry!” You whined, but you didn’t release him. The way his mouth squeezed was something you’d never felt before, and you understood more why Jake was always so insistent with you about how your mouth was amazing. He tried breathing through his nose, but another brush to the back of the throat earned another gag from Jake. Which makes you finally let him go. 

Jake slowly dragged his lips off of you and ended it with a loud and wet pop. Then he took a moment to catch his breath and wipe his eyes.

“You can stop Jake, I’m sorry,” you said as you tried helping wipe his face.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to worry about me! This is about you right now, and me showing off my talents.” Jake’s voice was hoarse and you could see him shudder, reeling from the sensations you’d just put him through. “It felt kinda nice. So, you can go a little harder. Just like I do it, I can handle it!” Jake put your hand on the back of his head and moved closer to you. “Just go crazy, whatever feels right, and I’ll stop you if I can’t do it.” Without another word, Jake took your cock back into his mouth and looked up at you expectantly.

You felt close already and didn’t want to finish too quickly. “What if I’m ready to cum…” You muttered.

Jake didn’t even bother verbally responding, only pushing your hand on his head to start moving him at the pace you wanted. Even tapping on your thigh, like you did to him. He was signaling to you that you could fuck his mouth, the same way you would, and the look in his eyes told you that he wanted you to.

You started slowly, thrusting shallowly and softly into his mouth. Jake must’ve gotten bored because he started moving and meeting your thrusts to push your dick down his throat. Gagging sounds left Jake’s mouth as your thrusts started picking up speed. Anytime you slowed down in concern, he’d pinch you to tell you not to slow down. You saw Jake’s hand was working his cock in his hand, the other ranched for your balls. Your thrusts started losing control until Jake was mostly moving. You were just trying to not cum, but failing miserably. 

“Wait! I’m gonna cum, Jake!” You pushed on his head, but he fought against you and pushed himself till his nose poked your stomach, swallowing your entire length. “I’m cumming!” You started chanting over and over as Jake held himself there. Your mouth hung open and your feet slid on the floor as your legs stretched out. Your whole body felt the waves of your orgasm ripping through you as Jake sucked you for all that you were worth. Every single drop down his throat.

Jake swallowed the load with every spurt, with your cock still in his mouth, it shot straight down his throat. When you were finished, Jake slowly pulled your sensitive dick out of his mouth but made sure to suck you a few more times for good measure, earning almost screams of pleasure from you.

“Have fun?” Jake smiled.

You nodded as you fell back onto the bed, out of breath.

“It seems you liked my lips, and you tasted so amazing. Maybe I’ll use my mouth more often.”

You chuckled. “I think I can get used to that.”

Jake climbed onto the bed, kissing you. “Then, expect a wakeup call tomorrow…”

[lurkingshan]

After reading this post from @waitmyturtles about her read on Fire and Dynamite, I was thinking a bit more about the way the show has handled their story and what I love about it. And I think it comes down to a crucial point: Cooking Crush, unlike most Thai bl, is NOT in the bubble, and the presence of homophobia, both internal and external, cannot be separated from their story. This is a queer narrative to the core.

Both Fire and Dynamite are shaped by their sexuality and their experiences or fear of rejection because of it. Dynamite is out and proud and unapologetic about what he wants, and as we learn when his backstory is revealed to us, this is a direct response to the familial rejection he experienced when he came out. Dy is defiant and in your face with his desires because he has already experienced the worst kind of rejection and is always bracing for more. So he dares people to do it right out of the gate. He likes to know where he stands with people, so he’d rather be his brashest self and suffer the loss early before getting attached. He deals with fear by daring people to prove him right.

Fire takes his fear in the opposite direction, denying who he is and rejecting anything that makes him think too hard about the aspects of himself he does not want to deal with. Even without Dynamite in the picture, it was clear that he was trying to talk himself into liking Jane in a way he simply did not. Once we got to know his mother, the source of his fear became crystal clear, and it was easy to see why he worked so hard to suppress himself. Fire was unhappy living that way, and Dynamite was a constant reminder of what he was trying to keep down, so it’s no wonder he reacted so viscerally to him.

But that’s exactly why their story works. Fire needed someone who he couldn’t ignore to draw out his true self, and because Dynamite is so unwilling to put up with mixed messages and half-hearted declarations, Fire had to work himself all the way out before Dy would accept him. One of the genius things this show did in their arc was have Dy pull away as soon as Fire began sending mixed signals. Dynamite was fine in the face of Fire’s firm rejection—it as what he always expected to get from him along with everyone else. But he wouldn’t allow Fire to run hot and cold on him and play with his emotions, because that was where he knew he could get really hurt. And this boundary that Dy set forced Fire to figure out what he actually wanted and communicate it clearly.

Which is why we saw Fire change so much as soon as they were together, because in the process of deciding what he wanted from Dynamite, Fire had to make some decisions about who he wanted to be and how he wanted to live. And he chose to embrace his queerness and live a more authentic life. He is a new man in this relationship because he is being himself for the first time ever, and he’s finally breaking free from the weight of his own internalized homophobia. It’s a positive change and one that is clearly making him happy, and part of him must feel grateful to Dy for pushing him into figuring out what he wanted.

But crucially, that is where Dy’s pushing ends. He is utterly unwilling to make any further demands of Fire regarding coming out, to the point that Dy puts his own friendships at risk to hide their relationship and protect Fire until he’s ready. He understands the fear of rejection Fire is still dealing with because he lived it. And he has already proven that he’s up to the task of handling Fire’s mother whenever Fire is ready to face her. These two are still early in their relationship but they have already fallen into a very natural and easy pattern of providing each other emotional support and stability, and we can see them shoring each other up. They make a great pair and theirs is a story that can only exist between queer characters.

I just love that in this show that feels so light on the surface they have made room for such depth in the storytelling. Watching Cooking Crush feels like a warm hug because even though it’s gentle and funny and often silly, there are real emotional struggles to ground us, and the story takes them seriously. We’ve seen this consistently in the main storyline with Ten and Prem, and Fire and Dynamite are no exception.

[satantica]

how haikyu boys would kiss you

you couldn’t go to bed without him. you were patiently waiting for his return from work by reading a book in a muffled light when you heard the door slam. you put the book on the nightstand near the bed as the door in the room opened. he looked exhausted, the tie half taken off, the top of the shirt unbuttoned, eyes extinguished. he slowly sat down across the bed and carefully put his hand on your ankle. he nervously exhaled as he squeezed your ankle a bit harder. you rushed to move closer to him taking his hand and making him look at you. he looked up in your eyes. there was no need for words. you could feel his desperate wish to forget about everything with you. he was tired and couldn’t ask more from you. the muffled light looked so good on him even though he was overwhelmed. your hand drew his head to you. your neck was covered with goosebumps as you felt his warm breath. he started kissing your neck slowly but desperately. he put all his gratitude and adoration in every kiss. your skin responded to every touch of his lips. it was so gentle, so careful and persistent at the same time as he was scared that you would disappear. he moved his hand from your ankle to the scapula pulling you closer. his lips held onto your skin longer with every time. he couldn’t get enough of you.

akaashi keiji, KEISHIN UKAI, osamu miya, oikawa tooru, TSUKISHIMA KEI, SAKUSA KIYOOMI, kenma kozume

you were studying for your midterm as he was sitting in an armchair reading some magazine. “it’s so cold here” he said unobtrusively. you smirked but didn’t look away from the papers “then put some clothes on.” you could feel his unsatisfied gaze at you. he put down his magazine and crossed his legs. “my love, can you bring me my hoodie? i would’ve done it myself but I don’t know where you put it. I think you could use a little break. I bet these papers got the best time of their existence by getting your undivided attention. your eyes shouldn’t work that hard.” you agreed with him and got up. your neck was a mess after sitting with all these notes for several hours. and as you were passing him he grabbed your hand making you fall onto his lap. “seriously, that was your plan?” you laughed. he grinned getting your hair behind your ear “not yet.” he raised his knee so you would lean on his chest. he moved his finger to your chin drawing your lips to his. “god, I missed them these hours” he said before kissing you impulsively, supporting your back with his free hand so you wouldn’t fall. after a while he would grab your other leg managing to get you completely sit on him.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME, terushima yuuji, SUGAWARA KOUSHI, morisuke yaku, goshiki tsutomu, yamaguchi tadashi, SAWAMURA DAICHI, suna rintarou

you both finally got home after exhausting party at work of yours. you two were a little tipsy as you thought it would help to take the stress off. and since when he hadn’t stop from commenting on everything and you hadn’t stop laughing at every his line. you finally took a break and said tiredly "oh gosh, I wish we didn’t have to change and just went to sleep like that.” he glanced at you while taking the shoes off and smiled. “alright.” he effortlessly lifted you in the air holding you under the arms. he carried you this way to the living room. he laid on the couch putting you on him. he was trying to get in the right position so you would feel comfortable. you tried to resist at first but finally let your head rest on his warm, giant chest. you’ve never felt this secure and safe. he patted your head softly, kissing it every time his hand got to your neck. when you fell asleep he couldn’t help it and carefully placed your hands closer to his head, so he would lovingly kiss them in order not to wake you up. this was the moment he wanted to carry with him everywhere for the rest of his life.

azumane asahi, BOKUTO KOUTAROU, haiba lev, wakatoshi ushijima, OSAMU MIYA, kita shinsuke, KENTARO KYOTANI, kageyama tobio

you were having breakfast and tried to concentrate on the amount of things you had to do today. “mood spoiled from the very start of the day?” he tilted his head surprised by how cute you looked. you frowned and put the phone away “just a list of things I got to do.” he smirked “am I on this list? oh fuck, I’m gonna be late.” he pulled your chair closer to him with his foot enjoying the view and then suddenly enfolded your face with both of his hands. he devilishly suffocated you with his lips not letting go of your face. it was so passionate as if he literally drank all the blood from your lips. he stopped as his hand was sliding from your cheek to your chin. he definitely was going to do all of that it again. but then he froze in millimeter from your lips and whispered “don’t forget to return me this one when I get back.” he left giving you an air kiss. oh, this man… what you had to do today by the way?

ATSUMU MIYA, tanaka ryuunosuke, KUROO TETSUROU, yamamoto taketora, tendou satori, OIKAWA TOORU, nishinoya yuu, suna rintarou

[wayfayrr]

Hello!

If it's alright with you, can I get a spiked Latte and some Christmas pudding to eat in please?

I absolutely love your writings and all of your works! You're definitely one of my favorite authors (*´꒳`*)

I hope you have a great day/night and a Happy Holiday!

- 𐂂 anon (if that's okay with you ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ)

it's more than alright!! welcome to this little corner of our hellsite elk!! (if you don't mind me calling you that ofc) I've seen you over on fir's blog assuming this is the same 𐂂 and it's lovely to meet you myself, I hope you're having a lovely day too <3

I wrote this one as a continuation to the other first request seeing as it flowed well and felt like the most natural thing to do. I hope you'll enjoy your order and your time here <3

[event masterlist]

“My deity? Is this not to your taste, did - did I do something wrong?”

What am I supposed to say to that? I feel like I’m about to throw up or pass out, not to mention the countless things in between. He’s standing in front of me with a bloody heart, all the while looking at me like a puppy begging for approval. 

“You - wh- where-”

don’tpassoutdon’tpassoutdon’tpassoutDON’TPASSOUT

[name] if you pass out here then none of the links will be able to help you, you cannot pass out. Just - just ask him to get rid of it, but he looked so proud of it. 

“Ple- please can you just… I don’t need that, can you… just - please get rid of it.”

He seemed dejected when I said that but he -thankfully- didn’t question it. Just left without another word with a defeated look on his face now leaving me all alone to settle myself enough to try get some sleep. Just - just have to get the image of that out of my head,  else I might never be able to sleep till I do. Maybe the others wouldn’t mind me going to share a room with one of them for the night but there’s always the chance they won’t let me live this down they have gone through worse than I have after all. No, it’s not worth the chance of embarrassing yourself infront of them like that, you’re fine in here on your own all you need to do is get changed and get into bed it’s easy; what chance will you have to get in a normal bed again anyway?

Going through the familiar motions of getting changed is grounding, calming even, throwing myself onto the bed and wrapping myself up in the plush blanket just helps even more. Falling asleep really won’t be hard. 

Mhpm why am I up? It’s not that much darker so I can’t have been asleep for much more than half an hour or so and I’ve never been a light sleeper like this. Who’s in the bed with me?

There’s a hand around you - look at that and then panic. Why is it cove-

“...First?”

“My deity? I thought you were sleeping?”

“And I - I - you… I - didn’t you say - didn’t I ask you to get rid of the blood?”

Oh fuck. Why is he holding me tighter now and… he’s sobbing. My back’s getting wet but it's not blood I hope, he’s just using me as a - a pillow. What did hylia do to him to mess him up this badly? From what he said before…she had to have something to do with why he’s like this. He can’t even breathe through his tears right now…

“Firs- link. Can we talk about - you know - all of this?”

Just more tears and half-hearted breaths. Is he forcing himself to be like this? Maybe if I can hold him it’ll help comfort him somehow. He- he has surprisingly strong arms considering, you shouldn’t be surprised, he probably beat that man to death with his bare hands, the fact that he was tortured and starved in a dungeon for who knows how long. 

“If not now… In the morning at least? Please?” 

A pout and a wet sniffle while he wipes his eyes to calm himself. 

“You know acting like this - it isn’t healthy. I - you can’t go around gifting me peoples hearts - that - that is not normal.”

“... if you say I must my deity.”

I’ll take it. 

Even with the puppy dog eyes he’s making at me.

[littlespacereader]

So I’m only on episode 2 of season 1 of Good Omens but I’m already OBSESSED! So here’s a little fic I whipped up. Disclaimer: I don’t know if this is at all accurate to anything the characters would or wouldn’t do so please keep that in mind when reading. I promise once I’m further along in the show I’ll write a proper fic and open the fandom up for writing prompt request. Anyway please enjoy! 💞

Waking Up In A Bookshop

Caregiver!Aziraphale, Caregiver!Crowley & GN Little!Reader (SFW)

Tw- car accident causes reader to get hurt. It’s minor but I wanted to put it out there just in case!

Tags- Reader gets hurt! (nothing violent, they just pass out), hurt and comfort, accident, diapers, pacifier, stuffie snake, Crowley and Aziraphale become cgs.

Nicknames- kid, kiddo, little one, darling, sweetheart, sweet one, Papa (for Crowley), Dada (for Aziraphale)

Of course I was late! And this would be the second time this week! I rushed down the sidewalk, weaving through the crowds to make it to my job.

I wasn’t my fault! It seemed as though London was working against me. The bus was always late and the walk from the bus stop to the coffee shop is about a 15 minute walk.

But today it seems the universe was out to get me. Even with the bus always being late I still missed it. So I had to take the later bus. Once I got off I knew I had to RUSH.

So here I was…running. The streets of London were packed as always. I tried to maneuver my way through the many people so I could make my job on time for a change. I decided to take a path down a different road which resulted in me waiting at a corner to cross the street.

I anxiously waited for the light to give the pedestrians the right away to cross the street. But it was taking FOREVER! I looked across the street and noticed there were no cars coming. So I decided to go for it and take my chances. I should realize that I shouldn’t gamble with fate like that.

A black car rounds the corner at a record speed. I was half way across the street when it happened. Without any time to react my backpack clips the car, causing me to spin and fly backward onto the payment below.

I hit my head hard against the road. For a moments everything went blurry as my brain and body tried to process what had happened. I stare up at the sky laying on my back in the middle of the road.

Tears start to fall from my eyes as my regression takes hold of me. I hear the car come to a screeching stop and two people get out of the car.

“I told you not to take turns that fast! Look what happened!” One yelled.

“They came out of no where! How is this my fault?! They were jaywalking!” The other argued.

One of them ran over and kneeled next to me on the street. “I’m so terribly sorry! Are you alright? Do you need an ambulance?” I couldn’t even move, my head pounded and my vision was too blurry to even make the man out. I just cried and tried to lift my arm up to him.

“Angel don’t be ridiculous they’re fine-.” The other man stopped mid-sentence when he came over and saw me.

“Tell me, what’s your name sweetheart?” The less harsh one asked as he took my hand in his.

“…Y/N…” I tried to say, but I’m not even sure if it came out that way or not. My head and my body couldn’t take the pain. My eyes started to close and I started to slip into unconsciousness.

“Hey, hey, hey! Stay with us darling, don’t close your eyes.” The first man said with a voice layered in worrying. But it hard trying to stay awake. I kept fading in and out.

The second man kneeled beside me. I felt my head being lifted up. “No blood, cuts or bump yet but they might have a concussion or worst.” My head was gently placed back down.

“We have to take them to the bookshop.” The first guy replied.

“What?! Are you crazy? Why would we need to worry ourselves with that? Listen, why don’t we drop them off at the hospital and be on our way.”

“Crowley!!”

“Okay! Okay! Fine! We’ll take the kid home.”

I felt myself being lifted up from the street and into someone’s arms. I whined without even realizing it because I heard the second man…Crowley I think…start to say, “Hey, it’s okay. Easy does it kiddo. I’ve got you.”

I rested my head against him as he carried me over to the very thing that put me into this position, the fancy black car. Crowley gently laid me in the back seat.

He shrugged his jacket off and laid it on me like a blanket on before he sat in the drivers seat and his partner jumped in the front seat.

My eyes opened a little bit to make out the two. One of them had red hair and wore all black and the other had white hair and wore tan. Both of them looked at me worried.

The man with the white hair smiled and caressed my face. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you I promise. Just stay with us okay, I want to see those beautiful eyes.”

I tried to nod but the slightest movement hurt. But he seemed to notice me trying. He smiled back with a warm comforting smile.

As the engine started with a roar and we started to raced down the streets of London, my new found headache returned to me. I watched as my imagine of the two men started to fade more and more into the darkness.

“Y/N? Y/N stay with us…Crowley this is the only time I’m going to say this but, speed up!”

“I’m going as fast as I can. Come on kiddo just a little longer, stay with us.”

“Y/N?” ………..

“Y/N!”………………………..

Then darkness took me as I slipped into unconsciousness.

~~~

The front door the the bookshop swung open. Crowley carried the unconscious Little through the door with a frantic Aziraphale walking behind holding their backpack.

“Hurry upstairs. I want to put ice on their head right away.” Aziraphale ushered.

“Angel they’re not dying, they’re just hurt.” Crowley tried to say, more for himself than to Aziraphale. Not that he would admit it.

“Regardless I want to get them in our bed and rested.”

“Our bed?!” Crowley whined.

“You hit them with the Bentley!!” Aziraphale reminded him.

“Yeah, you’re right. Right….” Crowley sighed at the reminder of his guilt.

The two quickly went upstairs with the Little. Aziraphale dashed into the kitchen, dropping their backpack on the table while rushing around to grab the first aid kit and some ice packs.

Crowley brought the Little into their bed room and gently laid them down on the bed. But that’s when he noticed something.

“Angel…come here for a moment.” He softly called for the angel.

“What ever is the matter Crowley?” He asked walking into the room, arms full of ice packs and bandages.

But just as Crowley froze, Aziraphale froze as well. But for Aziraphale it was just for a moment. He immediately got to work. “It seems as though the little one had a small accident. Nothing we can’t take care of.”

“They had an accident,” Crowley repeated, “You know that means they’re on the younger side of things.”

“To begin with, you hit them with the car so I can imagine the trauma of it all threw them into their headspace, which happens to be younger.” Aziraphale started to say.

“Will you stop reminding me!” Crowley yelled only for Aziraphale to shush him.

“And secondly the accident is easy to take care of see,” With the snap of his fingers Y/N’s pants became magically dry thanks to a small miracle. “There, it’s as if it hasn’t happened.”

Crowley was next to snap his figures, this time twice making two miracles. Aziraphale looked over at Crowley who looked at the Little, still laced with guilt.

“I just gave them a diaper…you know, just incase. Plus a gift from me after hurting them.” Under Y/N’s arm was now a stuffed animal snake tucked in securely.

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley’s generosity. “I’m sure they’ll love it. Now, let’s let them rest a bit while you help me with the bandaged and ice packs.”

The two spent the rest of the morning tending for the Little. Making sure that when they woke up they would be alright and safe in their apartment above the bookshop.

Aziraphale sat on one side and Crowley sat on the other side of the bed, both looking at the unconscious Little who was now all bandaged and ice up.

“Perhaps we should look for their wallet.”

“Angel is this really the best time to be robbing them?”

“Crowley! We’re not robbing them! I just thought we better check if they have a Caregiver. They better notify them of what’s happened.”

“Oh. Right.” Crowley nodded.

The two went off to the kitchen leaving the Little while they spelt. Over on the table sat their backpack. While Aziraphale would’ve had a softer, more gentle approach to finding the wallet inside the backpack, Crowley just picked and dumped all the contents onto the table.

Aziraphale sighed and started to sort through everything. He grabbed their wallet and then their Little emergency card.

“Ah! Well you were right, they’re definitely younger headspace wise. And it says oh….” Aziraphale stopped, his face turning sad.

“What’s wrong?”

“They don’t have a Caregiver. There’s nothing but info about them. No caregiver listed.”

Crowley took the card and looked it over. “How could they not have a Caregiver? They’re too young to be without one. What if something happened?”

Aziraphale raised an eye brown, “Something did happen.” He sighed and started to think. But in that moment something struck him. “Wait.” He looked back up at Crowley. “What if this is all meant to be?”

“What do you mean?” Crowley lifted his head up to look at the Angel.

“Y/N! Maybe they were meant to get hit by the Bentley! Tell me, how long have you and I been searching for a Little of our own?”

“Oh well…let’s see…”

“It’s been years! But we never had the time to actually sit down and find the right one. Well…” he gestured towards the bedroom. “We found them!”

“Angel…you can’t be serious.” Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Who knows? Maybe this is all a part of the grand plan of things?”

“So I was supposed to hit them with the Bentley as sort of this grand plan by the higher ups to give us a Little…I’m understanding this right?” Crowley put his hands on his hips. Looking at Aziraphale all sassy like.

“I mean naturally we’d have to ask them but I’m sure that they’re our Little. Look, all I known is I don’t care about anyone as much as I do you. But they bring out a new sort of feeling in me. I’m worried for someone other than you. I’ve just wanted to care for them ever since the moment we first saw them. So it must be true! I mean don’t tell you haven’t felt the slightest bit nurturing with them? Making sure they’re comfortable, putting an ice pack on their head?” Aziraphale looked at Crowley, already knowing the answer to his question.

“I might have,” Crowley said as nonchalantly as he could. He took a seat at the table. “I just…I just don’t want to get my hopes up incase it’s doesn’t work out.” It was an honest and sincere response. He never took rejection well.

“I’m going to grab a book then sit and keep an eye on the little one. Could you put the kettle on for us?” Aziraphale asked and Crowley nodded. With that Aziraphale disappeared downstairs to the bookstore.

Crowley paused and watched his partner go. With a sigh he walked over and put the kettle on for the two of them.

After he planted himself back at the table, looking through all Y/N’s belongings noisily. He picked up a plain pacifier and even plainer diaper. Oh no, if they were his Little, he would have to get them some supplies with the cutest designs and colors. He smiled to himself, he would spoil his Little rotten.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the kettle going of behind him. He jumped out of his seat and went off to make Aziraphale his cup of tea.

Aziraphale returned, book in hand. He knew just what he was looking for, “How to Care for A Young Little, A Caregiver’s Guide.” He might as well start to get familiar…it never hurt. Taking his tea cup from Crowley, he made his way to the bedroom to watch over the little one while they rested.

~~~

The first thing I realize was I was no longer on the street. Memories came back in bits and pieces but what came through the most was the pain. Oh right, I was hit by a car.

I whined and squeezed my eyes closed. Just as I gave away I was awake a soft voice spoke to me and took my hand in theirs. “Easy there sweet one, you’ve had quite a troubling day. Open your eyes at your own speed, don’t force yourself.”

Taking his advice I slowly started to open my eyes. Slowly I started to see the person with the sweet and comforting voice. His face started out looking blurry at first but eventually I could see him clearly.

“There you are darling. How are you feeling?” The man with white hair ask me. He rubbed small circles on my hand to comfort me.

Before I answered back I took in myself and where I was. I was in a very comfortable bed wrapped in the softest blankets. I could feel a bandage on my head and a bandaid on my hands. The room was cozy and warm, smelling like old books and tea.

He looked at me with a small smiled filled with concerned. “Hurts.” I told him, squeezing his hands in mine. My little side couldn’t articulate all these big thoughts properly.

“Aww, I’m sure it does hurt. But the ice pack should start to help the pain go away. You’re okay darling. Just a little bump on the head but nothing serious. You’re very brave.” He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the tears from my eyes.

“Brave?”

“Oh yes very brave.” He smiled back.

“What’s…what’s your name?” I asked the sweet man.

“My name is Aziraphale and my partner with the red hair is Crowley.”

“Az…Azraph…”

“I know it’s a bit of a mouth full.” He laughed.

“Aziraphale.” I said more confidently.

“That’s it! Wonderful darling!” He praised.

And for the first time that day I smiled. Aziraphale was treating me so kind for someone who hit me with their car. Wait…wasn’t there someone else? Aziraphale wasn’t the drive…Crowley….he was the driver…

Like clockwork the other person knocked at the door. Aziraphale turned towards it, “You can come in Crowley. They’re awake.”

Soon the door opened and in came the second guy. Now I remember him! He was driving the car and he had the really red hair. He looked guilty as he took me in.

“Hey kiddo. How you feeling?”

“Head hurts.” I lifted my hand to feel my bandages but Aziraphale stopped me.

“No, no darling. Keep them on. They’re to keep the ice pack on your head.”

I sighed and put my hand back down in my lap. That’s when I noticed the new stuffed animal. “A snake!” I lifted it up and admired it.

“Yes, I thought you might like a gift for everything you’ve been through.” Crowley took a seat on the other side of the bed.

“I love it! The colors are so pretty!!” It was red with black stripes. And it was soooooo soft.

“I’m happy you do.” Crowley smiled. He picked up the snake and made it slide up and down my leg. Then he had it pretend to attack my hand. I couldn’t help but giggle every time he did it.

He handed me back the snake before he spoke again, “I want to apologize though. I’m so sorry you got hurt. It was never my intention.”

I lifted my eyes and looked at Crowley sincerely. “It’s okay. I should’ve waited and not just walk across the street. But I accept your apology.”

I could instantly see Crowley start to relax a bit. “Thank you kiddo.”

“Y/N we happened to notice your ID card says you don’t have a Caregiver, is that right?” Aziraphale asked.

I nodded my head. “Yeah…” I looked down, a bit saddened. “I’m fine on my own though.”

“You’re are a bit young, kiddo. I don’t want to think of someone as young as you being on their own.” Crowley added.

“Why I bring this up is…well, Crowley and I are Cargivers. Now you don’t have to accept right now or make any sort of decisions, especially with your head injury, but if you’ll allow us, we’d like to take care of you. Then after you feel better if you’d like we could become your Caregivers.” Aziraphale explained.

The two looked over at me eagerly but was honestly too in shock to say anything at the moment. The two guys who hit me with their car want me to be their Little? But they both seemed so nice and they’ve taken such good care of me when they could’ve easily left me there.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” I smiled at the two.

And they smiled back. Aziraphale squeezed one of my hands while Crowley took the other. Little did I know this was just the beginning of something beautiful!

~~~

My old job fired me but I got hired to work at a bookstore…Aziraphale’s bookstore! I arrive there every morning perfectly on time! I help him rearrange the books, work the cash register and take inventory.

Then after a long day I regress upstairs in the apartment with my two Caregivers safely by my side.

Crowley, who at first was a bit unsure how good of a Caregiver he would be, soon feel into the rhythm of it fairly quickly. He was a big troublemaker like myself! But he also loved to play any game I came up with including dress up!

Aziraphale has a gentle touch, always looking to make sure I’m comfortable. He a huge cuddle bug and loves to sit with me on his lap while reading a book to me.

Today Crowley picked me up and threw me over his shoulder when he arrived home. “There you are! Thought you could hide from Papa? Huh?”

Aziraphale just laughs and shakes his head at the sight of the two playing together in the living room. Once Crowley put me down I took off towards him, hiding behind him from Crowley. “Protect me Dada!” I hold onto him tightly.

“Always my dear! Back demon! Stay away from my baby.” Aziraphale laughed to himself, the nickname demon making him chuckle. Their baby doesn’t know the truth about the two of them and for now that’s quite okay.

Crowley rolls his eyes to the comment, “Don’t you mean our baby?”

Aziraphale picked me up and smiled at Crowley, “You’re right, our sweet little one.” Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a group hug with me. Crowley smirked and wrapped his arms around the two of us.

The three of us hug. Once and for all a family of our own. Suddenly the apartment didn’t feel like an apartment but a home filled with giggles, smiles and love.

[magnorious]

The Reveal that Changed Percy Jackson

*Spoiler Alert*

I’m talking about the Nico vs Cupid scene in book 8, House of Hades. I picked this scene, even though there were a great many in the original series that defined Percy Jackson as a story far more meaningful than just “cool tweenage demigods with magic and superpowers who fight evil”.

When this book came out, Nico vs Cupid was almost all anyone talked about. Why? Because Nico came out. Nico, an explicitly gay character in a book published by Disney, in a rather high profile series. Nico, the little angsty brat displaced from the timeline, comes out of nowhere with a world-shattering reveal.

House of Hades is already the darkest book in the series and, I think, the most polished and successful with this tone and how it feels so complete. While Percy and Annabeth are in Tartarus, the constant clever and horrific callbacks to quests from prior books quite literally come back to haunt them. The others trying to carry on without them, the ridiculously high personal stakes, the drama, the storytelling, it spares no expense in this book.

The Nico vs Cupid scene was something else, though, and all these years later… I’m not so sure it was done for the better.

—

Independent of the Big Reveal, this scene does a lot of things we’d never seen before in this series, namely this: Cupid is scary, and no one expected him to be.

Percy Jackson, though it does have its serious moments, is the series where the god of wine wears leopard print shirts and the god of the seas has a fishing chair for a throne. These characters quip and joke even when they’re trying to be intimidating and Percy’s personality, snarky and sassy and very rarely shooting straight, undercuts a lot of the attempts at looking competent and threatening (and we love him for it).

They’ve fought gods and monsters and demigods and characters have died really tragic deaths, but for the most part, these serious moments all come when we expect them to.

This scene comes out of nowhere and for anyone who hasn’t read the book in a while, here’s the context: Percy and Annabeth are in Tartarus and Nico is kind of the de-facto leader in their absence, knowing the most about Tartarus of the remaining crew. He and Jason are sent on a side quest to go retrieve the Staff of Diocletian from Cupid and Nico is not at all happy about this venture, but we don’t know why beyond that he’s Nico and he’s never happy.

Right out of the gate, Cupid is not at all who we expect him to be and this fight scene, absent of Percy, is suddenly very serious. Cupid doesn’t quip, he doesn’t show himself, and he fights dirty. The god of love, not the god of war or anything we expect to be violent and dangerous.

He’s whispering in characters’ heads, throwing them around like ragdolls, and taunting Nico ceaselessly all in Jason’s POV. Cupid gets some seriously badass lines, too.

“I’ve been to Tartarus and back,” Nico snarled. “You don’t scare me.” I scare you very, very much. Face me. Be honest.

Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work—a quest that never ends. It demands everything from you—especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say Love always makes you happy.” [Cupid's] voice sounded smaller, much more human. “Sometimes it makes you incredibly sad. But at least you’ve faced it now. That’s the only way to conquer me.”

In all this, unfortunately in Jason POV, we’re primed only once by a previous god finally acknowledging that gays exist in this universe. This universe, based on Greek Mythology, famous for its not-straightness. Even then, audiences have spent 7 and a half books accepting that there won’t be any gays. No one is expecting this from Nico.

So when it comes, when Nico reveals he has a crush on Percy… the fandom lost our minds.

—

And I’m not so sure that’s a good thing, looking back. On the one hand, obligatory “we need representation,” but on the other, there was this one reviewer who knew what was up long before anyone else did.

She’d said something along the lines of raising damning concerns that Nico’s entire character arc was now defined by his homosexuality, that this scene frames all his anger, all his hate, all his rage and depression, about this one aspect of his character, and diminishes him because of it.

All these years later, I’m disappointed to say I agree with her.

This book series’ only major canonical gay (so far) is forced out of the closet with a proverbial gun to his head

Now, Nico likely never would have come out without that gun, but the way it happened, especially in front of Jason who he’s not friends with, showing Jason his memories because it’s not Nico’s POV and Jason has to see somehow because Nico sure won’t detail those scenes himself is... not good?

Jason handles it well, as well as he can given that this is Nico, and Cupid is an explicit villain so him forcing Nico out is in-character and not my problem. The narrative forcing Nico out is the problem—that this is a big reveal both to Jason and the audience is the problem.

The book isn’t new and with respect to when it was written and who wrote it, it’s not a terrible scene or terrible representation. But it’s not just forcing Nico out of the closet, either.

All of Nico’s character development is retroactively pinned on his sexuality

I get it. Nico’s… 14? 14 and from an era where being who he is was a death sentence, with zero education on the matter. Internalized homophobia is a thing (though Nico doesn’t actually seem to hate himself for being gay, he hates himself for crushing on Percy. Nor does he hate other gays or the concept).

Nico, though, is the one demigod who can summon any ghost he could dream up to teach him to hate himself a little less. He could have summoned the ghost of Freddie Mercury and what a dazzling mentorship that would have been.

The way the scene is framed makes it look like all of Nico’s rage comes from this one relationship, when it comes from so much more. He’s a son of Hades, a god no one trusts or likes and is synonymous with death, evil, and deceit. His sister, his last living relative, died on a quest as just a teenager. He has no friends at camp, powers that scare people, and is almost a century removed from everything and everyone he knew in his old life.

And he went and left camp *only* because of his crush on Percy? Not for any other reason?

When he does get his crush on Will, that only makes it worse. Nico did have friends, even if he didn’t believe it. He did have Percy and he’d earned the respect of his fellow campers after the Battle of Manhattan. He back-slid in HOH for this reveal, as if a romance is the only thing that could make him happy.

Cupid’s message is the narrative’s message: The only way to conquer love is to face it [in combat]

With a gun to his head, in front of a veritable stranger, instead of in, I don’t know, therapy with Apollo? There couldn’t have been any other way to fit this reveal in? He couldn’t have made his own group therapy session with other ghosts? Persephone or Demeter never sat this boy down for The Talk with a literal captive audience?

And that it’s a “reveal” at all, in incredibly dramatic fashion, a plot twist for shock value. The book couldn’t drop hints in Nico POV? Couldn’t casually state it anywhere at any time in the previous 3 books? Couldn’t treat it at all like this is normal and not a life-or-death situation?

I just feel bad for the kid. Nico can’t be the only demigod who has a guilty, unrequited crush. Cupid is forcing this out of him because that crush happens to be on another boy.

It’s in Jason’s POV

This world shattering, deeply personal reveal, and the character who’s having it isn’t even the narrator. Jason is a fine character and I know why it’s him out of everyone who could have gone with Nico, but this should have been solely Nico’s moment, not Jason’s commentary about Nico’s moment, being a non-consenting voyeur into Nico’s very personal memories about Percy.

Even if it’s not Jason’s POV to retain the surprise, it certainly starts to feel like Jason’s POV to retain the surprise. Jason can still be present, but even then—Cupid needed Nico to face Cupid, not Cupid and Jason.

—

It sucks because the scene as a whole, removed from the context, is incredible. The choreography, the pacing, the intensity of the battle, Cupid as a villain and Nico and Jason’s desperation to just stay alive.

Its impact on the series can’t be ignored. Blood of Olympus is no one’s favorite. It’s a terrible last book and not all that great as a book, period, but the ending?

Among other travesties, Nico confronts Percy, tells him he had a crush on him, and then *immediately* starts pining after Will. Percy doesn’t get the chance to talk to him, stunned at this reveal. They never have a heartfelt conversation about it, what this means for their friendship, how Percy never noticed or how this makes him feel, if he’s at all guilty for potentially leading Nico on and being a bad friend.

We get none of that. Nico just finds a pretty blond boy after, what, four years pining after Percy? One awful confrontation with Cupid and a few lines of dialogue traded with Jason and all his angst and moodiness is cured off-screen.

Can’t Nico go five minutes where he figures out who he is before he’s trading one crush for another? Can he not define himself independently of who he likes for just a couple chapters? He tells Jason after the Cupid fight that he’s over it, but… c’mon, he’s absolutely lying there, or he wouldn’t have been so hurt and upset and hesitant to reveal himself.

I love that he’s popular now, I love that he does have a healthy relationship (one that eclipsed the whole fandom for better or for worse), but the way he went about becoming popular still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Nico did walk so the rest of the series' extended universe could run. We did get Solangelo, we got Apollo being Apollo, we got a world based off Greek Mythology that stops straight-washing history. It's just a shame that he had to be forced out the way he did, and that his whole character is now defined by his relationship with Will.

[thelightsandtheroses]

Between the Shadow and the Soul | Joel Miller x female reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader, Summary: In the wake of your brothers leaving the QZ, you find yourself drawn back to Joel. What follows is something neither of you can vocalise, you are one thing outside of closed doors and another together. As time goes on, it gets harder and harder to keep this divide this though until something happens that leaves you no other option. Content Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI please and thank you. By continuing to read you affirm you’re over 18, f!reader, smut, drinking, swearing, description of an almost assault that is stopped and fears of walking home alone, with that there are allusions to fear of SA but nothing happens, and there is a blink if you miss it element of PTSD. Author’s Note - This links to Into The Fire but you do not need to have read that to understand or follow this at all. They’re separated but linked and I’m toying with extending this in the future if people are interested as I have some ideas about how this could extend into a series that follows the main plot and then into Jackson either as a chapter fic or interconnected one-shots. Let me know if you have any thoughts here as I’d love to gauge if there’s interest. Also, there’s a little Easter egg for episode one in this fic, so let me know if you catch it. Title is from Pablo Neruda’s sonnet XVII. Word Count: 6k

 Into the Fire | Masterlist

Your brother leaves the QZ on a Wednesday. It’s him, Tommy, and the other Fireflies.

It’s been just 48 hours since he said he was leaving, less than 36 hours since you went to Joel Miller’s apartment to try and get him to join you in stopping this. It’s been 12 hours since you have been able to make some semblance of peace with your brother.

You lied through my teeth when you said that you would support my brother’s decision, blatantly fibbed when you said you respected the fact he felt he needs to go.  You both knew you were lying but we both pretended you were convincing. If the worst happens, you can hang on to that. 

Your older brother squeezes your shoulder and says that he’s proud of you as you watch your baby brother leave and you oscillate between wondering whether you want to cry or punch him hard in the face for not helping you stop our little brother from doing this.

It’s strange to feel both hurt and numb at the same time.  You feel too much and too little and all you know is this feels like an ending.

Days pass without major event. That’s the thing; your world can change in a moment, but the QZ endures and everyone else carries on unaware. There are ration cards to earn, trade or covet, jobs to do. 

You throw yourself into extra shifts of work, into finishing that book you’ve been meaning to. Distraction is your best weapon. Your apartment has never been so clean, your work so exemplary. If you’re not too exhausted to think at the end of the day, then that’s what the pills and alcohol are for.

Joel and Tess went on a supply run the day after that night so you’ve been able to avoid them both. You’re not entirely surprised; you knew he wouldn’t be there when Tommy left. There was enough said and left unsaid that night that told you everything you needed to know about how Joel felt about his brother’s decision.

 They’re gone for nearly a week before you hear that they are back.

You can’t quite articulate what brings you back to Joel’s apartment. You don’t expect anything; you’re curious though; curious about how he’s taken Tommy’s departure, about the supply run and what they’ve found or traded, about him in general.

It isn’t Joel who answers the door though; it’s Tess.

“Huh,” she says before opening the door wider for me to walk through.

Everything in you tells me to turn around, to make your excuses but you don’t. You walk inside instead.

Tess has made her way to the kitchen area, picks up a half-drunk glass of alcohol. It strikes you that she’s so comfortable in Joel’s space doing this, that it’s obvious Joel isn’t here right now, but he trusts Tess enough to let her be here.

You’ve made a mistake. The two of you clearly made a mistake.

Tess takes a gulp of her drink and then leans against the kitchen cabinet. “You’re looking for Joel.” It’s a statement not a question.

You nod slowly. “I can go.”

“Don’t.”

You pause in the hallway, nod and then walk back to the table, toy with taking a seat but instead dig my hands into your worn jean pockets.

Tess doesn’t move from the cabinet but just meets your eyes, an unreadable expression on her face.

Is this where she confronts you? Where she confirms your fear that her and Joel are like that that Joel lied, or you ignored my gut and it’s you, you are the one at fault here.

Will she yell, will she lay down her territory?

“So, was it a good run?” you ask after a moment; you’ve always hated silence. It’s the way that silences feel like a weight above you, keep you anticipating something. Eventually something has to break the silence, right?

“Same old, same old,” Tess says, shrugging insouciantly.

“Oh.”

“I should go, really, please don’t tell Joel I was here. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Look,” Tess begins, her fingers pinching her brow, “you don’t know what you’ve got yourself into.”

“I do,” I protest stubbornly because even if you don’t, if Tess says that you don’t know then you will argue until you’re blue in the face that you do.

“No, you don’t.” Tess looks at the floor for the moment and then meets your eyes. “Don’t put something on him you know he can’t give you, it’s not fair. It’s not fair to either of you. Look, you seem like a good - or maybe an alright person. We’re not.”

It’s not that simple, you think. You know all too well that men who seem charming and nice at the start can be the most heinous of them all - that good and bad don’t feel like binary values in this world anymore. You thought you were good once, but your survival has come at a cost.

You open my mouth to protest her words but she shakes her head at you. Neither of them seems bad; yes, there’s an air of danger, they’re certainly competent and you wouldn’t necessarily want to cross them. They don’t seem actively malicious though. Or is that just the version of them you’ve seen?

"He told you what happened?"

“He didn’t.”

“Then how did you know?”

“I came over the morning after - saw you leaving. Also, even if I didn’t, you just confirmed it. You’re not very good at this, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Oh.” You have to say what’s next. “I didn’t - if I - I’m sorry if I stepped into something. I didn’t - I didn’t know if you were together. I’m honestly sorry if you are and I’m sure it didn’t -”

Tess laughs, it’s slightly bitter. “That man can’t be 'together' with anyone, sweetheart, that is the whole goddamn point I am trying to make.”

“It was a one-time thing.”

“Then why are you here, huh?“ She’s got you there.

You shift awkwardly in the kitchen, drag your foot on the floor and try not to look at you. Why are you here? What were you thinking?

“I’ll go,” You repeat, tightening the fist in my pocket.

As you open the front door, you walk straight into a solid weight. It almost takes the breath out of you.

“Crap.”

“What are you doing here?” Joel asks, because of course you would walk into him. Literally.

“I was leaving,” I say. “Sorry I uh -walked into you.” Walked into you, walked into this mess, walked into your apartment in the first place.

He clasps your wrist as you move to leave, he’s surprisingly gentle considering there’s a bruise on his knuckles. It looks fresh. You look down at the discoloured flesh and then back up at him.

“It wasn’t important, it can wait,” you say, swallowing and then looking anywhere but at him or Tess.

Joel doesn’t say anything. He loosens his grip on your wrist and then moves slightly to your side. “The problem’s sorted, Tess,” he says lightly. “Won’t happen again.”

You wonder if there’s a correlation between the problem and his bruised flesh.

“Fucking Robert,” Tess says, a mix of bitterness and almost cheer in her tone that you can’t quite reconcile.

You turn around and look at them both, trying to figure out what to do, whether you should just leave.

He hasn’t even said hello to you.

Joel drops a pack of ration cards on the table and places both hands on the table.  From where you stand you can see the outline of his back, his broad shoulders. It takes you back to the week before, to the way you had kissed the freckles on his shoulders and the way you’d felt beneath him.

There’s some sort of unspoken conversation taking place with him and Tess. She finally finishes the rest of her drink, takes a handful of the ration cards and then walks towards the front door, shaking her head at you and mumbling something you can’t quite decipher.

“Why’d you come?” he asks gruffly.

“No idea,” you say.

“Oh yeah?”

“They left safely, think they’ll try and radio in the next month or so, Tommy said,” you say as though that’s the message you came with, the mission you needed to carry out.

Joel turns and he’s facing you. “Right. Good.”

“Yeah.”

“You uh, doing okay now?”

You’re not sure how to reply to this; you’re surprised he’s asked, that it seems genuine. You’re also not sure what he’s asking; are you okay your brother left, or you okay after hooking up with him?

You nod. That seems an appropriate response.

There’s a protracted silence. It’s not entirely uncomfortable and you’re taken by the way Joel is carefully looking you up and down, calculating, making some sort of assessment.

“Since you’re here, you want a drink?”

“Sure,” you reply as you walk back to the kitchen table.

You know where this is going. You knew from the start after all, didn’t you?

The QZ has a sense of security; it’s strange, there’s comfort in the known, even when it’s corrupt. At least you know who your enemies are most of the time, who’s running the show. There’s a safety in that. It’s when you don’t know who to avoid you find yourself in trouble.

Since Joel came back from the last supply run, you’ve fallen into a new pattern. At least two nights a week you’ll find yourself in his apartment, tangled up together in secret.

You don’t think anyone but Tess knows about this. You haven’t mentioned it to your friends, to your brother. They seem oblivious to it all, each of them ensconced in their own dramas and relationships. Even Maria, who you live with and has been your closest friend for years doesn’t know. However, as she’s a smuggler too, you’re not sure how she’ll react to you being with Joel. They have a loose truce, but in the QZ all connections are fragile.

You’re not even sure how to describe what is happening with Joel and you to them.

There are no words, no platitudes, Joel Miller is not going to hold your hand in public, after all he can’t betray that he has emotions or vulnerabilities to others, can he? How would that work with his reputation? You’ve heard that even some of the FEDRA soldiers are scared of him. Joel Miller is a man whose reputation truly precedes him.

Around others, nothing has changed between the two of you. It’s when it’s the two of you alone that it’s different.

Then it’s kissing against kitchen counters as you pretend the edges aren’t digging into your back, hands entwined as you move to his old bed held up by breeze blocks. It’s fierce, desperate kisses and roaming hands. It’s heat and fire and safety wrapped together.

It reminds of you that Alanis Morrissette song you used to hear on the radio, the one where the only ironic thing about it was the fact that the song wasn’t actually using examples of irony. Outside of these walls, he’s one of the most intimidating men in the QZ, but when it’s just the two of you, well then you feel the safest you have in years.

You wake to a bright apartment. Next to you, Joel is still asleep and radiating heat that as winter sets in is far less unwelcome than before. One arm rests above your head while the other lazily hangs over your waist, his hand loosely entwined with yours. You lie there, listening to the sound of his breathing, the sound of his heart beating. He’s a solid, grounding presence like this.

For a second you allow yourself to indulge. You’re not in Boston, you’re not in a QZ in a ramshackle apartment that doesn’t even have a fridge. You’re in the Before. This is just another lazy Sunday morning and Joel’s here.

You can’t fully picture the man he might have been then, how you and him would have been something different in that world. Just thinking about the Before is strange for anyone who’s survived this long though. It’s hard to remember a time when people would run into a coffee shop after classes ended, when we’d think about supermarkets and buying groceries because there was so much choice. Which of the different tomato types or cheeses did you fancy today, how many types of toilet paper could there be? It’s almost obscene to remember it now.

The reality creeps in too soon.

The problem is moments like this; the ones where you can dream and imagine this is something else. It’s been months and neither of you have defined yourselves, there have been no words, no spoken confessions of feelings. Inside these four walls, there’s something, but outside you feel like he treats like an acquaintance at best.  You haven’t told your friends or your brother about this because you’re not even sure what this is. You don’t know what you mean to Joel. You started out in desperation and shared loneliness, what even can this grow into?

You try and ignore this, to live in the moment, but it eats at you a little. You wonder if it would be the same if you were Tess?

He turns over, removing his hand from your side.

“Hey,’” you say gently.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles, the Southern drawl thicker in his voice as he wakes up.

He props himself up on his elbow, regards you carefully. His gaze is piercing, like he can really see through you even with half-awake eyes and a drowsy expression. You watch how his expression sharpens.

“I’ve got work in a bit,” you say just to fill the silence.

“Okay. Tess and I are going on a supply run later today, might be a couple of days.”

“Bill and Frank?” you ask.

He nods and then shifts himself so he’s hovering over you, meets your lips and skims his hands down your waist.

You hum in approval, slipping your own hands around his neck and pulling him closer.

In these moments, these fleeting quiet moments, things don’t feel so bad.

There’s a louder and louder question in your mind though - what is this? What are we doing? What does it mean to Joel?

It might be sensible, but there’s a weight to whatever has developed between you and Joel. You can justify and understand why things are different outside to when you’re alone, but even when you know the reasons it tugs at old anxieties. Is it you, are you the problem? Maybe if you were more like Tess, maybe if you were different then he wouldn’t keep you a secret.

He’s never even told you how he feels about you. The two of you started in desperation and shared pain - what was you said to him back then? Don’t overthink it? Well, now you are.

 

It’s been a long day; your shift ran long after a clash between Fireflies and FEDRA. It’s strangely familiar; even when the world ends, we all still find a way to fight with one another. Perhaps that’s too reductive though.

Curfew is close, you walk a little faster down the street because you know you’re cutting it fine. FEDRA have been difficult recently; you don’t want to spend any more time in lock up.

 It’s this that motivates you to take the shortcut, to walk down the alley that will take you out closer to Joel’s apartment and mean you probably make curfew. You’re tired, exhausted from a long day of work and all you want is to be with Joel.

You hear the footsteps creeping behind you and your heart sinks.  In the Before you’d walk home with keys between your fingers in a clasped fist in your pocket for just this reason. How could you be so stupid? This is a moment you’ve been actively avoiding since you were a teenager, since before the outbreak. What have you done to save yourself a minute or two?

You’re angry too because why can’t you just walk down a street without this fear? What’s wrong with people?

You can’t berate yourself, not right now. You carefully look around you, try and think of a way out of this. You need to be practical, to swallow the panic that’s rising and get out of this. What would Joel or Tess do?

You’re almost out of the alley when it happens. He grabs at your shoulder, pulls you and then pushes you against the wall.

You don’t recognise him but you recognise the look in his eyes.

Mentally you try and remember the self-defence you’ve learned over the years; you’ve fought more people than this. This is nothing.

It’s just the way he’s so close and the panic and the -

“Let me go,” you say loudly, “You let me go now and we forget about this.”

“But I don’t wanna do that.”

“Let me go.”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’,” the man slurs, his foul breath on your neck. You push him off you and scramble to get away from him. He’s behind you and you manage to grab a loose brick from rubble on the ground and you’re ready. You’ve done this before and you can do it again.

He grabs at you and you raise the brick ready but something holds him back.

“Stop it, stop it! “a man yells, “Jesus, you’ll get yourself killed. Get away, now.”

He shoves the man away and takes a step toward you, hands raised in surrender as you take a step back. The alleyway exit is just ahead of you, you can make it through this.

“Look, you need to tell him what I did, okay? I stopped him, helped you out.”

“I had it covered.”

 “Look, you need to tell your guy that I helped you,” he says firmly.

“My guy?”

“Yeah, now he,” the man points in the direction of the other man who has run in the opposite direction, “he owes me too because I know your guy would have destroyed him.”

“My guy?” you ask again, the adrenaline starting to wear off as you drop the brick to the ground.

  “You tell your guy that Robert -” The name clicks straight away, this is the man who Tess and Joel deal with, who neither of them like. They won’t like owing him.

The QZ is alarmingly similar to high school. Gossip spreads faster than fungus.

You shouldn’t be surprised people know about you and Joel, you shouldn’t be surprised there are rumours.

You are though and you know Joel will hate this if he ever hears about it. About the way Robert already wants to exploit it into something else. A wild thought that this was a set-up immediately comes to mind before you squash it down.

You break into a run back to Joel’s. You won’t tell either of them what’s happened, you can’t.

Joel’s counting out ration cards on the kitchen table when you walk into his apartment. He spins around, a tense expression on his face, fists ready and teeth grit, and then he softens at the sight of you.

“Hey,” you say, walking over to him before getting a glass of water. “So, I take it you and Tess have been able to trade the stuff from your last run then?”

“Yeah.” Joel stands up, his posture stiff and it instantly raises an alarm bell. “So, Robert said some things today,” Joel says in a low voice. “You know him, don’t you?”

You swallow, feel the ground drop a little below you. You finish your water and place it on the counter, taking the time to think through what you say next.

“It was nothing,” you say, moving to him and placing a hand on his side in what you hope is a reassuring way. When you meet his eyes, you realise it though.

There’s some worry there, sure, but more than that, he’s annoyed. He’s annoyed because someone knows about what’s happening with the two of you, that you didn’t deny it or tell him, didn’t warn him.

It stings.

“I didn’t say anything to him.”

“You didn’t have to. Now he knows - or he thinks he knows something and the asshole is looking for a way to use it against me. Are you happy with that?”

“Why are you mad at me? I didn’t confirm it and I -”

“You didn’t tell me. If you’d told me before -”

“I thought you might worry, and I was - I was embarrassed, okay? I took a risk because I thought I’d miss curfew and I almost - it could have been really bad.”

Joel’s face hardens and you’re not entirely sure you’re making the situation any better.

“How bad?” For a second he softens, reaches towards you and cups a hand to your chin. You realise he’s checking for marks, he’s realised what could have happened, his eyes are dark with worry and anger and something else that you can’t identify.

“It was fine, I had it handled.”

“Sure. That’s what Robert said, that’s why he intervened and that's why he now he thinks I owe him.”

“I did have it handled,” you say, angry that Robert would use that moment against you like this. “I didn’t need him to intervene but he did and I didn’t ask him to. Nothing happened to me, okay? I stopped it. I stopped it.”

Joel is so close to you now, hands on your shoulders, eyes heavy. He nods at what you say, more reassured that nothing had happened to you. His head is bowed slightly, leaning against you and you move your hands down his arms to clasp his.

“Who was it?”

“No idea, just some guy -” Even if you knew him, you wouldn’t say his name with that expression on Joel’s face.

You pause before you continue because this will be the contentious part. “When Robert said about us- I didn’t confirm anything - and so what if I did?”

Joel scoffs, takes a step away from you and breaks the moment you start speaking.

“This isn’t fucking high school, sweetheart, we’re not going to announce we’re going steady in the cafeteria.”

“Who on Earth says going steady? Did you ever say that before?”

“No, of course not. It’s an expression. That’s beside the point. The point is - “

“What is the point?” you snap.

”You should have told me.”

“Maybe, maybe I should have. However going off this conversation, I’m pretty sure anyone would understand why I didn’t.”

“You’re impossible. How many people have you told about us, huh? Your friends been spreading it all around Boston?”

“You’re being a jerk,” you say, eyes fixed on the ground. “I’m not asking you to hold my hand and skip along the QZ in unison, Joel, don’t fucking be like this. I don’t know how Robert found out about us. Just please don’t blame me for something that wasn’t even my fault. Do you think I don’t realise that this - us - could put a target on my back? I’ve known that from the start and it’s why I’ve never pushed things.”

He swallows, clenches his fists and you realise that’s his main point. That’s the part that’s worried him. You’re not Tess - you’re not feared, you could be a vulnerability for him to others if it got out. Robert’s realised this, exposed a sensitivity Joel never wanted visible. You are tired though, you’re tired of being a tool for other people’s games.

You have survived too much. You’ve endured things you never can talk about, think about even, to get where you are today. You have fought and you have won some fights and lost the others, but you’re here.

You’re so tired of this though.

“You’re not being fair, Joel.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. You raise your gaze to look over at him again, to take in exactly how he looks, how he’s reacting.

His expression is blank but his body betrays him. He fidgets, how he scrunches and loosens his fist, moving his fingers.

“I know,” he says finally. “I know you didn’t say anything.”

You wait for a moment, hoping for more but he doesn’t say anything.

“Okay then.”

“I just - ‘s not, everything’s complicated.”

“You think I don’t get that? I understand why you want to keep us in here, I get that. It’s just if I don’t even know what we are? How could I say anything to Robert when I don’t know whether there is an us?” Now you’ve started you can’t stop.

He reaches for you, takes a step closer as you step back because if he touches you, if he holds you right now and you swallow these words, you’ll betray yourself. 

“I’m not as weak as you think. I know I came to you and I was upset about my brother but I’m not weak.”

”I don’t think you’re weak,” Joel says, looking up at the ceiling. “I didn’t think it then, I’ve never thought that. We walk in different worlds ‘round here, sweetheart so I have to keep it separate.”

“And I understand that. It’s just that I don’t even know how you feel about me and now we’re talking about it, I can’t not say it, Joel. We’ve been - doing whatever this is for months and I - I - I’m a person, Joel. I have feelings.”

He says your name; all desperation and despair.

“I don’t think this is working for either of us anymore,” you say, taking a deep breath.

You glance over at the breeze blocks below his mattress again, how it sums everything up perfectly.  A makeshift bed for makeshift love.

“I should go.”

You should have gone a long time ago, you should have left when you came to his apartment and spoke to Tess all those months ago and saved both of you this pain.

So this time you do and you ignore whatever Joel says behind you.

It’s for the best.

You scowl as you take in your apartment and listen to rain hitting the window. You are itching to do something different, but you’re not sure what you should do, or even what you have the resources and energy to do.

You can’t talk to your best friend about what has happened with you and Joel because she doesn’t know that you ever even slept with him the first time. It’s the same with your older brother and to be honest, things have been strained between the two of you since he supported your other brother in leaving with the fireflies.

You feel alone. You feel numb.

Hell, the only person you could talk to is Tess and you’re not even sure if she likes you.

There’s a knock at the door. You freeze. It’s past curfew which never means anything good. You quickly look around your living room for any visible contraband in case it’s FEDRA.

Joel’s standing there. You take him in for a moment; the way his six-foot frame dominates the door frame, his wet hair and unreadable facial expression.

“What are you doing here? It’s curfew!”

Joel raises his eyebrows smugly. Like curfew could ever stop him. You bite your lip so you don’t smile like you usually would because no, no you can’t smile at these things anymore.

As you turn away you’re sure you see his face fall slightly.

“Can I come in then?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Since you’ve been together, most of your time has been spent at Joel’s. It’s quieter there, which may be more of an indictment of your own accommodation than a recommendation for his.

Joel stands awkwardly in your living room.  He’s rarely here as you live with your friend so his apartment has always been the choice. You’ve noticed before how every time he has been in your apartment, which has usually been to talk to you friend, he seems to be taking in some of the details, gleaning what he can from the small personal touches. Today is no different.  There are photos on your coffee table; you and your brothers, you and your best friend. Your brother found one of those Polaroid cameras once, it’s long broken now but there are some markers of your life, some semblance of normality.  You notice how he takes in the pile of books stacked next to your sofa, picks one of them up and flips the cover over to read the back. You almost smile at the fact he instinctively knows the books are yours and not your friend’s.

“Is - is it just you?” He asks tentatively.

“Yeah, uh - just me tonight. Maria’s over at Jason’s tonight.”

“Do you want a drink? I have some but it’s not the best quality.” Which is a polite way to say it’s really shitty quality moonshine.

“I’m good.”

“Why are you here, Joel?”

“You said some things.”

“So did you.”

“You said you didn’t even know how I felt.”

“I don’t.”

“You can’t mean that,” he says quietly. “You know, you have to know.”

“Joel, outside of your apartment I barely even exist to you!”

“I wanted to keep you safe, keep you away from what I do.”

“You think I’m safe from all of that? Maria is a smuggler too, I might not be, but I’ve been at risk if their operations fall apart from day one.”

You think about Joel’s words for a second, the ones you’d almost ignored as you launched straight into your planned words and defences.

“How do I have to know? What do I have to know, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t look like the Joel you see on the streets anymore, he doesn’t even look like the Joel you know from those nights, the one who knows every spot to touch and kiss and makes you feel like someone else entirely.

“ Look, I don’t know how to do this anymore, bein’ with someone, I mean. Reckon I wasn’t much good at it before the world went to shit.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I think you’re more than adequate -”

He smirks. “Not that,” he whispers, “You know what I mean.”

You do.

“It’s a lot for me too.” It is, there are parts of your history you haven’t shared with Joel, that you’re not sure if you ever will. It isn’t because you don’t trust him, it’s that those memories live locked away and you don’t want to release them, not now, not ever.

Joel closes the gap between you. “I was worried because you didn’t even tell me someone tried to hurt you. How do I keep you safe if. -”

“I could have told you, but I was embarrassed. God, Joel, I’ve known not to cut through alleys in the dark since I was a kid. I’m just mad that I have to think like that.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Joel says, his tone softer.

“I should have told you about Robert, but Joel, I - I didn’t want to lose you.” You laugh bitterly. “Guess that worked out real well though.”

He puts his hand on your chin, guides you to meet his eyes.

“You haven’t, haven’t lost me. I was - you were right,” he mumbles. “I was a jerk. ‘M sorry. ”

You lean in to him and you’re about to say something back when he kisses you and every word you thought fades away. It’s gentle at first but he doesn’t break contact even as he moves you to your bedroom.

You work the buttons of his chambray shirt with your fingers. It’s damp from the rain outside, clings to his skin more as you peel it away, move down to undo his belt.

His kisses are becoming more familiar, more desperate by the second, as though you’ll stop him, you’ll tell him it’s over at a moment’s notice.

He guides you to your bed. 

His fingers skim the bare skin on your hip where your top has risen up with the movement, then  he traces up your waist to the edge of your breasts.

“You okay? This okay?” Are we okay? He’s asking that too you realise.

“More than,” you whisper, nod, and then wrap your arms around his neck to bring him back closer to you because you need him close, you need him.

He pulls you up to ease your shirt off, to unclip and remove your bra, kisses the hollow of your throat and traces a line down to your breasts.

Joel Miller might be terrible with words, but you realise he communicates in other ways.

He moves his right hand down to the edge of your jean, into your underwear and you bite back a groan at the heat building between your legs as he slips a finger inside you.

You moan as he finds the spot he knows turns you into putty.

“Joel -”

“I know,” he says, removing his fingers and making you gasp.

He tugs your jeans and underwear off, places a kiss on the inside of your knee as he uses his hands to prise you open more as he works soft kisses up your thigh to between your legs.

You buck against him as he presses his tongue against you. You grasp his hair as he kisses, sucks and teases you to oblivion. You shudder against him as you come and he eases himself up over you, kisses you so you can taste yourself on him.

“I need you,” you say, “Joel, I need you.”

“I need you too, you get that, right?” he asks before pulling off his own jeans, his boxers. He kisses you fiercely as he lines himself up and sinks into you.

As he moves in you, he wordlessly tells you everything you needed to know. It’s in each thrust, each sound, the way his hands entwine and interlock with yours as he gets even deeper.

Afterwards, after both of you have collapsed into each other, let go completely, he moves so he’s lying next to you.

His body glistens with sweat and you absentmindedly trace a scar on his shoulder. He kisses your hand and then looks at you seriously.

“You know?” he asks, running a finger down your cheek. “You know now, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” you whisper, because you think you’re finally a step closer to figuring this man out. You get it now, you get it.

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories

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[simplynotcapable]

thank you all for being so patient, here is a small snippet that will be included at some point once i get back to new chapters

The pained awkwardness and tension filled silence of it all shattered suddenly when Rhaenyra snorted. Visenya froze, mouth half-opened to take a bite of (frankly, rather bland-looking) chicken, and flicked her eyes wordlessly towards her sister.

Rhaenyra, though, did not look back at her. Her gaze, tinged with a strangely warm amusement, remained fixed on Aegon’s plate.

“He still does not eat his peas,” she said, glancing to Alicent with a quirked grin, and, to Visenya’s utter shock, the queen’s lips twitched as if she meant to smile back.

Aegon, in the process of methodically removing the peas from the neat serving of vegetables on his plate, looked up curiously and then seemed baffled to find the rest of the table gazing at him. His eyes flicked nervously to Visenya, as if to make sure he had not somehow committed a grievous sin in the past ten minutes of silence, but her shoulders could only raise in a helpless, clueless shrug.

“What?” he ventured after a few more fraught beats.

“You did not eat them as a babe either,” Rhaenyra said. “You would throw them at your nurses.”

Aegon looked to his mother and then to Visenya, seemingly at a loss as to how to respond and looking extremely unsettled at having their sister address him directly, and then turned back to Rhaenyra. “I do not remember that.”

“We would hide them in potatoes,” Alicent said, suddenly, and their heads all whipped around to look at her. “So you would not know they were there. It was…”

“My idea,” Rhaenyra said softly when Alicent trailed away, and the tension grew thicker somehow. Changed. A different sort, one that made it a little harder to breathe.

Aemond slipped his fingers over hers under the table, and she looked down to find that she’d been digging her nails into her thigh.

“You—you fed me?” Aegon asked. She could not name the tone in his voice.

Rhaenyra looked away, back down to her plate. “I used to sing you both to sleep,” she said, as if they should all be aware of it, as if it was not the strangest thing Visenya had ever heard her say. Aemond’s fingers went rigid over her own.

“When the nurses gave up and I was too tired,” Alicent said, swallowing. Her fingers pick-pick-picked at her nailbeds; Aegon’s were already bleeding. “I remember. They would go…days without sleeping; I thought I would go mad if I had to listen to the crying anymore.”

“Like you,” Rhaenyra said, touching Visenya’s arm. “Same as you when you were first born. Wouldn’t settle for anything.

“‘Let me try,’ you said,” Alicent said, as if talking to herself. “‘It always worked for Visenya.’ They were both quiet within the hour, and I thought you a witch.”

“Dragons and dragon babes,” said Rhaenyra, peacefully, “need the same lullabies.”

“Excuse me,” Aegon said, abruptly, and he stood so quickly that his chair skidded on the stone. He had a wild look to his eye, a strange expression pulled across his mouth like a grimace as he avoided looking at any of them directly. “I am not feeling well.”

He tripped over his own feet in his haste to get the door, pausing only to press a kiss to Jaehaera and Jaehaerys’s heads.

Visenya half-rose to follow him, an uneasy anxiety already worming through her belly, but Aemond stilled her with a hand to her shoulder. “I have it,” he murmured, though the look in his own eye did not look particularly sane at the moment, and he rose with a murmur of “pardon” to follow their brother.

(“She sang us to sleep,” Aegon said in the halls, hyperventilating into his hands as he giggled, and Aemond pulled him into a too-rough embrace. “She tricked me into eating peas.”

“Easy, brother,” Aemond murmured, his own voice off to his own ears. “Settle.”

“Damn her,” Aegon answered, and his voice cracked. “Damn her for reminding me when I have tried so hard to forget it.”

“Reminding you what?” Aemond asked, soft, but he knew. Of course, he knew.

Aegon dropped his head to Aemond’s shoulder, clutched at his back like it would save him. He cupped the back of his brother’s neck hard, pressed his mouth to the top of his head.

“That she is my sister,” Aegon whispered, broken. “That we are family.”

“It changes—“

“Nothing. It changes nothing at all; I know, I know. We are as much a threat as we have ever been, and she is the same woman she ever was.” He pulled away, pressed his back to the wall and slid down it. Clutched at the back of his neck with bleeding hands, loosed a shuddering breath. “But she fed me peas.”

For a long moment, Aemond did nothing. He said nothing.

And then, slowly, he joined his brother on the floor. Pressed against him, shoulder to ankle, and said, quietly, in a voice that he would not admit shook, “but she sang us to sleep.”)