#what do you mean it's not sunday what do you mean tomorrow's thursday

[spacemilkbag]

national holidays midweek always mess me up

[lorillee]

like its actually so joever

[lowkeyremi]

JJK CHARACTERS AND THEIR ICKS

basically things they do that make you upset. this is a joke so please do not attack me. y'all already know i never miss a chance to slander gojo!!! credit to my sweet mutual lene (@satorisoup) for giving me this idea!!! GO READ HER'S (if you're into haikyuu)

Gojo

PLEASE. He 100% leaves his clothes on the floor and it really grates your nerve when the hamper is RIGHT THERE!!! and he just leaves them right in front of it. It's so embarrassing when you have guests over and they just pull a dirty sock from between the couch cushions.

Yuji

I love him but I just KNOW he leaves toothpaste in the sink. It's like he doesn't understand the concept of rinsing the sink out after you brush your teeth. You'll finally be making your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth and there's dried spit and toothpaste in the sink.

Megumi

Always. talks. back. It does not matter he always has something to say. "Well you could have just taken out the trash like I asked you to." and he'll say something snarky like, "Maybe if you weren't so soft spoken I would have heard you." BOY SHUT UP BEFORE YOU GET SLAPPED.

Geto

He is a HUGE gossip. "Mimiko was telling me about xyz yesterday." He just doesn't know when to shut up. People think Geto is a very quiet and kept to himself kind of person but when he knows you he will not stop talking shit.

Toji

There are so many things I could say but the worst of them all is the fact that he will wear the same pair of underwear more than twice. "Toji... are those the same fucking boxers you had on Thursday?" You can see the hem line of his boxers and it looks like the same pair from Thursday. He sets down his cup, "Uh, probably. What's today?" ... "IT'S SUNDAY. JUST WASH YOUR CLOTHES!"

Nanami

He's overbearing with tasks. He forgets that you know how to do things and will bug you until he knows you've done them. "Don't forget to take your car to get an oil change soon." You nod.

A few hours later when he returns home, "Have you gone down to get the oil ch-"

"Kento! The love of my life. I know. I'm going tomorrow." ... "Oh, okay. I'm sorry."

Nobara

Leaves her plate/bowl/etc on the table. You've reminded her on multiple occasions that she needs to do it but she just forgets. "Food was great!" She yells with a smile. In no time she's up from the table sprinting to the living room. "Nobara.. your plate." She freezes, "Oh shit right. I'll get it!"

Maki

She snores. It's not the cute kind either, it's the loud obnoxious kind that prevents you from sleeping. You've tried to get her to change her sleeping posture and find other ways to help but it does. not. matter. By the end of the night she will be holding you close. Your back pressed against her front and loud snores ringing in your ear.

Inumaki

Never gives you any kind of warning when he's going to fart he just does it. HE KNOWS they're a lethal weapon but finds it funny whenever you're screaming at him and gasping for air. God forbid he ever farts while you two are in bed because a dutch oven from him is probably enough to kill you.

Shoko

She laughs whenever you trip or get hurt in any kind of way. She doesn't even mean it she just does it. Like say she sees that the pavement is uneven she doesn't say anything and watches you trip, just to laugh about it. "Okay okay okay, I'm so *giggle* sorry. I should have said something, let me help you up."

Sukuna

Thinks because he's lived for a long time he knows everything and then he gets mad when, "This stupid little talking box won't work." (his phone) "This shit is broken again." He complains throwing it to you. "Dude.. it's powered off. 'Mr. I Know Everything.'" He rolls his eyes at you, "I do know everything you shit for brains." You scoff, "See if I ever help you turn on your 'talking box' again."

Choso

He's always second guessing you. He doesn't even realize it either. The two of you will be driving and he's like, "Are you sure you know where we're going? Should I pull up GPS." YOU KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING CHILL. He's just really cautious though which is why he asks a million times.

[miley1442111]

birthday fights & other lies- a.hotchner

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summary: aaron forgot your birthday which spirals into something much deeper.

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem baureader

warnings: cheating, panic attack, fighting, no happy ending :(

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12:08. Your birthday was over. 

And Aaron hadn’t said a thing. 

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1pm that day

“Happy birthday Y/n!” Spencer smiled, handing you a small cupcake with a lit birthday candle on it. The icing was pink, strawberry, your favourite. The cupcake was vanilla, with little sprinkles in it that made it all the more colourful. 

“Thank you,” you chuckled as he pulled you into a hug, his long arms and tall stature dwarfing you in his hold. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Well, I wanted to,” he shrugged. “I have tickets to a play this weekend, it’s in the Ford’s Theatre so it’ll be a bit of a drive but-”

“I’d love to go. Thank you Spencer,”  you smiled. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow night at 7pm, we can get dinner as well, my treat.”

“Thank you Spencer,” you smiled and hugged him again. 

When you’d woken up that morning, you’d been alone in your bed, despite it being full of two people the night prior. Aaron had come over, as he usually did on Thursday nights. He’d get off work late and something in him made him drive to your small townhouse, and fuck you in your bed. He’d spend the whole night convincing you he loved you, only to pretend it never happened the next day. It was like clockwork. 

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3pm that day

“Happy birthday sweetheart,” Derek smiled, placing a card and a gift box on your desk. 

“Thanks Derek,” you smiled and hugged him close. Earlier Penelope, Jj, and Emily had dropped off gifts at your apartment this morning, and you all had plans to go out to dinner tonight.

David had mailed you a gift, and an invitation to his home for Sunday with the rest of the team. Everyone had accepted, apart from Aaron. 

When you thought about it, you didn’t know much about the unit chief you served under, in more ways than one. You knew he was kind and tender, but only behind closed doors. You knew he was intelligent and pragmatic, good at his job, and logical.

But what was he really to you? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? Was this a power imbalance? Were you doomed to never know?

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Your phone dinged and you turned it on, tired from the night with the girls. 

Are you awake? Aaron asked.

Not for you.

What do you mean?

I don’t know if you noticed but it’s kind of an important day. 

What do you mean?

I’m 24 now. You missed my birthday.

He didn’t respond for a few minutes. 

I’m sorry. 

I don’t care. Don’t call or text me again. I’m not just your fuck doll, I’m a real person. 

I know that.

Then act like it Aaron. For fuck’s sake. 

I love you.

No you don’t. 

I’m coming over.

The door’s locked.

We have to talk Y/n.

Read 12:14am

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Knock, knock, knock.

“Fuck off,” you called from your kitchen, ignoring the banging on the door. 

“We have to talk,” he demanded. 

“No we don’t. We’re not anything anymore.” 

“Please Y/n,” his voice sounded a lot more… emotional than you were used to. Raw and unusually soft. Aaron did everything he way he led the team, with confidence and strength, that included your sex life and relationship. Not once had he been vulnerable the way you’d been. You’d spent nights thinking about your future together and the way you’d tell the team. He’d been asleep beside you, or in his own bed. 

You unlocked the door and he came barging in, engulfing you in an all-consuming kiss. For a moment, you allowed yourself to be swept up in the moment, imagining this is what he’d wanted to do all day but he couldn’t, the team didn’t know you two were together. You pulled back and crossed your arms. 

“Hi,” you sighed, trailing back into the kitchen with him hot on your heels. 

“Hi my darling,” he smiled softly. “I’m so sorry I forgot about today, I just… it slipped my mind, it’ll never happen again, I swear.” 

“Aaron, it really hurts that you just… forgot about today. I’m not asking for a gift, I just wanted… acknowledgement. Is that too much to ask?” Your eyes trailed down to his hands where his fingers played with a… wedding ring? 

What the fuck? Aaron had never spoken about being married. He’d never told you he was married. You would never, ever be the one to break up a marriage. Ever. 

“Are you married?!” You shouted. Anger bubbling in your stomach like bile. “You fucking asshole!”

8 months of your life, wasted. Someone else’s entire marriage ruined. All because of his selfish actions. 

“What? No,” he shrugged, then realised his fuck-up. His hands solidified themselves in his trouser pockets and he started. “I thought-”

“Are you separated? Who is she? Did I really just become a homewrecker?!” 

“Baby please-”

“NO! Do not ‘baby’ me! Tell me everything about this woman right now! Do you two have kids?!” 

“Yes,” he answered and you genuinely stopped breathing. 

“W-what? So- so this entire fucking time y-you’ve been mar-married,” you panted, a hand over your chest to try and make yourself breathe, but you were. You were having a panic attack. Aaron could see the signs. He walked closer but then noticed the way you were shielding yourself from him, making your body smaller, leaning down, and ultimately ending up on the floor as you shut your eyes and tried to focus on breathing.

“Yes.” 

“Why didn’t y-you tell me?” you rasped. 

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“What!? I ruined a marriage? Y-you’re getting a divorce? Is it becau… because of me?”

“Yes and no,” he answered, just observing you, his voice calm and assertive, like it always is. 

“What the fuck does that mean!?” you shouted. Thank god your walls were thick and the neighbours next door wouldn’t hear a thing. This would’ve been awkward to explain at the next neighbourhood meeting. 

“I didn’t tell her… about you. She asked for a divorce on her own terms, but we were already separated the first time me and you had sex.”

“So then how is this about me?” you were calming down, Aaron could see it. It fucking hurt that you were anxious of him like that. That he’d set off a fucking panic attack and you wouldn’t even let him within meters of you. 

“I signed her papers the day she sent them over. Because I’m in love with you.”

“Aaron, what the fuck? Me and you aren’t in a relationship, you’ve made that very clear. The only thing we do is fuck in my house! We don’t go on dates, we don’t celebrate each other’s birthdays, as you’ve so kindly demonstrated, and we aren’t ‘together’. You aren’t there when I wake up every morning, and you don’t come home with me from work in the evenings. You keep telling me that you love me but where is it? Where is this supposed love? I don't see it, do you?”

“I love you. I love that you call me out on all of my bullshit,” a step closer. “I love how smart and driven you are,” another step closer. “I love the little notes you leave on everyone's desks,” his hands wrap around your waist. “I love how good you are at your job,” a small kiss over the fabric of your jumper. “I love how you care about other people,” a kiss to your neck. “I love the little things you do to make me laugh throughout the day,” a kiss to the cheek. “I love everything about you,” a kiss to the lips. “And I’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like I wasn't completely and utterly devoted to you.”

“I don’t trust you at all,” you admitted, a sad smile on your face. “I’ll never trust you again.”

Aaron’s heart broke, but he understood. He’d been lying to you for months, what did he expect? He didn’t tell you he was a father, a husband. For god’s sake he’d take his ring off in the car every morning. It’s not like him and Haley weren’t rocky. Had this divorce been a long time coming. Had he only been served the papers two weeks ago? Yes. Had he and Haley just separated? Yes. Did he still live with her and Jack? Yes. What was one more lie if it meant he got to keep you? Lying to you was killing him, but it was also saving him, because it meant you were his. His girlfriend, hsi love, his everything.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” he promised. 

“I don’t want to see you again,” you sniffled, small tears running down your cheeks. 

“Please-”

“Just leave. Like you always do.”

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And Aaron did. When you showed up to work the next week, it was Spencer who was clinging to you like a lost puppy. 

Something must’ve happened at the play.

Now Aaron had truly lost you.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[mariclerc]

Student's secret | cl16

Summary: what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas... or in a pole dance club.

Warnings: mental health issues, toxic work environment, mentions of drugs and sex, uni student reader, denigrating comments, angst and a little fluff at the end.

Living or spending a few days in the city of sin is a dream come true for many people, it is the place where everything is possible, where anything can happen: Luxuries and eccentricities are the order of the day throughout the year and rules and formalities are something banal and outdated for many.

For you it is like being in a cage, many people are forced to lead a double life, one where during the day they do their routine things but at night they try to do something to survive... Just like your case... Being a uni student, it is a bit difficult to bear the expenses of tutors, food, clothes, rent and other things, especially being exposed to the city of luxuries at such a young age, most of the time you find it difficult to make ends meet, so you decided to look for a job during the holidays to, at least, have enough money to make it to the end of the year without any problems... But you didn't think that what started as a temporary job would become a permanent job.

That's why you find yourself touching up your makeup backstage at a pole dance club, this has been your night life for 4 months straight, today is different because you have to work an extra day due to a special show.

Lila, your boss, enters backstage, drawing everyone's attention. “Listen up ladies, tonight we will have a special show because the F1 action in Las Vegas starts on Wednesday, so we will only be open today - Tuesday night, and tomorrow.” she said with a cocky smile on her face. “Plus we have some special people in the audience tonight, so get your shit together or else... You'll be dealing with me.” she said.

Most of the time when there is a big event that paralyzes the city you work only 3 days and the other days you use to rest, but this is enough because you assume from what Lila says, that the drivers will be making an appearance at the club tonight. Plus your shift is only supposed to be Thursday through Sunday, not Tuesday.

You sighed. “I don't want to do this Lila...” you say softly.

She stops and turns her gaze to you. “What do you mean? You know you have a contract, right?” she spats.

“But this is not my shift and I feel too uncomfortable and exposed.” you say. “This was supposed to be a summer-only job, and...” you were going to continue but she interrupted you.

“But anyway, you signed the contract and besides, you need money for your stupid shit, right?” she said and you blinked multiple times. “So you're gonna put on a good show tonight or else I'll make you spend the night with one of the patrons, was it clear to you?”

The patrons are the ones who keep the club afloat, they invest a lot of money in you and in drinks, drugs and so on. In the few months you've been there you've witnessed some pretty... nasty stuff, drugged up coworkers forced to have sex with one of these guys so they can give them some extra money. Luckily for you, you haven't been forced to do anything similar, you just dance and do the occasional VIP service, extra tip and that's it, but seeing the consequences of not wanting to work today, you have to put up with it.

“Okay miss...” you murmured shyly.

Lila smiled. “Everyone, be ready for our customers tonight.” she said and continued walking, you sighed.

You take a deep breath, wiping away a tear that came out of your eyes, smudging lightly your mascara, before stepping into the spotlight. You and your other companions go out on stage, you notice how the patrons are sitting up front with their drinks and cigarettes, as usual, but you notice new faces; most of the drivers are sitting in the VIP booth, each one sitting alone or with his colleagues. The music starts, and you begin your routine, trying to mask your emotions with your performance. As you dance, you catch glimpses of a driver who's watching you intently, his expression shifting from amusement to concern.

After finishing your routine, you watch as your boss motions for you to go the VIP booth number 16, you walk over there, your heart pounding in your chest. The driver is smiling, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes.

He's smiles gently. “Hey there, that was an incredible performance up there.” he says softly.

“Thanks, I... I appreciate it.” you say while forcing a smile.

You notice the way he studies you, his gaze lingering on the redness in your eyes and the light smudge under it. He hesitates for a moment before speaking again... “Are you okay? You seem… a bit upset.” he asks you softly.

You sighed. “It’s just been a long night... Nothing to worry about.” you whispered as you lied.

He nodded. “I can imagine, this place looks so intense.”

You look around the club, feeling the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on you.

“It can be... Overwhelming at times.” you say quietly.

The music shifts to a slower tempo, creating a more intimate atmosphere around your conversation. You stand before Charles and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Charles watches you with a mix of excitement, care and curiosity, his coloured eyes sparkling under the dim lights.

He smiles gently. “So, what do you say, little star? Just a little private dance to lighten the mood?” he says softly while calling you by your stage name.

“I mean... If that's what you want...” you say a little hesitant.

He nods reassuringly. “Trust me, it’ll be fun... Just be yourself.”

You feel a rush of adrenaline at his words. You’ve performed many times before, you've even done private dances several times with not so nice customers, but this feels different—more personal and somewhat intimate. You nod slowly, trying to shake off your nerves.

“Okay... I'll do it.” you say softly.

Charles grins, and you can see the excitement in his eyes. You step back slightly to create some space, allowing yourself to get into the right headspace... The music shifts to a sultry tune, and you begin to move to the rhythm.

As you dance, you focus on Charles, letting the music guide your movements. You sway your hips and let your body flow with the beat, feeling the tension ease away with each step. Charles leans back against the plush booth, watching you intently.

“You're incredible...” he whispers.

His words send a thrill through you, and you find yourself getting lost in the moment... You let go of any lingering doubts and worries and you just embrace the performance. You glide closer to him, allowing your body to move in sync with his gaze.

You continue your dance, incorporating playful movements that make him laugh and smile. The connection between you feels electric, and you find yourself enjoying this more than you anticipated.

“How's this for a private dance?” you asked him playfully, using your confident facade.

He grins. “It's perfect... More than I expected...”

You lock eyes with him, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. The laughter and chatter from other tables become a distant hum as you focus solely on him. As you move closer again, you notice how he leans forward, captivated by your performance. You playfully run your fingers along his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. You continue dancing, letting your body express what words cannot. You swirl around him, feeling free and alive as you lose yourself in the rhythm. The music pulses through your veins, and you can see the admiration in Charles' eyes as he watches you.

“You're amazing... This is better than I imagined.” he says with a low voice.

You smile at his compliment, feeling a rush of confidence surge through you, customers rarely compliment you or the girls. You step closer again, brushing against him as you dance, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

As the last notes of the song fade away, you take a deep breath and step back, allowing yourself to bask in the moment.

He clapped softly to you. “That was incredible! You really know how to put on a show.”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. The energy between you is palpable as he leans forward slightly.

“I think that deserves a special tip...” he says while grinning. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crisp stack of bills, holding them up with a playful glint in his eye. “What do you think? Is this enough? Or do you need more than that?” he says softly.

Your heart races as he counts out a hefty amount of cash that was wrapped in a paper before handing it to you with an appreciative smile. You wouldn't believe it, it was a big tip.

“Wow! Are... Are you serious?” you said surprised. “I can't take it, I'm...” you were about to say but he gently stopped you.

He smiled. “Don't say that, you deserve it! You deserve every bit of it for that amazing performance.”

You take the money from him, feeling a mix of gratitude and disbelief. It’s more than you expected for just one dance. “Tha... Thank you so much! This really means a lot to me.” you say softly.

“You earned it. And I hope this helps with whatever you're working towards.” He said sweetly and that made you stop.

“How... How do you know that...” you said in a low voice.

He looked around the club and then looked at you before slowly approaching you.

“There's no need to say anything, little star... Your gaze, those lost little eyes told me everything I need to know.” he said softly in a whisper. “Sometimes a look is enough to know a little bit about a person.” he said softly and you were shocked, you never thought that an F1 driver would be so empathetic and deeper.

“Wow, that was... Yeah...” you murmured. “Thank you again...” you say and pause, you still don't know his name.

“Oh, I'm Charles Leclerc.” he said formally. “But just call me Charles.” he smiled.

“Y/n” You answered him by giving him your name. You were going to tell him something else, but the bell indicating that you and the girls had to go backstage ruined the moment.

He smiled. “Well, I think they need you in there.” he said softly. “I really enjoyed this evening, the dancing was spectacular.” he said and you blushed.

“Y/n! Get your fucking slutty ass here!” your boss yelled harshly and you shook your head.

“I have to go, but thanks again Charles.” you said softly.

“It was nothing. Take care y/n, I hope to see you soon.” he said softly and you walked backstage.

As you entered your small dressing room you looked at the amount of money Charles had given you and a tear ran down your cheeks. You had never received such good treatment from a customer, the warmth and security of his person contrasting with the coldness and toxicity of the place. You sighed and put the money in your briefcase, thankful that someone had noticed your tearful gaze despite not saying anything about the anxiety and fear that constantly fill your life.

***

The weeks following your encounter with Charles unfold in a blur of routine and reflection. You find yourself back in the familiar rhythm of your daily life, but the vibrant energy of that night lingers in your mind like a bittersweet memory. The club’s atmosphere has shifted, and the pressures of your job weigh heavily on you.

You're sitting on your bed, surrounded by textbooks and notes from your psychology classes. The sunlight filters through the window, but it feels dimmer than usual, you flip through your notes absentmindedly, thoughts drifting back to that night.

“It was just one night… why can’t I stop thinking about it?” you say to yourself, while flipping through your notebook.

You recall Charles’s laughter, the way he looked at you with genuine interest and care, and the way he made you feel seen. But as days turn into weeks, that memory becomes a painful reminder of what you’re missing in your life.

You shake your head, trying to focus on your studies. But the thoughts keep creeping back in—what if you had exchanged numbers? What if you opened up to him and told him what you were going through at that very moment it didn't matter if he was a complete stranger? The “what ifs” swirl around like a storm in your mind... You couldn't fall in love with a stranger, much less an F1 driver, you're not supposed to let anyone into your life.

A few nights later, you’re back at work, but the energy feels different. The once vibrant atmosphere has turned toxic—patrons are more aggressive, and the laughter that used to fill the air is replaced with tension and judgment.

You stand behind the bar, pouring drinks for a group of rowdy customers who seem to take pleasure in belittling the staff. You try to brush off their nasty comments, but each jab feels like a weight added to your already heavy heart.

One of the customers spoke. “Hey you, why don’t you dance for us? We paid good money for this place! You little bratty bitch.” he said in a slurring way.

You force a smile, but inside, you feel a surge of anxiety, you want to disappear. The memory of Charles’s encouragement clashes with the reality of your current situation. You glance around, noticing how other staff members are also feeling the pressure from the patrons, they're demanding lately.

“May... Maybe later! Right now, let me get you another round of drinks.” you say while you attempt to light the mood.

As you turn away, you catch a glimpse of a co-worker, Sarah, who looks equally drained. She gives you a sympathetic nod, and you can tell she’s feeling the strain too. It is causing a lot of damage to all the girls, especially mentally, you have already seen several of them taking drugs in the bathrooms and backstage.

Sarah approaches you. “It’s getting worse here girl… I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” she says quietly while taking a cigarette out of her pocket.

You sigh, knowing exactly what she means. The club that once felt like an escape is now suffocating. Every night drags on, filled with rude customers and an overwhelming sense of dread. Your mental health begins to deteriorate as the pressure mounts.

Days turn into weeks, and you find yourself dealing with the weight of your job and studies because it feels unbearable. You spend more nights lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as thoughts spiral out of control. Obviously, in the midst of all the chaos, you became a bit of a F1 fan, especially keeping an eye on the green-eyed boy who had been so nice to you that night at the club, somehow, even though he was a complete stranger to you at the time, you felt so happy to see him shine in what he likes — something you wish would happen to you too.

One particularly rough night at work, a big fight breaks out between two patrons. The chaos erupts around you as glasses shatter and voices rise in anger, you feel frozen in place, overwhelmed by your anxiety and nerves.

Weeks pass, and the club continues to drain you. But you find solace in small moments—watching sunsets, reading books—but they’re fleeting against the backdrop of your reality. Your mental health spirals further as feelings of isolation creep in.

Tears well up in your eyes as frustration boils over. You wipe them away angrily, feeling trapped between the joy of the memory shared that night with Charles and the pain of your current life. And it shouldn't be affecting you so much, he was just a costumer...

***

The atmosphere is electric as the club transforms for the Christmas season, twinkling lights adorn the bar, and festive decorations create a warm ambiance amidst the usual chaos. You stand in the backstage, heart racing, preparing for one last performance before your well deserved break from the club and your classes. The familiar sounds of laughter and chatter filter through the curtains, but today, they feel different.

You are in the backstage, pacing nervously as you go over your routine in your mind. The stage is set, and the crowd buzzes with excitement. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

You take a deep breath. “Just one last performance… You can do this.” you say in a whisper to you.

As the music starts and the spotlight shines on you, you step onto the stage. The audience erupts in applause, but your eyes scan the crowd anxiously. You catch glimpses of familiar faces—some co-workers, and regular patrons, nothing new—but then your heart skips a beat. There he is—Charles, standing near the front, his smile bright against the dim lighting.

Your breath hitches in your throat as a flood of emotions washes over you. Memories of that night come rushing back—the laughter, the slight connection, the promise of something more. But doubt creeps in, and you feel a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach...

“Why is he here? Is this just a fleeting visit? Or is it for something else?” you think, you can't help but wonder that.

You force yourself to focus on the performance, pouring your heart into every movement. As you dance, you try to ignore the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind... But each time you glance at Charles, you feel an overwhelming mix of hope and fear.

The performance reaches its climax, and the crowd cheers enthusiastically. You finish with a flourish, feeling a rush of adrenaline as you take your final bow. The applause reverberates in your ears, but your gaze remains fixed on Charles.

As you step offstage, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you navigate through the backstage area toward the bar. You can feel Charles’s presence behind you, and a mix of excitement and dread builds within you.

“Whoa! That was incredible! I’ve missed seeing you perform, little star.” he says as he approaches you with a smile on his face.

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you’re speechless. You take a moment to absorb his presence—his familiar warmth, his genuine admiration.

“Tha... Thanks... It's been a while since I felt that good on stage.” you say shyly.

You glance around nervously as other staff members and Sarah pass by, some offering nods of recognition to Charles. You can’t help but feel exposed under their scrutiny.

“Do you want to talk somewhere quieter?” he says softly while noticing your discomfort.

You hesitate for a bit. “Yeah... I guess that would be nice.”

You lead him to a small break room at the back of the club—a space filled with mismatched furniture and remnants of holiday treats. The atmosphere feels intimate compared to the bustling club outside.

Once inside, the door closes behind you, muffling the noise from the main area. You lean against the counter, arms crossed defensively as you try to gauge his intentions.

“So, ehm... What brings you back to Vegas? I thought you were busy with racing and all that stuff...” you asked him cautiously.

“Yeah, well, I was busy... but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to see how you’re doing—like, really doing.” he sighed and smiled at you.

His sincerity strikes a chord within you, but doubt still lingers. You remember how hard it is to open up before and how vulnerable it made you feel.

“Well... Things have been tough lately… work has been overwhelming...” you say while biting your lip.

Suddenly everything you have experienced in the last few months comes to your head, the humiliation, the mockery, the objectification, anxiety, the sacrifices you make to make ends meet and have enough money for everything you need and, without expecting it, your eyes fill with tears. A part of you longs for validation and support, but another part fears being let down again.

“Oh, don't cry little star, it's okay...” he says while he holds you in his arms and caresses your hair. “It's so okay, let it out.”

You sniffled. “It’s just that… I don’t know if I can trust anyone right now... Everything feels so chaotic; my life feels so chaotic and messier.”

Charles looks down at you, his expression earnest and understanding. “I get that... Trust takes time, but I’m here for you if you want to talk about it, I want to help.” he wipes a tear form your cheek.

You feel a flicker of hope ignite within you at his words. The vulnerability in his voice reminds you of that connection you shared—the one that felt so real yet so distant now.

“It’s hard for me to open up…” you say in a whisper.

“You don’t have to share everything all at once with me. Just know that I’m here to listen whenever you're ready, okay?” he says softly.

His patience reassures you, but fear still grips your heart. You remember how easily things can change—how quickly trust can be broken.

“I’ve been feeling lost… like I’m stuck in this cycle that I can’t escape.” you say while looking down.

He nodded. “And it’s so okay to feel that way, we all go through rough patches. What matters is that we can still find a way out... together.” he smiles at you.

You meet his gaze again, searching for sincerity in his eyes. There’s no judgment there—only care, understanding and compassion... Something you've been needing to find for a long time and now a stranger is giving it to you.

***

As the days rolled on, the festive spirit of Las Vegas enveloped you both. The city transformed into a dazzling wonderland, with sparkling lights adorning every corner and the joyous sounds of holiday celebrations filling the air. You and Charles made the most of your time together, exploring the vibrant culture and indulging in the culinary delights that the city had to offer.

On Christmas Eve, you found yourselves in a cozy café nestled within one of the extravagant hotels. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of baked goods, creating an inviting atmosphere. You sat across from each other, warm mugs cradled in your hands, and the soft glow of fairy lights twinkling around you.

As you sipped your drink, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in his presence... Charles had a way of making everything feel lighter, as if the burdens you carried were shared between you. But there was still a part of you that hesitated to delve deeper into your past, to reveal the struggles that lay beneath your cheerful façade.

“So, do you have any special traditions for Christmas?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

You smiled softly, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “Ehm... Not really, to be honest.” you admitted, looking down at your mug. “My family doesn’t celebrate much anymore... It’s just… complicated.”

He leaned in slightly, his expression encouraging. “Complicated how? If I may know.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “Well, my family never really supported my choice to study psychology.” you began hesitantly. “They always thought it was a waste of time, they wanted me to pursue something more… practical.”

Charles nodded, his face reflecting understanding. “That must have been hard for you.” he said gently.

“It was.” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always wanted to help people, to understand their emotions and struggles. But when the people closest to you don’t believe in your dreams… it’s hard not to feel like you’re on the wrong path.” you say softly.

He reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours in a reassuring gesture. “You’re not on the wrong path, little star. You’re doing something incredibly important.”

You appreciated his support, but the doubt still lingered in your mind. “It’s just… I didn’t have their financial support either.” you confessed, feeling vulnerable. “I’ve had to work multiple jobs to pay for school, including the job at the pole dance club... It’s so exhausting.”

Charles listened intently, his brow furrowing slightly as he absorbed your words. “That sounds really tough, I can’t imagine how isolating that must feel.”

You nodded, grateful for his empathy. “It is isolating.” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve lost touch with friends who didn’t understand my commitment to my studies. It’s like I’m in this bubble where no one else really gets what I’m going through.”

He squeezed your hand gently, grounding you in that moment. “You’re not alone now.” he reassured you. “I’m here for you, and I want to understand what you’re experiencing.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, encouraging you to share more.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in this cycle of loneliness.” you confessed, tears welling up in your eyes. “I want to connect with others, but it’s hard when I feel so different from everyone else.”

Charles leaned closer, his voice soft and steady. “You’re not different in a bad way; you’re pursuing something meaningful. And those who truly care about you will see that...”

You looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” he replied firmly. “You have so much passion and drive. That’s something to be proud of.”

As the conversation continued, you found yourself opening up more than you had anticipated. You shared stories of late nights spent studying, the moments of self-doubt that crept in during exams, and the fleeting joy of helping others during your internships.

His belief in you sparked something deep within—a flicker of hope that perhaps you weren’t as alone as you had felt for so long... The more you talked, the more liberated you felt from the weight of isolation that had clung to you for years.

***

The week leading up to New Year’s was always a time of reflection, a time when the world seemed to pause and take stock of the year gone by. The air was crisp, and the city sparkled with festive lights, but inside your cozy apartment, it was just the two of you—Charles and you—wrapped in a bubble of warmth and anticipation.

You had decided to spend the week together, a decision that felt both thrilling and terrifying. You could feel the chemistry bubbling between you—an electric charge that seemed to hum in the air whenever he was near, but with that chemistry came the fear of what it would mean if you let yourself fall for him.

As the sun began to set on the last day of the year, you and Charles found yourselves sprawled on the couch, surrounded by snacks and half-watched Christmas movies. The soft glow of fairy lights twinkled around the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that made your heart race, you glanced sideways at him, his profile illuminated by the flickering light from the TV. He looked so relaxed, his hair slightly tousled and a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he focused on the screen.

“Do you ever think about New Year’s resolutions?” Charles asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You turned your head to look at him fully. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “But I’m not very good at keeping them.” you giggled.

He chuckled softly. “Same here, I usually start strong, but by February, I’ve forgotten all about them.”

“What do you think this year’s should be?” you asked playfully, trying to keep the conversation light.

He pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing adorably. “Maybe something like… be more spontaneous? Or try to embrace change?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Embrace change? That sounds deep!”

“Yeah, well.” he said with a shrug. “I think it’s important to be open to new experiences, you never know what could happen.”

His words struck a chord within you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was hinting at something more—something between the two of you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

“What about you?” he asked, turning the question back to you. “What do you want for this coming year?”

You hesitated, your heart racing as you considered your answer. Part of you wanted to say something lighthearted, but another part yearned for honesty.

“I guess… I want to be braver.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Braver?” he echoed, his gaze intense as he studied your face. “In what way?”

You swallowed hard, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. “In life… in love.” you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve always been scared of getting hurt, so I hold back.”

He nodded slowly, understanding washing over his features. “That makes sense.” he said softly. “It’s hard to let someone in when you’re afraid of what might happen.”

You felt a connection deepen between you in that moment—a shared understanding of vulnerability that made your heart ache with longing.

“Exactly.” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “But I think… maybe I want to try.”

Charles’s expression softened as he leaned closer to you, his eyes searching yours for something unspoken. “Try what?” he asked gently.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your words hang in the air between you. “Try to let myself feel more… to let someone in.” Your heart raced as you said it, the truth spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He held your gaze steadily, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded away until it was just the two of you—two souls intertwined in a moment of raw honesty.

“I’d like that.” he said finally, his voice low and sincere. “I’d like to be that person for you.”

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his words, but with it came a wave of fear... What if this was too much? What if falling for him meant risking everything? You pulled back slightly, breaking eye contact as uncertainty clouded your mind.

“Charles…” you started, but he interrupted gently.

“Hey.” he said softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent sparks through your skin, and you shivered involuntarily at his closeness. “We don’t have to rush into anything, I just want you to know that I’m here.”

His sincerity made your heart swell and ache all at once. You wanted so desperately to lean into him—to let yourself fall into this beautiful connection—but fear held you back like an anchor.

“Can we just… take it slow?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

“Of course we can do that.” he replied without hesitation. “I’d never want to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

You smiled gratefully at him, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Maybe this was enough for now—just being here together, exploring this slow burn without any pressure or expectations.

As the evening wore on and the clock ticked closer to midnight, you found yourselves lost in conversation—sharing stories about childhood dreams and future aspirations, laughter punctuating each moment as the bond between you deepened.

At one point, Charles reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his touch sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and for a moment, all your fears faded away.

As midnight approached, the anticipation in the air grew thick with excitement. You settled back against the couch, feeling giddy as Charles pulled out his phone to check the time.

“Just a few minutes left!” he exclaimed with a grin.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him; his enthusiasm was infectious. He glanced at you then, his expression softening as he leaned closer again.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, his eyes locked onto yours.

“For what?” you asked teasingly.

“For whatever comes next.” he replied earnestly.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words—so simple yet so profound. In that moment, everything felt possible. You nodded slowly, feeling a rush of courage wash over you.

“Yes...” you whispered.

As the countdown began on TV, excitement bubbled between you like champagne ready to overflow. With each passing second, your heart raced faster until finally…

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The room erupted in cheers from the television as confetti fell on-screen and fireworks lit up the sky outside your window. But all that mattered was Charles—his eyes sparkling with joy as he turned to face you.

And then it happened: he leaned in closer and pressed his lips against yours—a soft yet electrifying kiss that sent shivers down your spine. It was tentative yet filled with promise; a beautiful beginning wrapped in hope and possibility.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him back, savoring the sweet taste of new beginnings and uncharted territory. In that moment, all your fears melted away as if they had never existed at all.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, Charles smiled at you—a smile that lit up his entire face and made your heart soar.

“Happy New Year, petite étoile.” he murmured softly. (little star)

“Happy New Year charlie.” you echoed, feeling lighter than air as hope blossomed within you—a hope for what this year might bring and for the journey ahead with him by your side.

And as fireworks exploded outside your window, illuminating the night sky with vibrant colors, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe—just maybe—you were ready to embrace whatever came next together.

***

The days turned into weeks, and your bond with Charles deepened in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Each moment spent together felt like a new adventure, filled with laughter, shared secrets, and the warmth of companionship.

One evening, after a delightful dinner at a cozy restaurant, you found yourselves walking along the waterfront, the moonlight shimmering on the water's surface. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine, you felt a sense of peace wash over you as you strolled side by side, your fingers intertwined.

As you walked, Charles suddenly stopped, turning to face you with a serious expression that caught you off guard. “Can we talk about something?” he asked, his voice low and earnest.

Your heart raced slightly as you nodded. “Of course babe! What’s on your mind?”

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us—about how much I care for you. You mean more to me than I can express.” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I want to take care of you in every way possible.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, unsure where this conversation was leading but intrigued nonetheless. “What do you mean?” you asked softly.

Charles stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I want to be your sugar daddy.” he said, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “And I know it sounds weird, but it's not in a bad way, I mean, I want to support you while you study psychology, to help you leave behind all the stress and worries that weigh you down.”

Your mind raced as you processed his words. The idea of having someone like Charles in your life—someone who wanted to provide for you, who believed in your dreams and aspirations—was both exhilarating and daunting.

“Are you serious?” you managed to ask, your heart pounding.

“Absolutely!” he replied without hesitation. “I want us to build a life together. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I believe we could be so much more than what we are now.” He paused, gauging your reaction before continuing. “I want you to move out of Las Vegas and come with me to Monaco.”

The mention of Monaco sent a thrill through you. The thought of leaving behind the familiar chaos of city life for a place known for its beauty and luxury was intoxicating, but it also brought a wave of uncertainty.

“Monaco? That’s such a big step, Charles.” you said, trying to process everything. “But... What about my studies?” you asked softly.

Charles smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course you can continue your studies there! They have excellent universities, and I’ll make sure you have everything you need to succeed.” he said softly at you.

His words resonated deep within you, igniting a spark of hope and excitement that had long been dormant. The idea of pursuing your passion for psychology without the burden of financial stress felt like a dream come true.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” you asked, vulnerability creeping into your voice. “What if I can’t adjust?”

Charles cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and reassuring. “Life is about taking risks, isn't it? And I believe in us—more than anything else in this world! I promise to be there every step of the way, you won’t be alone; we’ll figure it out together.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, and for the first time, you felt the weight of your worries begin to lift. The thought of embarking on this journey with him filled you with a sense of possibility.

“Okay.” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try.”

A radiant smile broke across Charles’s face as he pulled you into his arms, enveloping you in warmth and safety. “You won’t regret this, mon amour.” he whispered against your hair. (my love)

In that moment, everything felt so right to you... The world around you faded away as he held you close, and all that mattered was the connection between the two of you—a bond that had grown from two strangers into something deeper and more profound...

As the stars twinkled above like diamonds scattered across the night sky, you knew that this was just the beginning of an incredible journey together—one filled with love, adventure, and the promise of a brighter future.

***

The soft hum of the city outside your window filled the room as the moonlight spilled in, casting a silvery glow over your study room. You had been immersed in your psychology textbooks, determined to master the material before your upcoming class. However, fatigue had crept in, and before you knew it, you had succumbed to sleep, your head resting on your notes, surrounded by the comforting chaos of your studies.

Charles had just returned from a long day of meetings with sponsors, his mind still buzzing with the events of the day. He was looking forward to spending time with you, but as he stepped into your study room, he was met with a scene that made his heart swell... There you were, curled up on the desk, your little stuffed bear nestled beside you, as if it were standing guard while you slept.

A soft smile spread across his face at the sight. “Well, well, if it isn’t my little Sleepy Scholar.” he whispered affectionately, approaching you with quiet steps. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he began to pick up the scattered books, papers and highlighters on the table. “You really should consider changing your name to ‘Overworked Wonder.'” he teased gently, glancing down at your peaceful expression.

As he organized your notes, he found himself admiring how well you had adapted to life in Monaco. You had embraced the city with open arms, exploring its beauty and charm while pursuing your studies with unwavering determination. It filled him with pride and love to see you thriving after everything you had faced back in Vegas.

His fingers brushed against the plush bear, and he couldn’t resist giving it a gentle squeeze. “And look who’s here to protect my precious girl, hm?” he said with a playful grin. “You’re doing a fantastic job, Mr. Bear!”

With everything neatly arranged, he turned his attention back to you. The sight of you sleeping so soundly tugged at his heartstrings. He knew how hard you had been working and how much this new chapter meant to you, he wanted nothing more than to take care of you, to ensure that you felt safe and loved in this new place.

Gently, he slipped his arms under your body, lifting you effortlessly from the desk. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake as he cradled you against him. “Time for bed, my little scholar.” he murmured softly, the warmth of your body against his bringing him a sense of peace. “You need a deserved rest in a comfy bed.”

He carried you to the bedroom, the soft sound of his footsteps barely audible over the gentle lapping of waves outside. As he laid you down on the bed, he carefully tucked the covers around you, ensuring that you were warm and comfortable. The plush bear found its place beside you once more, as if it were keeping watch over you in your dreams.

Charles took a moment to admire you—your features relaxed in sleep, a serene expression gracing your face. The love he felt for you swelled within him as he brushed a stray hair away from your forehead. “Sweet dreams, my love.” he whispered softly before slipping into bed beside you.

As he settled in next to you, the day’s exhaustion caught up with him. He turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand and watching you sleep for a moment longer. The way you breathed peacefully filled him with an overwhelming sense of contentment, It felt like everything was right in the world.

But soon enough, the weight of fatigue pulled at him too. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of the bed and the comfort of your presence. As sleep enveloped him, dreams began to weave their way into his mind—visions of laughter-filled days exploring Monaco’s stunning coastline together, quiet evenings spent sharing stories under starlit skies, and a future filled with love and promise.

In that shared moment of tranquility, two hearts beat as one—connected by love and trust, embracing the beauty of their journey together. The world outside faded away as they drifted into a peaceful slumber, knowing that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead side by side.

As the night wore on, Charles found himself wrapped in dreams filled with laughter and light—a reflection of the joy you brought into his life. And in that serene space, both of you slept soundly, cocooned in warmth and love in your new home in Monaco.

[jolalibrary]

a debt to pay

frankie morales x f!reader | masterlist

summary: you surprise frankie by coming home earlier than planned, answering the door a-la-fake-porn like, making him drag you to your bedroom.

warnings: smut. established relationship. praise kink. minor (and I mean brief) hand necklace. dirty talk. okay, frankie likes to talk kink. cowgirl riding for iwd. and the pizza goes cold (felt it needed a warning) wordcount: 4.8k an: to the wonderful, amazing @morallyinept - happy international women's day! i hope frankie treating you right is what you had on your bucket list for the day. but if not, just know you inspire me, and i'm grateful for your friendship every day. and ily.

Nothing should surprise him.

He’s seen a lot. A thing some could argue is far too much. In some ways, they’re right.

Frankie isn’t sure people who weren’t doctors should know the exact hue of red that blood is—shouldn’t know the pain from a bullet grazing his shoulder, catching flesh and ruining cloth.

Still, he found himself continually surprised—especially the night he met you.

Falling into him, into his life. Disrupting his days from bleeding into the next, knocking things off their axis. Change should be scary, but it was all welcomed, just not in a way he’d ever thought he’d earned.

Somehow, amidst the chaos you brought with you, you also handed him harmony. You made the corners of his world slot together. Slowly, he even found himself anchoring down to brick and mortar, and calling it ‘home’ for the first time since he’d originally left his for battles and fighting.

In time, even as months became a year, your things found their way to be with his, Frankie had assumed he’d seen everything. Happy to accept it, the routine, the complacency. He looked forward to lazy Sunday mornings with his fingers inside yours, toes curling; Thursday nights in a bar, watching a line appear on your brow as you scoured your brain for an answer to the trivia question.

He liked it, adored it.

And then you opened the front door for him.

Flooding him in golden light that makes him squint, before he finds himself reminded, quickly, he hasn’t seen it all. Not even by a margin.

Because you're not supposed to be here, due back tomorrow.

Your voice on the phone earlier muted, low, "I miss you, Morales," as he stares at your untouched, clean mug on the kitchen counter.

Yet, here you stand. All veiled in barely anything except bits of lace and sheer, a sight his eyes aren't able to tear away from even if he tries. Not even the dryness in his throat or the warmth emanating from the pizza box he's holding (attempting to sear his skin to his palm) is bothering him.

"Bab—"

His words are cut short, ended.

"Oh," you gasp. “Let me take that; and how much do I owe you?”

On registering your words, his eyes narrow, staring.

Doing so from one eye to the next. It taking a while, brain firing, ticking over, taking precious seconds as he remains out in the cold and you stand in the warmth in barely fucking anything, before it dawns on him. Crawls up over him as realises what it is you’re pretending to do, what you're reenacting.

Lips lifting, curling into one of his cheeks he steps in through the doorway. Almost over the threshold, easily able to take another step and close the door behind him.

But he waits.

Fingers twitch at his side, Frankie swallows, eyes dropping, tracing up the bare backs of your thighs as you bend over. Because fuck, you're something beautiful. A thing he always thinks, but finds himself reminded in waves as they crash into him.

Raising his hand, he itches across his chin, scratching along the wiry hair there as his gaze drops to the thin fabric protecting the last bit of your modesty as you and the bits of lace spread across your ass—

“I only have card—unless, I can pay you in another way?”

This shouldn’t be real.

You, like this. Him, standing like this. Not even as he steps inside, eyes trained on you—forgetting what words even mean—as you bend over.

A low exhale escapes, lips remaining parted as he fights to place his palm on the back of your thigh—stops himself from hooking a finger in the band of your underwear and dragging it down your thighs, bending you over the sofa, and burying his—

“I would really like to pay you in some way.”

Your words are almost lost due to the way his pulse has quickened in his ears, thundering, pounding. Feeling nothing but discomfort as his cock hardens against the zip of his pants as you bite down on your lip.

Brain quiet, no thoughts, all rendered silent by your appearance. Only able to shift enough to discard his cap, his jacket—folding it over the back of the sofa, eyes drawing out over you as he takes a step closer. Fingers finding his wrist, pinching, making sure this isn't some dream he hasn't woken up from.

But he can smell the present. The glorious cheese and several toppings, even if devouring the pizza are long forgotten. Because his eyes are raking over you, because how could he not—especially now as you straighten up, softly wiggling your hips.

"Is that so?” his voice rough, words catching. Letters clagging at the back of his teeth as though they attempted to glue to his mouth.

He's aware the three words are stained with want—a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips as you turn to face him, knowing it too.

But then, you always do know. Having long figured him out.

Like always, your eyes meet his in a way he can never explain, no words to articulate, to explain—just shared understanding dancing between the two of you.

“It’s only right,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, your fingers reaching out to trace his wire-stubbled jawline. “It’s bad of me to order food and not have the money to pay.”

He catches your wrist, gently but firmly. Pulling you close, steadying you with the other at your waist. Hearing it, the gasp, the briefest of indications you'd been caught by surprise, as he brushes his fingers against the fabric, all unable to stop themself. Half-needing to know what it feels like, as his thumb smooths out, taking his time—forcing the tension to buzz in the air as he leans closer. The distance you small, minimal—almost non-existent—as his breath hitches in his throat.

“You know what you’re getting into?” his voice a low growl, strained.

His gaze locked on you, watching you bite on your lower lip. “I really don’t like being in debt.”

It’s low, the way he replies. Short, two words: okay baby, before he’s leading, guiding, pecking kisses on your lips that likely leave you disorientated. It thrumming in his veins, the fact he gets to undo you, peel off the thin fabric you’ve likely had stuffed at the back of the closet—or even purchased with him in mind on your trip, thighs pressed together, wondering, finger and thumb stroking it as you imagine if he'd rip it off or slowly slide it from you.

He's not sure himself.

A part of him wishes to snap it from your frame in front of open blinds and undrawn curtains. To place his palm on your ass and taste your gasp on his tongue.

But another, the part which has missed you, wishes to wait. Make you wait. Wants to drag it out as long as humanly possible, have you soaked, wet, needy and desperate.

Because Frankie wonders if you've imagined this. Or, if you plotted it or it came to you randomly.

He gets an answer to it when the two of you are behind another door—one more private, intimate.

And it feels different in the bedroom than it did out in the living room.

The lighting being one of the reasons.

In here, you had opted for a darker shade when you’d both redecorated. Told him you preferred it, and had given him a shrug and a smile as you did. It had been a while later when he’d learned it was for him. For his eyes, for the sleep he struggled to grasp. It’ll help, I think? Saying it to him as though it wasn’t the kindest fucking thing someone had done for him.

But then, you are a waking dream.

A thing which has shaped itself and made itself real right before his eyes. Sculpted yourself from wishes and wants, shaping until you’re nothing but tangible and real.

He’s not afraid to tell you that either. Spends hours whispering it into your skin, pressing it close to your ear, repeating it over and over what perfection you are as you look at him with lust-blown eyes and lips parted around his name.

Frankie doubts it’s enough.

Least of all now, when you’re painted in soft white light, all gentle in how it rolls over you, as it becomes clear you’ve been home for a while.

You've drawn the blackout curtains—keeping out the evening—and you'd flicked the little bedside lamp on, doing its best to illuminate the room.

Swallowing, he traces his teeth over his tongue, wondering if you watched him reverse off the drive as you waited to make your move. Wondering if you're snuck in, trying not to disturb—dress yourself up, even if you never need to.

Because you’re a vision always.

The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Even angry because he's left his tools out or with disappointment etched into your eyes because he’s forgotten something, you’re radiant, a goddess on earth.

A thing he finds himself reminded of as he steps closer to you. Fingers fiddling at his side as begins to close the small gap.

If not for the way he’s looking at you, he might have missed the shiver running through you from anticipation—and he knows it because of his action, due to the hungry look he's sure he's sporting as he raises his hands to remove his outer shirt. Balling it up, throwing it, a thing already unremembered before it even leaves his fingers.

"Frankie..."

"I know, just keep your eyes on me."

And you do, ever obedient. A thing no one would believe him off outside of these four walls. Not when you hold yourself strong and are quick to bite back, all wit and quick-thinking in addition to your brains and beauty.

He hooks a finger under the edge of his t-shirt, dragging it up over his head as he hears it—that little hiss, that slight gasp you do as though you’ve not seen him topless a thousand times.

It feels good. Makes heat rise up his neck and flood his ears. For a moment, he forgets he’s not all that. Because he’s soft, a little thicker around the middle, it feels like a lifetime ago he was trained in combat. But the way you look at him makes him feel like that is the furthest thing from the truth.

Fuck, you make him hard. Make him want. Have done since the moment you’d given him half a chance.

It’s why he's quick to pull you close, desperate to slant his mouth over yours. All fiery, hungry. Aiming to claim and write out all the ways he’s thought of you in the days since you’d been away. How the hours of you being gone and the amount he’s missed you have all balled up into a thing that is now fuelling him—sketching his wishes and desires across your lips, against your tongue, burying them past your teeth so they sit in your throat.

He grasps. Likely leaves marks of it on the perfect skin that covers your waist—because his palm is calloused and worn. Reminders of holding things not half as soft as you. A flicker of guilt almost bubbles in his, as he moves to rest it on your cheek, cradling your jaw and ear in one hand, as he slides the other up your back.

You whimper against his teeth before fingers find the clasp—finger and thumb, pinging it open before he feels fabric scrape against him—then you moan.

His chest being greeted with nothing but warm, smooth bare skin—nipples pebbling in the cooler air before being pressed against him, before he cups the swell of one, thumb stroking, playing a pattern.

“Do this for all the deliveries you get?”

You snort, it blowing out in a breath. “Only the ones with packages I like.”

In the time you’ve been together, you’ve said worse, but this time makes cock harden more than it already is. It's almost uncomfortable, in how it presses against his zipper, wishing to be released, as his index and thumb stroke over your skin. Taking it on how warm you are, how impossibly soft—distantly feeling the tremors from your heart hammering into your ribs.

"Too good for me, you are." You hum, as he seals his mouth back over yours. “But, I don’t take card.”

Purposefully, he drops his hand, fingers dipping, tracing across the lace that covers your slit—finding damp fabric as his ears take in the note of a quiet escape leaving your lips. It trying to bury itself between your two mouths open, breathing it in.

“Guess you’ll have to swipe something else.”

He snorts, and buries it into your neck, teeth grazing your skin—nose catching the scent of your perfume. And the scent almost makes him dizzy from how his blood rushes south. How the moment he’d dropped you off for your flight, it had lingered in the cabin of his truck. Remaining there for the first few days you were gone, before slowly fading. Leaving.

Just there on the coat you'd hung near the door and the pillows he slept beside.

The ones he rested his head against when he’d heard your voice down the phone, tell me to touch myself, Frankie, I need you. His own hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it as you moaned his name, all those miles away, dripping instructions into your ear.

“You're such a dirty girl.”

You grin in response, fingers tugging at his curls—urging his mouth back to yours.

But, he instead traces his tongue over your pulse, circling it, all defiant in bowing to you as his teeth trace over his path. Instead, his finger dips, traces the crease of your thigh with his gaze never leaving yours.

“Missed you,” you whisper.

His hand slides between your thighs, cupping you—feeling the discernible wetness soaked through.

“Can feel it.”

You scoff, but he kisses it away.

Doing so in a similar way to how he makes you forget, how he pulls you from your mind and brings you to the present. It’s also swallowed by another gasp, one made because of his fingers finding the edge of the lace, hooking a finger underneath, sliding the pad of his thumb against your swollen nerves and slick entrance.

"So wet for me," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the whine you emit. “Feelin’ needy, querida?”

And he can’t take his eyes off you.

Practically locked in, watching as your lips part, and your hips try to shift for more friction. He’s too fearful he’ll miss it, all of it—a slight curve of a brow or a shimmer on your eyes. All things he thinks over when he dreams, when he wishes for replays of moments until the next day when he makes another that easily replaces a good one.

He likes how you say his name when he slips another finger inside you—how it falls all soft, breathless. So much intention in such a low sound. Even as you squirm, mouth pausing over his; little mewls and moans falling as he drags them in and out, all languorous, teasing.

“Want you.”

His thumb brushes over your swollen clit, a hiss escaping. “I know.”

You gasp his name, stifle a moan, teeth biting down on the underside of your lower lip as your lashes flutter. It’s your nails digging into his scalp that keeps him rooted, that keeps him focused—precise touches and strokes that have you rocking against him and keep him tuned in to you.

“Missed how you sound, baby. You're doing so well.”

You’re close. His words make your perfect pussy clench around him. A chorus of moans escaping as he curls them inside of you, finds that spot, the one which makes you babble and turns your muscles into liquid.

He likes that he can do this.

That he can read you and undo you. That it’s a thing he’s mastered when he’d thought he was far from learning. But then, he’d taken great pride in spending hours studying—in alternating between being on his back and on his knees.

And because of that, he knows when he halt you over the edge. Let you linger, not tipping.

Normally, he’d never tease, never make you want—but, today is a different kind of day as he stops. As he retracts his fingers and allows the fabric to lightly snap back into place.

It’s a different whine that cuts into the room then. It pours out from your lips as your eyes dig daggers into him—but, he knows you.

Knows it’s momentary and nothing he can’t fix. Able to hold his ground against it, digging heels into the floor—all refusing to be swayed by the storm rising inside of you, creeping across the formerly tranquil sea. Instead, his hands move to his belt—undoing it, metal clanging and zip sliding down as your eyes break from glaring to stare hungrily at the outline of his cock.

Watching as you walk backwards, the back of your knees hitting the bed before you’re perching—eyes holding his, tip of your tongue sweeping, tracing, as you move further up the bed. The one you’d picked—chosen.

He’s in a trance.

Under a spell when you hook a thumb on either side of your underwear.

It’s not smooth, it doesn’t glide or remove with ease—there’s even a slight kick out of your legs before it flings from your ankle. But, it makes him tighten the hold on his cock. Because it may not be a thing people ever see on TV or in movies, but then they never feel like this.

They don’t feel real, no rawness, no tangling of his trousers he has to step out of as he strokes himself, eyes flicking down to where you’re bare—where you’re glistening—

“Wanna ride you, Frank.”

He sucks in a shuddering breath, hands gripping the base of his cock.

It’s slow, the way he grazes his teeth over his lower lip. “S’that how you wanna pay me, yeah?”

“All I’ve thought about,” you reply, a soft smile greeting him. “Lemme ride you—wanna look at you, wanna watch you come, baby.”

Fuck. He doesn’t fight it.

Instead, letting you guide him, allowing you to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw when he kneels on the bed and groans—because it’s been a long day, querida; he’s not as young as he once was.

“Still know how to be good, though. Don’t you?” you smirk, open mouth leaving a trail down his neck, eyes flicking up when you leave one in the space above his heart.

Hands behind his head, admiring, doing nothing but watching you place your thighs on either side of his as your fingers wrap around his wrists. You pin him, pressing down—aching cock ignored, left to leak against his hip as your lips press to his, over and over, and over until he’s chasing for the feel of them when you pull back.

You only offer a gentle, "I missed you," against the air before you're lining him up, bearing down, sinking, taking him in as he paints a groan against your collarbone.

There’s a beat, maybe two.

Stillness, enveloped entirely by your walls as his mouth wraps itself around your breast, leaving it wet, coated in spit as he groans when you begin to move. Setting a rhythm, slow.

“Not rushing this, Frankie.”

He never wishes you to.

His hands gripping your hips, guiding you. Head falling back onto the sheets as his breath hitches, the sight of you atop him, breasts bouncing—owning him—is a sight he could never grow tired of. One he also never feels worthy of—but he won’t squander, won’t ruin.

Because you’re perfect, head to toe—pussy made for him as it strokes up and down and breaths leave your mouth in short pants.

“Y’so good to me, Frankie. So handsome.”

And he wants to tell you that it's you who is so good—who is nothing but colour in an otherwise grey world. That you’re sunshine and stars, moon and so much more goodness than he can list buried inside of you.

“Go on, querida,” he grunts through clenched teeth, hands squeezing your hips a little tighter as you move a little faster.

As you take a little more. It makes your eyes flutter, parts your lips—watching in nothing short of awe as you use him, as you lose yourself in the moment.

"That's it, just let go. Make yourself feel good.”

It’s something majestic when he sees you nearing release—when he feels you clench and flutter.

“Feels good, y’feel good inside me baby.”

“You need more?”

And you nod.

The green light—the sign—and he doesn’t wait a moment.

Just canting his hips up, making a rush of pleasure spread up his spine. He’s lightheaded, hot—practically dizzy with how good you feel enveloped around him.

The noises filling the air, your slick walls taking him and the sound of skin slapping against skin. It’s drowned by the noises he pulls from you, making a mess of you as your lust-blown eyes land on him.

It almost steals his breath. Thieves it.

Because you’re so pretty, wild—a fucking dream on top of him. All soft and shimmering with perspiration from how good you ride him as he’s bathed in whines, moans and cries of his name.

“You're perfect,” he says, hand clamping on your hip as he shifts, and angles himself before thrusting up into you—watching your eyes squeeze shut. “From your smile to your tight pussy. You know that?”

Studying you as you try to keep the same rhythm. But, you’re nearing your climax—nails digging into his shoulder and neck, half-moons etched there, and he hopes they take hours to disappear.

“Thought about you all week—”

You moan, eyes meeting his. “Thought about you too—missed you. Missed how good you make me feel.”

“Fucked my fist to the thought of you like this. Never thought—fuck—I’d come home to this, baby. Y’fuckin’ perfect.”

Your chin lifts, neck elongating as he spreads his palm across your side, fingers pressing, grasping.

“Love hearing how much you missed me,” he smirks, watching you—thinking nothing but revolving thoughts as to how pretty you look, what a picture you are on top of him—

Then he hears a slam. Heavy boots. A voice he'd rather not hear at all:

“Fish? You home?”

He stops, realisation slamming into him.

A hand drops to the bedsheets, grasping them so hard his knuckles pale, and throb—the bones in his hand aching as he fights shouting and blowing his load right there and then.

The plans he’d made—the ones he’d put into place because you weren’t supposed to be home—all coming back to bite him. How he hadn’t wanted to spend another night alone, another evening in front of the television until you could call and tell him about your day—when he should have. He really fucking should have.

And you’re frozen, hips halted in place—his other hand remaining on your waist, fingers digging in as you both tense, keeping movements paused.

He considers it, the two choices he has and decides.

Leaning more against you—half-grinning, whispering shh as you look at him full of alarm—suddenly aware of the impending actuality that you could be caught like this.

And, then you clench around him. He feels it. Head tilting and eyes narrowing as he takes you in.

"Dirty girl," he mouths, and you look bashful, shy—a look he rarely sees when you’re split open on his cock and the base of him is covered in your slick.

“Fish, where the fuck are you?”

“Getting changed Ben, be a min.”

Your pussy flutters around him at your shout, as he moves to not shout the words towards your ear—feeling you clamp down, muffling a whimper. Another falls as he lifts up further onto his palm, dragging his nose down the valley between your breasts.

He knows you’re close—teetering, a few more thrusts and you’d have unravelled.

Dropping his voice, low—barely above a whisper, “Shh, baby. Or, I won’t let you finish.”

“Fuck,” you hiss. “Can‘t, Frankie—I can’t.”

He nods, finger and thumb holding your chin because he knows you can. Seen you do so much, and been witness to what you’re capable of—before his hand guides your hips to begin moving, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hips.

“Touch yourself for me, querida. Be good for me.”

And you whimper, something akin to his name.

But he’s guiding his mouth away, shouting, “Beers in the fridge, Ben.”

His mouth presses to your chest, hearing the shout from his friend back, but it’s the sound of your fingers on your slick and swollen clit that he tunes into. That he wants to flood his ears. Watching you shiver, shake, tremble from it as you tighten around him, choking his cock as he begins to thrust in and out.

He could keep you here. Should do too.

One week has already been too long. A need to make up for it—to have you pay for all the times you ask him those questions you wait until the lights are usually out for and he’s about to tip over to sleep; have you press yourself against him, nudging your ass into him as you cuddle, but really you want his mouth between your thighs. He should edge you, hang you over the edge of pleasure and watch your eyes dig into him until your lips whisper the word beginning with P.

But he won’t.

Couldn’t.

He likes knowing he pleases you too much.

Your moan bringing him back to it. Seeing how your eyes are clenched shut, trying to keep it behind your teeth. Failing, expletives dropping in breaths before he raises his hand, pressing it to your mouth, muffling it, the moans you have to release before you shake your head and fold into him.

Suddenly, he wants to move the dresser and lock the two of you in here. Wants to let them watch whatever fucking sports they want out there, and him just watch you in here.

You’re his favourite sight, after all. Especially like this. Free, not overthinking or worrying, just present, feeling as good as you should—as good as he always wants you to feel.

And you deserve this.

Hearing the low please fall before he plants his feet down, angling his cock up into you as you let out a muffled gasp. His palm flat to your shoulder, steadying you, as he feels your fingers slide it to your collarbone, resting it, fingers an inch away from the base of your neck.

You flick your eyes open—smothering him in permission, in radiant sunshine and lust, before the softest fucking smirk graces your lips—as his own mouth chokes out your name.

“Not tonight.”

It’s less words, and more a noise.

Because he’s close too—it having risen close to the top. Toes clenched around the sheets, digging in.

But he wants to feel you come first. And it’s there—that familiar sign. Lashes fluttering, gorgeous mouth going tight, slack as you tighten around him, locking up, clamping down as your hips move sloppily and out of rhythm.

You’re so fucking close.

“Shh, be good for me.”

Fingers, trembling and weak, slide around the base of his neck, tugging on his curls that are likely slick with sweat.

“N‘gonna last—let go for me baby.”

“Please.”

“Come for me.”

Spearing up into you with more vigour as you rasp, groan, and hiss—spit coating his fingers as he slides them out, dropping his hand from you as his knuckles press to the mattress as he fucks up into you.

Your body bucks, a cry you bury into his neck—a drag of nails against his scalp—as you come undone around him. Convulsing. Muffled cries vibrating against his pulse.

Frankie is barely able to contain the low growl as his hips stutter—heat raging through him, joined by rabid electricity. It sparking, ripping through, making him both ache and feel alive.

The sight of you and the feel of you drives him to the edge—and then over. A grip on your hip all tight as he thrusts into you one final time, unable to contain the growl. His chest heaves as he spills inside of you, and you tremble against him—panting, all messy and boneless as he pulls you with him as he rolls onto his back.

"You're incredible," he breathes into your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck.

You let out a small laugh, a soft, content sigh escaping your lips. "So are you."

He smiles against your skin, his heart swelling with affection. He may have assumed he'd seen everything, but you—you continue to surprise him, to captivate him in ways he never thought possible. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Pulling his mouth from yours, feeling you ease him out of you, his hand lightly slaps you on the back of your bare ass.

"I missed you, querida," he murmurs, heart still racing in his chest.

Meeting his gaze, your lips purse. "I know," you whisper, leaning in to capture his lips in a tender kiss. "I'm here now."

“Shame you’ll have to sneak out the back and come in through the front door. Otherwise, you’ll be in here all night—”

His words trail off, a sly grin tugging at his lips as it dawns, rises up over your face and makes your mouth fall open. “Francisco….”

“Shoulda' told me you were coming home. It's boys night.”

Narrowing your eyes, you tick your jaw—spine straightening. “Well, I could stay in here—like this…”

Smirking, he kisses your nose. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby.”

Your mouth opens, a smirk gracing his lips in response as he raises a finger to his mouth, moving and pressing a kiss to your knee. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Seven Deadly Sins pop-up event.

Not Just Sundays

Prompt: Sloth | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Steddie | Tags: Corroded Coffin Trying to Make it On the Road, Steve Back Home in Hawkins, Failing at Managing the Distance, Good Uncle Wayne, A Touch of Angst w/a Happy Ending

Another night, another show, and another missed phone call that he promised he'd make over a week ago. Fuck. Time is just slipping away from him. From the studio to gigs to party after party. They've really got a good thing going, and slowing down right now just isn't an option. Once the ball is rolling, you gotta keep it going. Steve will understand. Steve always understands.

He's good like that.

Eddie knows Steve wants the band to make it. Succeed. Even if that means Steve's been getting a smaller slice of Eddie's attention right now. It won't always be like this, Eddie's sure, so for right now he's gonna strike while the iron is hot.

He'll call Steve tomorrow. For sure.

A week later, there's a note waiting at the front desk of the next hotel. An order to call home. Eddie looks at his watch, but doesn't really have time to call Wayne right now. 

"Make time," Jeff says, as if Eddie had said that out loud for everyone to hear. He didn't, he doesn't think, Jeff just knows him that well.

"Fine," Eddie says, and drags his ass off to one of the phone booths in the lobby. It's cheaper than using the room phone, he's sure.

Wayne picks up after three rings.

"I had a boy here last night, pretty upset after not hearing from you in sixteen days," Wayne drawls by way of greeting. It's a condemnation, and Eddie feels it. If he hasn't talked to Steve in sixteen days, he doesn't even know how long it's been since he's called Wayne. 

Longer. Much longer.

"Shit," Eddie says.

"I'd say," Wayne answers.

"I'm just busy," Eddie says, and he knows it's an excuse. He could make time, he just hasn't prioritized it. Like getting out of Hawkins just spread his wings a little too far.

Wayne sighs. 

"What will it profit anyone, if they were to gain the whole world, but lose their own soul?” Wayne quotes, and Eddie leans his head against the glass.

"Are you proselytizing to me again, old man?" Wayne grew up with religion in a way that Eddie did not, and therefore can pull verses and lessons out of his coveralls pocket at any time. It's annoying.

Wayne sighs, "No. I'm not. Not really. But what good will it be to you, boy, if you make it to the top, and then take a look around, only to realize you're all by yourself?"

He's not all by himself. He's got Gareth and Jeff and Goodie. 

But he knows what Wayne means. Will the fame be worth it, if he loses Steve in the process? No. No way, and he knows that. He does. It's just been hard to juggle both right now.

"I'll call him," Eddie promises.

"It's not that," Wayne says, as if that wasn't the reason for his whole call.

"It's not?"

"Think long and hard, Ed. If you don't have space for him right now, if you don't want to make space, it's okay."

And Eddie starts to argue.

"Eddie. It's okay. But don't string him along while he waits back home. It's not right."

"What do you-"

"Shit or get off the pot, kid."

And Eddie laughs. They've moved from a sermon to Midwestern idioms. Great.

But he knows Wayne is right. 

Goddammit.

He calls Steve next, and he's not home. Which, that serves Eddie right. He doesn't leave a message, feels that's too easy. Steve will hear it, forgive him, and Eddie thinks he deserves to get a little bit of his anger. A little bit of his hurt.

They have a four-night break. He could run home. It's not that far. See Steve. See Wayne. Put out the fires he's caused.

Yeah. He's doing that.

Eddie throws some clothes in his duffle, as the other three watch him pack.

"And you'll be back by Thursday?" Jeff asks, and Eddie swears he will be. He knows the schedule. 

"Okay then," Jeff says, tossing the keys onto the bedspread, "go apologize."

Eddie will grovel, will beg if that's what it takes.

It was a long drive to think. The house is dark. He pulls out his keys and lets himself inside. It's kind of a mess, which is so unlike Steve. There are dishes piled into one side of the sink, and laundry sitting in baskets waiting to be folded.

Maybe he's just been busy at work. Picking up extra shifts or something.

Eddie dumps his bag in the bedroom, and no Steve there either. 

He needs something to do to keep his idle hands busy, and he starts the dishes. Folds the laundry, then moves on to running the sweeper. 

It's after ten, and still no Steve. Maybe he's staying at Robin's. It's too late to call her, she'll either be pissed or worried about where Steve is, so Eddie can't do anything except wait and worry that maybe he's too late.

Then a key's sliding into the lock, jiggling the handle, door swinging open, just before eleven. Eddie's been sitting on the couch in the dark.

And he doesn't mean to, but he scares the shit out of Steve.

"Jesus Christ, fucking hell," Steve snaps, clutching his hand to his chest like he's decades older than his years. Like he's terrified.

Well, that's probably fair. He spent his teenage years being chased by monsters.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just me," Eddie reassures, holding out his hands as if to prove that he's harmless.

He's not harmless.

He's hurt Steve, and that's a bitter fucking pill to swallow.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asks as he takes a couple big steps forward, barreling into Eddie's chest. He smells like sweat and, well, Steve. 

Eddie hugs him back, but feels like shit that Steve has so easily opened his arms, and heart, after Eddie's been so careless with him.

"Everything okay?" Steve asks, face presses into Eddie's neck.

"Yes, yes, I just missed you and I've been pretty shitty about showing that," Eddie explains, hugging him as tight as he can.

"Missed you, too," Steve says, "I'm glad you're home."

Eddie wants to know where he was, wants to know how he's passing the time. But isn't sure if he should barrel in and start demanding to know things. He's the one that hasn't been around, hasn't been reaching out, he probably doesn't get to start grilling Steve.

"I probably stink," Steve says, trying to take a step back, but Eddie won't allow it and just hugs him tighter.

"Love it, wouldn't change a thing," Eddie teases and Steve laughs, his voice rumbling against Eddie's chest.

He really wouldn't change a thing.

"Sunday night basketball," Steve offers, as if that's an explanation. 

"Yes, of course, that," Eddie says, teasing him a little more, and Steve giggles, pressing his lips to Eddie's neck.

"Mr. Clarke unlocks the gym. And the dads and old men in town get together and play basketball at the gym," Steve says, fingers digging into Steve's back.

Eddie laughs, "Mr. Clarke plays basketball?"

"Not well," Steve admits, biting him, just a gentle nip, and fuck Eddie's missed him. "But good isn't a requirement. Just gotta be outta high school and willing to show up."

Eddie should know this. Should know what Steve does every night, not just Sundays. 

"I'm sorry I've been scarce," Eddie apologizes, "I've been an asshole."

"You've been busy," Steve counters, "but I wouldn't mind hearing from you more often. Even if it's just for a few minutes."

"I'll do better," Eddie promises, and hopes that's true. Steve deserves for him to do better. Eddie wants to do better for him, for them, for their whole future, for their present.

Where he's a touring musician, for real, and Steve is playing basketball with Mr. Clarke for fun.

Eddie wants it all with Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Sloth was interesting to approach! Of course, at first I was like, sloth = lazy. Then I read this:

"Sloth becomes a sin when it slows down and even brings to a halt the energy we must expend in using the means to salvation."

Obviously, I'm twisting the religious take here, but Steve's his salvation, and he can't neglect expending his energy to love him.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 12

I've decided that since I have a fair amount of backlog on the three I've been doing WIP Wednesday for, that I'd post some of them to give me time to work on the rom-com AU more.

I recommend going back and re-reading part 11 at least before reading this one to be on the safe side.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

The Fallen boys need a break and Robin and Chrissy meet up with Nancy.

****

Things were going really well in the studio now that they had Bob Newby as their producer and their studio was closer to home so they could live their normal lives and still be in the studio recording.

It was the happiest the band had been in awhile. Which was why Steve should have seen it coming. The dark cloud on the horizon.

Shane was late.

That wasn’t to say that it was out of the ordinary or whatever, but it was now two hours late and Spence was pissed.

“When I get my hands on his scrawny neck,” he hissed. “I’m going to kill him.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “You’re just upset because it’s means you’ll be late for your date or whatever with Nadia. He’ll be here.”

“That’s not true and you know it, Asmodeus,” Spence bit out. “This is the third time this week and yeah, so what if I have a life outside of this, but that’s not why.”

Just then Shane stumbled in. He looked like absolute shit. His clothes were disheveled, his hair was a mess, and he wore dark sunglasses. Clutched to his chest was a large coffee.

“Fuck...” he mumbled as he shambled over to the sofa. He lowered himself gently onto the thing with a stream of curses. “Sorry I’m late, but my hookup last night turned off my alarm.”

He took a long sip of his coffee and rubbed his temple. He had finished most of the coffee when he realized that no one had said a word since he arrived.

The door opened and Bob and Robin entered the room looking more than a little cross.

Shane flashed them a smile. “Uh oh, it looks like I upset both mom and dad. So I was a little late. It happens.”

“But it shouldn’t be happening,” Spence said with a scowl. “This isn’t the first time. Hell, it’s not even the first time this week.”

Shane frowned, setting his coffee on the floor between his feet. He rubbed his temples as he struggled to think back. “That can’t be right, it’s only Monday, right?”

Everyone shared concerned glances.

“Astraeus,” Steve said slowly, “it’s Thursday.”

Bob crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You were late on Sunday, Monday and today, Astraeus.”

Shane stared up at them in open shock and disbelief. “There’s no way!” He pulled out his phone and looked at the date.

“Shit.”

“What’s been going on, man?” Simon asked, concerned for the first time. He hadn’t realized how often it had been and was giving Spence shit for wanting to be with his girlfriend.

Shane shook his head. “I have money for the first time in my life. I mean proper money. My parents always had enough to make sure we got into the things we wanted; sports, drama, music, you name it, but there wasn’t a lot of money to go around after, you know? I had to pay for my college education myself and I just wanted to live a little. Spread the money around, even if I couldn’t tell them what I did for a living, they don’t really care.”

“I can see that,” Robin said. “I think we all breathing easier, regardless of our backgrounds because the money we’re getting has pretty much set us up for life if it all went to shit tomorrow, which I really wouldn’t recommend, by the way.”

Shane let out a huff of breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I really didn’t mean to go off like that, I’ll cut back to just the weekends. I promise.”

Robin and Bob shared a glance.

“That’s strike one, Astraeus,” Bob said, “I don’t take slackers lightly. You want me to continue to work for you guys, you’ve got to step it up.”

Shane nodded empathically. “Can we have a day off a week though? It doesn’t have to be on the weekend, but this seven days a week is really hard.”

Robin blinked at him a moment. “You guys have been coming every day?”

The band looked around at each and all gave a collective shrug.

She turned to Bob. “Is that your schedule?”

Bob’s jaw dropped and he shook his head. “I only do that if there’s a rush to get the album out, which I understood there wasn’t. I don’t how we got on working every day, but Astraeus is correct they need a day off.”

“What works best for everyone?”

The band worked out a better schedule that worked for everyone with it ending with Bob giving everyone the rest of the week off, giving them strict instructions to talk to him about those sort of things before it got to this point.

Robin clapped her hands once. “Right, now that we’ve got that settled, we’re still meeting up at Abbadon’s for dinner to discuss my meeting with Nancy. My meeting is at three and dinner is at six, so don’t be late.” She glared at Shane and he raised his hands in surrender.

“See you all then!”

****

Robin straightened her wig in her rearview mirror and added more lipstick. She wore special contacts that changed her bright blue eyes to a more common brown color. She was dressed in slim fitting white slacks with a bright pink silk blouse and a black leather aviator’s jacket. She hated wearing these clothes, they just weren’t her. At least she didn’t have to wear high heels to this thing. She would have broken an ankle for sure.

But she would sell her soul to the devil if it meant that Steve got to do what he loved. And it wasn’t as though she didn’t love her job either. But Eddie was right, she was on her last frayed nerve and that wouldn’t do her boys any good.

She slid out of her Maserati MC20 and walked up to the restaurant. The Corroded Coffin’s manager, Chrissy Cunningham was going to be there as a mediator.

Robin hadn’t told Steve this, but Chrissy knew who she was. Not the band, she didn’t know that, but she knew that Celeste Baptiste was Robin Buckley. It was just something Robin felt she needed to know before going in there with Nancy. That she personally had a stake in the game, even if it was just as Steve’s best friend.

Chrissy loved the idea of even their manager having an alter ego and it made Robin feel better about her choice to be someone else.

Robin and Chrissy kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting and Robin sat down.

“She’s not here yet?” she asked, looking at her matching watch.

Chrissy shook her head. “She’s running a little behind. One of her clients blew up the internet last night and she’s been having to play hard ball to keep it from destroying their career.”

Robin leaned in close. “Ooh, do you know who it was?”

“That’s for me to know,” Nancy said from above them, “and for you to never find out.”

Robin looked up at her and was struck on how good she looked. It was almost unfair how good she looked.

She was wearing a grey plaid blazer with the sleeves rolled up over a white button shirt and a black pencil skirt. She wore grey boots and matching sunglasses, glasses she took off with a shake of her dark curls.

Robin gulped. Nancy had been intimidating enough in high school, but now she could stare down a raging bull and come away unscathed.

“Hello, ladies,” Nancy said with a smile. “I’m sorry I was late, but I think I managed a god damn miracle and could eat an entire salad bar.”

Nancy sat down and put her phone in her purse.

“Oh are you vegan?” Chrissy asked as the waiter came up with a pitcher of water. Nancy waved him off and ordered a rosé.

“Just vegetarian,” she said with a shake of her head. “I love cheese too much. Plus, I knew a militant vegan and they scare me.”

Robin laughed. “Couldn’t be me, I went full vegan last year and haven’t looked back.”

Nancy and Chrissy both winced, but for different reasons, Nancy for her comment about militant vegans and Chrissy, well...

“I picked this place because it has the best rib eye steak on the planet,” she said with a grimace. “That’s not going to bother either of you if I order that, right?”

Nancy and Robin shared a glance and then shook their heads.

“My best friend loves steak,” Robin said, “It’s his choice to eat it, I just a have a problem with the ethical consumption of meat and other animal products.”

“Most of my clients eat meat,” Nancy agreed. “I’m not about to piss them off because I don’t like the taste.”

Chrissy relaxed and let out a long sigh. “Great!”

She picked up her menu to hide her embarrassment. A few minutes later, their waiter came back and they placed their orders.

Nancy had ordered a pasta with roasted sun dried tomatoes and mushrooms and Robin ordered a simple salad with a vinaigrette.

As they waited for their food, Nancy got down to business. “So as I understand it, the band The Fallen is looking for an agent to help with the legal and PR aspect of their brand, correct?”

Robin nodded, twisting her napkin nervously. Normally as Celeste, she was cooler under pressure but Nancy scared her. Not because of anything she could do to her specifically, but because what she could do to her boys.

Chrissy reached out and laid her hand over Robin’s fidgeting ones. Robin let out a shuddered breath.

“Normally bands like theirs have teams and teams of people doing all the work,” Robin said, “but with the secrecy surrounding their identities the more people that know the easier it is for a leak.”

Nancy nodded. “It’s certainly not the usual thing. But I’ve got a few clients that are strict about their identities and it wouldn’t be a problem, but as I told Chrissy, I would have know everything about them so that I can do my upmost to protect them.”

“Did you sign the NDA?” Robin asked, straightening her spine. This was something she was good at. Protecting her boys and she would do it with the fierceness of a mother bear and her cubs.

Nancy picked up her briefcase and opened it up. She took out a folder and handed it to Robin. Robin looked it over and then nodded.

She stuck it in her purse and pulled out a hard portfolio and slid it across to Nancy. Chrissy squeezed her hand as Nancy read through the documents. Their food arrived in the interim and she set it aside. She steepled her hands and planted her elbows on the table.

“How much of this do you know?” she asked Chrissy.

“Only what I needed to which is who Celeste is,” she replied, “and that both her and Abbadon have a history with you that could be trouble for a lot of people, not just the band.”

Nancy nodded and took a bite of her food before saying anything else. Chrissy and Robin exchanged glances but started eating as well. More for something to do in the intervening silence than because they were actually interested in food at that moment.

After a few moments Nancy blotted her lips with her napkin and set it next to her plate. “This is not what I was expecting when I heard that you had concerns about my professionalism and in all honesty, this is easier to understand then a manager thinking they don’t need the help of an agent when they really do.”

Chrissy and Robin shared a glance.

“Is that something that’s common?” Chrissy asked. Corroded Coffin had already had Nancy as their agent when she became their manager five years ago. They had outgrown their former manager Murray Bauman and was looking for someone younger to manage them so they hired her.

Nancy nodded. “It is.” She turned to Robin. “You’re his best friend, right? The quirky band chick who was always working with him?”

Robin was impressed with her way of asking the question without revealing anything significant about their identity. She brought her finger up to her contact and moved it aside to show the blue underneath before sliding it back into place.

“I’m assuming I’m the last resort?” Nancy asked after taking another bite of food.

Robin and Chrissy shared another glance.

“Not in the way you mean,” Chrissy explained. “I gave her a list of agents that might be able to have them on as clients and we’ve met with a couple of them but decided even before they got to what’s in the folder that they weren’t suitable for their needs.”

“The double lives aspect, I suspect.”

“Both of them wanted to push them into revealing themselves,” Robin said, nodding. “Which was completely off the table.”

Nancy licked her bottom lip and her eyes narrowed. “Is that off the table indefinitely or will we circle back to that sometime in the future?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “There’s no way to predict if they’re going to change their mind five-six years down the line.”

“I’m going to be frank,” she said, “I do not have a problem repping them. Not even Abbadon. But I understand there will be some awkwardness on both sides at first. I will even apologize in person. Because the fact of the matter is, I did hurt him. I strung him along until something better came along and then didn’t even have the decency to break up with him before moving on. I was young and stupid and even worse, I’m not even with that guy anymore. Like with me and Abbadon, we wanted different things.”

“Apologize first,” Chrissy said with a wicked gleam in her eye, “then we’ll see about hiring you for The Fallen.”

Nancy reached out to shake Robin’s hand. “Deal?”

Robin nodded curtly. “Deal.”

They moved onto the more tedious aspects of what they wanted out of Nancy as they finished their meals.

But as Robin was heading back to her car she had a small satisfied smile on her face. Yes, this really was the best option for the band.

****

Because of canon-Chrissy's unhealthy relationship with food, I wanted her to go hard into eating all things that her mom most likely forbade her from eating growing up. Hence the steak and the wine. Nancy I figured would be at least vegetarian with personality (just the vibes I get from her *shrug*) and Robin would absolutely be vegan. Just not a militant one.

Tag List: 10 slots remaining

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

@useless-nb-bisexual

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

[shinelikethunder]

landlord gave me notice at 3pm thursday and by 9am tomorrow, sunday march 10th 2024, propelled by equal parts terror and incandescent fury, i will be putting in an offer to buy An Entire House.

i mean, it's a nice and low-risk little house, at a price that makes it a no-brainer to jump on it before it goes - but still, this is fucking surreal. i could technically have had the offer in by 3pm today; this is me taking the time to think it over. except there's not much to think over: i need a place and this one's solid, and the monthly payment is the exact same as what i was just offered in order to rent half as much duplex by the landlord who's kicking me out to renovate and price-gouge.

and i'm not gonna pretend one of the emotions driving my haste here isn't the vicious satisfaction of having just enough fuck-you money to pull this off. in all likelihood i'll be filling out mortgage paperwork by the time his ass even gets around to fitting a walkthrough of the half-duplex into his busy house-flipping schedule, and if he wanted his model tenant placidly paying the extortion rent on that place - two days before the first of every month like i've been doing for the five years i've lived here - then maybe he shouldn't have fucking dicked me around.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

03/14/24 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew; Erroll Shand; Taika; David Jenkins; Save OFMD Crew Theory Thursday; #GLAADforOFMD with AdoptOurCrew; HBO Nonsense; Uproar; Articles; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Erroll Shand =

In case you needed yet another reason to love Erroll, he was so sweet about all the birthday wishes and he sent a video in response on Instagram.

On top of that, he responds to literally every message he gets with comments and emojis. Just, really sweet of him to do that.

= Taika Waititi =

Apparently doing a lot of product placement lately!

And a "cool video" which can be seen on @fuckyeahworldoftaika

== David Jenkins ==

Chaos Dad poked his head out for a moment to re-tweet @adoptourcrew's #GLAADforOFMD

== Save OFMD Crew #TheoryThursday ==

Wanna throw some theories in? Reach out on any of the @saveofmdcrewmates socials! Instagram

== #GLAADforOFMD ==

In honor of the GLAAD Awards show going on today, our friends at @adoptourcrew were doing a campaign across twitter and IG to find out what you were #GLAADforOFMD for. If you're interested in sending them some notes: Instagram

== HBO Nonsense ==

Reminder: You can Still sign the petition to #FireDavidZaslav, which is still trending at least 3 days in a row now.

== Uproar ==

Our captain's next movie comes out tomorrow in the use Mar 15! It has come to our attention that it's hard to actually get in and see the movie because it's only available in select cities.

The #RhysDarbyFaction has put together a doc on where to find tickets, and if you can't find them, how to help get Uproar in theatres near you with engaging with various theatres.

Also, the easiest thing you can due to help is like and share posts by Blue Fox Entertainment!:

 Like and Share Posts by Blue Fox Entertainment Regarding Uproar on the Various Social medias:

Blue Fox Ent Twitter

Blue Fox Ent Instagram

Blue Fox Ent TikTok

Blue Fox Ent Facebook

Blue Fox Ent Youtube

Pic Src: Blue Fox Entertainment's IG

== Watch Party Reminders ==

= Wrecked =

Times will be 10pm GMT / 5pm EST / 4pm CST / 2pm PST. Watch two episodes per day. Episodes are 21-22 minutes each. Use the following Saturday for the tags/watch if interested but not able to make this time.

Hashtags: 

#WreckedPirates

#SaveOFMD

#RhysDarbyFaction

= Mar 15: Lube As A Crew =

Our dear friends over at @astroglideofficial are hosting one last Lube As A Crew, with all of Season 2 in one go! Starts Friday March 15th 12 pm Noon PST ( 4pm EST, 8 pm GMT)

Mar 17: Pirate Radio/The Boat That Rocked Watch Party! 

Sunday the 17th of March at 7:30pm GMT / 3:30 pm EST / 1:30 pm CST Hosted & Graphics by @Tillychmo

Watch Party Hashtags:

PirateRadio 

AdoptOurCrew

SaveOFMD

OurFlagMeansWatchAlong

== Calendar Reminder ==

Tomorrow is #OurFlagRTL! Join @OurFlagRTL on Twitter for Our Flag Means Death 1 x 10 and a Season 2 binge to celebrate the German release!

#OurFlagRTL - 9:30am PST / 12:30pm EST / 4:30pm GMT

== Articles ==

Our Friends at Tv Insider wrote a very awesome quote regarding the cancellation of OFMD while talking about Rhys Darby and his appearance in the new Night Court series.

"Night Court marks Darby’s first TV appearance since Our Flag Means Death ended in October 2023 and was criminally canceled in January. While we’re still grieving that loss, it’s great to see Darby in another romantic and comedic role so soon." https://www.tvinsider.com/1126692/night-court-rhys-darby-dave-foley-duke/

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies. I hope you had a reasonably good day. I was a bit out of sorts and if I was weird to anyone I'm really sorry, wasn't anything directed at you. Reminded me very much how we need to be able to forgive ourselves, and even though we can preach one way, actually doing it can be really difficult sometimes, especially in the moment. I'm pretty worn out tonight, so I'll leave you with @thelatestkate's wise words, please always keep on keepin' on. The world wouldn't be the same without you. Love you crew.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

I realize they are different interviews, but they embody the same thing :)

Tonight's Taika Courtesy of @livwifeofkarl

Daily Darby Courtesy of @izzy-hands

[colesluvr]

REQ: Heyy :]I don't know if you still accept requests, but maybe could you write a GN!reader × Lloyd? Like Lloyd had been busy lately and it's the readers birthday but he forgets? I leave your imagination the rest of it, but please let it end in Fluff cause one more Lloyd angst oneshot from ANYTHING and i will break LMAOOO

Birthday Surpise: Lloyd Garmadon x GN Reader

HII TYSM FOR THIS REQUEST, THIS WAS ACTUALLY RLY FUN TO WRITE! I HOPE YALL ENJOY <3

TO ALL MY OTHER ANONS WHO REQ'D: i have not forgotten about the rest of you, yall are coming up next 🫶

keys:

B/D : birthday day (monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday)

"Lloyd?" You called out to yourboyfriend who was training out by the courtyard. He seemed foucsed because he never noticed your presence. He aims the tip of his sword to the neck of the dummy he was currently training with. 

You stood on the side of the courtyard, slowly moving around to face Lloyd from a distance. 

"Lloyd?" You once again called, and this time your eyes caught a glimpse of a energy blast zoom it's way toward you. You reflexed fast and dodged it, the blast hitting the wall leaving a burnt mark. 

"Y/N?"

Lloyd called out, running up to you as you stood up, rubbing your arm. "Are you crazy?" 

"Sorry," Lloyd awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, "I-I didn't think anyone would be up this hour." He was right. The time was 7am. Everyone else is probably still asleep, or awake up in their rooms doing whatever. 

"Sure, but you could've done much worse then make a burnt mark on the wall." 

Lloyd aplogized once again, checked for wounds, and went back to the middle of the courtyard to countine training.

"Lloyd?"

"Hm?" He replied, landing a hit on the dummy.

"Well," You began, "I was thinking about something."

He nod, telling you keep talking. You stepped down on the rocky path and made your way toward him as you spoke, "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with me today! Y'know, because it's nice and early and your already awake?" 

Lloyd paused to look at you, "I'm sure, but not for long. I've been sloopy durning training sessions with the others. Trying to get better, but I'm sure we can get an hour in together. 

"Just one hour?"

Will that be enough time? 

"I mean, yeah, why not. I'm sorry babe,but I really gotta focus today." 

You took a miunte to think, "Lloyd, do you know what today is?" 

Lloyd slammed the dummy to the floor, it bouncing back up in less then 2 seconds and paused to think, "Uhm. B/D?" 

You waited to see if he'll continue, but he didn't.

"Yes, but what's special about this day?"

"Y/N, what are you talking about? It's a normal B/D. Look, I'm pretty busy right now, how about we plan tomorrow? I'll take you to your favorite-"

"Forget it." You waved off the ninja, making you way back inside in the Monestary. Lloyd raised an eyebrow, but shugged off your sudden outburts.

_

Inside the Monestary, you felt tears begin to build up in your eyes. How could he forget your birthday? Is is Ninja business more importabnt then you?  You walked down the hall, trying to cover our mouth to prevent you from sobbing out loud. 

Why are you even crying? Its not our fault he forgot, he should be the one feeling your pain. 

Sudden;y, you bumped into a figue the walked out of a room. In a panic you wiped your eyes as you made eye contact with the person.

"Zane." You chuckled, "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention." 

"It's quite alright, Y/N. What are you doing up so early?" Zane asked, looking at you. He noticed your eyelids were red but didn't say anything about it until you replied to his question. 

"Oh, I-I just said hi to Lloyd, I-I'm heading back to my room."

Before he could say anythin you push by him but pause, "Zane, do you know what today is?" 

"Well, of course I do. Happy birthday, Y/N."

You smiled softly, thanking him and returning to your room. He watched as you entered your rooom beside Nya's and Kai's. 

_

It was now later in the morning, around 9AM. Lloyd came back from outside and he was done training for a couple of hours. At least 1 or 2 he told himself.

As he entered the kitchen, he ran into Zane who was finishing up breakfast. "Good morning, Lloyd. Have you finished training?" 

Lloyd smieles as he sits at the table, "Yeah. I am." Lloyd soon looked around the room. With the corner of his eye he spots ballons and banners in a supply closet. He tilted his head to the side, "We still have these? I thought we put them away after Nya's birthday last month?" He said as he took a sip of water that Zane placed down for him. 

"Well, we did put them away, but I took them back out for Y/N's birthday today-" 

The sound of Lloyd spitting water out of his mouth caused Zane to jump slighty, obviously not expecting it. "WHAT?" He basically shouted, wiping his chin. "It's for Y/N's birthday today, I asked Cole to assit me in putting up the banners and Nya and Jay offered to get them presents from all of us. Kai will be in charge blowing up balloons."

Zane spoke, looking over to Lloyd to see panic all over his face. "Lloyd," he started slowly, placing down his cloth and cup he was drying, "You do remember it's Y/N's birthday? Correct?" 

Lloyd stared at the table in thought. What the fuck? he asked himseld over and over, How the hell could I forget my own partners birthday?!

"I mean- I-I was distracted by all my ninja training, I-I didn't think-"

Zane gave a sworrowful look as he shook his head. Lloyd grumbled as he slammed his head to the table. 

_

"Oh. Sorry Y/N, I didn;t know you were-" Cole had accdeintly walked in on you in the bathroom, and as he was aplogizing you were quick to move from the mirror nad wipe your eyes. You and him made eye contact and as you prayed he's close the door, he instead opened it slowly, noticing your puffy eyes.

"Y/N? Are you okay? Are you crying? 

You shook your head fast, too fast, causing your head to hurt and tears to spill more. "N-No." Your voice cracked as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

Cole didn't know what to do, not until you choked out his name and the tears were more visiable. "Cole..." He immediatly wrapped his arms around you as you cried into his shoulder. 

"Oh god, ssh. ssh. It's alright, hey, hey, hey!" He smiles as he sups your ace togethet to get a better look at your face. Your tear stained face caused a frown to form on his face, "Awh, Y/N." He hugged you once and rubbed your back in comfort.

"How-How could he forget?" You spoke. 

You and Cole have moved into the hall and back into your room. He got you issues, your stuffed animal, your blanket, anything to make you feel more safe and happy. He rubbed your shoulder as he sat beside you, 

"Who forgot?"

"Lloyd!" Your voice squeaked as you coughed out a cry. "How-How could he forget my birthd-day?" You squezzed your stuffed animal as Cole paused to think.

Suddenly, he started to chuckle and you snapped your head at him, More tears started to form, and Cole quickly noticed. "Omg, Y/N." Cole handed you a tissue, but still wiped your tears for you. "I thought you meant he forgot something like an aniverrsity, or a graduation."

You cocked your eyebrow at Cole, "Y/N. A lot of people forget birthdays! I do sometimes. Lemme'tell you, when I forgot Jay's birthday he was crying his eyes out. I felt bad, but he didn't take any offence of it."

"But- BUT YOU AND JAY WEREN'T DATING!"

"True, but he forgave me because it was only a one time thing. Tell me, when was the last time Lloyd ever  forgot your birthday. Or Kai's birthday? Or even Darreths?!" You looked at him as you were deep in thought.

He was right. 

Lloyd never forgot your birthday and even if he would, he would ask someone, no? 

You shrugged your shoulders, rubbing the arm of your stuffed toy. Cole smiled, "See. Now, don't let one person who forgot your birthday ruin your entire day. Hae fun, you only turn (A/N) once!" He joked, shaking your arm to egt you to laugh, which much to your liking, did.

"You only turn any age once, dummy." 

You and Cole laugh, not hearing the sudden door knock until the door creaked open. You both snap your heads to find Lloyd peeking his head in. Your stomach dropped for a minute, but you remained calm. 

"Uh, Y/N. Could I talk to you?"

Cole looked back at you and smiled, you look back at him and slowly smiled back as he stood up after rubbing the top of your hair. He walked by Lloyd anc gave him a pat on the shoulder and a smile. 

You placed your legs on your bed to sit criss cross on the mattress. As you didn, Lloyd entered with his hands behind his back.  He sat where Cole was perviously before he left. 

"Y/N. I-I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. I forgot your birthday and that was a dumb move of me. I'm your boyfriend, and I've already forgotten your birthday, I felt so bad when I remembered. This morning, when you asked me if we wanted to hang out, I was a jerk and set you off for tomorrow. So-So I want to make it up to you, if you'd let me." 

You saw him reach into a bag he placed on the bed as he sat down, he took out a small box and handed it to you. You look at him, you could tell he was on edge. So you took the box, taking a moment to open it and when it did you were met with pieces of papers. You took one out and read it."

"Coupon #7 : Movie Night." 

You look up at him confused, "I-I don't have any money on me, so I decided t go old-school and make you something, Basically, I made you (A/N) coupons, cause that's how old you are now, and which ever one you pick every hour we will do." 

He took the paper from you, "Example, You got Coupon #7" Movie Night. Meaning tonight we'll watch a moive, you're pick but I do have those rented movies we got at Doomsday."

You paused, "I know. I know, It's not the best present, but I felt really bad that I forgot your birthday and I wish you could for-" Before you could let Lloyd finish, you jumped into his arms, tossing him backwards on the bed.

His back hits your blanket and you laid on top of him. 

You laughed into his shoulder before showing him your smile with small tears in your eyes. "Thank you." You squeaked, hugging him again, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Your the best, I love you so much, Thank you, this was such a cute idea!" 

Lloyd.EXE has stopped working. 

"You're-you're not mad, or-or upset."

"Of course I was, but I realized it's you." You kissed his cheek, "I know you wouldn't forget my birthday because I know you'll remember sooner or later." 

Lloyd's lips formed into a smile as you kissed his lips and pulled away. You took the box and closed it, shaking it. 

"Now, what will the amazing Lloyd Garmadon do with the awesome Y/N L/N today!" 

[bcacstuff]

Alex posted (I think it was last Thursday) a story where he was on his way from an airport and on his laptop he had a photo of Sassenach bottles. It looked like he was on his way to Scotland, maybe for next week event in Edinburgh: 8-11of August. But still not seen anything that he is in Scotland. Also wondered where he was last Saturday outside M&S. Just thought.

But on Sam´s post from Saturday where he is asking if ready for the weekend, Wendy posted this:

And later that day Alex wrote a comment something like "I thought I was ready for the weekend", but the he deleted it.

Today this was a comment on same post:

I have seen that Inside Wee Box has collaboration with Andy the Highlander. I think the also had with Sassenach historian.

Maybe, this is just a guess, that Alex is in Scotland and they both are busy now with Sassenach (GGC) not only for the event in Edinburgh which will be later this week, but also before. Could be that M&S had with Sassenach to do (even I have to say Sam did not looked dressed like for a business meeting). But today could had been that they had something with Inside Wee Box. I have not see that they had collaborated with them before, or that Inside Wee Box had commented on any of Sam´s posts until now.

Yes, I saw the story of Alex at the airport and most likely bound Scotland for the Kimpton event. As well as Ashley who pronounced she'll be in Edinburgh 5 - 12 August, though last night her flight was canceled and she'll be arriving tomorrow.

I don't know how much to read into those comments. Didn't see AN's comment (or maybe I did and forgot 🤷‍♀️). Not seeing it anymore at least if it was there. As for weebox, they've always promoted OL and his booze as well, you can see that in their older posts. Don't think they have a collab with OL or SS for that matter but are all doing it on their own accounts. I actually don't care much about it or think much about it for that matter.

I figure if AN is in Scotland they'll surely be busy with whatever business wise. Don't think AN is there for just a nice vacay or visit him, nor Ashley. But I really don't think being photographed in front of the M&S store means anything. Gosh, perhaps he was on his way to AN who might stay in Edinburgh and he needed some mints, or AN was inside the store as he forgot his toothbrush 🤷‍♀️😂

For what it's worth, on Sunday evening S seems to have nothing better to do than trying to be funny during Duncan's live signing.

Duncan btw. announced that he's preparing for Hyrox Poland, maybe Sam can recommend him a nice training buddy! 😉

[not-goldy]

Tae is traveling to US tomorrow (confirmed) and JK will be in the US on 28th so yeah again jokers being proven wrong. Taekook will be together like the happy couple they are and spending their time together bfo MS. Jimin will be back in Korea after filming a company contact. At the end of the day you guys will always get peanuts as we enjoy the whole buffet. Stay strong

Jimin will be back in Korea.... but where is he now???

THATS RIGHT WITH HIS MAN WHILE YOUR SHIP CO PILOT IS IN KOREA cutting his hair tryna look good for his Jennie.

If I were you I wouldn't worry much about when they will be in the same location- if ever they will. I'd be concerned what they do with other people when they aren't by chance on the same continent🤣

"Let's have faith. They might be on the same continent soon. Let's pretend this is not happening. Let's pretend he's not out there in the cold with another man. Jimin had his turn. Tae's turn coming"

Well since they on rotation for dick, I'm just gonna go ahead and claim Monday through to Sunday for my client, Tae can have him like never in a week and on in- your-wildest-dreams when JM is done taking strokes😙

If you act nice, I'll let Jk have drinks on Thursday afternoons with him- don't worry Jimin will not be home ill make sure of it🙂

Your Jk cheating on his bf with Jimin trope must wear you out by now cos forget side chick- This is an overthrow. Find several seats in the back for Tae. He deserves better than this.

Company Contract- cognitive dissonance is a bitch huh.

The beauty of becoming the most successful Solo Kpop artists in 2023 is.... they've built enough leverage to walk away from productions they don't want to participate in. Also, they are a Solo artists. They don't need to film content with anyone they don't want to for nothing. Do you even understand what SOLO artist means??

If Tae Kook did any of the things these two do out here, I wouldn't even ship Jikook. I'd be a Tuktukkers. Yall lots are nuts. Go lick your wounds somewhere else.

[progressblog]

Update

Hello guys, so not only did I relapse but I also got a fever and I am still recovering from it. Past few days have been chaotic. My uni told me on Sunday at 6pm that we have to give viva for the research papers we wrote in the month of may on monday and prepare our files as well by Monday afternoon and be present for viva 😭 fun fact I got fever on Sunday and the whole day I just tried my best to reduce my body temperature and by night mom came as well to help me out because the next day I had to be prepared to be present. And believe it or not my viva went well although I couldn’t bring all the complete documents I was able to answer well and then I immediately went home to rest and took today off as well that is Tuesday. And since tomorrow is a government holiday for us that means no uni they gave us a lot of deadlines due Thursday.

So although the temperature has subsided the runny nose and other symptoms still persist which is fine they aren’t worst to deal with.

Talking of my mental health I was pull free till Friday then on Saturday I pulled, Sunday was pull free again and this whole week I pulled. For all those wondering how am I managing now that I am not pull free, I use eye shadow to cover up the spots. If it works for me it may work for you as well, it’s not fool proof but it allows me to roam around without much anxiety.

Anyways, I cannot force myself into healing, I am falling apart in every manner but I cannot fall apart academically so tomorrow will be a big day of completing assignments, which means tonight I need my good night sleep.

Now that that’s been said let’s focus on other matters.

Now that I am completely not well inside or out I need to fall back into my comfort zone and do things that make me feel good.

So first and foremost that comes to mind is, limited socialising, I have been socialising a lot and it’s been draining my energy and it’s not just limited to uni so I’m taking a break from that.

To hit the bed at the same time everyday.

I am deleting any other social media that I use except tumblr so that my screen time eventually comes down.

1hr of physical activity so that would include a morning yoga session and an evening dance cardio both 30mins nothing too much.

Dietary restrictions, I have an autoimmune condition due to which I always have inflammation in my body which when gets worse scares me so no more coffee even if I crave it and drinking more fluids, green tea, electrolytes and chia seed drinks to ease digestion. And because my appetite is still low I will try to eat at least 2 meals a day.

Talking of meds, setting alarms and also segregating my medicines into weekly medicine boxes so that they become extremely convenient to take on time and also to carry.

Not forcing myself to study so much instead to produce my emotions on paper whether it’s by writing, journaling or even painting regularly and studying the minimum each day spread out through out the week.

Other self care activities to maintain my hygiene to be done regularly and to keep my surroundings clean and my laundry in check.

What I’m hoping to achieve by this is not much much but an equilibrium inside and outside mind and body.

Will update you guys regularly on what I was able to accomplish for the day.

[dalgursbate]

Snippet Sunday Thursday Friday

tagged by the exquisite @lyzelky over on my main account (@molgars)

I've got a few irons in the fire right now, so I'll post two of them.

This first one is from chapter 2 of Hymnals, Major and Minor, an Aylin/Isobel/Shadowheart post-canon fic about them dating the wrong way 'round:

The next day, Isobel is sitting on the loveseat knitting when Shadowheart approaches, plopping down gracelessly on the couch beside her. “So, when are you taking me out, darling angel mine?” “Technically, Aylin is the angel.” A sly smile plays at the corner of the other woman’s lips, though she doesn’t look up from her work.  Shadowheart hums. “Is that so? I must have been confused on account of how radiant your beauty is.” Isobel snorts and casts a sideways glance at her. “Those sorts of lines work often for you, do they?” “These days? All the time.” Shadowheart grins broadly. “Blessedly, my girlfriends don’t seem to mind my lack of taste.” “Oh, I wouldn’t say you lack taste,” Isobel muses, her gaze returning to the busy movements of her clever hands. “Personally, I think your taste is exquisite.” Despite all the time they’ve spent together, Shadowheart still finds herself flushing at the insinuation. “You didn’t answer the question,” she says. “Well-spotted.” The corner of Isobel’s mouth twitches again, and Shadowheart knows that she’s taking great joy in her coyness.  “How much free time do you have this coming tenday?” “All of my time is free time right now, dearest.” “Excellent,” her partner says, as though she didn’t already know. “Then we shall prepare to leave for our journey tomorrow.” “Journey?” Shadowheart arches an eyebrow. “Are you taking me on a honeymoon for our first date?” “Darling, don’t tell me you underestimated my propensity for grand gestures,” Isobel places a hand atop her heart in mock offense. “It would wound me so very deeply.” Shadowheart rolls her eyes affectionately. “You’re so dramatic.” “You love that about me,” Isobel says confidently, because she’s correct. “But we’re not going on a honeymoon; we’re going on a journey.” “And what does that mean, precisely?” “I suppose you’ll simply have to find out,” she responds, tone ominous.   Shadowheart just laughs fondly and wraps an arm around her, pulling her in by the waist. There is no hesitation in the way that Isobel abandons her knitting to come to her, and Shadowheart marvels at how intoxicating it is that she’s allowed to do this. That she’s allowed to kiss this revelation of a woman, softly and soundly, afforded the privilege of tracing the familiar contours of her mouth at an unhurried pace. She doubts she will ever tire of it.

I will tag @again-please @shewhowas39 @renyerokami @moonlesbianlover and @capriclonus, as well as anyone who wants to do it! and under the cut will be a QUITE EXPLICIT teaser of the next chapter of to forgive is human and failure is divine

The next day ends like this: Shadowheart face-down on a stranger’s bare mattress, her ass in the air as she’s pounded over and over again by a shapely piece of silicon. Her fingers arch like talons, scrambling for purchase on the box spring, while pitiful cries spill from her throat in some kind of obscene hymnal. A firm hand traces the knobbly, underfed length of her spine—reminiscent of how she used to run her fingers over prayer beads, so many lifetimes ago—and a low, gravelly voice coos and murmurs encouragement about how much more she can take, how much further she can be pushed. It ends with her stretched to bursting, begging for mercy, half-crazed and desperate for a release she keeps being denied. But it begins with Shadowheart waking up to her phone alarm at 10 a.m., groggy and disoriented by the dizzy-bright sunlight streaming in through her apartment’s only window. Before she can return to The Grove, before she can make herself a fool once more for a shitty gith with an attitude problem, she has to get herself through another day where she struggles to accomplish anything worthwhile. She sighs, rubbing the heels of her palms so hard into her eyes that little starbursts of red dance behind her lids. The only way out is through, she reminds herself wearily. And Gods, do I want to get out.

[emojellyace08]

Okay I might come up with a rant right now...

(Warning: SPOILERS AND SENSITIVE CONTENT READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Just read Vin Jin's backstory and I honestly felt bad for him. Bro deserves better.

And announcement that I wouldn't write Taejin because he's a messed up motherfucker. I kind of cringe when one time I wrote something for him before it was revealed what kind of person he really is (he r**** Vin's sister). I would make edits and remove him. I also wouldn't write for the fake Baek Hangyeol (the fake doctor). Probably other characters as well? I don't know I might take considerations but I would be picky choosing what to write.

So far I will write for J-High, Big Deal, God Dog, Vin Jin, (I like writing good and sane characters lol) probably Gun and Goo? James might be considered but I'll still think about it (if he's ever really Charles Choi's second body I would go nuts and won't write him anymore since it will be very fucking weird). For Workers I am really picky as well.

I might be picky doing writing with the other characters.

And for the request and posting schedule!

I would write fluff, aus (I really love the crossovers and requests you guys make. I might do a zombie one with my own art since I'm in my L4D phase rn lol) and angst (probably less smut but that doesn't mean I won't write it anymore, I would just be picky about what lies on that category and if it is morally acceptable).

And I won't write weird ass stuff either.

Posting schedule isn't finalized yet but either around Thursday to Sunday (depends when I'm active). But I'll be probably be posting in Fridays first? I'm busy with my personal life right now.

Request Lists (that I haven't done yet)

Lookism (J-High AU) with reader (Part 2 for the Gen 0 ver.)

Fem! Gojo Reader x Lookism (Part 2)

Johan x Female Reader (feel free to add more information about how I will write it).

Gun x Female Reader (requested by rukuk)

(Feel free to add ideas if I left something on the list and requests might be done REALLY late since I got to focus on my studies. But I'll prioritize the other first requests before doing the others. But I already have saved drafts, just unfinished).

I'll try to post maybe later or tomorrow (I'm cramming right now so yeah. Wait for other announcements and posts for now. Thank you!)