#when i did food service for four years

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Me: I'm trying to decide what I want to do as a career. Maybe it's because I've been watching a lot of 911 lately, but I'm considering maybe being a dispatcher?

Friend: I think you would be a good dispatcher. You like gossip, it's just like. High stakes gossip.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Ghost Eater

Summary: You don't like exorcists. They don't much like you either.

-----

You’d always thought big restaurants like the Brownie Industry only did well in small, midwestern towns like the one you came from. A year working in LA has taught you that, no matter where you go, people will always love garlic bread and sugar.

It’s your day off which means you’re pulling a double shift. You haven’t had time to wash your hair for the past two weeks so it’s frizzing out of your claw clip and flying wild around your face. The lighting is so dim that you’ve tripped over two black purses already, luckily not while you’re running food. The big dining room sounds like an apiary with the tittering laughter of the later adult crowd that’s filtered in from the theater across the four lane road. The main difference between the Brownie Industry here and the one back home is size. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by a series of concrete pillars separating the dining area into three sections.

Normally it would be three servers per section. Today, it’s just you in yours.

One more hour. That’s what the manager promised you. It might even be true if the host stand quits seating you after the table you’re approaching.

There are three people at the table. A woman whose hair might be light blonde or gray in the light of day, her eyes light and piercing. Her face is soft from age, emphasized by the tight, lace collar of her off-season sweater. She reminds you strongly of your mom’s nemesis on the HOA board. The man couldn’t be more out of place next to her despite their equivalent age. He’s wearing a leather jacket – again, it’s not cold here – and a Norwegian metal shirt underneath. His hair is definitely white, so white it almost glows. He’s frowning at the teenager across the table as if she’s touched his motorcycle without permission.

The teenager might be the first you’ve seen all night who doesn’t have their phone out. She’s decked out in what you consider grandma florals – a t-shirt scattered with daisy chains, a bucket hat made out of nana’s carpet bag, and a hand-crocheted scarf in pastel.  You can’t really see her face under the shadow of her hat and there’s an odd, blurred quality to the way she fiddles with her napkin. You let your eyes skip past her and back to the two adults. Teenagers don’t pay the bill.

“Welcome to Brownie Industry!” you chirp. You’re sweaty and red but the faded yellow light hides that. You’re a service industry pro so none of your exhaustion shows on your face when you ask, “Is this your first-time dining with us?”

If you weren’t so burned out, you’d have noticed before you introduced yourself.

“Are you Grady?” the woman asks. Her voice is more posh than you expected even with her lace collar. “Grady Pace?”

Fuck. There’s a noticeable temperature differential now that you’re close to them. The restaurant is warm from the number of bodies, maybe even warmer than the summer air outside, but stepping up next to their table feels like walking into an ice rink.

“I’m your waitress,” you say. You don’t have time for this conversation. You’ve got five minutes in your cycle to take their order and then you’ve got food to run. “If you need any other services from me, I have a website.”

“We messaged you,” the man says. His lips thin to the point his thick mustache covers them entirely. “You never responded.”

Because you’ve been making more money at the Brownie Industry than your other job. “I’ll take a look at it tonight.”

“Wait,” the teenager says, sitting upright. She looks from you to the adults and back again. When she smiles, there’s no humor in it. “This is why we drove eight hours to have dinner at the Brownie Industry? For her?”

“Katie, be polite—”

“I’m sorry,” Katie says, “It’s just—I found a priest, you know? An actual exorcist priest and you guys want to trust a waitress over him?”

“Ugh exorcists,” you say. The memory of sour cabbage is so heavy on your tongue that you stick your tongue out in disgust. When you see Katie’s look, you backtrack. “Effective! Definitely effective.”

“Your mistakes have cost us too much already,” the man says, shaking a finger at her. “We are not converting just for an exorcism.”

“I normally don’t agree with your father,” the woman tells Katie, “but in this case I would like to leave conversion as a last resort.”

“We wouldn’t actually convert,” Katie says, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty sure exorcists can tell when you lie,” you tell Katie. When her scowl deepens, you clear your throat. “Did you all need another minute to think about the menu?”

“We need you to help us,” the dad says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re at work and I’m sorry we’re bothering you.”

“We’re desperate,” the mom says. She reaches for her purse. “We’ll pay you. Triple the rate on your website or even quadruple. We need that thing gone by tonight.”

Katie covers her face. “Mom. You’re embarrassing me. Terry isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he’s bad, young lady,” the dad says sternly. “A bad influence.”

“We caught her trying to perform another séance yesterday,” the mom confesses to you. She leans forward with a pinched expression. “So Terry’s friend Larry could visit too.”

“Interesting,” you say. The food bell rings, but you think you can ignore it for another minute. You study Katie’s blush. “Why did you do that?”

If she was being compelled, she won’t have an answer to your question. You’ve dealt with a lot of ghosts in your time, but so few are sentient enough – or powerful enough – for compulsion.

“Go on,” the dad says, gesturing at you. “Tell her.”

“Leroy, she’s embarrassed enough,” the mom says.

“No, she’s not, Sarah.” The dad – Leroy – gestures to you again. “Tell her.”

Katie huffs, clearly resistant. But when her dad huffs back, she caves. “So,” she says, “I have this YouTube channel—”

“I’m off in an hour,” you interrupt. You don’t care that you’re being rude. Your patience ran out as soon as she said YouTube. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” You turn to go.

“A moment!” Sarah shakes out her menu. “How’s the nicoise salad?”

Of course they’re going to order. They’d better tip too if they want you to help them with their ghost problem.

----.

“You said an hour,” mom Sarah says when you leave out the employee entrance. She’s shivering next to her daughter. Leroy is off smoking behind his motorcycle, parked next to the Tesla Katie is leaning on, but he stubs out his cigarette on the asphalt when you walk up. “It’s been two.”

“I had side work,” you say instead of it would have been one if not for you. You rub your bare arms when the familiar ghost chill washes over you. You want nothing more than to go home and wash the scent of garlic and brownie batter out of your hair. “Was there something wrong with my service?”

“No?”

You try to make your voice light. “I see.”

Sarah frowns at your tone anyway. “Why?”

“You tipped five dollars.”

Katie jolts like a scalded cat. “Mom!”

Leroy scrubs a hand over his face. “Sarah…”

“What?” Sarah throws up her hands. The parking lot lights catch on her Swarovski charm bracelet. “I tipped!”

“Like ten percent,” Katie says. She pulls her bucket hat over her eyes for a beat and then peeks at you from under it. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, she’s always like this.”

“It was actually a six percent tip,” you say. You’re getting a clearer picture of this little family now. It’s becoming more and more understandable why Katie might have started summoning ghosts. “If you want to be precise.”

Leroy reaches for his back pocket. “Let me.”

Sarah swats at his hand. “We’re about to pay her a lot more than that!”

“For a completely separate job,” Leroy says. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and hands it to you with a grimace. “Sorry, Grady, I should’ve checked.”

“You should’ve paid if you cared so much,” Sarah retorts. She folds her arms over her chest. She taps her cheek and widens her eyes. “Oh wait… you never pay.”

“Sure,” Leroy says. This time it’s his turn to throw his hands in the air. “Sure, Sarah. I don’t pay for anything to do with our daughter’s private school or her dance classes or her health insurance—”

“If the court hadn’t mandated—”

“You make twice as much as me—"

“Guys!” Katie says loudly. Her mouth is a thin line of upset when she says, “Argue about what an expensive burden I am later when we don’t have an audience, okay?”

Her parents speak at the same time.

“You’re twisting my words,” Sarah says. “I never said—"

“Sweetie, you’re not a burden—”

“Can you just get this ghost out of me?” Katie asks you. She goes for nonchalance and falls short. “My parents haven’t been in the same room for the last five years for a reason.” She fakes whispering. “They don’t play nicely with others.”

Sarah bristles. “Katie.”

“God, I know how that is,” you say. The whole interaction is giving you the worst case of sympathy for Katie. Before her parents can say anything else, you change the subject. “How long have you been haunted?”

“Six months,” Katie says. She fiddles with her bucket hat so that you can see her eyes for the first time. They’re brown, like her dad’s, and have heavy bruises underneath. She shrugs. “They only noticed a month ago though.”

“I noticed your behavior had changed,” Sarah defends. Like her daughter, she fidgets. She plays with her bracelet and clears her throat. “I thought it was a teenage thing.”

“What signs did you notice first?” you ask the parents. They glance at each other and then away.

“Let’s just say we noticed different things,” Leroy says dryly. He pulls out his phone.

“Moodiness,” Sarah says. She ticks them off on her fingers. “Laziness. Disrespect. Over-sleeping.”

“Those are just teenager things,” Katie says with an astounding level of self awareness. She shrugs. “I’m a senior now. They’re lucky it didn’t start sooner.”

“I,” Leroy says, “noticed this.” He turns his phone towards you.

“Ah,” Sarah says, “Yes. That.”

You examine the picture. It’s of Katie on a small dirt bike. She’s wearing a helmet in the picture, but you recognize the fashion sense in the floral boots she’s wearing. The scene behind her is of the hills, low scrub brush recognizable to someone who’s lived in LA for the past five years. On the bike behind her is a smudge. It could be a cloud of dirt blown into frame or maybe a camera glitch. It could be if it weren’t for the leering face emerging from the cloud right behind her head.

“I just want to say I did not agree to getting her a motorcycle,” Sarah says.

“Mom, not the point,” Katie says.

“Look how close that creep is to my daughter,” Leroy says. He jabs a finger at Katie’s waist in the photo where you can see a ghostly hand. “I want him gone.”

“Dad, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Katie turns to you earnestly. “Terry never rode a bike before and I thought, like, what if he moved on after he got a chance to? It was a philanthropic effort!”

“Plant a tree if you want to be a philanthropist,” Leroy growls. “I want this guy away from my daughter.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm really,” Katie says. “He would move on if he could! He says he’s stuck to me because of how I summoned him. He’s like, really sorry. He even spelled out Sorry in the bathroom mirror once.”

“What,” Sarah says in a dangerous voice, “was Terry doing in the bathroom with you, Katie?”

Katie splutters. “Mom, don’t be gross!”

The family descends into bickering. You have heard about ghosts being stuck to a person before, but usually that’s when the person has some sort of psychic powers. Katie’s wearing crystal in her ears, but they aren’t charged. She might develop some talent later in life, but right now she’s a normal girl.

The parking lost is nearly empty now. You recognize a few employee cars, but very few customers. The kitchen will be cleaning for another half hour before they’re ready to go home.  The reality is that, if Terry is stuck, you might not be the best way to handle the situation. If he’s not…

Well.

It’s time to talk to Terry.

Opening your ghost sense is hard to describe. Some psychics liken it to a third eye, right in the middle of their forehead. You’ve always thought that sounded really cool like maybe the world gets cast in a blue hue when they do it and the dead appear like they do in movies. You’ve met other psychics who say it’s like a sixth sense. They know where the ghost is and it’s like they download all that information until their minds can just sort of conjure their image.

For you, it’s like letting your body remember it has a second mouth. Cats have an extra sensory organ on the roof of their mouth that lets them detect scents better. Your second mouth is a bit like that. You can still smell brownies and garlic and the city air of LA, but you can also smell/taste something else.

Something like…pepper?

Your eyes water and you sneeze so viciously that your eyes close. When you open them again, four people are staring at you in surprise.

“Gesundheit,” Leroy says.

“You sneeze like Dad does,” Katie says.

“Did no one ever teach you to cover your mouth?” Sarah asks in disgust.

“I wish you would’ve sneezed on her,” Terry says, nodding to Sarah. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Thank you for the commentary, everyone,” you say. You wipe your nose with the collar of your shirt as you consider Terry. It’s dirty anyway. “Terry. Interesting name for a ghost.”

Terry hasn’t noticed that you can see him yet. He’s floating behind Katie, one arm casually flung over her shoulder. It’s hard to place when he died based on his appearance alone. His hair is chin length, emphasizing the width of his jaw. Squire cuts have been popular for several decades and the bowling shirt he’s wearing could either be a modern fashion statement or a dated uniform. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, sun-kissed and with the air of someone who tells a lot of jokes at the expense of others. His arm around Katie strikes you as possessive, the glare he gives her parents venomous.

“I didn’t name him,” Katie says. “He said it’s short of Torrance.”

You blink. “Wouldn’t he be Torri then?”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Katie and Terry say at the same time. Their cadence is so close that it actually sounds like Terry’s baritone comes out of Katie’s mouth. For a moment, his arm flickers, clipping into her shoulder like a bad animation. When it does, Terry’s form grows brighter, more solid. Then Katie shivers and he’s forced out of her.

You and Terry click your tongues at the same time.

You remember how Katie’s hands seemed to blur at the dinner table. Terry’s not just haunting Katie. He’s trying to possess her. You wonder if that’s why Katie looked up an exorcist rather than a simple spiritual cleansing. Did she know how much danger she was in?

“Okay,” you say. You tear your attention away from Katie and Terry for a moment. Business first. “Sarah. Leroy. Who was it that found my site?”

“I did,” Sarah says. She raises her chin when you can’t hide your surprise. “When Katie was looking up exorcists—”

“She didn’t mean it,” Terry says. He pats Katie’s hat. “Right?”

“—I looked up alternative solutions,” Sarah says, not having heard Terry. Her confidence falters for a moment and she rubs her arm. “I have had some… negative experiences with exorcisms. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”

Katie’s head whips towards her mother. “What? I didn’t know that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Leroy says. For the first time, he reaches out and hugs Sarah with one arm. You don’t know what surprises you more; Leroy hugging Sarah or Sarah leaning into his side. “When Sarah told me, we decided to put our differences aside. I vetted you through some of my contacts and they all agreed you’d be a safe bet.”

“I am,” you say. You’re not bragging either. You’re probably the safest bet in half the western states besides your older sister. “There are some…peculiarities in my method.”

“Charlatan,” Terry whispers in Katie’s ear. He’s grinning now. “Only charlatans are that confident. Look! She can’t even see me!”

Katie looks doubtful.

Usually, you’d try to talk to Terry at this point. Sometimes spirits can be negotiated with. They can be encouraged to move on or to take on a less aggressive form of haunting. Those that are truly stuck can be helped with the right sort of ritual work. But the way Terry’s affecting Katie’s mood and that fucking arm around her shoulders…

You don’t really want to talk to Terry.

“We can ask Terry to move on,” you tell the family.

“Nooooooo,” Terry says and flips you off. “Pass!”

“Sometimes spirits don’t realize how deeply they’re affecting their hosts,” you say.

“You don’t even know how deep I’m about to be,” Terry jeers at you.

“Many ghosts are confused when they’re called to interact with the living,” you say. “It can blur their understanding of death and, as a result, they cling to life. If they stick around long enough, their presence will affect the living like what’s happening to Katie. It’s not always malicious. It can be a symptom of that confusion.”

“Katie, tell her to piss off,” Terry hisses in the teen’s ear. “I’m not confused, I’m bored.” His voice deepens. “Tell her we don’t need her help. Tell her we’re going home.”

Katie opens her mouth robotically. “That’s…” Her brow creases as she tries to figure out what she was going to say. “It seems like we don’t need help then. Terry will move on when he’s ready, like I thought.”

“We aren’t paying you for a ghost therapy session,” Sarah snaps. It’s only because you’re really focusing that you can see the unease under her anger. She’s noticed something wrong with Katie. “Katie, Terry is going away today.”

“Fuck you,” Terry says.

“Fuck you,” Katie says.

Leroy’s head rears back. “Katie, you don’t use that language with your mother!”

“Fuck you too,” Katie and Terry say. The parking lot lights flicker.

“No, fuck you, Terry,” you say, stepping between Katie and her parents. Leroy starts like he’s going to pull you out of the way, but he doesn’t.

“Terry?” Leroy asks. He looks scared. “Terry said that? Is Terry possessing my daughter?”

“Not yet.” You eye Terry’s arm and the way his fingers are sinking into Katie’s arm.

“Oh fuck,” Terry says. He doesn’t look scared. Not yet. Instead, he grins. “You can see me.”

“Not every ghost is malicious,” you tell the parents without taking your eyes off Terry. “But some are.”

“I’m not malicious.” Terry runs a hand through his hair, still grinning. The parking lot lights flicker overhead again. “I care about Katie a lot.”

“Terry’s never hurt me,” Katie says.

You ignore her. She’s not even shaking Terry off now. Her gaze is dull on your face when you say, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m some sort of ghost therapist. However, it’s important to differentiate between malicious and non-malicious hauntings in my practice. My methods are unconventional and, if used indiscriminately, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Leroy says. He steps into your periphery. His gaze flicks from you to the spot you’re staring at over Katie’s shoulder. “We want Terry gone.”

“Not a soul,” Sarah promises. She comes up on your other side. “Please help our daughter.”

“Terry,” you say. Your second mouth is yawning wide somewhere in the back of your brain. The taste of pepper isn’t as overwhelming now. “Last chance. Renounce your claim on Katie’s soul and slither back into whatever hole you came out of.”

“We’re soulmates,” Terry says. He bares his teeth at you. “Go on, Charlatan. Call on your God to banish me. I’ve been around for decades and no exorcist has ever been able to put a scratch on me. And when they manage to push me out?” He laughs and the temperature drops another ten degrees. An unholy light flickers in his eyes. “I just come right back.”

“Then I guess I won’t feel guilty,” you say.

“Guilty?” Katie asks.

You walk forward two steps and grab Terry’s face. Terry’s skin is soft and jelly-like. His facial bones undulate like rubber under your grip. “Hi, Terry.”

Now Terry’s afraid. “What the fuck, you can touch—?”

“Bye, Terry.” You drag him towards you. His fingers pop out of Katie’s arm with a wet sucking sound, and he claws at your wrist.

“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait--”

You eat Terry.

People come from all around to eat at the Brownie Industry. They love the density of the desserts and the heaps of garlic spread over home-baked (shipped frozen) rolls. It’s a treat to know you’re always going to enjoy the meal even if you’re far from home or eating at the same location a hundred times. It’s consistency, sugar and butter. An easy addiction to have.

Eating ghosts is like that for you. They fizz in your second mouth like champagne and melt like fudge. It’s hard to describe and the ephemeral quality of it sends shivers down your spine. Somewhere Terry is screaming in anguish, maybe crying. You think that the family you’re helping is screaming something too, but the sensation of eating is so consuming you can’t hear the words.

Terry is younger than other ghosts you’ve eaten. He doesn’t have the depth of flavor you’d once been addicted to back in Illinois. The best ghost you’ve ever eaten had been like a six-course meal with all the centuries she’d been carrying. In comparison, Terry is like a bag of pepper chips. Interesting, but gone in a moment. Still, he hits the spot.

When you’re done, you burp a purple cloud of ectoplasm into the still night air.

Leroy is the first to speak. His eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around them. “Pay her, Sarah,” he says breathlessly. His hands shake as he reaches for Katie, steadying her on her feet. “Now.”

You smack your lips and graciously accept the wad of cash Sarah hands you. You raise your eyebrows. “This is more than three times my rate.”

“Consider it a tip,” Sarah says. She’s more composed than Leroy, but still pale. She studies you. “That was…revolting.”

“You didn’t have to watch,” you say. You put your money away and then perk up at a sudden thought. “Hey, if you can, can you leave me a review on my site?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to tell anyone?”

You wave your hand. “Secrets are bad for business. Besides, Terry deserved it. I’m sure they’ll understand if you write that in your review.”

“They…?”

You smile and don’t answer.

The family don’t ask many more questions after that. The parents promise to leave a review and Katie just stares at you as if concussed. You assure the parents that she’ll be back to normal as soon as the soul-shock wears off. 

“And if it doesn’t?” Sarah asks.

“Message me,” you say.

“You don’t check your messages,” Leroy says.

“Oh,” you say, patting your stomach, “I’ll be checking them a lot more often now.”

You’re hungry again.

---

(Patreon)

[silentheiss]

Shen Yuan is not a parent. He’s lazy, he’s a shut-in, he barely has a job. His parents pay for everything he owns. Plus, he’s not even thirty! Children can’t raise children!

All of this, though, doesn’t change the fact that there’s a mean little six year old sleeping in his apartment at least four nights a week.

“Yuan-ge, did you know young children sometimes die of hunger? Like, in poor countries. They don’t have food, so they die. Of hunger.” Shi Hai says, blinking up at him from where she’s sitting on the floor by the low table, dragging her chopsticks through the noodles in her take out container.

“Yes.” Shen Yuan answers distractedly. They’re watching the second episode of Love Game in Eastern Fantasy, and it’s kind of good. “Why?”

“I think I might chose that over this stink.”

“Ay, don’t be rude!” Shen Yuan gasps, turning to look at the girl fully. Her bangs are getting too long, falling past her eyebrows. They’ll have to get it cut soon. “I thought you liked that?”

“It’s better than beer.” Shi Hai shrugs. “But I’d maybe like a vegetable.”

Shen Yuan swears internally. He’s not equipped to do that. He should call Child Protection Services or something. They will contact the police, arrest Shi Wen, for some time at least, until her father gets her out of jail and back into the big, alcohol-filled apartment. And they will find a better home for Shi Hai. The one with actual adults, who can feed a child. Yes, he should do that.

He will.

“There’s a bell pepper in your noodles.” Shen Yuan mumbles. “Finish up, it’s time for a bath. You have school tomorrow.”

Shi Hai sighs.

“No.” Shen Yuan says, knowing well where this is going.

“Yuan-ge. School is ass.”

“Stop that. Kids don’t talk like that. Be cute.” Shen Yuan grumbles, turning back to the screen.

“This book is shit.” Shi Hai says in a low voice, clearly copying him. “What dumbass thought it’s worth my time. Idiot author.”

Shen Yuan throws a pillow at her.

“I don’t swear that much.” He says to himself.

“Uh-huh, Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai smiles. “Will you curl my hair before I go to bed? With the sock?”

“If you actually wash your hair, and not just stick your head under the water.” Shen Yuan says.

“Ugh.” Shi Hai groans. She puts her container back on the table and stomps away in the direction of the bathroom. Shen Yuan pauses his drama and gets up, too, to clean up. He’s been scolded by a child enough for one evening.

He throws away the trash, wipes the table and once he can hear the water running, he steps out of the apartment to knock on the next door to the right.

“Come on, Shi Wen.” He mumbles, when there’s no answer. “Don’t you care at all?”

Shen Yuan knocks again, louder. And again.

“I don’t think anyone’s home.”

Shen Yuan turns sharply and comes face to face with a man who, by all accounts, shouldn’t be real. He’s tall, exceedingly handsome, with long flowing hair and- he is holding a box filled with books as if it weighs nothing at all.

“She’s home.” Shen Yuan says dumbly.

The man smiles at him. Shen Yuan knocks on the door again, just for something to do.

“Neighborly visit?” The man asks, looking quite pointedly at his sweatpants and bare feet.

“Something like that.” Shen Yuan nods. “You’re moving in?”

“Yes. Luo Binghe.” The man says. “Got an apartment just down the hall.”

“Oh. Welcome, then. I’m Shen Yuan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Shen Yuan.” Luo Binghe says. His smile is a little distracting. It looks soft, but actually isn’t.

“Nice to meet you.” Shen Yuan nods. “I-

“Yuan-ge!” Shi Hai yells. “I forgot my towel.”

“Gotta go!” Shen Yuan smiles and rushes back to his apartment.

He fetches Shi Hai’s towel, her pajamas and soft slippers. Next hour or so is spent combing her hair, oiling it and curling it onto a sock roll. If it turns out pretty, maybe she won’t make a fuss about going to school tomorrow.

Shen Yuan gets Shi Hai into his bed, reads one of his more kid-friendly novels outloud for half an hour to get her to actually fall asleep, and then goes to the guest bedroom to sleep. He tried to appoint the guest bedroom for Shi Hai, but she wouldn’t have it, and he is, apparently, a pushover when it comes to bratty kids.

Shen Yuan doesn’t think about Luo Binghe until the next morning when he drags protesting Shi Hai through the door.

“Come on, Hai Hai, the taxi is waiting.” He says.

“Schools is-”

“No! Stop that!”

“Shit, ass, poop!” Shi Hai yells.

“Fucking- Shi Hai!”

“Good morning, neighbors.” Comes a bemused voice comes from somewhere behind his back.

“Good my ass.” Shen Yuan grumbles, still tugging on Shi Hai’s hand. He turns his head briefly to see who’s day they’re ruining. “Oh, hi, Luo Binghe.”

“Yuan-ge.” Luo Binghe smiles slowly. He’s dressed in all black, leather pants and silk shirt. He looks like a model.

“He’s my Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai grunts, gripping Shen Yuan’s hand tighter. At least she’s not swearing anymore.

“You don’t seem to respect him very much, do you?” Luo Binghe asks.

“What do you know.” Shi Hai says. “Ugly.”

Luo Binghe opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. Shen Yuan feels like all of his blood has flown into his cheeks. Shi Hai’s looking down at the floor, clearly embarrassed but no, too little too late, little one.

“Shi Hai.” He says sternly. “I’m very disappointed right now.”

He then looks at Luo Binghe, still gaping at them.

“Luo Binghe, I’m sorry. You’re very pretty.” Shen Yuan knows his attempt at damage control is faulty, but he’s not a parent. He doesn’t know how to do that.

He sighs, locks his apartment door, and walks away with a very docile child. They’ll talk in the car, he decides.

edit: i wrote more 🙈

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62095903/chapters/158849326

[littlegrapejuice]

A Side Of Your Number | FC43

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: You work as a waitress at the restaurant where the grid is having their 2024 drivers' dinner, during which you catch the attention of a rookie.

Author's Note: y'all can't imagine how much i love this one like i was so inspired when i saw the pics of the drivers' dinner that i immediately ran to my f1 google docs🤭 i hope y'all enjoy, this is my 1st time writing for franco!!

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

“Good evening and welcome!” You exclaimed as you smiled at the drivers entering the room.

Everyone walked past you with a smile and went to get seated. The last one of the lot was Lewis Hamilton, who had organised the dinner.

“Hey, thanks for having us.” Lewis put his hand on your shoulder with a grateful look in his eyes.

“No problem, sir.”

“How many times have I told you to stop that?” Lewis sighed as he shook his head. “I’ve known you for years, and I have to remind you of that every time I see you.”

“Usually I do it just to annoy you,” you explained with a teasing smile. “Tonight however, it’s my job to be polite and professional so you don’t really have a choice. It’s the restaurant’s policy.”

“Fine. But don’t abuse the title please.”

“Of course,” you replied with a nod. “Sir.” You almost laughed as Lewis’s lips twitched. “Okay, sorry. I’ll just let you join the others then I’ll come give y’all the menus.”

Lewis did as you said and walked to the table where everyone was already sitting, before taking a seat with his current teammate George on his right while his future teammate Charles was on his left.

True to your words, you were bringing a menu for everyone a couple minutes later.

“I’ll let you make your choices and come back soon”, you told them before going back to the counter to get your notepad and pen.

As the drivers were deciding what to get, the atmosphere was light-hearted and cheerful. Everyone was exchanging their doubts about what to eat tonight, while others were giving advice on the food they were already familiar with. Having eaten there several times in the past – hence why he was friendly with you, Lewis was able to share his knowledge with the people around him. While George and Carlos were listening to his every word, Charles and Pierre were debating about how to approach the recent drama that had been occurring. On the opposite side of the table, another world champion had captured his friends’ attention. Franco, ever the fanboy, was nodding at everything Max was saying while Lando and Oscar had a similar goal as the French speakers on the other side.

As it had been deliberate to have Max and George sitting at opposite ends, the majority of drivers were hoping to get some new comments on the situation without being too obvious. The two protagonists of this feud were honestly aware of that, but didn’t let it show on their respective faces and decided on having a peaceful night.

When you saw that most of them had put their menu down and heard the chatter getting a bit louder, you took that as your cue to get everyone’s order. You felt lucky that some drinks and meals had been chosen several times, meaning that you didn’t have to write too many things. Your way of organising your notes was pretty simple: next to each item, you were just writing the number of the drivers as you knew them all by heart. Soon enough, you were bringing everyone their drinks after you had sent the food orders to the kitchen. Even though almost all the grid was there, you didn’t have any issue in navigating around the huge table that was accommodating seventeen drivers. Starting from the furthest side away from the counter, you made your way up to the other side of the table. Everyone was being really nice to you and thankful for your service, which made Lewis smile as he was glad that your work was being appreciated.

Almost done, you now only had four drinks left to bring to Max, Lando, Oscar, and Franco. Although you were a big Mclaren fan – more of the drivers than the team nowadays, you managed to remain professional. Lewis knew about your preference, but never took it the wrong way because you had once told him that you became a Mclaren fan when he was still with them. Therefore, he had no right to judge you for playing favourites when he was the original reason for that. Moreover, he knew that you were supporting him as an individual driver, whatever team he was on.

You had to admit that you were also nervous to serve Max as the Dutch was really intimidating. However, the smile he gave you when you set down his drink was the most genuine you had ever seen and all your worries went away in less than a second. Finally, you gave his drink to Franco. You didn’t have a strong opinion on him yet. Sure he was cute and had a certain charm to him from what you had seen in interviews, but you still had a hard time judging his racing as he hadn’t been in Formula One for long and had probably been pulled from Formula Two way too early. And despite the points he had scored during his first races, he had crashed several times recently so you’d need to see him do a full season one day in order to rank him as a driver and not only as a person. Safe to say, you were quite neutral to face him compared to the others. Still, you offered him your kindest smile when you put down the glass on the table.

“And this is for you, enjoy!” Despite using your customer service bubbly personality, you were truly happy to do your job tonight and no one could deny it.

Turns out that someone else was now also very happy that you were doing this job. See, as you barely had time to remove your hand from the drink you had set down, someone else’s was grabbing it. You didn’t really register the physical touch as you honestly didn’t mind – it didn’t happen that often, but the other person was surprisingly perturbed. So while you were waiting for them to remove their hand from yours, it seemed that they hadn’t even realised it. Franco, who was the one with his hand around the glass and around your hand, was looking up at you. He blinked a couple times and opened his mouth to speak before following your gaze that was focused on the drink.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Franco apologised as he immediately retracted his hand, letting you put yours back to your side.

“No problem, don’t worry!” You smiled at the young driver before taking a look around the table. “I’ll be back with the first dishes soon guys, enjoy your drinks in the meanwhile!”

Everyone thanked you before they began clinking their glasses together, and once again the chatter got louder. The drivers were comparing drink choices and their tastes, as they shared souvenirs of past dinners. One driver, though, was a bit more silent than others. Franco was currently nodding along to whatever story Yuki was telling about one of his trips, and just quietly sipped his drink. Easy to say that he wasn’t going to remember anything as it seemed that his mind was occupied with something else – or rather someone else. His eyes kept drifting back to you, back facing the drivers as you were organising some shelves behind the counter. If one wasn’t really paying to where Franco’s gaze was directed, they could’ve just thought him overwhelmed from the setting. That was what Esteban had assumed.

“Hey man,” he called out to catch Franco’s attention. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm, yeah, yeah…” Franco mindlessly replied. “All good, don’t worry.”

Esteban didn’t have much time to wonder about whether to drop the subject or not due to Franco’s lack of convincing, that someone else had picked up on the short conversation.

“Franco, mate, everything alright?” Lando questioned, keeping a low voice as to not alert the whole table.

Now realising that he was worrying the others and catching too much attention, Franco sat up before repeating his previous words:

“I’m good, yeah. Sorry, I got a little bit distracted there. Just need to eat and I’ll be energised again, no worries!”

“I see,” Lando replied. “I get you, you’re young and still growing! You’re absolutely not distracted because you got a crush on our waitress.”

“Exactly,” Franco agreed before he processed the last sentence. “Wait– what did you say?”

“Lando said that you definitely need food while you’re still growing,” Oscar repeated. “Even though he’s barely a couple centimetres taller than you.”

“I meant growing as in growing up”, Lando retorted.

“Well, you’re not that much older than him anyways.” Oscar shrugged before going back to his conversation with Liam and Yuki who were sitting on his right.

While Max was quick to replace Oscar in teasing Lando, Franco was experiencing an entire life crisis regarding the conversation that had just happened. Did he imagine Lando’s words? Did no one else hear that? He wondered as he looked around: Esteban appeared to have stopped caring as he was talking with Nico about Haas, and the other drivers sitting across Franco didn’t seem to have paid any attention to him as they all deemed him fine. Franco truly thought he had gone crazy – he probably had. First, he loses all ability to speak because a pretty girl is serving him. And now, he can’t even differentiate his imagination from reality? He really wasn’t acting like himself. Franco was usually the one to flirt and make people nervous, never the opposite – except that one time when Oscar said he was funny in his interviews and that he needed to learn Spanish. He had to fix the situation, no more getting flustered because of eye contact with you.

Safe to say: it was easier said than done, because it was happening again.

As you started to bring everyone’s food, Franco couldn’t help his gaze following your every move. He had to think of something to make you nervous, not him! And now that he was remembering the moment from ten minutes ago, he realised that you hadn’t even done anything special for him to act like that. You were just doing your job and were as nice as the next person, so why was Franco already smitten from a thirty second interaction? He sighed as he tried to find a way to reverse the roles, which was a difficult task for him and proved impossible when you were once again in front of him.

“There you go, Franco!”

Your smile didn’t fully reach your eyes, but Franco could tell it was sincere; and how he was loving it! And did his name ever sound as good as when you were the one to say it? Was he the only one whom you had addressed by their first name? He wouldn’t be able to tell, Franco had kinda muted everything around him until you had reached him. Realising he hadn’t even replied after you had set down his plate, he quickly tried to thank you before you would be leaving the table as you had just given Oscar his food.

“Excuse me!” He called, albeit loudly which made him cringe that he would catch the other drivers’ attention, and waited for you to turn to him. When you did so and looked at him, he talked again. “Just forgot to thank you for the food, sorry.”

“Oh, that's no problem. Don’t worry about it, enjoy!”

“Thanks, again.”

Oh God, why was he so nervous to speak to you? Franco wanted to facepalm at how badly he had handled the situation. You would never be able to take him seriously after that, would you? Not wanting to keep embarrassing himself, Franco decided to start eating before someone would call him out on his actions. However, it didn’t take long as he felt someone nudging his leg from under the table. Franco looked up and his eyes met Liam’s.

“So,” Liam began. “I forgot to thank you for the food, sorry!” The blonde laughed at his own imitation of Franco, which amused the other drivers that had watched the interaction between you and the Argentinian.

“Oh my God…” Franco sighed and put his head in his hands. It was over for him, everyone would tease him and he would have to find a job in another racing category to be left alone.

“I don’t blame you,” Lando said. “She’s nice and she has a sweet smile. Is she your type?”

“She doesn’t need to be his type for him to like her”, Nico added. He turned slightly to be able to face Franco before continuing. “You should shoot your shot as you kids say nowadays, can’t hurt to try.”

“Agreed,” Yuki nodded. “We’ll make you look good in front of her, don’t worry.”

The other drivers confirmed and Franco thought it would be over for now, before someone kept the conversation going:

“Who are we making look good for whom?” Alex asked as he hadn’t been listening, having been talking with his future teammate Carlos.

“Franco”, Esteban replied. “He likes the waitress.”

“Hey!” Franco exclaimed. “Can we not air my business like that? I’m pretty sure we could be discussing other gossip.”

“But you’re not denying it,” Valtteri pointed out.

To that, Franco had nothing to reply for a good minute.

“I don’t like her, I barely know her.”

“Then get to know her,” Liam said as if it was obvious before he took a piece of food to eat.

“The kid is right,” Valtteri agreed.

“Thank you!” Liam was grateful to be supported.

“Lewis,” Valtteri eventually called to his friend who was a couple seats away. “What can you tell us about her?”

“Hmm?” The eight seven-times world champion looked up from his plate, fork in his mouth. He was confused about what he was gonna get involved in as he had spent the last half hour talking with Charles and George, the three of them having been in their own little bubble. He swallowed his food before wiping his mouth. “What’d I miss?”

“The waitress, what can you tell us about her?” Valtteri repeated.

“Why?” Lewis raised an eyebrow, confused as to why you were the topic of the table.

“I think little Franco over here wants to ask her out”, Carlos replied. He hadn’t given his opinion on the discussion yet, happy to just be a spectator and listen.

“I never said tha–” Franco began to argue.

“You want to date her?” Lewis asked, the serious tone obvious in his voice. At that, everyone around the table fell silent.

“I don’t know!” Franco desperately answered, stressed by the fact that Lewis was now getting involved.

“So you don’t like her?” Lewis rested his chin on his hands, to better focus on and assess Franco’s reactions. “She’s not to your liking? Not kind enough perhaps? Not hardworking enough?”

“I–” Franco was at a loss for words. He was truly about to shit himself and disappear from the face of the earth. Right now, he was almost glad to not have a seat next year because he didn’t think he would be able to handle facing the drivers anymore after this whole chaos. “She seems really nice, yeah.”

“She is,” Lewis simply stated.

“And yeah, she’s pretty.” His gaze landed once again on you. Fortunately for him, you were far enough from the table to not hear anything, but he was still able to look at your profile while you were chatting with some of the cooks. To his luck – really? – you had decided right at this moment to turn back to quickly check on how the drivers’ dinner was going and your eyes met his for a split second. Just a smile from you was enough to make Franco flustered again, making him drop the eye contact immediately. You went back to your conversation, completely unaware of what was happening barely ten metres away from you. When Franco realised that everyone was looking at him, waiting for him to keep going, he gulped. “I guess I wouldn’t mind being friends with her.”

“Just friends?”

“That’d be the main goal indeed”. Franco decided to be more confident in himself, and even though he was facing his idol, he had to be tough. “But becoming more could eventually be a great bonus.”

As Lewis kept asking questions about Franco’s intentions for another minute, which the young driver didn’t hesitate in answering, the rest of the drivers were still silent. They were all absolutely invested in the conversation unfolding before them, their heads turning left and right as if they were watching a tennis match. If the drama between George and Max had been the most interesting thing at the beginning of the night, it was now the least of their worries. Finally, the exchange between Lewis and Franco was coming to an end – almost to everyone’s disappointment as the entertainment would stop.

“Fine”, Lewis said as he let his hands drop back to his side and got more relaxed in his seat.

“Fine?” Franco repeated.

“I’ll give you a chance,” he explained. ‘Can’t say yet that she’ll do the same, but I guess you wouldn’t be too bad for her if anything were to happen.”

“Thanks…” Franco mumbled as he scratched his neck. He was still embarrassed that he had to have this conversation about you with the Sir Lewis Hamilton. At least, it was safe to shoot his shot now.

Not expecting it, you suddenly heard the whole table erupt in cheers and got startled as they were probably the loudest clients you’d ever heard in the restaurant. Looking at the cooks in confusion, you then let out a laugh at the drivers’ happiness. You had no idea what was happening, but you were glad that they were having fun. You knew from Lewis that the relations between drivers weren’t always rainbows and sunshines, but it warmed your heart to see them all getting along for one evening.

Debating if it was your cue to go up to the table when the cheers got quieter, you got a confirmation when Lewis called out your name. You excused yourself to the cooks – telling them to maybe expect orders soon enough – and walked up to the drivers with the same smile you had harboured since the beginning of the evening. At first, you had stopped at the table end that had been closest to you, but Lewis actually made you sign to join him at the other end where he was.

“How’re you doing?” He asked you when you were beside him.

“Good, good. What about you, guys? I heard a pretty nice celebration there.”

“We are indeed celebrating”, Lewis confirmed as he stood up next to you. “Toast with us?”

“I’m working Lewis”, you replied with a sigh. You had abandoned your smile and opted for a straight face that you hoped would remind your friend of your actual duties here.

“Just one drink?” He almost pleaded. “We’ll be very disappointed if you refuse.”

You reluctantly agreed – to which Lewis grinned – and quickly got yourself a drink before you came back to stand by the Brit. Thinking that you could treat yourself, you had taken a beer that you were definitely planning on charging Lewis for.

“So, what are we toasting to?” You wondered as you swirled your drink.

“To us: the 2024 grid. To the new drivers, and to the drivers that have been there for years and will still be there next year. But most importantly…” Lewis took his time glancing at his former partner at Mercedes, before his glance drifted to the others that had limited time left in Formula One. “We toast to the ones that won’t be here with us anymore starting next season. We’ll remember them to have been amongst the twenty best drivers in the world, and we’ll remember their meaningful careers. To us!” Lewis repeated, which was echoed by everyone else around the table.

To say you got chills was an understatement. Lewis’s speech was short, but enough for everyone listening to understand the weight of his words. No matter how long they had been in Formula One for, no matter how long they’ll still be here, no matter their achievements: there will always be someone to tell the stories of the drivers that had once reached the pinnacle of motorsport.

You knew Lewis had never taken his position for granted. He had fought to get to it, fought to stay there for the past seventeen years, and kept fighting to keep his place for the future. You had always admired him for his resilience, and you were always one to admire someone whenever they would reach the top step that was Formula One. Therefore, you were soaking in this moment. A moment shared with the seventeen people around you, whom you would never forget.

Your eyes, once again, met Franco’s. You gave him a discreet nod with a smile and slightly tipped your beer in his direction, as a way to tell him that yes, you would remember even him amongst the greatest. He shyly smiled back, and took a sip of his drink to distract himself from the way your eyes were softly looking at him from afar. After a moment of silence during when everyone had stayed quiet as a way of honouring those around them, you decided to fall back into your work persona.

“Not that I hate getting involved in this little get-together, but I am actually employed to serve y’all and not drink with the clients. Someone,” you emphasised with a look to Lewis, “better remember that.”

“Alright, blame it all on me.” Lewis raised his hands in defence. “I guess it’s time for some desserts then, right?”

The other drivers all agreed with the offer, and you took their plates to bring them back to the kitchen. After you had cleaned the table – except for the drinks that weren’t done yet, you gave everyone a dessert menu and let them make their choices. You came back to the table a couple minutes later to take the final orders, and wrote everything down. When you double-checked that you had seventeen desserts noted, you told the table that you’d be back soon and turned away. However, someone called out to you.

“Excuse me!” You recognised the voice as Lando’s. “You didn’t get Franco’s full order.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologised, wondering what you had missed as you clicked your pen, ready to add anything else.

“What are you doing?” Franco asked the Brit. Although he was whispering, everyone could hear the stress in his voice as he had no idea what to expect.

“So what can I get you?” You looked at Franco and smiled, waiting for him to tell you what he wanted.

Absolutely panicking, Franco didn’t know what to answer. His only option was to look at Lando for an explanation as to what he was expecting him to say, but it turned out to be his biggest mistake. Your gaze followed the direction in which Franco had glanced, and your eyes met Lando’s. He had already been looking at you, a grin on his face as he rested his cheek on his palm.

“He’ll just have whatever he had ordered with a side of your number.”

The entire room – which was honestly just you and the drivers – fell silent. As cringe and embarrassing it was for Lando to say that, he knew it was for the greater good. The dinner would be soon over, everyone would go back to their hotels and immediately go to sleep, due to the busy day waiting for them. So who knows if and when Franco would’ve actually talked to you.

Not knowing what to reply for a few seconds, you then processed Lando’s words and chuckled.

“I’ll see what I can do, we have a very limited stock.” Your eyes went back to looking at Franco, who was blushing. “Can you confirm to me that Lando got your order right, Franco?”

“Y–yeah, that’s what I’d like.” Franco wanted nothing more than to disappear six feet underground right now. “If that’s okay… I would understand if you can’t accommodate that.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, don’t worry. I’ll get back to you soon.”

When you left the drivers to their antics to go relay the orders to the kitchen, you couldn’t help the giddy smile that appeared on your face. It wasn’t everyday that a cute driver was interested in you. Hell! It wasn’t everyday that someone was interested in you, period. You thought about quickly texting Lewis to ask him for his opinion, but decided otherwise when you remembered him telling you about the ‘promising Argentinian who definitely deserved a full-time seat in the future’. You tried to find a way to give Franco your number, which could let you avoid doing so in front of all the drivers. You figured they had already teased him about it if Lando was as involved as he seemed to be, and kept thinking about a solution while you waited for the desserts to be ready.

Eventually, you had found the perfect idea. So when you brought the desserts to the drivers, you put your plan in motion. As you put Franco’s plate in front of him, you managed your best customer service voice along with an apologetic tone:

“I’m truly sorry, but your added request is actually impossible to fulfill at the moment.” You did your best not to laugh at your poor acting, and almost stopped pretending when you saw Franco’s dejected expression. “But, I found another solution to accommodate your needs.”

Confused, Franco tilted his head at you. You then gave him a piece of paper that was folded in two, and he wondered if your number was actually written on it or if it was all an act to reject him nicely. He truly thought you could have been interested too, but maybe the other drivers’ involvement along with him hitting on you at your workplace had been a complete ick. However, when you gave him one last glance before telling everyone to enjoy their food, he could swear you had winked at him. This was a good sign then, right?

As you left the drivers one more time, Franco debated unfolding the paper to read what was written on it. But when he saw that everyone was staring at him, expecting him to read out loud the content of the paper, he actually put it in his pocket. This led to the drivers all sighing of disappointment before they chose to focus on their food.

The rest of the dinner went well. When everyone was done eating, they simply chatted about the upcoming grand prix before it was time to pay and leave the restaurant. The drivers called you back for the bill, which you brought a few minutes later. Not thinking twice, you set it down in front of Lewis.

“I’m actually the one paying,” Valtteri pointed out.

“That’s so nice of you,” you replied. “I honestly think that the oldest should pay, but that’s just my opinion.”

“You wanna bankrupt me or what?” Lewis asked you.

“As if it would do harm to your bank account”, you retorted. “I’m pretty sure the world champion titles paid really well.”

“I can confirm”, Max shouted from the other end of the table.

“We’re settled, don’t worry. It’s my goodbye gift to them”, Valtteri assured you before you gave him the card terminal so that he could pay.

You thanked him and gave him his receipt before putting the terminal back in your pocket. You were about to start cleaning the table and bid the drivers good night when they asked you to take pictures for them. As an amateur photographer, you couldn’t refuse the request and even offered to use the digital camera you always had on you. They gladly accepted and you found yourself taking a dozen pictures of the drivers. You told Lewis that you would send the digitals later tonight, and he thanked you in advance.

It was now time for the drivers to actually leave and get ready for a good night's sleep before their last grand prix of the season. Telling them goodbye one by one and wishing them luck for the race, each driver sent you one last smile before thanking you once again for your wonderful service. The last two left were Franco and Lewis. You felt happy for Franco to be able to hang out so easily with his idol as you could relate to that surreal experience. They approached you while Lewis had his arm around Franco’s shoulders, and a smile was present on both their faces.

“We had a great night”, Lewis told you. “Right, Franco?” The young driver eagerly nodded and Lewis chuckled.

“Glad to know I did my job well. I’ll see you guys soon, yeah? Maybe for next year’s dinner?” You suggested.

“Why not tomorrow?” Lewis countered.

“You wanna have dinner here tomorrow as well?” You asked, confused as to why he hadn’t notified you sooner.

“I meant tomorrow at the track”, Lewis clarified. “And the day after that, and on Sunday for the race.”

“I didn’t buy tickets for this year. I’ll see well enough on my TV, don’t worry.”

“I have tickets for you though. Paddock passes and all”, he explained. “I sent them to you by email earlier during dinner. You’ll come say hi to us, yeah?”

“Oh! Well, yes! Oh my God, thank you so much!” You were absolutely ecstatic to be able to attend the grand prix. Usually, you would watch it from home, especially when you were working that day and didn't have any days off left to use.

“Everything has been arranged with your employer by the way; so you only need to show up every day, tour our garages, and look pretty to watch us race. Sounds good?”

“Sounds absolutely perfect, thank you Lewis.” You were beaming with happiness. “That means I’ll see you tomorrow as well Franco, will I?”

“Yeah of course,” he nodded. “You’ll have to come to me yourself though, I don’t have a way of contacting you.”

“Yet”, you teased with a smile. “Well, not like I don’t appreciate your company, but I need to close and go back home so I’ll have to ask you to leave guys.”

“Sorry,” Lewis and Franco both apologised before they finally left the restaurant.

You waved at them and closed the door as you got ready to finish cleaning up everything. On the other side of the door, the two drivers were now alone as they started making their way outside.

“You’re still not checking her note?” Lewis wondered after a few minutes of silence.

“I don’t know… I’m a bit nervous to read it,” Franco admitted.

“And I’m actually a bit curious to know what it says.”

Knowing that you trusted the Brit, Franco deemed it fine to open your note in front of him as he imagined that you hadn’t written anything indecent. However, when he finally revealed its content, Franco’s eyes widened with surprise and Lewis got even more interested in what it said.

“Ask the seven times world champion”, Lewis started reading out loud over Franco's shoulder. “He should give you my number if he thinks you deserve it (I certainly think you do)”.

While Lewis was laughing at your words, Franco was looking at him expectantly. If he wasn’t stressed enough about asking you out, he was now even more as he realised he had to go through Lewis – again.

“So… hmm…” Franco hesitated for a few seconds. “Is it actually okay if I ask you for her number? I swear I won’t do anything wrong!”

“Don’t worry kid, I trust you on that. Give me a top ten in free practice tomorrow and you got yourself a deal.”

“Okay!” Franco agreed, sudden determination in his voice. “I’ll do my best!”

“I don’t doubt it”, Lewis replied with a proud smile on his face. “Have a good night, Franco. See you tomorrow,” he added as they would be going different ways to their respective hotels.

“Thanks, you too!”

Excited for the next day, Franco had harboured a huge grin while going back to his hotel room. He was confident in his skills. And despite having to drive an old version of his car, half taped-up, he knew he was able to achieve good times tomorrow. He had a pretty good motivation to do so.

…..

“P7 Lewis!” Franco shouted as he walked towards his idol after the first free practice, phone in hand, and a smile on his face.

“Nice job kid,” Lewis congratulated. “Give me your phone then.” Franco immediately obeyed and Lewis finally put your number in the Argentinian’s contacts. “There you go,” he told him while giving back the phone.

“Thanks! I’ll see you later, bye!” Franco waved while he went back to the direction of his garage, already drafting up a text to send you.

He wasted no time in sending you the message he had spent all night thinking of. He hoped you wouldn’t take too much time to reply as he didn’t know if he could handle the wait. Luckily, his wish had been granted one way or another: as soon as he arrived in front of his garage, you were there. Looking down at your phone, you were quickly typing until your thumb was hovering over the send button. When you sensed someone watching you, you looked up and your eyes met Franco’s. So as you were exchanging eye contact with him, you finally decided on sending your text before putting your phone back into your pocket and walking towards Franco.

However, it hadn’t been Franco that you had texted. The Argentinian had only sent you a short message telling you that he would wait for you at the Williams hospitality, to which you hadn’t thought it necessary to reply as you had already been there. No, the person you had texted was none other than Lewis as you felt like he deserved a thank you for going along with your plan.

Thanks for being a great wingman, I’ll buy you a drink<3

You wouldn’t see it immediately as Franco had just offered you to have lunch with him – which you obviously accepted, but Lewis had answered you shortly after:

Save me a seat at the wedding and we’ll be even

(also lewis makes for a great baby name if you have a boy)

..........

I hope y'all liked this as much as i liked writing it🫶🏻 don't hesitate to comment or reblog if you appreciate my work, it always means a lot to me!!

Side note: I've been extremely unwell since the season ended😭 despite 2024 being my 1st season, I've grown attached to f1 sooo quickly that i missed it every time there was only a two weeks break and now we're acc gonna starve for 3 months🧍🏻‍♀️ and the fact that dts is being released in march is insane bc wdym we can't even have that during the off season

Anywayyys see you next time, take care of yourselves, and happy holidays🤍

[lovelytsunoda]

my fun // oscar piastri

(gif is by @/oscarcito!)

summary: it’s not every day that a first date lands you in the emergency room, or gives your date a concussion before the food has even left the kitchen

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: hospitals, blood, the awkwardness of a first date. low key inspired by season 1 episode 3 of the big bang theory when leonard and penny go on their not-date

yn yln must have been dreaming.

as she sat on one side of the wooden table inside the smokehouse, arms crossed in front of her as she looked over at her date, there was a part of her that kept telling her that there was no way it could be real.

she was quiet and smart, and could recite the entire periodic table in order from memory, and the boy sitting across from her was leagues prettier, with an athletes body and the ability to control a room with one singular lame joke.

he’d moved in across the hall from her earlier that year, and she and her friends had immediately dropped everything to watch shamelessley as the young man and his chiseled athlete friends and carried cardboard boxes up four flights of stairs.

oscar piastri was thinking the same thing. how a big famous athlete like him got someone as sweet and humble as yn to agree to date with him. sure she was awkward, and sometimes very shy, but at her core, she was sweet and funny and kind. not to mention the simple beauty of someone who never wore makeup (not to say oscar wouldn’t have adored it if she did, he just knew that she was pretty without it as well).

neither party really knew what to say, sitting in a nervous silence with the menus spread in the table, a glass bottle of water from the waiter sitting next to two half-full glasses.

oscar reached for the popcorn, a sweet and salty mix he quite enjoyed, trying not to tip the bag over as he contemplated what size brisket to order.

“hey, do you want to see something neat?” oscar blurted, picking out for decently sized pieces of the sweet popcorn. “do you know how to juggle?”

“juggle?” his date asked hesitantly, eyeing him over the popcorn. “you do?”

“went to a circus camp when i was seven.” oscar shrugged. “there’s not much to do in my part of australia to be fair.”

it took a few tries for oscar to get started, but soon enough, he was juggling with the popcorn, the kernels delicately passing through his pale, calloused hands.

and believe it or not, yn was impressed. she broke out in a wide smile, giggling from her seat as she watched the young man in front of her. he had a goofy smile on his face, and seemed well in his element. he caught her eye across the table, stuttering his movements as he shot her a wink, losing two kernels. the kernels rolled under the table, and the boy cursed.

“don’t worry about it, that was really impressive.” yn laughed. “nobody has ever juggled popcorn for me on a first date.”

oscar laughed. “glad to be of service.” he took a small bow before accidentally knocking the steak knife off the edge of the table, wincing at the sound of metal hitting floor.

he cursed, pushing his chair back. “I should probably pick that up, shouldn’t I?”

“can you reach it with your foot? it might be easier.”

“don’t worry, I’ve got it!” oscar insisted, slipping off the chair.

“are you sure?” yn asked hesitantly, bare knees pressed against the cool cast iron that was holding the slats of the table together.

oscar slipped under the table, on his hands and knees in the dark smokehouse as he fumbled around the the steak knife, crushing two kernels of popcorn underneath his khaki pants in the process.

yn, meanwhile, was hyper aware of the fact that her date, who she barely knew, was crawling around under the table, in public, near her slightly parted legs.

oh my god, she thought. do they think he’s going down on me?

there was a bang under the table, the slats shaking. she reached over the menus to grab the glass water bottle as it threatened to topple over.

“oscar?” she shouted “you alright?”

“yeah.” his voice came out strained, almost as if he was hurt. “hey, did you happen to spill any ketchup?”

she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, as a droplet of something warm fell against her toe through the lip of her sandals. “no. there isn’t any on the table.”

“fuck. I think I might need an ambulance.”

————

the emergency room is not where she wanted to spend her first date. it smelled like antiseptic soap, the lights too clinical and the plastic chairs too stiff. her neighbour looked pale, skin stained red from where he had bled.

as she understood it, oscar had hit his head on the cast iron hard enough to draw blood, but not enough that he was at risk of trauma or hemorrhaging.

or at least, that’s what the off-duty medic seated two tables over had said.

“how much blood do you think I’ve lost?” oscar wondered aloud, almost certain he was concussed. “if it’s less than a pint, I should be fine.”

yn laughed, rubbing him on the shoulder. “oscar, you’re fine. you still have most of your blood.”

“I’m so sorry our date ended like this. I ruined everything.” he exhaled, leaning to rest his head against the wall, still clutching g the bag of frozen peas given to him by kitchen staff against his cut.

she smiled to herself, reaching for his free hand. “what makes you think you’ve ruined anything?”

“the fact that there’s blood streaming down my face? or that were in the emergency room instead of sharing a hot chocolate fudge cake?”

they both laughed at the sheer absurdity of their situation, and yn resisted to urge to rest her head on his shoulder.

“you’re quite the man, oscar piastri. maybe you can make it up to me? I’m sure the smokehouse will be tripping over themselves to give us a free meal after tonight.”

oscar laughed lowly, a look of pain crossing his eyes. “you’d still want to go out with me after tonight?”

“of course I would, you adorable idiot.”

oscar looked like he was about to say something else when a tired-looking nurse in pink scrubs came rushing out of a hallway.

“mr and mrs piastri?”

yn flushed, her face heating up under the nurses gaze. “oh no, we’re not married. not even together, really.”

with all the energy he could, oscar winked at her before shakily getting to his feet in the sterile room. “wait for me, my love.”

yn laughed, watching him walk towards the nurse.

as far as first dates go, this one wasn’t bad at all, was it?

[queenpiranhadon]

what are your thoughts on katsuki's reaction when he finds out his partner has the same spice tolerance as him...

A/N: Oh, anon don't worry I have MORE than just thoughts... I actually love this prompt so I'm gonna write it a little differently than usual :) Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader likes spicy food, second or third year-ish, fluff, pre-established relationship, standard partner nicknames are used - dummy, babe, baby, etc, reader is gn but is written with f!reader in mind, double dates but it's just silly goofy

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Mina Ashido x Ejiro Kirishima

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴡᴀꜱᴀʙɪ ─────•°•☁︎•°•────•

So from your wording, Bakugou finds out about your spice preferences at some point during your relationship, instead of before, which I don't think is as plausible because of his insane perception skills (he probably knows more about you than even you do before you guys even start dating- my man is a closeted nerd and you can't convince me otherwise). But if he did find out while you two were dating, the outcome would be hilarious.

Let's say you're in the UA dorms, whether you're in the hero course on not, you're just chilling in the kitchen waiting for your boyfriend to meet you downstairs. Class 1-A loves you a ton, and even though they tease you and Bakugou a lot, you both end up having a lot of Netflix and chill dates in the common room since the TV there has a shit ton of streaming services.

You put down your phone, sighing, and decide to be a little more productive instead- making your way to the common room to pick out a movie. It was tradition, between you, Katsuki, Kirishima and Mina to watch movies together every now and then as a double date- something Katsuki was adverse to but you knew he secretly enjoyed the chaos that ensued whenever the four of you were together- also realizing that if they weren't in his line of sight, they'd probably end up blowing up the dorms by accident anyways. He'd only said this once though, face turning bright red as you teasingly called him a mother hen.

Mina and Kirishima had started dating a few months ago (you and Katsuki had celebrated your 1 year anniversary two weeks prior to it ) and being the friend group you were, who could pass up an opportunity?. Kirishima and Katsuki very best friends, as were you and Mina, so it was a no-brainer that the four of you would have regular get togethers like this in the first place. You thought it was nice, seeing Katsuki interact with his friends as he relaxed, even if only a little, around his close friends.

You settle yourself down in the plush couch across from the TV screen, and feel the cushions dip as a new weight is added, seeing Mina Ashido plopping down next to you.

"Movie night!" she cheers, and she nudges you with her shoulder. "Some day we gotta ditch the boys and get through a movie marathon together- I swear Eji has the worst taste in movies, if I have to watch another Star Wa-"

"Hey! My taste isn't that bad!" Kirishima whines, coming up behind the both of you with Katsuki in tow. "Plus you keep asking to watch those K-dramas that get your mascara running."

Mina raises an eyebrow. "Eji, you cry more than I do during those."

Katsuki sighs and raises his hand in an attempt for peace. "Oi, shut yer mouths and go grab the pillows and blankets. Y/N and I will order food and pick out the movie."

Mina groans but relents, looking at you pleadingly. "Please chose a good movie - no ‘to be continued’s PLEASE"."

You snort, remembering how one time Kirishima had chosen Captain America: The Winter Soldier, which prompted the four of you to binge the entire MCU on a day without classes.

Scrolling through movies, you decide to choose a classic- the Matrix, something action packed enough to keep Kirishima (and Katsuki's) attention, and something with enough romance to keep Mina hooked.

As you navigate through the countless streaming services, Katsuki's voice pops up behind you.

"Oi, babe what do ya want to eat? Got some rolls dipped in wasabi for myself...I already know Shitty Hair's gonna ask for some chicken wings- an I got some tacos for Pinky cause I know she was whinin about cravin Mexican food earlier..."" He trails off, embarrassed when you grin knowingly in his direction.

You decide to be merciful though, shrugging and returning back to the TV. "I know very well that you're going to order from three different places just so all of us get what we want so I'll just share with you." you smile, and Bakugou's heart thumps softly from your thoughtfulness.

"Tch- whatever dummy. What do ya want in them- I know my rolls are pretty fuckin spicy - avocado, shrimp, cr-" He asks, but you cut his off with a bewildered look.

"What? Why wouldn't I get it with wasabi??" You ask dumbfounded. "That's like 85% of the flavor - plus it's kinda boring without it." you say, and your boyfriend's jaw drops open- as if you'd told him you were pregnant of something.

"Marry me."

You want to burst out in giggles, but stop when you see the deadass look on his face.

"Kats-"

"Jesus Christ baby, of all the shit ya hide from me, ya hide the most important one?!" He asks incredulously and that's when you start laughing.

"If ya told me this shit sooner I would've asked yer ass out the moment I met ya."

[keeryhours]

wildflower chapter six

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

When Eddie lets you down, you find comfort elsewhere.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected sex, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), accidental creampie, angst

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N:

Happy New Year and happy Wildflower update day! 🥳 I hope you enjoy!

—

Your days at the diner were never interesting. The most action you ever saw was the occasional rude customer you got to throw out. But it wasn’t often (anymore, at least) that Corroded Coffin came in to eat.

Thankfully the restaurant was pretty dead when they came in, but the customers that were there jumped up, asking for autographs the second the four boys walked in the door. The guys were polite, quickly signing some napkins and menus before excusing themselves.

“Hey, pretty lady,” Eddie greeted as he slid into a booth in your section, Gareth, Jeff, and Doug following.

“Hey mama, long time no see,” Gareth said, a knowing look on his face. Eddie kicked him under the table, Gareth hissing a quiet Ow!

You blushed deeply as you handed them each a menu. “You told them?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie said, giving the other boys a look that said please don’t say anything stupid. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you assured him quickly. “He’s…your son, too.”

The words struck Eddie unexpectedly deep, filling him with a sense of warmth and love. He smiled, the confirmation bringing him a sense of pride. “Hey, I was thinking I could come by tonight after you get off? Hang out with you both for a little while?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” you said, smiling at Eddie like he was the only person in the room. “He’d like that. He’s been asking about Ebbie since you left.”

Eddie chuckled. It was definitely cute, and he loved that Asher had been thinking about him, but he couldn’t help but wonder when the title of Dad would be earned. He wanted to be Dad. He wanted Asher to be a Munson. “I’ve missed him too.”

You were happy to hear that. You wanted Eddie and Asher to have a relationship. You never thought the day would come, but now that it had, you realized this was what you had been longing for all along.

“What can I get you guys today?” You asked, pulling out your notepad and pen with your usual customer service smile.

Eddie held his hand up, indicating he wanted to speak first. “Well, are you on the menu?”

The guys at the table all groaned as you rolled your eyes, a blush on your cheeks as you raised a hand to cover the embarrassed smile on your lips. “Oh my god. You did not just say that.”

Eddie didn’t falter. “I mean, all this food looks delicious, but you look better.”

You smacked his arm lightly with the pad of paper. “Eddie Munson!”

The guys all busted out laughing, causing you to join in. Eddie blushed, but never took his eyes off of you.

Eventually, you got orders from all the boys. They ordered practically the whole menu between them, burgers and fries and chicken tenders and just about everything else, including the desserts.

“Okay guys, let me just put this in and I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

As you turned and walked away, Eddie watched you. He watched the sway of your hips as you walked, the way your hair hung just right on your shoulders. He watched the way your little uniform dress hugged your curves and showed off your legs. He didn’t think he had a thing for housewives, but the apron was certainly doing something for him.

Gareth snapped him out of his thoughts by literally snapping in his face. “Uh, hello. Earth to Eddie.”

Eddie turned to look at the guys, who were all staring at him. “What?”

Gareth sat back in his seat. “So, what made you not call her for two years? Because you look like you’re about to pounce on her at any second.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to talk about this right now, or ever again, really. He knew how badly he fucked up. He had heard it from everyone endlessly, especially himself. “Gar-“

“Yeah, man, did you need to see her again to remember how hot she is?” Jeff asked with a laugh. “I mean, she always was-“

Eddie smacked a hand down on the table, startling the other guys. “Enough. Don’t talk about her like that.”

It was quiet for a second, then his three bandmates all started laughing.

“Oh, Eddie, man,” Doug said through his laughter. “You’ve got it bad.”

As you turned around with the four drinks on your tray, you saw the boys laughing. You couldn’t help the old high school fear that they were laughing at you.

But Eddie also seemed perfectly happy in his new life without you. You wondered if he missed you at all. If he ever thought about you on the road. If he slept with other women.

You reached the table and placed the drinks down, remembering perfectly who had ordered what. “Can I help you guys with anything else right now?” You asked, waitress persona back in place.

“I think we’re good for now,” Gareth answered. You looked at Eddie, but his cheerful expression from earlier was now gone.

“Alright, just let me know if you need anything. I’ll be back with your food shortly.”

Once the lunch rush hit, the diner was packed. Your section was full and you were kept much too busy to worry much about the Corroded Coffin boys, although you did feel bad that their meal kept getting interrupted by over eager fans.

Eventually, you noticed the guys had left. You moved over to their table to clear it off, gathering plates and dishes.

You gasped when you saw the $200 tip that was left for you.

—

“Ebbie coming?” Asher asked for about the millionth time that evening.

“He’s supposed to, buddy,” you told him, fingers tracing through his curls as you eyed the clock again. It was almost bedtime for Asher, and Eddie still hadn’t showed. He was supposed to be here hours ago.

“When?” He asked again.

“I don’t know, Ash,” you admitted, looking down at his big sad brown eyes that reminded you so much of his father’s. “It’s almost bedtime, though. Maybe Eddie will come visit tomorrow?”

“No!” The toddler stamped his foot down, tears welling in his eyes as he looked up at you with all his nearly 2-year-old anger. “No bed! Ebbie.”

Your heart broke for him. You wished you had let it be a surprise, because giving him this hope and then having to take it away was too much. His dad had just come into his life and he was already being unreliable. It made you question the whole thing all over again.

“I’m sorry buddy,” you told him again. “We’ll do something fun tomorrow. Let’s go take a bath and get in your pajamas, huh?”

Reluctantly, the little boy went with you. You ran his bath, playing with him in the water which had him giggling again. You were happy to see him happy, but the ache in your chest over Eddie’s no-show wouldn’t be forgotten.

By the time his bath was over and Asher was dried off and dressed in his Thomas pajamas, he was rubbing his eyes. You tucked him into bed, read him some of his favorite books, and he was already drifting off as you left the room, closing the door softly behind you.

You covered your face with your hands as the tears began to fall. You felt like you had let Asher down yourself, and that’s something you never wanted to do. Something you swore you wouldn’t do. And letting his father do it was something you swore against when Eddie came back into your lives.

You walked into the living room, eyeing the picture frames decorating the hallway as you walked past. The memories had you smiling to yourself. One of them stopped you short - it was you and Steve at Asher’s first birthday, Asher smiling between you. There was so much joy in that photo.

Steve. Steve, who had always been there. Steve, who had never let Asher down a day in his life and would never even dream of it. Steve, who would do anything for both of you.

You had made up your mind by the time you got to the living room. You lifted the phone from the receiver, dialed the familiar number and listened to it ring.

“Hello?” Steve answered after only a few seconds.

“It’s me,” you said through sniffles, wiping away the tears that had managed to fall without you noticing.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, suddenly very serious. “Are you okay? Is Asher okay? Did something happen?”

You huffed a small laugh - it was just such a Steve reaction. “We’re okay. Just…Eddie was supposed to come over tonight, and he never showed up.”

“That asshole,” Steve hissed on the other end of the line. “Why not?”

“I don’t know…I haven’t heard from him.”

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. How did Asher take it?”

“Not well,” you admitted. “He was really upset.”

“That pisses me off,” Steve said, sighing again. “Do you want me to come over?”

“…Would you?” You asked finally, realizing that’s exactly what you wanted right now.

“Of course. I was watching some movies with Robin, but I’ll gladly kick her out.” You heard something thrown at him, then a “Hey!” and some laughter.

“I don’t want to ruin your night-“

“You’re not ruining anything. I’ll be there in 10, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled softly to yourself, then hung up the phone.

You wondered if you should make something for you both to eat. It was already 10pm, too late for anything substantial and he probably wasn’t hungry anyway. You settled for taking the cookie dough out of the fridge, lining up the balls of dough on the baking sheet. You were just putting the tray in the oven when the front door opened.

“Hey,” you greeted, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “I’m really happy you came over. I put some cookies in the oven.”

Steve crossed the kitchen quickly, wrapping you in a tight hug within his strong arms. You let yourself melt into the embrace, the feeling of guilt in your chest turning to one of warmth instead. He placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Of course, you know I’m here any time you need me.” Steve cracked the oven door open, peeking inside. “Nice! Chocolate chip, a classic.”

You giggled as he closed the door, then turned to look at you, leaning against the counter. “Now tell me what happened.”

You recounted the story, starting with Eddie and the guys showing up at the diner. By the time you were done talking, the oven timer was going off. You slipped the oven mitts onto your hands and opened the door, pulling the tray of hot cookies out.

“I can’t believe he would just say he was coming and not show up or call or anything.” Steve shook his head. “These look delicious, by the way.”

Once the cookies were cool, you piled some onto a plate and went to sit on the couch. Steve brought one of the movies he and Robin hadn’t gotten to - Hellraiser - and you started it, although you weren’t paying the most attention as you kept chatting.

The air began to chill the exposed skin of your legs, sending shivers through your body. You pulled a blanket from the back of the couch to spread over your laps. Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you cuddled into his side.

“You know you deserve better than this, right?” Steve whispered.

You looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you and Ash deserve better than someone unreliable. You deserve more than getting stood up.”

You let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. I feel like there has to be some reason. Eddie wouldn’t…I don’t know, the Eddie I knew wouldn’t have done this.”

Steve was quiet for a minute. “You haven’t talked to him for years, sweetheart. Things change.”

He was right, but the words made your stomach ache. You didn’t like thinking about the old Eddie, your Eddie, being gone now. But he had a point. You weren’t the same girl he left behind, either.

You pushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You were lost in thought, the movie long forgotten.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve said quietly, his fingers gently brushing over your cheek. “You deserve the world.”

“That’s not true-“

“It is,” Steve said firmly. “You’re a beautiful, incredible woman. An amazing mom. Did I mention hot?”

You started laughing then, covering your blushing face with your hands. “Oh my god, stop.”

“I’m serious, though,” Steve said, chuckling lightly. “You are all of those things. I wish you could see your worth. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

He gently grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. Your eyes met his, seeing something behind them you’d never quite seen before. “Steve?”

His gaze flicked down to your lips. His tongue darted out to lick his own, like he was thinking about something. Then he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes widened, completely shocked by his move, but you didn’t push him away. You found you didn’t entirely mind it.

Steve pulled away quickly. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

It was completely unexpected. Completely out of nowhere. Steve was your best friend in the world, and it had never been more than that. You had always been off limits, always been Eddie’s girl. But…you weren’t upset at him. It was honestly…nice.

“It’s okay, Stevie…” You trailed a fingertip over his jaw. “I kind of liked it.”

He grinned sheepishly. “You…liked it?”

“Yeah,” you admitted softly. “Maybe we could…do it again?”

Steve smiled at that. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him on the couch. Your hands rested on his biceps, and you both leaned in until your lips were locked together once again.

It was strange, to think it was Steve’s lips on your own. You honestly hadn’t had many experiences outside of Eddie. He was your first boyfriend, and your last. It almost felt wrong, even though you and Eddie hadn’t been together for years, but it also felt right, as cheesy as that sounds.

His hands tightened on your waist as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring your own with an eagerness. He tasted so nice, like peppermint and the cookies you had eaten together. You moaned into the kiss, which made him moan back.

He placed a kiss to the corner of your lips before working over your jawline. When he reached your neck, he began sucking softly at the skin, wanting desperately to mark you up and claim you as his finally, but he knew he couldn’t leave hickies when you’d have to cover them for work and potentially have questions from Asher. So, he restrained himself, moving to a different spot whenever he worried it would start to bruise.

Your head was tilted to the side, eyes closed and soft moans leaving your lips as he devoured you, pulling you as close as you could get to each other. You took it a step further, swinging a leg over his lap and straddling him.

You could immediately feel how hard he was beneath you. He knew it, too.

“Sorry,” he said with a blush. “You’re just-“

You cut him off by grinding down onto the hardened bulge, making him groan loudly in surprise. You quickly covered his mouth with your hand, laughing quietly. “Shh!” Steve nodded, and you removed your hand.

“Just feels so good,” he mumbled, moving back to kissing your neck. His hands slid around to grab at your ass. He had longed to do that for as long as he could remember, and now that he had his hands on you, it was even better than he pictured in his head all those nights alone. The way your ass fit perfectly in his large hands, the plush of it when he squeezed, it made him impossibly hard.

He moved back up to your lips, kissing you feverishly. You bit down on his bottom lip, and he groaned quietly, his tongue darting out to lick at yours. The kiss had become sloppy, messy, and desperate, all tangled tongues and quiet moans and hands everywhere.

“Steve,” you moaned, his name feeling strange on your tongue in this context. Strange, but nice.

He moaned your name in return, guiding your hips to keep grinding on him. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna make me cum in my pants like a fucking teenager if you keep doing this.”

You giggled, giving him one last movement along his aching cock before you climbed off of him. He watched you curiously, wondering if you’d changed your mind, and desperately hoping that wasn’t the case.

He realized all his fears were unfounded as you sunk to your knees in front of him, holding eye contact. His eyes widened and his lips parted, hands clenching into fists on the couch cushions.

“Sweetheart,” he said, voice raspy as he looked down at you on your knees for him. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You smirked at him as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and began to pull them down. His erection was obvious in his boxers, straining against the thin material like it was begging for you. “I want to,” you said simply. His cock twitched at your answer.

You pulled his boxers down, exposing his hard cock to your hungry eyes. You practically drooled at the sight. He was big. Like, really big.

You wrapped your hand around it, struggling to close your fingers around his girth. He moaned at the contact, his cock twitching again in your hand. You stroked him a couple times, but he was already rock hard. You leaned forward and licked the precum from his tip.

“Sh- shit!” Steve hissed. “You really don’t have to-“ His head fell back as you engulfed his cock in your mouth, his protests turning to groans of pleasure. “Oh fuck.”

You took him deeper, as deep as you could fit him. You were a bit out of practice admittedly, so you kept gagging on him, but he seemed to love that. He fought to keep his eyes open as he watched you suck his cock, not wanting to miss a single second, but the feeling kept making his eyelids flutter closed.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he moaned, one hand moving to rest on the back of your head. He didn’t force you, everything you were doing to him was like heaven already. “You’re so good at this, oh my god.”

You almost laughed, but managed to keep up your motions instead. You paid extra attention to the underside of his cock with your tongue as you sucked him, sucking hard at the tip every now and then, which made his hips buck up into your mouth with a whiney moan. You gently massaged his balls in your hand as you worshipped his cock. You absolutely loved the way your best friend was falling apart for you, because of you.

His grip on your hair tightened, and you could feel his thighs tensing beneath your hands. You could tell he was getting close, even before he said “Baby, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop-“

You pulled off of him, a string of saliva connecting your plush lips to his dick. He looked at you with an expression of love and adoration and even pain. Like he loved you so much it hurt.

He pulled you to him, kissing you deeply again. He pulled his sweatpants back up. “Fuck. That was amazing,” he said, breathless. “Let’s go to your room?”

You nodded, and then nearly screamed as Steve picked you up bridal style. He carried you quietly to your bedroom and laid you gently on the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head, pushing his sweats and boxers back down. He was completely naked before you now, and your eyes roamed over him, enjoying the view maybe a little too much.

He moved for you then, pushing your shirt up as he placed kisses against your stomach, trailing up higher and higher until he reached your breasts. He pushed the shirt up and over your head then wrapped his lips around one of your nipples. Your head fell back against the pillows and you moaned quietly at the feeling of his hot mouth against your sensitive nipples. He gave both equal attention, before kissing back down your body.

“You are so beautiful,” he said. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Your heart swelled in your chest at his words, but you were quickly distracted when he began pulling your shorts and panties down your legs. Once you were naked, he spread your legs, eyes raking over your body, and especially your pussy, like a man starved.

He laid on his stomach between your legs, hands holding your shaking thighs apart. You were nervous - it had been a long time, and you hadn’t exactly been expecting this to happen.

He flattened his tongue and licked a stripe along your folds. You moaned, a hand covering your mouth to keep yourself quiet, because you weren’t sure if you’d have the self control for this.

“You taste so sweet,” he said, burying his face in your pussy and breathing it in like his favorite cologne. “Your pussy is perfect. Even better than I imagined.”

You didn’t focus too hard on that last part, quickly distracted by his tongue flicking over your clit before he wrapped his lips around it. You gasped, back arching as he began to devour you fully.

You had to grab a pillow and hold it over your face, because you couldn’t control the noises Steve was pulling from your body. You were powerless against the pleasure he was giving you, able to do nothing but ride it like a wave, fingers gripping white knuckled into the pillow case.

Steve was much better than your fingers or any toys. He had your orgasm building quickly, stronger than you’d felt in years. You held the pillow tightly against your face as you cried out when your orgasm hit, hips grinding up against Steve’s greedy mouth. He lapped up every bit of slick hungrily, moaning against your pussy.

When you had come down completely, Steve kissed along your thighs, biting gently on the skin there - he could mark you here, at least, where only he could see. He left light bruises on the inside of your thighs. When he was satisfied he moved up your body again slowly. He kissed you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You could feel his cock hard and insistent against you. You wanted him badly, so badly you couldn’t believe how desperate you felt for him. You were soaking wet, hips grinding against him as you were desperate for him to fill you.

“I- I don’t have a condom,” Steve said like it pained him, looking down at you. “We can stop-“

“No,” you said quickly. You had come this far after not having sex for two years (at least sober, the night with Eddie after the show had also happened), and you really did not want to stop now. “We can keep going. Just pull out.”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Okay.” He reached down, lining himself up at your entrance. You jumped at the feeling at first, so unfamiliar now. And Steve was big. Not that Eddie wasn’t, but…two years. You barely even remembered the hookup.

“I’ll go slow,” Steve said, sensing your apprehension. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Okay,” you said quietly, your heart beating hard in your chest. Steve being so sweet was making this easier, but you knew you wouldn’t want him to stop. “I’m ready.”

Steve slowly pushed inside. He only had his tip in when you clenched your eyes shut, fingernails digging into the skin of his biceps.

“Is this okay?” Steve asked quietly, placing gentle kisses along your cheek. He was carefully thrusting in deeper, moving at as slow of a pace as possible. It took every bit of restraint in his body not to pound you into the mattress.

“Yes,” you said, voice quiet. You were slowly adjusting around him, wanting him deeper and deeper. “Please, more.”

Steve groaned against your ear, pressing in deeper until he finally bottomed out. His hips were pressed flush against yours, his cock completely buried in your tight, perfect heat. It was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he moaned. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand above your head as his other arm held him up. “Wanna make you feel so good. Wanna make you cum again, feel you cum around my cock.”

You whimpered at his words, wanting them all to come true. “Please,” you whispered instead.

Steve hummed, pulling his hips back before slowly rolling them into you again. You both moaned at the perfect friction created between you, the way his cock filled you up. Like a piece of you that had been missing.

He set a slow pace to start, rolling his hips against yours in a perfect rhythm. The only sounds in the room were the gentle creaking of the bed and the soft breathy moans from both of you. Steve held your hand tightly over your head, your left gripping onto his right arm for leverage.

When he could tell you weren’t in any pain, he sped up his movements, watching your face carefully for any sign you weren’t enjoying yourself. Instead he saw your beautiful features twist in pleasure, pleasure that he was giving you. Only him. Only Steve.

“You’re incredible,” he said, looking down at you with total adoration. “Absolutely incredible.”

You pulled him down into a heated kiss, your left hand moving up to tangle in his hair. He started fucking you faster, skin slapping against yours as he began really pounding into you.

Steve pulled away to watch you again, finding himself addicted to the way you looked when getting fucked. He looked down at where you were joined, watching his cock disappear inside your perfect cunt. He had to look away before he came immediately.

Little “ah-ah-ah!”s were spilling from your lips, making Steve feel like he’d never been so turned on in his entire life. Everything about you was perfect to him. Everything about this was more than he ever dreamed of, alone with his cock in his hand.

“I’m so close, Stevie,” you whined, pulling him close to you. He was fucking you at the perfect angle, cock hitting just the right spot deep inside. Somewhere you could never reach on your own.

“Cum for me, baby, please,” he said, letting go of your hand to reach between you and rub circles on your clit. “Need to feel you cum all around my dick.”

The extra stimulation on your clit combined with the sensation of his cock filling you completely, pressing against your g-spot with every thrust, sent you over the edge a second time. You came hard, burying your face in his neck as you cried out in pleasure.

It was too much for Steve. Your pussy clenched around him over and over as you rode out your orgasm, and it was so good, and you were just so wet and tight, it sent him over the edge himself before he even knew what was happening.

He moaned your name over and over as he came inside you, ropes of his cum coating your walls. You rode each other through your orgasms, bodies intertwined.

It wasn’t until you came down that you both realized what happened. Steve pulled out of you, a look of pure fear on his face. “Jesus, fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m such an idiot. I-I don’t know what happened, I just…”

“Steve,” you said, placing a hand on his arm to calm his panic. “It’s okay. I…I can go to the doctor, get the pill.”

He visibly calmed once you said that. He placed a hand on your thigh, looking at you seriously. “I’ll take you. I’ll pay for it.”

“Okay,” you agreed softly. “Now come cuddle with me. Unless you’re planning to leave?”

“No!” He said quickly. “No, of course not. You’re not…you’re not just some hookup.” He crawled back into the bed with you, leaning against the pillows. He held an arm out and you cuddled against his side.

Your fingertips idly traced along his chest, feeling the softness of his chest hair. Steve played with your hair gently, twirling your curls around his finger. You were close to drifting off.

Your moments of quiet bliss were interrupted by a knock at the door. You both froze, wondering who could possibly be here at this hour. You had an idea, but you didn’t like the thought of it.

The knock sounded at the door again, and you jumped up. “I’ve got to get that before they wake up Asher.” You pulled your panties back on and grabbed the first shirt you saw.

“Wait, I’m coming with you,” Steve said, fumbling for his own pants, but you were already out of the bedroom.

You opened the door, and your fears were confirmed.

“Eddie,” you said, more like a statement. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said in a rush. He was out of breath, like he’d ran here. “We were working in the studio today, and I- I got caught up, and I didn’t realize the time, I was just so caught up in the music and the band that I didn’t think-“

Eddie stopped cold as he looked at something over your shoulder. You turned and saw Steve standing there like a deer in headlights. He was shirtless, only wearing his sweatpants hung low on his hips. It felt like deja vu, only reversed this time.

You turned back to Eddie, who was now looking down at what you were wearing. Steve’s shirt. You hadn’t even noticed what you’d thrown on.

Eddie looked at you with a look of pure horror on his face. You’d think you were still together, like you’d cheated on him with Steve right in front of him. That’s how it felt to Eddie, at least.

“Jesus, what- what did you do?” Eddie asked. His eyes were filled with pain, and even though you weren’t together and you owed him nothing, you felt like the absolute worst person on the planet.

“Ed…”

“Listen man, it’s-“

Eddie held up his hand, silencing the other man. “I…do not want to hear from you right now.”

“Eddie, you’re being unfair,” you said.

“Unfair! How am I being unfair?” Eddie scoffed. He couldn’t even look at the two of you. “I just walked in on you having sex with Steve Harrington-“

“Okay, first of all, you did not walk in on us having sex,” you pointed out. “And second of all, did you forget we’re not together?”

Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. Sure, he knew that, but - you’d slept together since he’d been home. It may have been a drunken hookup, but still. You were still kind of his girl, weren’t you? You’d always been. You always would be. Right?

“That doesn’t matter, it’s still-“

“It’s still what?” You asked. “Tell me, Eddie, were you celibate those two years on tour? Or did you fuck groupies after shows while you left me and your son behind?”

Eddie’s face tensed. “That’s not fair. I didn’t know about my son.”

“True,” you said, “but you didn’t answer the other question.”

Eddie stayed silent. It was answer enough. The whole apartment was awkwardly silent, the tension in the air palpable, like a weight over you all.

“You know, you really let Asher down today,” you said. “He was excited to see you. He asked about you all night until he went to bed.”

Eddie’s heart broke. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for that to happen. I never meant to hurt him, or you.” He swallowed. “But does that mean you had to run into the arms of Steve Harrington?”

“Eddie…” you sighed. “I think you should leave. It’s late. We can talk about this later.”

Eddie just looked at you, then to Steve. He shook his head. “Yeah. We’ll talk later.”

And with that, he turned and left the apartment, wanting to slam the door but at least having the forethought not to since Asher was asleep. He walked down the hall, down the stairs, to the parking lot. His trusty van was there. He had driven himself this time.

There were so many memories in that van, memories with you. Hell, Asher was probably conceived in the back of the damn thing. Eddie climbed into the front seat and lay his head on the steering wheel.

And he cried.

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[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

On Tattered Cloaks

Part four of this pirate!au. You didn't really think your husband wouldn't track you down, did you? ~4.5k words

Quiet sobs start to fade to disbelieving giggles. It really was that easy. All of your husband's promises had vanished with just one careful plan and a few moments alone.

You were actually getting away. You actually managed to flee his presence without letting him catch you. It's all made worse at how painfully simple it was.

He had been nearly perfect in the market, everything you had missed in the years apart. He wanted to build you a garden, a home away from the sea. He saw a life with you.

But that doesn't change that he has a life without you. Something better, something bigger without you to drag him down.

The wagons continue none the wiser to your suffering. Hours of being trapped in your own thoughts eventually come to a halt, as dirt roads turn to stone once more. Voices pick up as the wagon comes to a stop, and the canvas parts to reveal the old caravan leader.

He offers you his hand, and you hope you don't look like you've been crying as you take it. He helps you down as you murmur shaky thank yous for his generosity.

"Ah, here, you'll probably want this," he says, gently releasing your hand to pull out a decent-sized coin purse. It's filled with enough coin to buy you food and lodging for a few nights, and a ticket to the next town.

You falter, eyes darting between him and the coins, "I– Oh. I can't take this. You've already helped me so much."

His expression softens as he takes your hand and places the purse in your grip, "You've had a long journey. Take it. I insist."

"But," You start as he pulls away, "I can't pay you back."

He shakes his head faintly, sympathy crossing his features, "The look on your face was clear enough, dear. I know the signs of someone running from something. Allow me to help, at least this much."

Your shoulders slump, his words make tears want to fall all over again, "Thank you."

He shoos you along kindly, "Just be careful. It's dangerous to travel alone."

You offer him a smile and he returns it before focusing back on his cargo. You slip into the crowd without another word, heartbreak is heavy, but the old man's words make your steps a bit lighter.

It doesn't take long for you to find another caravan, offering its services to Central City. It's an easy decision to make. This town is far too small to stay in, and far too close to Star Port. All it takes is a few coin from the merchant's purse, and you're seated and traveling to the next city.

You fidget with the hair pins in your pocket as your thoughts inevitably return to your husband, to Jason. Was he looking for you? Is he relieved that the burden of his past is gone?

It's irrational, but the feeling of being followed makes your skin prick, makes your head turn to check over your shoulder as the Central City gates approaches. There's never anything there.

The guards wave the caravan through without much inspection and you find yourself in a brand new city. It's strange, to be in a city with no port. There's no cries of gulls and no smell of the sea. It's nothing like Gotham, nothing Iike Star Port. It brings a sense of security.

You're quick to leave the other travelers as the wagons stop, and you're even quicker to weave through the crowd. You make your way from the fancy, wealthy district and towards the seedier, tavern lined streets.

It takes longer than you'd like, going through the inns and taverns to look for a job, to look for somewhere to stay. Eventually, you find a sign outside of a grimy looking Tavern called The Wildcat, looking for a barmaid or barman to apply inside. The pay doesn't look exceptional, but it does offer free room and board.

The old man at the empty bar doesn't even bother to look up when you walk in. "Excuse me," You ask, "are you still hiring for the bartender job?"

He doesn't spare you a glance, just focuses on the glass he's cleaning, "yer too soft."

"I– what?" You ask, taken back.

"Yer too soft," he repeats, finally looking up at you, "couldn't handle the types we get in here."

That makes you straighten out, "I can handle whatever drunks find their way in here." It's the truth. The long days spent searching for any information at Gotham's docks prepared you enough for that.

He looks you over, but something in his eyes changes as he studies you closer. He nods, like he found what he was looking for, "Yer room is upstairs. Last door. Your shift starts in an hour."

You blink, "I– okay."

"Don't cause any trouble," he mumbles grumpily and goes back to cleaning the same glass.

It takes you more shifts than you expect to learn the owner's name. He eventually grunts out 'Ted Grant' between showing you the best way to kick the taps to get them to work. Within a few short weeks, The Wildcat becomes something like a home.

Your coworkers, who only seem to come in when it suits them, joke with you and introduce you to the best parts of central city. Cissie King pulls you onto tables to dance and she shares stories of how she misses living by the sea too. She's your first friend that's completely yours in a long time.

Ted knocks more than one handsy patron on their ass for you, and there's a story to him you haven't quite been able to get him to open up about. He pats your shoulder the first time you hit someone yourself, and murmurs how you remind him of his niece.

It's almost perfect. It really would be, if it wasn't for the dreams. Dreams of your husband, the way he used to hold you, the sound of his laugh, the color of his hair, the warm touch of his hands. His promises echo in your head, that you're his, you'd always be his. That he's going to find you, no matter how long it takes.

It makes you snap awake, grabbing at your blankets and eyes darting frantically around your empty room. Your gaze always settles on the hair pins set on your vanity. The ones you can't seem to get rid of. The silver rose seems to glimmer when you look at it.

There's an ache in your heart during mornings like this, where a part of you so desperately misses your husband. You trace the petals of the rose. You never dared to wear it, never risked even the possibility of being recognized.

The day seems to pass in a strange haze, like the calm before a storm. Not even your weekly lunch with Cissie eases the edge in your body. Every stranger seems like a threat. By the time you've returned to The Wildcat for your shift, you're jumpy.

Ted notices and waves you off to deal with the kitchen, lazily grunting that he can handle the bar himself. It's a blessing in disguise that he does.

A red-headed man swaggers through the door, and drops down at the bar. For a second, your heart drops with the idea it's Roy– but, no. Ted huffs out, "Thought I banned you, West."

The man shrugs, a boyish smile on his face as he brushes off his dark long coat, "That was ages ago."

Ted grumbles something, but you don't hear the rest of the conversation. You just see the glint of guns at the strangers side and the way his eyes lock on yours through the serving window. It makes your skin prick and the feeling of danger set in.

Nothing in his face gives away anything, but a part of you feels that he knows. He knows who you are. He knows Jason.

"Hey. Eyes off my staff," Ted snaps, waving a hand at the stranger.

'West' smiles widely, "Don't worry so much, old man. I was just leaving. Give my best to Cissie," he drawls, making his way out the door. He shoots you a wink as it closes behind him.

Ted grumbles over how he didn't even buy anything, but you can't focus, overwhelmed by the feeling of how wrong that felt. It has to be impossible, whatever that was, it can't be connected to your husband.

It's what you tell yourself as your shift ends, as you turn restlessly over in your bed, as the day passes until the next night. It's what you keep repeating right until a hooded figure walks into The Wildcat.

It's busier tonight than normal, but it doesn't stop the man from walking through the crowd and sitting in front of you at the bar. You can't ignore the figure, even if you do delay serving them by talking with other customers. The sensation of walking into a trap curls in your gut when you finally speak to him.

You ignore your unease as you smile, professional and pleasant, "What can I get for you tonight?"

You can't make out their features, concealed by the shadows of their hood, but their cold, low tone sends chills down your spine, "Rum, if you will."

"Coming right up," You chirp with a sweet smile, quickly busying yourself with pouring their drink. You set the glass in front of them, "Can I get you anything else?"

"No," They answer evenly, gloved fingers curling around the smooth glass before downing the drink with a single swing.

You take the cue to return to your other customers, but the tension doesn't leave your shoulders. He's watching you, calm and collected as his fingers drum rhythmically on the hard surface of the bar.

The night continues like this, he denies any more liquor, and even the patrons who usually are unruly and flirtatious seem mellowed in his presence. It's unnerving, so much so you find yourself in front of him again, "Would you like to close your tab?"

He nods slightly and reaches under his cloak to pull out a pouch full of coins, dropping it to the bar.

You tilt your head, whatever amount is in there greatly exceeds the cost of a single rum, "It's only a few coppers."

He seems unbothered by this, leaning forward to speak in a gravely tone, "Keep it."

Your unease is visible now, like you can feel the walls closing in, "I couldn't possibly."

The hooded figure merely chuckles and it makes you jolt, the sound quiet, low and cold and all too familiar. Chills run down your spine as he speaks again, amused, "Don't protest on my account. It's a gift."

"A gift," You ask, strained. There's no way. It's impossible it's him. You'd been so careful.

"A gift," he echoes, and his voice has a strange tone, an implication there's more to the offer, "a gift for the pretty bartender."

You pick up the pouch reluctantly, "Is there an occasion for such a generous gift?"

His fingers resume their drumming, voice still low and amused, "Call it an appreciation for beauty."

You blink, then lower your tone to match his, "Does this gift have a price? Perhaps, sir, you'd like to know when my shift ends?"

His fingers still and he tenses at your coy tone, he murmurs, almost absentmindedly, "Perhaps I would, love."

You lie easily about when you'll be free. It surprises you sometimes, how easily you've come to lie.

The hooded figure hums, you tell yourself you're imagining the disappointment in his tone, "I shall be waiting for you then, darling."

"Outside," You ask, keeping the shake that threatens to make itself known in your voice at bay, "In the alley?"

He laughs softly and nods, "The rear of the tavern will do just fine, love."

"I look forward to it," You say happily. Another lie. You have no intention of being anywhere in this city by the end of the night.

"As do I," he drawls, and for a moment neither of you move. It's a standstill, and his complete attention focuses on you in a strange, familiar way.

You watch with bated breath as he finally rises from his seat and leaves the tavern. You don't relax, immediately mumbling to Ted that you think you're going to be sick.

He doesn't get an answer out before you're taking the stairs to your room two at a time. You tug your cloak on, throw whatever you can carry into a small bag, shove the hair pins into your pocket.

You scribble an apology for Ted and Cissie onto paper, chastising yourself for not leaving after the red-headed man stared you down yesterday. You dump out the hooded figures' coin purse, quickly counting out the coins.

You freeze when you see coins aren't the only thing in the bag. There's a ring. It's beautiful. So visibly expensive and so obviously something you would wear, it makes you sick. You leave the coins for Ted. You drop the ring into your pocket alongside the hair pins with shaking hands.

Your mind races with plans and the best routes to get out of Central City as you scramble down the stairs. You stop yourself just before you take the back exit. It's too obvious. It's where he'd be waiting.

You sneak into Ted's office, it's more of a closet with a window really, and push the glass open. You drop out the window quietly into the tiny garden, the only light to guide you coming from the tavern and the moon.

You make your way carefully to the adjacent stables, constantly checking for the hooded figure over your shoulder. The shadows of the night conceal most of the area, but there's enough light to see the horses stirring within.

You wake one of Ted's horses, a young mare you convinced him to buy to help pull a wagon. You murmur a soft apology to Ted, and hope the obscene number of coins you left make up for this.

You saddle the horse quickly, and pull your hood low over your head as you pull yourself onto the mares back.

It makes your heart race, as you guide the mare from the stable, how many hiding places there are. How easily Jason and his crew could be around any corner. You head for the city gates, and goosebumps rise on your skin every time you check behind you.

There's a heavy feeling in the air, the shadows seem to reach for you as you encourage your horse out the city and onto dirt roads. You have a terrifying thought that you're being tracked. It gnaws at your mind relentlessly.

You grip the reins tighter as you ride faster. You're so far from the ocean, you've been so careful, and as you get further from the city you start to convince yourself you overreacted. It must have been nothing, only a traveler interested in the poor and pretty bartender working in a cheap tavern.

The thought is comforting, it's what you convince yourself of as you guide your horse towards an inn along the road. The hour is late, and to continue traveling only risks thieves and highwaymen.

You stable your mare, and with one more glance over your shoulder, you enter the inn. It smells of food and ale and dirt, but it's clean enough. None of the patrons seem familiar, but you pull your hood lower nonetheless.

The staff member standing over the guest book looks friendly enough as you walk over, "May I get a room for the night?"

They nod, almost uninterested, "Would you prefer a single or double?"

"Single. I also have a horse in the stable," You supply, anxious to hide away in any room they give you.

"Very well. Four silvers for the night and one for the stable," they answer, "and your name?"

You hand them the coin and lie about your name. "I'll return with your key in a moment," they say, and disappear through a curtain.

You glance towards the door as you wait. It's unexplainable, but you half expect to see Jason barge in, sword drawn, just as he did at the ball so many moons ago. It takes longer than it should for the innkeeper to come back.

"Is everything alright," You ask when they finally hand you your key.

They pause, then smile, "Apologies for the delay. We've had quite the day here today. Everyone is tired and eager to rest."

"Oh," You prompt, "is that so?"

"Indeed. We had a group of rowdy sailors stay last night, and they only left this afternoon," they answer.

"Sailors," You say, a little strained, "we're somewhat far from the ocean, aren't we?"

They nod, "They were picking over a map, quite the strange bunch. They caused a few fights with the other guests. Their captain was quite a sight."

"Their captain," You breathe out airily, heart in your throat. Any mask of a simple, curious traveler is hard to maintain as the inn keeper talks.

"Yes, his presence demanded attention. Dark red hat, more scars than I've ever seen, unruly hair. He was very intense, even as his crew joked around him," They answer, "but he paid fairly."

"I see," You mumble, forcing a smile to your face as you place a gold coin on the desk, "I do enjoy my solitude so, and I would be very grateful if you discouraged anyone from the idea that I was ever here."

The innkeeper's expression visibly shifts, greed and interest sparking in their eyes, "Of course. Your generosity is welcomed. We pride ourselves in dissuading anyone who inquires over our guests."

You smile again and head to your room in a daze, any comforting thoughts of the hooded figure not being related to Jason disappear. You have the urge to get back on your horse and keep riding. But it'd be a sure way to get hurt or robbed if you did.

You have no choice, but to wait until dawn. You settle in for the night, on edge. Sleep doesn't come easy, and the rest you do have is plagued by the color of your husband's eyes and the sound of his voice.

You're out of your room at the first rays of sunshine peeking over the horizon. It's a habit now, to tug your hood low as you drop your key on the inn keepers book. You ignore the hunger in your stomach and head straight for the stable.

The reassuring sight of your horse doesn't make you stop short, but the hooded man holding her bridle does. Neither of you speak as he pets her with gloved hands.

He's clearly no stable worker and you cross your arms at the sight, an attempt to hide your nervousness. You weigh your options, before speaking, "You're touching my horse."

He turns his head slightly at the sound of your voice, "Aye. So that I am. She's a fine stead." His voice has a subtle edge to it, almost menacing. You don't miss how his hand clenches around the reins, firm and unwavering.

"Are you going to keep touching her," You ask, and for all your plans and escape attempts, you can't think of a way out of this.

"Why shouldn't I? Such a fine beast deserves some attention, don't you think." He would sound playful, almost nonchalant if it wasn't for the challenge in his voice, daring you to confront him.

You exhale softly, stepping forward, "As much as I'm sure she adores your attention, I have somewhere to be."

He makes no move to release his hold on your horse's bridle, and you can feel how his gaze roams over you. He shrugs, dismissive and his tone dips almost condescendingly, "Do you now? What a shame. I was just beginning to delight in our little conversation."

"What is there to delight in," You bite back, fed up with the arrogance he exudes.

He lets out a laugh, his grip tightening on the reins before releasing it completely. He drops his hand to the pommel of the sword slung on his hip. "Ah, there's the spark I've been hoping for," he muses, voice low and laced with humor, "You're not one to bow down easily, are you, treasure?"

You stiffen, and it's like jumping into a cold river in the early morning and a harsh punch to the gut. He called you treasure. There's only ever one person who's called you that. It's a chilling, unarguable fact that your husband has tracked you down with a relentless determination.

Your eyes dart, scrambling for a plan. He has a sword. He's too close to your horse. You'd be lucky if you outrun him. He likely paid off anyone in the tavern that would help.

He steps towards you, tension mounting, "What's the matter, love? You've gone so quiet."

"How?" You ask sharply.

He tuts, unimpressed, but his voice is laced with satisfaction, "Well it wasn't luck, treasure. Do you think I'd be foolish enough to rely on mere luck when it comes to matters as important as this? No, no, my love. I used every resource at my disposal. Connections, favors, whispered words in the right ears, all to find you"

You imagine he looks smug right now, that despite all your careful steps, he still found you, "Take off your hood," You bite out.

His demeanor changes, any playful mockery gone as his hand tightens on his sword, voice dripping with danger, "Why should I?"

"Why wouldn't you?" You retort, hands dropping to your sides. It's not a secret who either of you are anymore, even he hasn't said your name, and you haven't said his.

He stares at you, as if weighing the pros and cons of the action, "Very well, treasure." With a steady motion, he draws his hood back, revealing a cascade of dark hair framing his face, the sunlight illuminating his features, rugged and determined and familiar, Jason.

He looks harsher. It's only been a handful of months but something about him seems off. His gaze is more intense, shoulders more stiff.

You try to reconcile your memories of your smiling husband with the man in front of you as he sets his jaw, "You look different," You tell him.

There's suspicion in his eye when you drop your hood as well, but his gaze darts over you greedily. "It has felt like an eternity without you. The months where I couldn't find you..." his voice trails off as he studies you, "it shouldn't be surprising that I look different."

"It was nothing compared to when you were missing," You say flatly, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Your husband's gaze darkens, and pain and frustration etches themselves onto his features, "Perhaps that's true, treasure."

His voice grows bitter, but his longing is clear as he continues to speak, "Yet, every moment apart feels like a lifetime. This aching absence, the unbearable uncertainty, it haunts my soul day and night. Can you blame me for taking drastic measures to find you?"

"Drastic measures?" You ask, voice pitching with surprise.

Jason's face hardens, eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity, "I have left no stone unturned, no resource untapped. I've sent men to scour every corner, paid off every informant, and spared no expense."

He stares you down, voice resolute and unyielding, "So let me make one thing clear, treasure, I am not the same man I was before I lost you. I won't hesitate to use whatever means necessary to keep you by my side."

Your breath hitches, "I– your crew must hate me for that," You say softly. What you really mean to say is, 'you must hate me for that'.

His eyes soften as he registers your words and he closes the distance between you two, "Hate you? No. No one hates you, my love. You're a part of me. They understand that."

The way he says it sounds like a fact. You're not completely sure if it is. "Treasure," he continues, "my heart bleeds for you more than anything in this world."

"Then why was it so easy for me to leave?" You choke out the question that's been haunting you since that day in the market, hands curling in the fabric of your cloak.

Irritation flashes in his eyes, clearly you struck a nerve, "Easy? You underestimate your own cunning, love. I should have been more cautious that day, but don't mistake my momentary lapse of judgment as weakness on either of our parts."

You scoff and he steps forward to hook his finger under the clasp of your cloak, drawing you closer, "I was blinded by my own heart. You should know you've always had a way of making me lower my guard."

Your eyes widen. He's close. You can see the flecks in his eyes, the older scar lines on his face. Your voice is strained when you speak, "Why are you doing that?"

His brow furrows slightly, "Doing what? Talking to you?"

"Yes!" You lament, "that! Humoring me. What's your plan?"

"You want to know my plan," he drawls, dropping his hand from your cloak, "I'll tell you, my love. Allow me to make this perfectly clear, I'm pursuing you, humoring this conversation, leaving that ring for you," your fingers twitch towards the ring in your pocket unconsciously, a movement he devours eagerly.

He leans down, voice lowering as he continues, "because my plan is simple. I'm not letting you go again. I'm not allowing you to slip through my fingers and disappear into the ether."

His gaze is unwavering, studying your every reaction to his words, "What, no protest, treasure? No arguments?" He straightens back out, "Perhaps you recognize the futility of resistance by now."

"I don't know. I didn't really think I'd get away the first time," You admit quietly, his words swirling in your head.

A wry smile tugs after his lips, and pride over his ability to hunt you down and your own ability to get away slip into his expression. "Yes, it was rather an impressive feat, how long you managed to hide," he confesses, begrudging admiration in his voice, "But rest assured, my love, it won't happen again."

"Why couldn't you just let me go," You ask, pained. That should be what you really want, to free him and you of the endless waltz around each other. But a secret, small part of you is happy to see him.

He breathes out your name, voice longing and resigned, "Every fiber of my being screams for you. My heart and soul belong to you, they always have."

He says your name again, softly, gently. He grabs your arms, wrinkling the fabric of your cloak as he meets your eyes steadily, "I cannot let you go."

Part Five

[ladykailitha]

A Love For Christmas Part 1

Hello, it's December so that means Christmas!! For the next four weeks, I'm going to be posting two chapters a day until the Sunday before Christmas. And if it stays the eight chapters I'm planning it should be all out on time. (fingers crossed, it is going smoothly soo...)

Summary: Steve is a business man charged with planning his dad's company Christmas party. Christmas has never been a good day for him, so he's a bit of Scrooge as far as the holiday is concerned. So when he meets tree farmer Eddie Munson, the man decided to show Steve what Christmas means. And maybe with a little Christmas magic Steve will find more than just a love for the holiday, he'll find love for Christmas too.

~

On October 31st, I gathered my best elves and explained my problem.

Dear elves, it has come to my attention in the light of recent events Christmas cheer is down nearly a thousand percent. There aren’t that many of us, so Mrs. Claus and I have come to the conclusion that we should send out ambassadors to places that need it the most. You don’t have to turn the whole town, just one person. Because that one person will have a ripple effect that will spread to others.

These are the list of places we think you’ll do the most good:

I listed off all the towns and I turn to the last elf in the line.

“I have something special in mind for you.”

“Me?” the elf squeaked.

“Yes, I’m sending you to Hawkins, Indiana. I think you’ll do well there.”

“Am I being punished?”

I let out a jolly laugh.

“No little one, not everyone is fit for every job. This is to see what you can do and if this doesn’t work out. We’ll find something else.”

~

It wasn’t that Steve hated his job. No, of course not. He hated that his boss was his dad and everyone shunned him for it. Even though he had gone to school for it same as they had, but nope. Just because he was the boss’s son, it was nepotism. He hated the long hours. He hated the way they were only surface level do-gooders. Paying only lip service to causes like cancer research, the environment, and the queer community, all the while the bosses lined their pockets with bigger and bigger bonuses, while his coworkers and his, yes his, wages stagnated.

But most of all he hated the way the company did Christmas. All talk about food banks and giving to the poor, while throwing lavish parties and big giveaways to the employees.

So no, he didn’t hate his job. He just hated everything about it.

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington boomed, throwing open the door to his office. “I’m going to need you to throw the Christmas party this year. Dolores is out with COVID again and won’t be able to set everything up.”

Steve bit back a groan of annoyance. He sucked at planning.

But before he could launch a protest that sure she could do it from home or find someone else to do it, Mr. Harrington’s phone rang out loudly in the room.

Mr. Harrington held up a finger to shush him while he checked his message.

“Well, damn,” he grunted. “I’m going to have to find a new secratary. That was her husband. Her funeral is on Saturday at 10am. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He wandered off muttering to himself, wondering if he could get a hot blond this time and whether or Steve’s mother would even notice.

Steve buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream. He pinched himself and even picked up a paper to see if he could read it. But alas, he was not dreaming. This wasn’t a nightmare.

He was in actual fucking hell.

~

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington bellowed, storming into his apartment two days later. “One of the IT guys, Milton, Morris or something–”

“Mitch?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mr. Harrington snapped his fingers. “That’s the one! He managed to get into Delores’s computer and get a list of the vendors and things for the Christmas party. I had him email it to you.”

Steve wandered over to his phone and picked it up. Sure enough there was a very detailed list of everything from decorators and caterers, to budgets for each. It was very well organized.

“Yeah, everything looks good,” he murmured and set his phone back down. He pulled out a vest and suit coat and began putting them on.

“Just one small change,” Mr. Harrington said. “The board wants three of those ‘rent a tree’ deals instead of one big one.”

Steve frowned. “A what now?”

“It’s very eco-friendly,” Mr. Harrington said. “Basically you rent the tree and then give it back for them to be used again the next year, then after they reach a certain height the get planted in the forest.”

“Okay.” Steve wasn’t sure there was anything else he could say to that.

Mr. Harrington blinked at him. “Where are you going so dressed up on a Saturday? You got a meeting I didn’t see on your schedule?”

“I’m going to the funeral, Dad.”

“Whose funeral?” Mr. Harrington asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion, bordering on anger.

Steve paused in pursuit of his nicer dress shoes and turned to him slowly as if he was trying not spoke a predator into attacking.

“Dolores Gardener, your former secretary,” he said just as slow as he turned. Part of him wanted to hold his hands up in a show of submission, but he wasn’t sure how well he would react to that.

Then Mr. Harrington’s face cleared. “Oh, so you drew the short straw. You poor bastard. I already sent them flowers so don’t bother on that front. You mother is demanding your presence at dinner tomorrow. Seven o’clock, sharp. You know how she gets when you’re late.”

He left as loudly as he came, and Steve sat down hard on the bed. He buried his head in his hands. This was going to be a long winter.

~

Steve supposed that the best part about doing the Christmas party was that he was not only given a blank check for all this shit, but that he had been given the time off needed to get it all done.

He didn’t have to show up in the office for anything until the 24th, unless he needed a signature for anything.

He started his hunt for the trees first, mainly because the place the board wanted to use closed up two years ago and they had only picked the first name that came up on a Google search.

He found a rent-a-tree place in nearby Hawkins and decided to take a look.

Steve got into the back seat of his father’s company car and tapped on the roof, to let the drive know he was in and ready to go.

“This seems like quite a distance to get a Christmas tree,” Murray, the driver said, looking at Steve in the rear view mirror.

Steve let out a long sigh. “Yeah, but it’s what Dad wants...”

“And whatever Clint Harrington wants, he gets,” Murray agreed, resigned and pulled into traffic.

They passed in silence as Steve looked up Hawkins. He found out that the town were really big on Christmas each year. Complete with a Christmas village, Santa reigning supreme on a red velvet throne; an ice skating rink set up in the middle of town, though you could ice skate on either of the nearby lakes as well; ice sculpting contests; huge hills for sledding; sleigh rides. Like the whole town transformed into the North Pole from Nov. 1st to Dec. 31st. Two whole months of Christmas.

Steve thought that would have been his own personal hell.

He tossed his phone on the seat next to him and looked back up at Murray. “Oh, I meant to ask, did you get that dog you were looking at?”

Murray’s eyes lit up. “I did.” And began to tell Steve all about the mad cap adventures of Scamp, the corgi.

Finally they were pulling up to the tree farm. In bright festive letters were the words Munson’s Nursery and Tree Farm.

Steve stepped out of the car and looked around. There were so many trees of various types of fir and suddenly he was instantly overwhelmed. He started wandering around and soon he was lost. Not just his direction but what he was supposed to be looking for. He felt like Charles Brown. Like he was going to pick the wrong tree and Christmas was going to be ruin.

His eyes started welling up and he just wanted to go home. He turned around suddenly and bumped into someone who had been coming up behind him.

“Shit!” the man cried out as Steve yelled, “Sorry!”

Then the man’s arms came up to steady him. “Hey are you okay?”

“No,” Steve said with the shake of his head. “I’m supposed to get three trees for the company Christmas party and the person who usually does it, passed away recently and my dad picked me to her place but I’m so overwhelmed!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the man murmured, rubbing Steve’s arms slowly. “Take a deep breath there, sweetheart. You’re hyperventilating.”

Steve took a deep breath and then another until he could see straight. And in the light falling snow the man in front of him cast an ethereal figure. He had long dark curls and dimpled grin and the biggest brown eyes Steve had even seen.

“There you are,” the man said gently. “I’m Eddie. My uncle runs the nursery, so lets find him and we can talk about what you need and for how long, okay?”

Steve took another deep breath and nodded. “Thank you. I’m Steve.”

“Come follow me, Stevie,” Eddie said cheerfully.

He turned a corner and spotted a volunteer. “Hey, Robbie, did you see which direction Uncle Wayne went?”

She peered around the area and then pointed. “Last I saw him he was in the Douglas firs with Mrs. Click.”

Eddie grimaced. “I wonder if she’ll trying grade him for his ‘knowledge’ of trees.” He shook his head and bid Steve to follow him.

They turned a couple of corners and there was a nice older man with thinning hair and a soft smile talking with what Steve assumed was pickled lemon come to life. Everything about her was pinched and yellow. And angry.

Very, very angry.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie said cheerfully. “I have a doosey for ya. This gentleman needs three trees for his work. I’ll take over for you if you want to help him out?”

Wayne smiled that same crinkle-eyed, dimple smile his nephew had and turned to Steve. “First time buy a live tree?”

“First time buying any tree,” Steve admitted dryly. “Not much of a Christmas person really.”

Eddie whipped around. “How can you not love Christmas?” he said, scandalized, holding his heart in his hands. “It’s only the most magical day of the year!”

“Young man, are you going to help me or not?” Mrs. Click hissed. “I’m looking for a Douglas fir and these aren’t Douglas firs!”

Wayne led Steve away as Eddie looked around himself in confusion. “Ma’am, these are Douglas firs. Maybe describe what you’re looking for and we see if we have it...”

Steve turned to Wayne. “Is he going to be okay with her? She reminds me of my mom and not in a good way.”

Wayne threw his head back and laughed. “He’ll be fine. He’ll play dumb until either they figure out what she wants or she goes elsewhere. Happens every year.”

Steve looked behind him, worriedly, but followed Wayne to a nice little hut in the center of the maze of trees. Wayne unlocked the door and sat him down.

“All right,” Wayne said sliding over an info-graphic that had roughly a dozen or so different trees. “We don’t have every tree on that list, but if you like one of the ones that isn’t I can try to find you something close enough.”

Steve pulled the nicely drawn poster closer to him. “Wow, I didn’t realize that there was so many.”

“That’s fair,” Wayne grabbed the poster and slid it off to the side. “So lets narrow it down. What’s the tree going to be for? Inside or outside?”

“Inside,” Steve said quickly. “The ceilings are fifteen feet.”

Wayne nodded in approval. “That’s good that you know that. Most people don’t and try buying a fifteen footer when they only have ten foot ceilings. Is it going to be lit? Decorated?”

Steve nodded. Another answer he knew right away.

“Will there be presents under it?” Wayne asked warmly.

“No,” he said with a small, fragile smile. “It’s for an office.”

Wayne pulled out a piece of paper and started jotting down Steve’s answers. “Right, any other requirements?”

Steve chewed on the skin around his nails. “Do you have the rent-a-tree program? My fa–I mean my boss was hoping to go green this year.”

Wayne’s eyes narrowed at the slip up but said nothing. Instead he pulled out a list from the top drawer of the desk. “These are the trees that are available to be rented out. Most of them are Douglas firs, like the ones where you found me. Though we do have a lovely trio of Fraser firs that are about six feet tall.”

Steve pulled the poster over to him again and then nodded. “I’ll take all three.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment. “This will be an office, I’m assuming. Do you have house keeping that can water the trees?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said. “We have other live plants year round and I have already cleared it with the head of housekeeping before coming here.”

Wayne nodded appreciatively. “Sounds like you’ve got everything figured out. Why were you so nervous before?”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. “It’s my first year doing it and I’m not really into the whole holiday. I was worried I’d get it wrong, especially since I really don’t care, but the people I’m buying for do.”

Wayne nodded again and started pulling up the paper work for the trees. “If you can write the name of the company, the address, and the date they need to be delivered by, I’ll ring you up a bill of sale.”

“Great.”

He started filling out the information and was almost done when Eddie walked back in with a wide grin and a check in hand.

“That saucy minx tried to get me to tie the tree to her car before she paid,” he said easily. “Can you believe it?”

Wayne chuckled. “Yes. Does it every year. Would you move our rentable Frasers, our friend here will be taking all three.”

Eddie’s eyebrows wagged. “Friend indeed! I’ll be right on it.” He got this grin on his face as Steve pulled out the checkbook from his briefcase. “You said you were planning your work Christmas do, right?”

Steve handed the check to Wayne who then gave him a receipt in return, then he turned to Eddie. “Well, sure. I’ve got to buy all the decorations and lights and all that jazz. Why do you ask?”

Eddie licked his lips slowly. “You see, I’ve got friends who might be able to help you out with some of that stuff.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “What do you get out of it?”

“Let me show you the fun side of Christmas,” Eddie said with an even bigger grin. “You get everything you need, my friends get your company’s business, it’s win/win/win for everyone. What do you say?”

Steve snapped his briefcase shut and stuck out his hand. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Eddie could barely contain his glee. “Just wait until I tell Robin, she thought for sure you’d say no!”

Steve threw his head back and laughed.

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

The italics are Santa, if that's not quite clear.

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[glass-apothecary]

Abby Baby

Chapter 1 - The Proposal

AO3 | Masterlist

Note: Abby is a is a veteran of the coast guard and has a little PTSD. Can be read as Abby/Reader either being married or not married.

You and Abby have a baby <3

Abby was acting weird.

The whole week she was avoiding you. Getting up early and coming to bed late. In the evenings, when you would usually cuddle on the couch and watch Round Planet, Abby was excusing herself to her office to type away on her laptop. A dark part of you wondered if she was cheating. But Abby wouldn’t, right? And besides, it felt like she was getting calls from Nora and Manny almost every day and neither of them would abide by infidelity. 

As you plated dinner – a side of brown rice for her and white for you – you resolved to ask her about it.

Abby didn’t lie to you. When she was hiding something, she kept quiet. Lying by omission, maybe.

As you approached the table you saw that Abby was on her phone again, swiftly tucking in away as you set down the plates. 

“Food looks beautiful, darling.” She smiled sweetly at you.

God the things that smile did to you… but no, focus .

“Abby, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” You said, fidgeting with your silverware.

“Oh?” She looked at you suspiciously. 

“I feel like you've been acting different lately. You’re spending less lime with me, you’re on the phone all the time, I… I’m just worried.”

You looked up to see Abby had paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. She set it down and cleared her throat. There was something, you thought.

She took a moment before replying. You forced your hummingbird heart to settle. You trusted Abby for a reason, it would all be okay.

“You’re right.” She said simply, taking your hands in hers across the table. “I’ve been working on something. Something good! I promise. I was going to tell you tomorrow. Is there any chance you can just trust me until then?” She rubbed her thumbs soothingly across your knuckles, gazing at you with those god damned puppy eyes.

You folded, because of course you did. She could convince you to rob a bank if she wanted.

“Fine, but this better be good.” You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, it is.”

~♡~

The next day, you woke to Abby gently brushing her thumb against your cheek. When she saw your eyes start to open, she smiled. 

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” She kissed your forehead and laughed when you wrinkled your nose. 

Once you were fully awake and sitting up, you noticed a tray on your table. 

“Abigail Anderson, did you bring me breakfast in bed?” 

“Why yes I did.” Abby replied in an overly formal manner, to poke fun at you for using her full name.

“Is this what you’ve been ‘working on?’” You asked skeptically.

“No,” she replied. Moving the tray over your lap. “This is just a thank you for putting up with me.”

You chuckled. Putting up with Abby was your favorite pastime.

“Always.”

~♡~

Once you were dressed, Abby let you know she would be heading out. Much to your dismay.

“Darling, I have some errands to run, and then I’ll be having lunch with Manny. I’ll be back around four for your surprise” She wiggled her eyebrows like an adorable idiot. 

You resisted the urge to frown, holding Abby’s face in your hands while she wrapped hers around your waist. The last thing you wanted from Abby right now was more space.

“You and Manny going to Group today?” You asked.

Abby had completed her Coast Guard service seven years ago. She hadn’t told you everything, but she didn’t need to, all you knew was that she came home with a fucked up shoulder and a medal hidden in the back of her closet. 

Once she was home, her government issue therapist recommended she go to veterans anonymous meetings at the community center. She met Manny there, and they bonded over their complicated feelings about their service. The meetings really seemed to help her, she always seemed more at ease afterwards.

She turned her head and kissed your palm. “Yeah, is that okay?” She asked sincerely.

You playfully glared at her. “Abbs, you never need my permission to go to Group, or anywhere for that matter.”

“I know… it’s just, I feel bad for being distant recently. I think I was under the impression that I was being more stealthy than I actually was.”

You chuckled. “Abby. I love you and I trust you.” You dramatically pushed her to the door. “And stealth has never been one of your talents.” You playfully patted her on the ass to send her on her way. She had a dramatically over-the-top look of betrayal painted across her gorgeous face as you chuckled at her. 

You were standing over the threshold of your front door, with Abby standing on your welcome mat.

But oh, god! When she stuck out her bottom lip in a melodramatic pout, it took every fibre of your being not to pull her back in the house and ride her face until the only expression she could make was exhaustion.

You settled for a lingering kiss.

~♡~

By the time Abby’s car pulled into the driveway, you were beyond bored. You had deep cleaned the oven, finished painting the attic that also served as your office/studio, taken a nap, and watered the garden. You were laying on the couch reading when she opened the front door. She set her bags down by the door and laid on the couch with you, wiggling her head between your book and your face. 

“You smell like outside.” You complained. A small price to pay to cuddle with your lover.

She buried her face in your chest. “This is the part where I was supposed to convince you to go on a spontaneous date or something so I could bring you to the thing.”

“You want me to go get dressed?“ You asked as you scratched softly at Abby’s scalp.

She looked up at you with eyes half-closed in pleasure. “Mmm...” After another moment of head scritches, she continued. “Yes. Cocktail attire please.” 

You rolled your eyes, Abby and her dress codes. As you disentangled yourself from Abby and set off toward the bedroom, you said “Fine but only if you wear that gay ass suit I like.” You half-shouted back at Abby.

She saluted you and said, “yes, ma’am!”

~♡~

Abby took you to Montressor, a beautiful – if grimly named – winery. The building was beautiful. With natural wood floors, solid oak tables and chairs, and a beautiful exposed beam ceiling, The place smelled like the inside of a damn barrel. Giant floor to ceiling windows let in the warm light of a setting sun and the candles and chandeliers gave the place a welcoming charm. One side of the building had a more casual wine bar, and the other side functioned as a restaurant. It was small, no more than six tables on each side. And it was the perfect place for a date.

And yes, she was in that suit you liked – perfectly fitted trousers and a loose button shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to see a hint of breasts.

You whispered to Abby as the host led you to the wine bar, “I was gonna say you need to buy me a drink to get in my pants, but it seems like you have that covered.” 

She chuckled softly at your joke as you were seated. Instead of menus, they brought out a very fancy bottle the two of you had been meaning to try. When you looked at Abby with raised eyebrows, she replied sheepishly.

“I picked it out ahead of time” 

The impatient part of you wanted her to spill her whole plan immediately. But if there was anything you learned from Abby, it was that patience was rewarded. So with great difficulty, you settled into an easy conversation with the woman you loved. 

About a half hour later, as you poured your second glass, Abby’s energy changed. Anticipation, maybe? Something softer?

“So I, uh.” She cleared her throat and reached into her coat pocket. She held something small in her lap as she continued. 

“I know we’ve talked about this before. And I know that there might never be a perfect time, but I’ve been doing well recently, we’ve been doing well, and I… I love you, and–” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Fuck, I’m doing this out of order.”

She was flustered. Sometimes Abby wound herself up so much that all you could do was anchor her while she untangled her thoughts. You reached across the table and took her hand. 

She took a deep breath. Resetting. “There is a reason I brought you here. ” She looked at you. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. 

“I brought you here because if this goes well, It’ll be a while before I can drink again.” She said. You cocked your head.

She produced a small velvet box. Bigger than a ring box, but too small to be anything but jewelry. 

Abby looked at you with nothing but love and admiration in her eyes and said the most romantic thing she could think of at that moment.

“Put a baby in me.”

Both you, and the waiter passing your table sputtered at the unexpected turn of phrase. Abby winced in embarrassment and rushed to correct herself. 

“ With me! Fuck. Have a baby… with me.” Her face flushed scarlet, no doubt helped by the wine.  

You laughed good naturedly and stood from the table as Abby held her face in her hands. You rounded to her side and took her chin gently in your hand, turning her to face you. Her eyes searched yours, but she wasn’t left waiting for a response for long. “Oh, my love. I would be honored to have a baby with you.” You pulled her up to standing and you kissed her. 

You and Abby must have kissed a thousand times before. Some short and fleeting, some with passion so intense you thought it might end you, some awkward and giggly. But this one, this one was one for the books. You kissed away her embarrassment, her fear and anxiety. With each press of your lips you told her that you would always be hers and yet, you couldn’t wait to share her with someone. 

The kiss went on for far longer than was decent in a public space.

When you finally separated yourselves, Abby had the most endearing smile on her face, one you knew nothing could erase. As you seated yourselves back down, you shot apologetic glances at the waitstaff. Abby had her fingers pressed to her lips as if she was still reeling from the kiss and you were just watching her. 

“Um, in the box. It’s a gift.” She gestured for you to open it.

Inside was a breathtakingly delicate gold pendant. The centerpiece was an ornate, yet simple, setting for a single gem. A gem which was not currently present. 

“It’s beautiful, Abby–” You said, an unspoken question in your words.

“It’s incomplete, I know. It’s for the baby’s birthstone, whatever it ends up being.” She pulled another, smaller box out of her pocket. “I have a matching ring.” She pulled out a white gold ring with a similarly missing stone. 

Your Abby. Your beautiful, creative, thoughtful Abby. The mother of your theoretical child.

~♡~

One text and a few minutes later, the whole gang arrived. Manny and one of his partners, Leah and Jordan, Nora, and Mel and Owen. The latter couple seemed like an invite of necessity. They were your friends but it was the tiniest bit awkward. Mel and Nora owned a medical practice together and Owen was Abby’s high school boyfriend. At the end of the day it was just easier to invite them. 

They all showed up dressed impeccably, and at your questioning look, Abby explained they had been waiting for the signal. It had all been planned out. The host moved your group to the restaurant side of Montressor. It was somewhere between an engagement party and a baby shower, as a few friends brought you small baby gifts. 

It was perfect, celebrating with your friends. Watching Abby receive congratulations and getting a few yourself. You had to pinch yourself a few times just to be sure you weren’t dreaming. As the night went on, the table opened another couple bottles. You cut yourself off at the third glass when you heard Manny suggest he and Abby do shots. Abby didn’t drink often, except for an occasional glass of wine, for one very good reason. She was a lightweight. Despite her heavy frame, she could not hold her liquor. It was usually with Manny that she ended up less-than-sober. Now it couldn’t be said that Abby wasn’t a fun drunk, between her third and fourth drinks she got giggly and sweet, an interesting contrast to her usual shy and reserved exterior. Between four and five, she got bold. Singing karaoke and proposing outlandish schemes. Anything past that, Abby got hungry and/or sleepy. You had a very fond memory of her curling up in the corner of a house party at Nora’s with half a loaf of bread.

By the end of the night, Abby was saying something about a ‘scape room,’ which Nora helpfully translated into ‘escape room.’ She was disappointed that you wouldn’t let her until you helpfully reminded her that you had girl scout cookies at home.

In the back of the cab, with Abby curled up at your side, you wondered if it was even possible to be happier. If it was, you knew it’d only happen with her. 

You weren’t going to sleep with her when you were at different levels of intoxication but there was no harm in a little teasing. God knows Abby sure teased you as often as she could. When Abby laid a crooked kiss on your cheek, you turned and whispered suggestively in her ear.

“Abbs, I can’t wait to put a baby in you.”

She did that thing drunk people sometimes do, where she widened her eyes in surprise but at the speed of a turtle on Xanax. It was the funniest thing you’d seen in a while.

You were still laughing when the driver pulled onto your block.

[ledesaid]

"Does anyone else want dessert? ╚░╚

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Indigestion

A word unknown to Billy until about twenty minutes ago. Dinner at the Kent house, according to Clark, tended to end with all the guests completely and totally full.

Billy prayed to Ares that nothing would befall humanity for the next few days. It would be a real miracle if he could pronounce the wizard's name in that state.

"Does anyone want dessert?"

Billy practically fell asleep at the kitchen table.

"Oh heavens, Martha, the boy can't take anymore."

"No problem, Billy, a good piece will be waiting for you at breakfast."

The nearly adolescent boy thanked them tiredly and couldn't argue when Clark took him to his old room. He vaguely heard Clark say he'd sleep in Conner's room and everything faded before his full stomach.

The morning surprised him with a spectacular aroma and his feet led him to a table full of pancakes and scrambled eggs with bacon.

"Good morning, Billy! Come sit down. Jonathan and Clark are returning from the market, and while they arrive, you can eat the strawberry pie from yesterday, it only had that cover."

Billy took the pie; the soft and fluffy crust finally melted in his mouth. It was the first time his mouth had salivated for one to this extent.

"It's delicious, Mrs. Kent."

"Please, just call me Martha or Mom, that's how Clark's friends know me."

"I'll try to remember, Mrs. Martha."

It had been a long time since he referred to someone as his mother, not since he was four years old, but he didn't want an old memory to ruin his stay.

He was at peace. He wasn't have much to do back in Fawcett.

With the mayor taking care of installing the new social help center, Billy could shorten his rounds in the city and, happily, his shift at the League was starting in two days. The Watchtower, after seven years of service, had fallen, but that’s a story for another day.

Billy had noticed he had anemia from reducing his food rations. The spacial buffet had ended abruptly, a hard blow to Billy’s budget.

Returning to his routine to resupply was harder than expected... and the curious fact that the captain could show symptoms of his clear malnutrition made Clark try many ways to invite him to eat with his family... Had he known how well his mother cooked, he would have accepted that invitation years ago.

Krypto barked.

In less time than he expected, everyone had breakfast, but Billy swore the food on his plate multiplied and he ended up back on the living room sofa taking a quick rest.

"Does anyone want flan?"

At some point in his nap, Billy wanted to try it, but he fell asleep again.

Clark woke him up wearing overalls.

"Do you want to learn how to milk a cow? I can meet you the new calf."

"Of course!"

Time passed so quickly that Billy found himself sitting again at the Kent house table enjoying a pork chop, too juicy... Billy wondered if that’s how they should taste, but his stomach made a decision, that definitely had to be the standard for chops.

"Does anyone want chocolate cake?"

That Martha had prepared that cake and Billy forgot he had to leave immediately thinking about eating it at dinner was a coincidence. One that repeated for the next days, weeks, months... Maybe Billy realized it wasn't a coincidence, but he had already been living with the Kents for practically three years.

"Does anyone else want dessert?"

Billy was sure he did.

[p0orbaby]

Hi could you do a mama Wanda prompt where reader, who is like three or four, falls and hurts herself whilst Wanda in on a date with nat (Tony or someone was babysitting) and Wanda is surprised because before she can say anything to the babysitter Nat does because she is already so attached to reader and reader gets comforted by nat and nat just rips a new one to the babysitter, and Wanda is so moved by the bond between reader and nat

Our Hero

warnings: mentions of alcohol, minor injury, a little suggestive

a/n: another instalment to the squishverse !

word count: 1.1k

-

Date nights don’t come often enough for Wanda and Natasha.

Between work and looking after a four year old, time together, alone, is something that they definitely don’t take for granted. So when their anniversary rolled around, and some of the team offered their services in looking after you while they went out to celebrate, how could the couple say no?

So, with Tony and Sam briefed extensively about your routine, Wanda found herself sat opposite her girlfriend in a fancy restaurant Pepper happened to get them a booking for. Her cheeks hurting from smiling and her head a little fuzzy from the three glasses or merlot Nat insisted she have.

And it was lovely. Being able to spend some one on one time with her girlfriend without a tug on her shirt for attention or sticky fingers handing her soggy food. She loved you, of course she did, but four year olds are a handful and you weren’t an exception.

It was when the two of them were eyeing up the dessert menu that she got a text from Tony. ‘Y/N fell, hurt her knee, we’ve got it under control’ it read, and Wanda doesn’t think she’s moved so fast in her life.

What was an Avengers anniversary without a little drama?

-

“Seriously? Scooters in the house, guys. Really?” Natasha scolded as she wiped the tears that had strayed from your eyes to your cheeks.

At least Tony and Sam had the decency to look reprimanded. And a little shocked at the way Natasha has reacted to the situation. Even so, their eyes fell to the ground whilst the two women moved around them trying to fix a problem they helped cause.

Wanda stood from inspecting your knee. Just a graze, nothing too bad. “You two are lucky it wasn't anything more serious”. She was calmer than Natasha. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was because she’s been a mother long enough to know what warrants panic.

Though, even with Wanda’s diagnosis, Natasha’s protective instincts were still on high alert. “You two still should’ve been more careful. Scooters in the house,” she scoffed again, “for someone so smart, you sure are stupid Tony”. She shot him a stern look before turning her attention back to you.

Tony and Sam exchanged guilty glances, realising that magnitude of their mistake. “We’re sorry, we just thought-“

“You didn’t think though, did you!” Natasha cut Tony off. “If you had, then we wouldn’t have had to rush back to make sure our daughter was actually okay, would we?”

“Wanda, we didn’t mean for this to happen” Sam pleaded. His eyes were full of remorse.

Wanda sighed respectively, accepting the boys’ apology. “Just remember, she’s still a little kid. Even if she’s around superheroes and trained assassins all the time, you have to be cautious”

“It won’t happen again, we promise” Sam said, genuinely apologetic.

“We’re taking you off the babysitters list” the redhead tending to you pipes up again.

“Natasha” Wanda warned in a voice she only reserves for two scenarios. Her child when being a nuisance, and Natasha in the bedroom. Natasha quietens down with a blush and a furrow of her brow. “I think it’s best if you two go now” Wanda says gently as she turns towards the men again. “We’ve all had a little too much excitement for one day”

Tony and Sam raised their hands in surrender as they backed away to put their shoes on and gather their things.

-

It was later in the evening.

Tears had been dried, knees cleaned and heart rates had settled.

Natasha was still going through her nighttime routine when Wanda breaks the comfortable silence of their company.

“I really appreciate you, you know?” She says as she lies in bed and waits for her girlfriend to join her.

“Yeah, I know” her response was paired with a smirk.

“Seriously, I mean it. The way you were looking out for Y/N, it made me realise how lucky we are to have you around”

Natasha turned from where her eyes met Wanda’s in the reflection of the vanity mirror. “You don’t think I would fight your corner?”

Sitting up, Wanda responded. “I never said that. Seeing how you reacted tonight solidified my thoughts about you”

“And what thoughts were they?”

Wanda knew what her girlfriend was doing. She didn’t mind, she’d bite. The wine still running through her system made her playful. And she wasn’t against seeing where this would go.

“Your kindness. How you helped our daughter. Your ability to take control of things. I like that one in particular.

“Yeah?” Natasha asked. Body now standing and stalking towards the bed. “What else?”

“How scared you made the boys. Just watching them cower under your stare was really doing it for me”

Natasha crawled up the bed as Wanda carried on spouting compliments in her direction. She licked her lips at her words, eyes going dark when they tickled her cheeks.

“Finished?” She asked when her arms were bracketed around Wanda. Keeping herself steadily balanced above her.

Wanda chuckled slightly, enjoying the playful exchange. “Not quite” she teased, running her fingers gently through Natasha’s hair. “I love your strength, how you fearlessly face any challenges that come our way. Your wit, how you’re alway ready with a clever comeback”

Natasha’s lips curved into a satisfied smile as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against Wanda’s skin. “Keep going,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

Wanda bit her lower lip playfully, relishing the way Natasha’s gaze intensified. “I love how fiercely you love us, how you’re willing to do anything to protect our family. And the way you make me feel every single day, like I’m the luckiest person in the world to have you by my side.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, the intensity giving way to tenderness as she leaned down to capture Wanda’s lips in a passionate kiss. They melted into each other, their love and desire intertwining as they lost themselves in the moment.

It took all of Natasha to pull back. But when she did she rested her forehead against Wanda’s, their breaths mingling. “I love you so much, Wanda Maximoff,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

“I love you too, Natasha Romanoff,” Wanda replied, her heart overflowing with love for the woman in her arms.

Their anniversary night had started with a small mishap, but it had ended with a reaffirmation of their love and a deeper connection between them. As they drifted off to sleep, entwined in each other’s embrace, they knew that they were each other’s rock, the anchor that kept them steady in the stormy seas known as life.

[justhereforxreaders]

The Prince and the Dragon Rider - Part Three: The Dawn

Jacaerys Velaryon x dragon rider!reader

Summary: introductions are made between you and the rest of Jace’s family and a challenge is put forth in regard to your dragon riding.

Warnings: none

soundtrack

part one: the oath

part two: tempest

part four: the test

part five: precipice

part six: pieces and players

part seven: the rift

After bidding a tearful farewell to Tempest at the dragonmont, you were escorted to your new chambers with the hopes of finding some rest before being sworn into the service of House Targaryen. However, the soft bed beneath your aching body provided little comfort with the disquieting absence of your dragon. The stillness of this small stone chamber only accentuates your desolation. Realizing how much you had grown accustomed to being lulled to sleep by Tempest’s steady breaths through the night, you are left with no other option than to lie awake, restless, waiting for the sun to rise. It is in this quietness just before the dawn, that you begin to hear the stirrings of the servants’ quarters around you.

For a moment you consider opening your door and introducing yourself but elect to remain reposed, hoping that the morning activity might be enough to fill the silence and allow you some sleep. Just as your eyelids start to become heavy however, there is a knock at your door.

You quickly sit upright and a girl no older than yourself opens the door and steps forward, holding aloft a candle in one hand and a bundle of fabric in the other.

“May I enter?” She inquires politely.

“Oh, yes, of course,” you mumble.

She steps forward and lights the candle mounted to the wall and then toward you, presenting the bundle in your direction.

“From the Princess,” she says before placing it at the foot of the bed.

Her eyes wide with curiosity as she studies you closely. When her eyes meet yours she quickly averts them and shuffles back out the door.

“Food shall be served in the servants’ hall shortly,” she murmurs before exiting, “it’s always better hot.” She turns to offer a small curtsy before closing the door behind her.

You unravel the fabric to reveal a black tunic with ornately embroidered red hems and simple but elegant dark grey trousers.

“How did I manage to end up here?” You ask yourself with a bitter chuckle as you run your fingertips over the decorative needlework. The disbelief at the events of the last 24 hours hitting you all at once.

You stand to dress yourself, wincing at the ache in your scabbed knees, and notice that your belongings from the cave have been sitting in a satchel on the floor beside your bed. The draw of resting your tired feet had been too appealing when you arrived here a mere 4 hours ago for you to bother exploring your surroundings, as such, this little kindness had gone unnoticed until now.

A warmth grows in your chest as you realize Jace must have collected your things after you left the cave through the water.

Jacaerys had become such a dear friend in quite a short amount of time. He was the first person to offer you true kindness in all your years of traveling and it had begun to chip away at the bitter distrust that had taken hold in your heart. The idea of binding yourself and your dragon to a life of servitude was made bearable, in part, due to the knowledge that you’d be allowed access to his company without cause for secrecy. There would no longer be a need to train during storms or the small hours of the morning. You’d be able to fly freely once again, now alongside your friend.

But the thought of having to put Tempest in danger should the call to war be made, nearly causes you to be sick. Jace had revealed some of the intricacies of his inheritance and that of his mother’s during your time together and the manner in which he discussed it with you made it evident that he believed war was inevitable. Would a life of freedom be worth living if Tempest was no longer beside you? Was the price of your freedom worth the risk of her sacrifice?

You are pulled from your thoughts by the distant clanking of dishes and your stomach gurgles. You make quick work of changing into your new clothes and dart out the door it the direction of the commotion.

As you enter the hallway however, a gruff voice calls from behind you.

“Dragon rider!”

You turn to see the same kingsguard who escorted you from the dragonmont earlier, looking just as weary as you.

“Come with me please.” He grumbles and begins to walk away.

You let out a disheartened sigh and run up behind the kingsguard. As he leads you through winding corridors and stairways, you try to remember which ones you have been down already. Much to your disappointment however, it all looks too similar for you to distinguish between what is new and what is familiar. But idea of exploring such a grand fortress and learning all its secrets excites you. Something you imagine you’ll occupy a great deal of time doing.

The kingsguard comes to a halt and throws open a large door which leads to a small dining hall. As you enter, you notice through the windows in this room that the faint light of the dawn is beginning to creep up through the morning mist. At the head of the long table sits Princess Rhaenyra. Surrounded by handmaidens and bouncing a silver haired babe on her knee, she looks up to greet you.

“Good morrow, y/n.” She says softly.

“Good morrow, Princess.” You reply politely and offer a small bow.

“Come,” she gestures to the empty seats, “break fast with us.”

You nod and step forward, taking a seat on the Princess’s left side, leaving a few empty seats between the two of you.

“Did you sleep well?” She asks in a motherly tone which disarms you.

“I did not,” you tell her honestly, “this is all so strange to me, it was difficult for me to find rest.”

“Yes, I suppose it would,” her tone becomes thoughtful. “You said you journeyed from Asshai? Is that where you were born?”

“No, my mother and I traveled all across Essos until we found the Lord of Light. She felt the only place we would be safe was within the service of a pleasure house or a temple.”

“Do you still follow the Red God?”

“I’ve never had need to believe in a god,” you state dryly, “first I had my mother, now I have Tempest.”

A smirk forms on one side of her mouth and before she can continue the conversation, the door swings open and Prince Daemon steps through followed by a silver haired girl who mirrors his disdainful expression. You stand from your seat and bow your head at the two newcomers. Daemon makes his way past you and plants a small kiss atop the babe’s head before silently taking a seat at Rhaenyra’s right hand. Servants begin bringing platters of food through the door and filling up the table before the girl is seated, she scowls at you unabashedly while she slowly makes her way to sit near Daemon.

“Good morrow to the both of you,” Rhaenyra says as she passes off the babe to one of her handmaidens. “Rhaena, I’d like to introduce you to y/n.”

Rhaena rolls her eyes and offers a halfhearted curtsy before sitting at the table without a word. The Princess glances between you and Rhaena before calling gently to you.

“Please,” she gestures to the food, “sit and eat.”

There is an uneasy silence as the four of you serve yourselves from the banquet before you. Your discomfort however, melts away the moment you hear Jace’s muffled voice from outside the hall, playfully arguing with an unknown voice. When the door opens, Jacaerys and the unknown boy enter, filling the room with their laughter. You once again rise from your seat and bow politely. With smiles on their faces, the boys greet the room in unison and step towards the seats between you and Rhaenyra.

The smaller of the two sits next to you and turns to face you with wonder in his eyes.

“You must be y/n, I’m Lucerys, Jace has told me all about you! What’s it like riding a dragon in water? How did you teach her to swim?”

You stare dumbfounded at the speed the words tumble out of the boy’s mouth, peering over his head to see Jacaerys stifling laughter.

“I, uh-“ you attempt to begin answering but are cut off by Rhaena standing up abruptly.

“May I be excused?” She mutters through gritted teeth.

Rhaenyra opens her mouth to answer but Daemon nods casually and he takes another bite of his breakfast before she can speak. The Princess shoots him a disapproving look while Rhaena gathers her plate and makes a hasty exit. The room is silent for a moment before Lucerys calls out loudly.

“Don’t mind her,” he says as he shovels a large bite of food into his mouth, “she’s just angry because-“

He is silenced by a jab to the ribs from Jace’s good arm and both boys glance at Daemon before turning their attention back to their plates.

Daemon clears his throat and adjusts his posture before locking eyes with you.

“After the ceremony this morning, I should like to see you on dragonback.” He states, breaking eye contact to briefly glance over the faces around the table. “My own daughter has been denied a dragon for many years and I would like to see for myself what makes you worthy enough to lay claim to what she has been deprived of.”

He then follows his daughter’s lead and pushes away from the table.

“They will not disappoint.” Jace calls across the room as Daemon makes for the door.

“We shall see.” Daemon retorts over his shoulder.

The rest of your time at the table passes slowly. Lucerys continues to ask questions about your adventures across Essos that you do your best to answer while absentmindedly picking at your plate of food. You can feel both Jace and Rhaenyra glance your direction but refuse to meet them. Your mind flooding with worry about what Daemon expects to see from you. Jace had offhandedly mentioned how skilled you were at dragon riding during your training sessions, but, in truth, you never understood what he had meant. Flying with Tempest wasn’t something you considered a skill, it was a necessity for survival.

Once everyone has had their fill, Rhaenyra dismisses her sons and handmaidens, asking for a quiet word with you. After the dining hall has emptied, she stands and approaches you.

“Regardless of the outcome of Daemon’s trial, it is still my wish to have you serve this house and my family.” She speaks with a sternness not directed at you. Placing a hand in your shoulder she continues “How old are you, child?” She asks gently.

“Ten and four.” You answer, slightly confused.

“You are younger than any of the sworn swords before you, which is cause enough for others to doubt your abilities.” She pauses and pulls you to your feet. “It is a heavy burden for someone so young to bear and I am sorry that I must ask you to carry it. But my husband will not be the last to call into question your worth. Although it may seem a daunting task, many of those voices could be silenced by your performance today.”

“I will try my best.” You assure her, and yourself.

She smiles and nods in approval before releasing your shoulder.

“Return to your chambers, I will send for you once my court has been gathered.”

You force a smile in return and make your exit, once again following the same kingsguard back to your room.

“I’ll be back to fetch you shortly, don’t get too comfortable.” He mutters when you reach the door before turning away to leave.

“Thank you,” you mumble in response but he has already departed beyond earshot.

As you step through the door, you look up to see a shape sitting at the foot of your bed. You jump backwards in fear before you make out Jace’s face in the dim morning light, holding a finger up to his lips. You cover your mouth to stifle the involuntary gasp that escapes your lips at his sudden presence and peer around to see if anyone was alerted by your sound before closing the door.

“What are you doing here?” You ask in a hushed tone.

“I wanted to meet you here last night but the guards were much more attentive after I snuck to the dragonmont,” he smiles wryly but it fades when he sees your expression, “I’m sorry it happened this way.”

You shrug and move across the room to sit beside him on the bed.

“It had to happen one way or another, we couldn’t hide me away in that cave forever.” You reply drearily.

“Thank you,” he mumbles and you quickly turn to look at him with confusion.

He turns to face and weakly raises his injured arm.

“Oh, yes,” you chuckle lightly, “I had no interest in…” you trail off. Being parted from you, you wish to say. “Letting you drown on my watch, Jacaerys.” You quickly correct yourself and feign offense. “It would tarnish my reputation for future students.”

He laughs heartily, “I don’t think that would stop your newest admirer.”

You nudge his shoulder with your own and cover his mouth with your hand, shushing him quietly while trying to quiet your own laugher.

“I don’t know what you said to give him such a glowing impression of me but I appreciate it.” You scold playfully before removing your hand.

“Only the truth,” he chides back.

Your laughter dies down and wring your hands in your lap.

“Why do you think I’m a great dragon rider?” You ask anxiously.

He sighs knowingly, pulling your hands apart by your forearm.

“You’re faster than anyone I’ve ever seen and twice as stealthy, you can dive into the water, and the way you and Tempest move together is mesmerizing, like a dance.” He blurts out earnestly. “You’re better than any of us.” His eyes dart to the floor and you think you see a subtle blush grows across his face, though your own eyes grow heavy.

You throw your back into the bed behind you with a heavy sigh.

“What do you think Daemon will expect from me?” You groan, covering your eyes with your arm.

Jace chuckles at your theatrics and folds his legs up on the bed to turn and face you.

“I don’t know,” he pokes at your arm while speaking and you roll away from him, tucking your legs up as you do, “but you have no need to worry yourself.” He murmurs.

“I wish I shared your confidence,” you say through a yawn as your eyes begin closing.

“You will.” He states quietly as you drift to sleep.

You are abruptly awoken by a banging on your door.

“Dragon rider!” A familiar voice growls through the wood. “The Princess awaits your presence!”

You leap up from the bed in a haze, unsure how long you have been asleep, and rush to the door in a panic. Pulling it open to reveal the same tired kingsguard.

“Let’s go,” he barks and turns away from you in his usual fashion. You take a moment to peek out the window and see that the sun is still on the rise, though the cloudiness in your mind says otherwise. Before dashing out the door after him you quickly gather your worn clothes from the floor, unsure if you’ll be allowed to return to change into them before Daemon’s trial.

Most of the walk back to the throne room is spent trying to shake the fogginess from your head but it still lingers as you enter the now crowded grand hall. All eyes turn towards you and you freeze. You try to hide the bundle of raggedy clothes under your arm and continue following towards the throne, but as you fumble with them, you catch the eyes of the servant girl who presented you with your current attire huddled in the corner among the other servants. Without thinking, you run in her direction, causing the kingsguard to stop in his tracks.

“Would you hold these for me, please?” You ask frantically.

Her brows knit together at your request but she nods regardless, taking the clothes from your hands.

“Thank you!” You say in a hurried whisper before turning to meet your escort back where you left him. He scoffs and begins trudging towards Rhaenyra upon the throne, surrounded by her family and the lords from the night before.

Another kingsguard steps forward and instructs you to take a knee. As he begins to speak you find Jace among the crowd and he discreetly offers you a sympathetic smile. His last words before sleep overtook you, repeating in your mind. You nod in acknowledgment and turn your focus back to the kingsguard, ready to take your oath.

You follow the kingsguard’s prompts as he guides you through the ceremony, making sure to find Rhaenyra’s eyes as you officially swear fealty to her. At which point, she moves forward, presenting a deep red cloak from her lap to the kingsguard who moves behind you to drape it over your shoulders.

“Arise, y/n, sworn Dragon Rider of House Targaryen.”

[beardedmrbean]

A British mother who hid her sick baby in a drawer under her bed for the first three years of her life has been sentenced to more than seven years in prison for what authorities described as “extreme neglect.”

The girl, who “hadn’t known daylight or fresh air,” was only discovered last year, when the mom’s partner heard her crying inside her house in Cheshire, England, Senior Crown Prosecutor Rachel Worthington said.

The tot was malnourished and unable to crawl, walk, talk or communicate in any way when authorities found her.

“This child has never had a birthday present, a Christmas present or anything to recognize these days. She’s had no interaction with any of her siblings,” Worthington said.

The mother, who has not been identified for legal reasons, had confessed to four charges of child cruelty in October before her sentencing on Tuesday.

Judge Steven Everett told the court the woman had “starved that little girl of any love, any proper affection, any proper attention, any interaction with others, a proper diet, much-needed medical attention,” the BBC reported.

“An intelligent little girl who is now perhaps slowly coming to life, from what was almost a living death in that room,” he added.

The girl was born in 2020 with a cleft palate inside a bathtub at the Cheshire home, according to the Crown Prosecution Services. 

The mom initially fed her, but then, for reasons still unknown, she put the baby in a drawer in her divan bed and left her there, only opening the drawer infrequently to feed her milk-soaked cereal through a syringe and change her diapers, prosecutors said.

She kept the baby a secret from her other children, whom she continued to take to school as she went to work, leaving the baby in the drawer for hours on end.

“The baby’s growth and physical and mental development was severely impacted by the lack of care, attention and food and the restrictions of a life spent in a drawer,” the Prosecution Services said in a statement.

The woman’s partner finally discovered the child in February 2023, after he had gone back into the house to use the bathroom after the mom left her keys in the door and he heard crying. 

She typically never let him go upstairs alone, prosecutors said.

He followed the noise and found the baby girl with matted hair and clearly looking malnourished. Horrified, he fled the house and called his own mother, who in turn alerted the mom of the defendant, who then called authorities.

“(The baby) stared at me and was rocking back and forth. I looked at her mum and asked, ‘Is this where you keep her?’ The mother replied matter-of-factly, ‘Yes, in the drawer,’” one social worker who responded to the scene testified.

The mother “did not show any emotion” and “appeared blasé” about the situation.

“I asked had anyone else ever seen (the child)? Mum stated no,” the social worker said.

“It became an overwhelming horror that I was probably the only other face [the baby] had seen apart from her mother’s.”

In addition to the untreated cleft lip and palate, the baby girl was suffering from dehydration, malnourishment, a swollen abdomen, bad diaper rash and weak muscle mass. She also had floppy limbs and swollen feet.

“At the age of 35 months, her development was markedly delayed and was the equivalent to that of a 10-month-old” as a result of the neglect, prosecutors said.

The child was rushed to the hospital and within two weeks was vocalizing and making her needs heard. She has undergone two surgeries to fix the cleft lip and palate, but additional surgeries will be required.

The mother later told investigators that she’d been in an abusive relationship with the father of the baby and didn’t want to tell him she was pregnant.

 “This child has been subjected to extreme neglect of her health, development, and basic care needs since before she was born,” Worthington said.

“This case has shocked all the prosecution team and has been very difficult to work on. After reading the evidence, I had to take myself away and try and process what I had read,” she added.

[fantasy-relax]

Ineffable Plan

Bela Dimitrescu x g¡p reader

Part 5

You didn't know what hurt more your head or your stomach, a full day of work without even having breakfast was killing you and you oversaw directing more than carrying the bricks.

What the hell those maids have in their heads to blow up the wall?

And where the hell did they get the dynamite?

If you found them, you would shove a brick up their a-

*BAM*

A pat on the back send you to the ground

“Oh shit, sorry,” Relia helped you to stand up “what a day huh?”

“Ugh” You responded showing unmatched wisdom.

“Hahaha be glad that at least you're going to have a delicious dinner, Thea is…”

The words of the Master carpenter went in one ear and out the other, was it rude? Yes. Did you have the energy to care? No.

Maybe after eating.

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

“Why did you decide to stay in the castle after your contract ended?”

You were supposed to be more subtle, but your brain didn't cooperate with you, in the kitchen there were only you, Relia and chef Dorothea, the others had already retired to their rooms.

“With your experience you could help the village with constructions and repairs, fences have been created to protect against the Lycans but they are easily destroyed, it really needs experienced labor I’m sure that even the most stubborn man would have to listen to you”

To your surprise Relia burst out laughing which offended you a little, it took her a few seconds to calm down and the offense you felt vanished when you noticed the melancholy in her eyes despite her smile.

“Everything comes back” seeing your continued confusion “Years ago I asked my predecessor and teacher, Daria, the same question when I found out that she was going to give up her body and blood voluntarily instead of living in the village”

What? voluntarily?

Dorothea, who was heating water on the stove, answered your questions.

“The meat I receive to serve the Ladies doesn’t only come from intruders who enter Dimitrescu’s territory or maids who break the rules too many times, if it were to be like that it would be too little to feed the whole family for the entire year.”

Now that you think about it, the deaths of the workers are few compared to the rumors, in the four months you’ve been here at most there have been 6 or 7, which is almost nothing compared to the dozens that are spoken of in the town. The maids disappear for two or three days before returning to work, paler and more obedient; and in the worst cases without a finger or two, but they come back.

“The blood mostly comes from the donor maids, they receive better food, better pay and some protection in exchange for their services.” The chef came over and poured three cups of tea, you thanked her. “When they die their body will be served or buried, they have the last word as a sign of respect for their work to House Dimitrescu” Dorothea put down the pot to sit next to Relia “Daria chose to live in the castle as a donor until the end of her days”

“And she decided to be buried, she designed her coffin, and I built it, was the most elegant one in her family’s plot even in death she wanted to make it clear how much she had triumphed over those fucking bastards” Relia replied with a proud smile.

“I guess she didn’t get along with her family” You said adding a sugar cube to your cup.

“They were the ones who manipulated her into coming to the castle in the first place” The carpenter said with hatred in her voice “and when the contract ended, she returned only to be attacked for not continuing to work to pay off the debts they had gotten themselves into after spending everything she sent them; when she returned, she no longer sent them a penny.” Relia took a sip of her tea. “At least that’s what she told me when I asked her the same question”

“And what was your reason for staying?” The tea didn’t help keep the sleep away.

“My parents are dead, and I was never close to the rest of my family. I don’t think they’ll accept me with open arms. Most likely they’ll force me to marry or throw me out on the street, master carpenter or not. Besides…” Relia took the chef’s hand to kiss her palm. “I’d miss my wife too much.”

Her what?!

Dorothea smiled fondly and kissed her wife’s cheek.

“I could say the same.”

You had really dissociated yourself from the conversation with Relia in the hallway.

With more information than you expected to obtain, you say goodbye to the couple to go rest.

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

Greta congratulate you for your good work on the repairs and informed you that due to the incident your request would have to wait, which you accept without complaint. After all, the conversation with Relia and Dorothea revealed more details than you imagined.

Although life in the village was hard, it never crossed your mind that someone would choose to live in the castle or donate their blood willingly. The rumors were terrifying, coupled with the fact that the women who went to work at the castle rarely returned, and if they did, they were scarred or with fewer body parts. It was hard to believe that someone would choose to live with monsters instead of returning home.

Monsters. Were the Dimitrescu really monsters?

You had witnessed firsthand that they were capable of feeling and acting like any other human.

So, what made the Dimitrescu monsters?

Were they monsters because of their violence?

The most common punishment you've seen inflicted on your fellow girls is being whipped on the hands, ankles, or back after breaking something while cleaning or when something went missing in the rooms they cleaned. But that was done in the village too, parents disciplining troublesome children or thieves being punished.

You'd been lucky enough not to witness any deaths, but you hadn't been spared the cleanup that followed, blood and sometimes bits of flesh left on the floor and walls, which needed to be cleaned up quickly before it dried and soaked into the carpet and wallpaper.

Were they monsters for their indifference to suffering and death?

While in the village the Lycans were the number one killers, sometimes fights between the inhabitants reached a point where blood was spilled in such quantity that death from wounds was to be expected, drunks and gamblers were the most hated in the village if they found their death at the hands of the collectors or in a fight people turned their faces away, giving condolences out of obligation to the family and continued with their lives living with the murderer among them. There were men who had killed their wives or children after having beaten them savagely, some were hated but tolerated and others were welcomed with open arms; there were also cases of healthy men who died from a sudden illness (Poison) despite the care (Different poison) of their wives.

Cruelty and violence existed both in the village and in the castle.

Were they monsters because of their diet?

One of your neighbors couldn't drink milk without suffering from stomach pain for days, a child died from eating a nut that made his throat swell, the tailor couldn't eat chicken because it gave her rashes, there were several people who couldn't have a normal diet and had to adapt.

Is it the same for the Dimitrescu?

Was human flesh and blood the only thing they could consume?

Their body was not the same as a human's, it was to be expected that their diet won’t be the same.

Were they monsters because they were cannibals?

One of the elders had told you that decades ago the harvests were horrible and the winter atrocious, the food shortage was such that many had no other option than to eat the flesh of their neighbors to survive. Grandparents letting themselves die so that their children and grandchildren could eat, teenagers tearfully devouring the organs of their siblings who couldn't bear the cold, man eating man.

And this act was considered necessary.

Wasn't it necessary for them too?

Were they monsters because of their different anatomy?

That won’t make you a monster too?

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

Two weeks had passed since the incident and thanks to it you had forged a friendship not only with Relia and her team, but also with Dorothea and her kitchen staff; it was great to have someone to talk to; while you were fond of Daniela you didn't forget that she was from a different world than yours there were things she couldn't understand not out of malice but out of simple ignorance.

Since her confession you haven't spoken to her due to the staff rotation that caused the "dismissal" of the maids involved in the explosion.

You still had no idea where they got the dynamite from.

Greta's voice calling you took you out of your thoughts.

"Greta, what do you ne-" The older girl grabbed you by the shoulders with a frantic look.

Deja vu.

"You know how to read, write and basic math, right?" You nodded with slight fear to which she sighed in relief. “Come with me.”

“I haven't finished cleaning yet.”

“I’ll send someone, this is more important, hurry up.”

You left your bucket and rag to follow her.

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

You had seen Jenica a few times in the hallway, the woman always walked in a hurry with papers and folders in her hand. Like Greta, she was always busy and had a professional demeanor.

“January, quadrant E, row three, produced a quantity of…”

Compared to that image, the woman in front of you looked like she was one step away from jumping off the roof.

The desk, the coffee table, the chairs, the couch and even the bed were full of papers, folders and books; in the middle of everything was Jenica reading a book while frantically writing in a notebook.

You turned to look at Greta for answers that she was quick to give you.

“Someone broke into her office today to start a fire, thanks to Zina passing by at a good time the fire was quickly extinguished, the filing cabinet protected the documents however some of this year’s files were outside for review, some just need to be transcribed but most have to be recalculated and as you can see…” Greta pointed at the poor woman who acted more like a crazy old woman mumbling in the street than a scholar. “It’s a lot of work for Jenica, Lady Dimitrescu is in a meeting with the Lords and Lady Bela is reviewing the other documents to see if anything is missing”

First an explosion now a fire, what was going on?

“Do you think you can help her?” The head maid took one of the papers placed on the table to hand it to you, the letters were barely visible, but you could understand it.

“Yes, I worked as an accountant at my mother’s bakery and at the town bar, this is pretty similar.” Despite the bad reputation that alcohol and consequently the bar had, Darius was a smart and honorable man when his poor eyesight worsened her hired you to take care of the bar’s accounts and teach his son Leonard how to do it, who luckily for you was just like his father.

Upon hearing your answer Greta nodded before touching Jenica’s shoulder who let out a surprised squeal.

“Don’t do that, you’re going to give me a heart attack!”

“What will give me a heart attack is the aberrant amount of coffee you drink, I brought someone to help you.”

Jenica turned to look at you and to demonstrate your skill you read what the paper in your hand said. In a moment the woman stood up, removed a stack of books from the sofa and moved another from the table.

“Perfect!” She said as she pushed you towards the empty seat and then placed a notebook and pencil in your hands, she took a huge book from her desk and placed it in front of you “Take care of transcribing this, when you finish, pass it to me to redo the calculations for the report”

“Wouldn’t it be faster if I did it?” The maniacal smile she put on told you that you should have kept quiet.

Jenica took a stack of papers and put them on the floor next to you.

“Don’t worry if you make a mistake, we have plenty of paper”

Sometimes it’s better to be ignorant.

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

Jenica had only given you ten minutes to go eat in the kitchen and to go to the bathroom.

Two hours had passed since the clock struck its twelfth bell and one since Jenica left to deliver the documents they had managed to finish to Lady Bela.

Without her permission to leave you had no choice but to wait for her to return, the room was still full of paper, there was still a lot to do, but your brain couldn't handle it anymore, no matter how many times you read the book the letters floated without meaning.

Concentrated and tired you didn't notice the door open until a familiar voice echoed in the room.

"What do we have here?"

The adrenaline woke you up enough to realize two things:

1. Lady Dimitrescu had returned from her meeting.

2. Jenica's room was off limits.

"It seems that a little mouse is snooping around where it shouldn't."

"Lady Dimitrescu I j-just-

The distinctive sound of her claws being unsheathed caused you to choke on your words, your tongue weighed like lead in your mouth and cold sweat ran down your palms.

A thought repeated itself to the rhythm of your accelerated heartbeat.

*I'm sorry mom, I love you*

[melleonis]

list of worm characters and how good they would be at force fem

beware spoilers

UNDERSIDERS Taylor (Skitter): unless there's an estrogen spider somewhere in the world, no shot Taylor (Khepri): unfortunately, unlimited power comes at the cost of a rapidly-dwindling understanding of gender Grue: lacks both the ability and the inclination. his fragile masculinity makes him a fine target, however. Tattletale: you'd think she'd be good at it, or at the very least sufficiently-advanced egg detection, but she also believes everyone on the team is straight, so this is gonna be a blind spot for her. Bitch: shockingly good at it if the end goal is puppygirl, stone useless otherwise. Regent: i mean. he could, but what's in it for him? easily bored, no patience for process. at best he could manage getting someone into a tutu for a lark before losing interest. Imp: gaslight girlboss of course she's gonna be great at this. what's this? all the contents of your underwear drawer replaced? you didn't do that... did you? who else could have? so you must have wanted this...right? Parian: if you will not wear the dress, the dress will have to come to you. Foil: nah

EVERYONE ELSE Accord: ugh who wants a tidy feminization? Bakuda: hey maybe you'll get hit with the fem grenade! probably you'll just die, or worse. Bonesaw: oh now we're talkin. unparalleled biomech horror force fem game. the mechanical spider tapped into your spinal column decides when it's time to get you prettied up for a tea party. Canary: shania twain karaoke incident feminizes twelve, birdcage for sure. Cherish: trivially easy to set up an emotional conditioning system. wearing skirt? dopamine hit! wearing pants? kill yourself - whoops. well, she'll have a lot of time at the bottom of the ocean to figure out correct feedback intensities. Clockblocker: in theory one should be able to get up to some mischief while someone is frozen in time, but i'm not sure dennis has the ability to freeze someone without also freezing their clothes, which means this has limited utility. could play a support role for someone else. Contessa: effortlessly trips you into a chain reaction that completely reshapes your life as part of a twelve-thousand step plan to improve humanity's long-term odds of survival by a fraction of a percent. thank you for your service. Echidna: all your evil monster clones are girls for some reason. whether this works depends entirely on how you respond to awkward post-incident questions your friends have about it. Eidolon: yeah i mean he could. but it doesn't make him feel globally, historically important so he's not gonna. Gallant: is "feminine" an emotion he can inflict? girl feelings beam attack? shame we'll never know, RIP. Gregor the Snail: nothing in canon says he can't secrete a mildly acidic ooze that turns you into a slime girl. Jack Slash: broadcast shard should in theory mean he can easily manipulate other capes into getting feminized, but that's less time spent on self-aggrandizing mass murder, so. Marquis: bone structure matters less than you'd think in the grand scheme of things, but yes he can reshape your jawline and cheek bones, give you those child-bearing hips. pros: he doesn't kill women, so you're that much safer. cons: it is going to hurt like a motherfucker. Number Man: oh no your company has fallen on hard times and you've been laid off! and how peculiar that the only business hiring anywhere near you is the maid cafe. it says they're very strict about their dress code but that's probably fine. and food's gotten so expensive but wait these odd imported protein shakes are absurdly cheap... Panacea: you know what the joke is already, come on. Scion: has Path to Victory and would never in a billion years think of using it for anything fun.

and finally,

the Simurgh: best in show. sure, it'll take four years for the triggers and conditioning to work their way through your subconscious but when they do...

BONUS Simurgh/Dragon double-team: Defiant probably never spent enough time close to the Simurgh to get affected, plus he had those high-tech earplugs he designed himself, so surely he's fine. nevertheless, his focus wanders during a critical moment while editing Dragon's source code, and now she's bossier, maybe even a little meaner, and the prosthetic parts she's making for colin's cyborg body are... different. curvier, softer. and every time he tries to find the problem in her code he gets distracted, and she gets more and more imperious. can he find a way out of the Simurgh's conditioning and his AI lover's domination? will he have to seek help from Saint - or worse, Teacher? surely they wouldn't take advantage of him in his vulnerable cyberdoll state?