#did i spend a full hour at work doing this last week instead of my actual work?

[wisteriagoesvroom]

📚 10 f1 fics i've loved lately 🏎️

been thinking a lot about how to organise fic recs into some sort of sensible post, 'cus there are so many (great!) pairings and (delicious!) driver combinations, not to mention so many varying styles of fic and SUPER TALENTED WRITERS!!111!!

just gonna list a bunch in no particular order, with accompanying pics, so you can get a sense of the vibes.

'cus what is f1 rpf but all about the ✨ vibes?! 🏁

p.s. people are in this community making amazing stuff for freeee!! if you liked these please leave a kudos or a comment, it makes a writer's day 🫡 

let's gooooo--

objects in the mirror by linearity (@drivestraight) charles/max. 87k words (series), rated t then e

listen. LISTEN! charles to rbr is one of the best premises ever and i will read it in like a thousand iterations. but this fic. this fic series in particular cleared my skin, made me want to cut my hair into a bob out of sheer emotion. i would be remiss not to start with this one because its impact on my f1 rpf trajectory should be studied by science. you know when a story just jumps off the page and it's so real that it becomes your canon. a kind of meteoric inevitability. plus, i almost never cry at fics. but by the time the third act of this one hit, i just went -- damn, am i rly about to tear up at a f1 rpf fanfiction rn? (yes.)

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sawtooth by nottonyharrison (@nottonyharrison) charles/max. 40k words, rated e

max as a f1 engineer? for CARLOS at FERRARI? sign me the fuckkk up. first off, awesome premise. there's always going to be something so heartwrenching about "what ifs", especially in any universe where max isn't a racer. despite the change of circumstances, just... the sheer poetry of two characters who just inexplicably find their way to each other in any universe... 🤧 also this story nails racing scenes in a way that's so visceral, i feel like a fly on the damn halo with them. and, aside from the gourmet lestappen, carlos's whole thing in this fic is joyous! spicy! he's so unapologetic and vaguely annoying! hilarious! + the swimming pool scene lives rent-free in my head.

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salt skin by peachbellini (@strawberry-daiquiris) oscar/lando. 12k words, rated e

this fic is magic. literally and figuratively. (MERMAID LANDO???? MERMAID LANDO.) the kind of story that makes you gasp and melt a little bit. and made me want to throw my phone at the writer, 'cause it's really that good. the yearning, the metaphor for all that's monstrous, a boy who is lost (and the boy who he finds, is equally so). this is just beautifully written and a little quirky and so well executed. i think i put it in my bookmarks as "what if lando was a mermaid and it was filmed by a24" or something. pearl of a story.

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hockey!! shrimp colors :) by leafmeal0ne (@ocontraire) oscar/lando. 13k words, rated t

leaf meal one. i have only known you a week but if anything were to happen to you i would wreck everyone in the room including myself. in all seriousness, anything that leaf writes is brilliant. they're one of these writers who could do a throwaway line on the label of a ketchup bottle and i will probably scream about it. the precision, the way they switch up sentence structures, the freaking darcy-level regency yearning transposed onto a contemporary sports setting. i'd rec all of leaf's sports AUs and i'll probably talk about more in a future fic rec post. BUT. the hockeyyy one my GOD. the barely restrained violence, their mutual desire, the theme of finding your place... *wails uncontrollably*

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you almost unearthly thing by anonymous max/daniel, 3.7k words, rated g

max is a governess(govern..lad?) and daniel is the mystery man at the manor. this was a response to a request i made in the kinkmeme! (if you haven't read those fics go check 'em out, there are so many great ones, and not necessarily all rated e). this is a criminally underrated little story that has my favourite repressed feelings + people dancing around each other + gothic vibes + "what the hell is wrong with y'all in this tale" combo that i really adore. it's really well written and captures the atmosphere so well.

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the so-called narrative by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) oscar/carlos, 10k words, rated e

i'm once again asking why there are only 7 carlos/oscar works in the tag. I'M ONCE AGAIN ASKING-- *is sedated*. *jolts awake* okay but for real this is a great story. hot, fake-friendship-to-situationship which so happens is one of my favourite places to be. also hello miscommunication/they're so weird about it/they both want each other but can't express themselves for shit/insane racer boys energy.

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and silver, and samarium by pink_mink (@on-softs) george/toto, 5.2k words, rated e

i profess i am not usually the biggest fan of A/B/O (altho!! this fandom has made me go BUT ACTUALLY HM at least a few times). and this fic freaking nails it, along with the twisted power dynamics between TPs and drivers, as seen through the lens of omegaverse. this story rattles around my head like a stubborn ghoul just from the style and prose and sheer audacity alone. george kneeling at toto's knees while he's working..... ohhhhhhhhh i was this close to calling my lawyers.

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algorithm by anney (@badboy-george) charles/max, 16k words, rated e

i LOVE, LOOOOVE a sci fi concept alright. love that shit, will inhale it like moon dust with zero regrets. and what a fantastic one this one is!! the premise is that the FIA can now statistically show the compatibility of drivers on the grid and it's very pacific rim-y drift compatible, mixed with the surreal vibes of eternal sunshine or HER or some such. it should be outrageous, but it really works. that's the beauty of a great fic right there.

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trajectory of trojan asteroids by redpaint (@redpaint) nico/lewis, 3.3k words, rated g

also one of the fics i first read when i hopped on board the f1 rpf train. the pain and poignancy just gets worse the more i learn about brocedes. you know when you're like "there's no way this was reallll" and then you're like "fuck, it was so real". then you get a fic like this that just encapsulates all that rage and loss and grief and upset, set against the starry vista of endless space. *clutches tablecloth* god.

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p.s please bear in mind that these recs are entirely subjective! i enjoy loads of f1 stories but these are the ones that have especially stuck with me for some inexplicable reason.

p.p.s if your fic is on here and you want it taken off for whatever reason, i'm happy to, no questions asked 💛

BYE for now / until part 2. (i also love talking to ppl about fics so pls feel free to send an ask or hit me up in DMs or whatever.)

xoxo, -- wizz

#f1 fic rec #f1 fanfiction #lestappen #landoscar #maxiel #groto #brocedes #f1 rpf fic #i don't know that carlos/oscar have a ship name yet? #sainztri? #Carloscar #f1 rpf #wisteria recs #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #did i spend a full hour at work doing this last week instead of my actual work? #yes -- very yes

[weird-and-unwell]

“Autism isn’t a disability”, “it’s just a difference”.

I am of lower support needs. I hold down a (part time) job. I have travelled around my home country. I live alone.

At work they complain about my speech. I’m too quiet, they say, “barely audible” is the words used at my autism assessment. My voice is all monotone, and it needs to be more expressive. I get this complaint every week for a year straight, until my manager gives up. I don’t attend trainings because I forget and find it overwhelming anyways. My coworkers form friendships, and I watch them talk, wondering how they make it look so easy. I get a new manager, I tell her I find the work socials too overwhelming to attend. She tells me I can just say I don’t want to come. I don’t know how to tell her that I desperately want to, to be like the rest of my coworkers, instead of constantly being the one sat on the sidelines.

I come home, and I can hear my neighbours again. The niggling background noise messes with my head, and I meltdown; I throw myself on the floor, I hit my head on the ground repeatedly as I scream and cry, tear out my hair and scratch my arms and face. When I complain, people tell me that I just have to accept that neighbours make noise, that I should just ignore it, or block it out. I am the problem, the one overreacting. I put in earplugs and it hurts and I'm crying again. I wear headphones but I can't handle the noise for that long.

I have reminders set for everything. Every chore, no matter how big or small. My phone beeps at me, reminding me that I need to wash the dishes. If I don't go now, then tick the little box on my phone to say I did it, it won't get done. My home is almost always a mess despite this. It's not just chores either. I won't think to wash, dress myself, brush my teeth or hair, without those reminders. And unless someone actively prompts me to do so, I will do those tasks "wrong". I haven't changed my underwear in a month, and I'm currently aware that's a problem, but within the hour I'm going to forget all over again until I'm next prompted.

I can't sleep without medication - it's not unusual for autistic people to have messed up circadian rhythms. Without my medication it's hard to even tell when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. When I was younger and at school I slept through so many lessons, and when I have my mandatory breaks from my sleep meds I sleep through every alarm I set. I want to work full time some day, and I'm terrified of what my sleep issue will mean for me then.

I don't travel independently. I don't travel anywhere alone, always with someone or to someone. If to someone, I have assistance the whole way. I find it embarrassing sometimes. Yes, I have a job that requires a certain level of intelligence. No, I cannot get on a train by myself. If I am not shown To The Train, To My Seat, I will be unable to travel.

Last time I travelled, I was left alone at the station for ten minutes. I stayed rigid and sobbed the whole time. I was overwhelmed. It was too loud, I didn't know where I was or where I was meant to be going, and until the assistance person came back I couldn't do anything because for some reason I cannot understand it.

I spend a lot of time trying to explain to people that despite my relative competence, I am unable to do many things. Why can I understand high level maths but not how to get on a damn train? No fucking idea.

"Autism isn't a disability" most severely affects those with higher support needs, and this is absolutely not to take away from them. But for fucks sake, autism is disabling.

Maybe you personally are extremely lucky and just find you're a little "socially awkward", or just find some textures painful or nauseating. Maybe you would be fine with just a couple of adjustments.

But for a lot of us, even lower support needs autistics, it doesn't work like that. I will never sleep properly without medication. I still have the self-harming type of meltdowns as an adult, over things that are deemed as being "just part of life". I live alone but have daily visits from family - if I'm left fully alone I forget all the little daily things one is "meant" to do. I had speech therapy as a child to get me to the "barely audible" "mostly correct" speech. I don't mask, I'm not really sure how I would to begin with.

I'm not unhappy with being autistic. It's just who I am. Life would be easier if I were neurotypical, but I also wouldn't be me. I just wish those luckier than me could...stop saying it's all chill and not at all a disability.

Because yes, socially, I am "awkward". I obviously don't make eye contact - I stare down and to the side of whoever I speak to. People think it's weird or creepy or a sign of disinterest. My autism assessor wrote down about how I often use words and phrases that don't make sense to others, even though they make perfect sense to me. In my daily life this means I'm frequently misunderstood, and have to try explain what I mean, when what I mean is exactly what I said, and the true issue is that what I mean just doesn't make sense to others. I gesture, at times, but again, my gestures apparently don't make sense in relation to what I'm saying. I take things literally, I have almost no filter, and I can't explain how I go from topic to topic.

And yes, I do have sensory problems. Sometimes people, including others with sensory problems, tell me that "sometimes sensory issues have to be tolerated", and I wonder what they think of as being sensory issues. I'm sure they do struggle, but if I say I can't handle a touch, I mean you will need to forcefully hold it against me for me to touch it more than a second and it will make me meltdown. If I say "I can't eat that", I mean that I am unable to swallow it, that I will gag and choke and inevitably spit it back out, as much as I try. If I say I can't handle a noise, I mean I'm so close to a meltdown and my meltdowns are a problem for everyone around me.

But yes. Autism. Not a disability. Just a fun quirky difference.

#actually autistic #autistic #long post #autism

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for correcting my niblings without my brother's input?

I had a massive falling out with my family when I was a teenager. I was into goth/edgy/horror culture and true crime before it was accepted by the mainstream, plus my parents were older when they had us and we lived on a farm. They needed my brother and me to keep the farm going, and I decided to pursue college instead. At some point after this they sold/lost their farm, but I do not know when, which fueled their resentment. At their request I did not speak to them until 2021, when my brother found me on Facebook to tell me my parents both died of covid and we held a Zoom funeral. After that he moved several states over to be closer to me so we could work on reconciliation and forgiving me for the farm incident.

So now I (45f) babysit his (44m) two youngest children (10m, 8f) for free, and have been since 2021. Initially he had full custody as his ex wife did not have a job or any job experience when they divorced (before we reconciled) but she now has a full time job so they share custody currently, although she is in our home state, so they decided the kids should go to school there still and spend holidays and summers with him. I am currently an art professor at a local university and for summer semester I only have morning classes and he works afternoons, so it works out.

Last week, his youngest asked me; "OP, how come you lie so much?" Her brother tried to shush her but I asked for clarification. Her brother told her she wasn't supposed to tell me, but she did anyway, and then he also chimed in to confirm. Turns out, whenever I told his kids about any vacations to other countries I took, he said I was making it up to sound important. When I told them I went to medical school, he said I was lying and was a glorified art teacher and only went to community college. I have a serious boyfriend who I have mentioned, although I do not spend time with him while babysitting per the mother's request not to have any adult with her children before meeting them and giving the okay, and so my brother insists I made him up.

I was very hurt, and so I showed them pictures, diplomas, videos, etc proving I was not lying. It is true I got into a community college near our home town on an art scholarship and an FHA grant, but I was able to skip generals due to advanced courses I was taking in high school. I quickly got interested in the medical field and was able to transfer to a medical school on several scholarships and obviously loans. I became a pediatric oncologist and was happy with that until my later thirties. I had kept art as a hobby but eventually realized I wanted to do more with it. I retired from pediatric oncology and then became an art professor five years ago. When I was a doctor, I met my current boyfriend (46m) who is a trauma surgeon. Starting in my late twenties, until covid, I was able to travel throughout the US and even to many foreign countries, sometimes for work, sometimes for vacation. There was no way for him to know this as we were not in contact, but I was very hurt that instead of believing me, he has been telling his kids I'm a liar for the past two years. So yes I did show them the photos and videos specifically because I was hurt.

The following day my brother called me and shouted at me, angry I had deliberately contradicted him. He was angry enough he was shouting at me. He has been dragging this on through text for the past few days. His ex wife also contacted me, asking for my version of events, as apparently their children called her crying about the situation. I told her exactly what I said here. He called me not an hour later screaming. Unbeknownst to me, she has been trying to get full custody of the children and he's convinced that this situation will get his kids taken from him, something he has a fear of due to the fact he has two adult children from a previous marriage who went no contact when they both turned 18. He insists that his ex wife turned them against him, and now he is terrified it will happen again. I was not aware of this until recently, nor did I think this would cause an issue with his custody. It has been very awkward babysitting his kids, as they have been very quiet since this whole thing happened. I don't have kids myself, nor have I been divorced, so I don't understand parenting or divorce etiquette, but I am still very hurt and even angry with him for calling me a liar to his children. Before I make any further decisions regarding an apology, I wanted to get advice as to whether I am the asshole for not bringing it up with him before showing his kids evidence that I did, in fact, do those things, and if so, how I can rectify this appropriately.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[supernovafics]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: explicit language, some mentions of alcohol, parent drama (both reader’s and steve’s parents suck)

summary: in which your parents and steve’s come over for dinner 

author's note: this has absolutely nothing to do with the harry styles song but the title of it is just very fitting so yeah<33 i’ve been rewatching a lot of gilmore girls this fall season so i feel like that's helped me get the hang of writing awkward/tense dinners with family lol so this needed to be done

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

When your and Steve’s parents first suggested this “early Thanksgiving dinner,” you thought that it wouldn’t actually happen. 

The initial idea sounded pretty funny to you— your parents and Steve’s parents would have a full on dinner at your apartment a week before the actual holiday. Yeah, right.

It sounded like the kind of idea that parents that really cared about spending time with their children would have, and that wasn’t how you’d necessarily describe yours or Steve’s. 

A month ago, when they told you about the ski trip the four of them were going on during the entire week of Thanksgiving, you expected to just not see them probably until Christmas— and that felt like a bit of relief to you because spending time with your parents wasn’t your favorite hobby.  

But then you remembered how, only during the holidays, your parents always had a need to show, or maybe more so “prove” to themselves, that they actually cared about you. So, of course, they wouldn’t let this stupid holiday go, and instead they thought that it would be best if you all did something early and together. 

And sadly, none of the immediate excuses that you and Steve came up with worked because your moms had solutions for everything.

When you told yours that the kitchen in the apartment was too small to cook for this kind of elaborate dinner, she simply told you that they’d buy and bring all of the food and you and Steve wouldn’t have to cook at all. She also not-so-jokingly mentioned that she would’ve never trusted either of you two cooking anyway.

And when Steve told his mom that the current dining table you two had was way too small to fit all six of you, she promptly had one ordered and delivered to your door in just a week. It was an expensive dark wood set that could comfortably fit six people, and you and Steve spent hours struggling to build it the day it showed up at your front door. It took up an obscene amount of space, but it did actually look kind of nice.

Now it was weeks later and the dreaded night was finally here, but you still tried to come up with any way to avoid it from happening. 

“And we’re sure that we really can’t get out of doing this tonight?” You asked Steve as you folded the blanket that was lying half-hazardly on the couch. “I could call my mom and say that we’ve somehow fallen tragically ill in the last hour?”

“I’m ninety-five percent sure that they’re all already on their way.”

“Shit.”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve said, and then he considered his words. “Actually, it will probably suck, but overall, we will be fine.” 

You let out a sigh and placed the now folded blanket back on the couch and then started cleaning off the coffee table, stacking the random magazines in a neat pile and then adjusting Harold’s cage so that it was nicely in the center. Your and Steve’s shared pet hamster was currently nibbling on the food that you had put in his bowl only moments ago. 

An abrupt feeling of worry shot through you as you looked around the apartment. The place was clean— probably the cleanest it had ever been— since you and Steve had spent the day doing everything to avoid either of your parents saying anything bad about the place. However, in the grand scheme of things, you knew that it didn’t matter because they’d still hate the apartment. They would hate how you two decided to furnish and decorate it, and they would passive aggressively make fun of the place for however long this dinner would have to be.

“Let’s try not to think about how bad this night is gonna be and just be glad that we’re not gonna have to suffer alone, like usual,” Steve said, practically reading your mind and the look on your face, as he started setting plates out on the new table. 

He was completely right. This was the first time that a collective Thanksgiving was happening among all of you. Usually, it was just you alone with your parents in Chicago visiting family members that you never talked to, and Steve was doing the same exact thing except he was in Indianapolis. You’d always end up calling each other at the end of the night from the hotel or family house you were staying at, and you’d tell each other stories about whatever weird family members you encountered or how boring it all was. 

It did make things feel a bit better that, for once, you didn’t have to go through this alone and neither did Steve.

“You’re right,” You said with a nod and then smiled. “We’ll be going through this shitshow together.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and since Steve was closer he went to answer it. You took one brief and final look around the apartment before heading toward the door too, so Steve didn’t have to be by himself in this greeting.

“Hi,” He said when he opened the door and saw all of your parents standing there. There was a bright smile on his face and he effortlessly turned on that “Steve Harrington charm” that people had adored in high school— you hadn’t even gone to the same high school as him, but you still heard so many of the stories.

A chorus of Hi’s and Hello’s were heard as your moms entered the apartment first since they were carrying all of the food and your dads followed in right behind them.

“I still hate that you moved into a place that doesn’t have a front doorman, or, at least, a buzzer system,” Were your dad’s first words to you; deciding against saying the simple “How are you?” that you had expected. “You two should get a better lock on your door.”

You laughed a bit. “We live in Hawkins, not New York, Dad. I don’t think anyone is really itching to rob us anytime soon.” 

“Anything can happen,” He responded, looking at you seriously. “I’ll bring you a new one when we get back from Colorado.”

You only nodded at his words instead of saying anything to rebut them; you knew that he overall meant well. “Okay.”

Your attention turned to your mom and she pulled you into a hug that felt way too forced before pulling away and giving you a quick onceover. “Oh… Is that what you’re wearing?”

You thought that your outfit was fine; a V-neck navy blue knit sweater that was a bit cropped and a simple pair of black jeans. But, your mom always managed to find something wrong with everything, so this reaction to your current outfit didn’t necessarily surprise you; it did still annoy you all the same, though.

“Oh, um, no I was just about to change,” You told her and forced a small smile.

She nodded at that. “Okay, that’s good, that’s good. You go change while Christine and I get the table set up.”

You started heading toward your room but looked back at Steve first. He was in a conversation with his parents that looked like they were doing much more of the talking than him. As if sensing your gaze on him, his eyes met yours and he gave you a hopeful look and that was enough to make you feel a little better.

It didn’t take long for you to change. You kept your sweater on but traded your jeans for the long black silk skirt that your mom had always liked on you. You hoped this slightly different outfit would be enough to satisfy her, and if not, you were willing to suffer through her inevitable look of disappointment. 

You lingered in your room, tidying up your desk for no particular reason and then deciding to remake your bed. It was clear that you were stalling, avoiding having to face your parents again, and as much as you wanted to continue doing that, you also didn’t want to leave Steve to fend for himself. You were supposed to be suffering together, after all. 

You immediately noticed the dining table when you walked out of your bedroom. The food was now nicely set out and there were even brown placemats sitting underneath the plates that Steve had already set out. It was all set up in a way that would’ve felt nice and wholesome if either of your families had ever remotely felt like the ones portrayed in most TV shows or movies. But, they weren’t anywhere close to being like that, so this all just felt weirdly forced.

Of course, you didn’t say that, though.

Instead, you sat down with everyone at the table and desperately hoped that the next few hours of your life would breeze by. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“From the brochure, the pictures of the cabin look really great. We hope it actually looks that way in person,” Steve’s mom, Christine, said. 

You took another bite of the mac and cheese on your plate as you continued to listen to your parents talk about their ski trip that was happening next week, which they had been doing for the last twenty minutes and you fully didn’t mind it. Since the conversation wasn’t centered on either you or Steve, things actually didn’t feel tense or nervewracking. If you could just make your parents talk about themselves during the entire dinner, you would probably end the night with a smile on your face. 

“Oh, and there are a lot of bedrooms too,” Your mom chimed in before taking another sip from the wine glass in her hand. “Maybe you two could take a trip up there soon and invite your friends to go too.” 

“Yeah, that would be nice,” You said with a small nod.

“Enough talking about the trip, though, that’s probably so boring for your kids to hear about,” Your dad said, and you internally sighed because you knew the exact direction the conversation was about to go in. You felt him look at you. “How’s school been going? The semester is almost over.”

“It’s been good,” You answered, keeping your response short and sweet. You decided not to mention that you really couldn’t care less about the majority of your classes because none of what you were doing in any of them felt like it really mattered. 

“Okay, and your grades and everything are fine, right?”

You only nodded in response to his question, hoping that your lack of actual words would signal to him that you wanted to bring an end to this topic of conversation. Of course, that was only wishful thinking.

“That’s good,” Your mom said. “You have to make sure your grades stay like how they were in high school, or even better, for when you transfer to the University of Chicago. We don’t want to have any reason for them not to accept you again.” 

You suddenly felt like you were right back in middle school and high school, where your conversations with your parents solely revolved around school; what your grades were, if you were doing your homework and completing assignments on time, and studying for tests. It always annoyed you that the only times they would bother to pay attention to you was when it came to that stuff. Other than that, you were always seemingly an afterthought, never a bigger priority than their jobs. 

In a way, this entire conversation should’ve been expected; it was always inevitable. Pretty much anytime you talked to your parents in recent months, the discussion always seemed to circle its way back to that school and you going there in two years instead of right now, like they had wanted you to.

“I’m still so surprised that you decided to not go to the University of Chicago now,” Christine said and you turned your attention to her. It was starting to feel a bit painful to you that the subject still hadn’t changed yet. “When Steve told me that you were going to go to the community college close by, I couldn’t believe it, honestly.”

You noticed your parents share a look upon hearing her words. The mix of disappointment and annoyance toward you that was shared between them in that moment felt palpable. 

“I didn’t think it was time to leave Indiana just yet. I’ll be going soon, though,” You said, keeping your voice light and plastering on a fake smile, even though all you wanted to do in that moment was leave the table and hideout in your bathroom for the rest of the night. 

You saw your dad smile a little and then you also noticed the look of relief wash over your mom’s face. For some stupid reason, you still felt the need to make them feel pleased with you. And somehow that made you feel even more upset with yourself than anything they had said to you so far tonight. 

The only thing that managed to make things feel remotely tolerable right then was Steve sitting across from you, giving you a look that said, “Everything will be okay.” For the time being, you chose to believe him and you simply took another bite of your food. 

You were about to say something about how good the turkey was so your moms would start talking about the restaurant they got all of the food from and why they chose it— you were sure that there was some story behind it all— and that would finally bring an end to the college conversation. But, before a word could leave your mouth, Steve’s dad began speaking. 

“Well, at least, you’re in college. We can’t say the same for Steve here.” He then looked at his son. “Do you really want to work at a video store for the rest of your life?”

 Christine let out a sigh. “Jeff.”

“What?” He shrugged as if his previous question wasn’t completely condescending. “I’m just asking a question.”

“I’m actually starting at the community college next semester,” Steve told his parents and you tried to hide your immediate confusion. “I found out I got in a few days ago.”

“Well, that’s great,” Christine said happily, and Jeff smiled approvingly as well. 

You had no idea Steve had gotten in or even applied, and you wondered if he was lying right then to just get his parents off his back, but you couldn’t tell. Something about the way he said it honestly felt pretty real. The only part that didn’t feel real was that you were finding out during this dumb dinner instead of at any other time. 

“So, I was wondering,” Your mom began and you braced yourself for the impact of whatever she was going to say. “Why did you two decide to get a hamster? I feel like it makes things smell a bit funny in here…”

A part of you was glad that the conversation finally shifted away from college. But you didn’t think that the passive aggressive comments toward the apartment would begin with Harold. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Well, this night was fucking brutal.”

You let out a sigh. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Steve was doing the dishes as you put what was left of the food into tupperwares and then put them in the fridge. Surprisingly, it was a lot of stuff leftover; your moms definitely went overboard with the amount they had ordered. You and Steve already made plans to invite Robin and Eddie over tomorrow to have some of these leftovers.

“I’m actually glad that the dessert tasted bad since it made them want to leave early.”

“It was honestly a bit bittersweet because I was kind of excited for that pie,” You said as you placed the final tupperware of food into the fridge and then went over to Steve. “Oh, and also,” You punched his arm and ignored his immediate “ouch.” “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the stars have finally managed to align and we’ll finally be going to the same school for the first time ever?”

He smiled a little at your dramatics. “I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it just in case I somehow didn’t end up getting in. I swear I was gonna tell you tomorrow.”

“So, you did all of that annoying application stuff by yourself?”

“Robin helped me with it.”

“I would’ve been happy to help you,” You told him, and maybe you were being a bit overdramatic, but you actually felt slightly offended that he hadn’t wanted to come to you about this. 

The possibility of you two going to the same middle or high school was a far out idea that never happened because you lived in different towns. But, it was still something that was adamantly and wistfully talked about by you and him; how much more fun both of your school lives could be if they intersected in that way like the other parts of your lives did. 

Of course, going to the same college would’ve been the most obvious way for it to finally happen, but Steve never seemed that interested in going to college, and up until the last possible second you were being pushed toward Chicago by your parents. 

But now things were finally different.

“I know that you would’ve, but I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone, honestly. Robin saw me working on the application one day and decided to help,” He explained and you only gave him a small nod in response. “I didn’t even think I’d tell my parents about it, but when I heard my dad’s dumb comment about Family Video I felt like I had to say it so he wouldn’t keep looking at me like a disappointment.” He sighed. “And it’s kinda fucked up… I really don’t wanna care what my parents think about me and what I’m doing with my life, but I think there will always be a part of me that does.”

You thought back to your dad’s approving smile and your mom’s relieved look when you reassured them that you still planned to go to the University of Chicago; how much you still wanted to make them feel at least a little proud of you even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“Me too,” You said softly. 

“I’m glad we probably won’t have to see them again until Christmas.”

You sighed. “Apparently, my dad is gonna bring us a new lock for the door when they get back from their trip.”

“Oh,” Steve said and then smiled at you when it looked like he thought of something. “Okay, what are the odds that he’ll just send someone to put the new lock on the door instead of coming himself?”

You thought about it for a second. “Honestly, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that would happen. He’ll probably be too busy with work after the trip to actually come and do it himself.”

“Okay, let’s hope for that,” He said as he finished washing the last plate and placed it on the drying rack. “So, since the dessert was a bust tonight, do you wanna go to the diner? I’m sure Mary would never fuck up her apple pie. And then when we get back, we can finish that bottle of wine that our moms left.”

You smiled at his suggestion. “You have a brilliant mind, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington series #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Under a Star-Flecked Sky

Author's Note: This was supposed to be some Rhysand x Reader fluff, but the depression brain-rot got the better of me and I wrote some angsty, post-UtM Rhys moments instead (don't worry there is some fluff at the end). My baby just needs a hug, and honestly I think SJM did him dirty by brushing his trauma Under the Mountain under the rug.

Warnings: Mentions of Amarantha, Rhys' Post-UtM Trauma

Summary: You're Rhys' mate, having already been with him before the Mountain, and are navigating Rhys' healing journey as best you can.

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

The bed was cold; the realization jarring you from the deep clutches of sleep. Your bed was never cold, not when your mate was in it. Rhysand ran warm, your own personal heater, usually spending the night curled around you, cocooned inside the safety of his wings, but those great wings and the male attached to them were nowhere to be seen. His side of the bed empty, the sheets rumpled, blanket haphazardly clinging to the side of the mattress like he'd flung it off in a hurry, even though you hadn't heard him get up.

You sat up, shivering in the chill coming through the open windows, the satin curtains billowing in the autumn breeze. It would be too cold to leave them open soon, a fact you knew often put your mate on edge, especially after...

You called for him down the bond you shared with your mate, worried. It had been a couple months since Rhys had returned home to Velaris after Amarantha; the nightmares had been constant the first couple of weeks, at one point they had gotten so bad he'd started spending the night at the Moonstone Palace, claiming he had work to do to avoid you and the rest of the Inner Circle from seeing him like that, but with some help from Madja and some other healers in the city he'd been able to get a handle on it. Usually. Some nights were worse than others. You'd tried to be as supportive as possible, even going down to the Library to read up on ways to help. There were calming teas you'd started making for him before bed, the recipe tucked in one of those old books, but you suspected Rhys drank it just to make you feel like you were helping, the cup still half full on the bedside table. You'd drifted off shortly after handing it to him last night.

When there was no answer down the bond, you crawled out of the bed, dragging the blanket with you. The black silk slip you wore did nothing to stave off the cold, you'd worn the birthday gift from Rhys down to its threads over the years he was gone. He'd offered to buy you a new one--multiple in more colors--but you'd refused. It was your favorite, you'd find some magic to keep it held together if you had to. Still, it was the wrong time of the year for it, and you opted to stay warm under the blanket instead of pausing to change into something else as you left the room in search of your mate, still calling for him down the bond.

He gave no answer, his end silent. As silent as it had been for the last 50 years, that great, formidable wall of adamant shielding him from you.

You bit your lip as you checked each room in the house, all empty, save for the one Cassian was snoring in at the end of the Hall. They'd started taking turns sleeping over, keeping an eye on their brother. Azriel had stayed the night before, Mor the night before that. They stole your wine and played old board games until the early hours of the morning, trying to get Rhys' to laugh, or smile at the least. He didn't do a lot of that these days.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. He'd been through so much and half the time he'd just shut down and shut you out, unable to explain what had happened. What she had done to him. Most nights you wondered if there was a way to let you into Hell, just so you could kill her a second time. You'd had a long time to think about what you'd do if you ever had the chance to get your hands on her. Not that it mattered in the end, you'd never been able to get into the Mountain. You'd failed him then and it was starting to feel like you were failing him again now as you all but sprinted through the house.

It took longer than you would like to admit to notice that the balcony doors in the living room were open. Rhys left the windows open, never the doors, even if Velaris was the safest place in Prythian, he'd never leave you vulnerable like that, not unless he was nearby.

Tears pricked your eyes, your lower lip bleeding from how hard you'd been biting down on it as you stepped out into the frigid night air. The lounge chairs and tables along the edge were all empty, no glass of Rhys' favorite whiskey in sight.

Your heart thundered in your ears, thoughts racing. Where the hell was he? Had something happened? Was he in danger?

You were about to start calling his name in desperation before a shifting tile on the roof caught your attention. One of the pieces had been knocked loose--a new occurrence because you'd had to replace them after a drunk Cassian had tried to do a back flip off it last week.

Clutching the blanket around your shoulders with one hand, you used the other to pull a chair over to where the corner of the roof hung over the balcony, and carefully climbed up. The townhouse roof was not as steep as the Palace roof, or even the cabin in Illyria, where you and your mate used to sit and talk about all his plans for his city and his people.

That ache in your chest returned tenfold as you spotted your mate, sitting at the highest point of the roof, knees to his chest, wings wrapped around himself to fight against the cold. His head was tucked against his knees, ebony hair covering his eyes. This was not his spot to stargaze. This was not like all those times you'd sat together, whispering your dreams to the stars, so hopeful and eager for the future. This was not the ambitious and hopeful High Lord who had swept you into the glittering world of the Night Court and mapped out a future among the stars with you all those years ago. You had gone to the cabin in Illyria only once while he was away, and the loss of him, the bond so quite and empty and cold in the place you had formed it had been so devastating you'd almost ripped the place apart one wood plank at a time. At the time you had been so sure you had lost him forever that you'd nearly ripped everything you had built together apart in your grief. You had left all those dreams you shared in those woods and vowed that you would never whisper any prayers to the stars ever again. Not if their heir was gone and their reflection in his violet eyes would never look your way again. You had stopped dreaming in his absence. Nights like this you wondered if he had too. Perhaps the Mountain had taken more from both of you then you dared to admit, even to each other. What good were dreams if the stars no longer listened, if they would no longer answer you?

It was an easy climb to him compared to all the other roofs you had climbed to sit with him in the past, even with the blanket still clutched around your shoulders.

Rhys didn't look up. You weren't even sure he'd heard you. Still, you lowered yourself to sit next to him, the worry swirling in the pit of your stomach only beginning to settle as you took in the jasmine and citrus scent of him. This was the part where you said something witty, threw the blanket around him and chastised him for leaving you alone, but maybe those were games for the people you were before. The last time he hadn't heard you coming, too caught up in his own head to hear you, he'd flinched so hard his powers had knocked a bookshelf over, panic flooding the bond. He accidentally showed you a flash of red hair and pointed nails, scratching at his back before he'd ripped the memory away and locked himself in the bathroom. You'd been trying to find ways to avoid doing it ever again.

It was a long, tense few minutes before Rhys lifted his head off his knees just enough to look at you. "Did I wake you?" His voice was raw, like he'd been screaming.

You wanted to touch him, to hold him in your arms and stroke his hair and make it all better, as his touch had always done for you, but everything was so different. Sometimes you were sure he let you hold his hands because he knew you wanted to, not because he wanted to.

It had been a long couple months, you'd been weighing and measuring every word, trying not to startle him, trying not to make him feel any guilt or shame. He had saved you, and your family, had given everything he'd had to ensure that she didn't taint any bit of your home, you owed him a solid front, a shoulder to lean on. You had not spoken of how scared you had been, how cold and empty and wretched you had felt for every moment of the last fifty years. You'd crafted a nice mask for the court to see, holding steady in his absence, not taking it off, even after his return in hopes that it would ease his burden. But the words came tumbling out of you, the tidal wave of emotions bubbling up and bursting out in a rush, "You scared me."

He sat up a little straighter, pain flashing across his star flecked eyes.

"The bond was quite," tears pricked your eyes. "Cold. You wouldn't answer me. You'd shut me out." It was that last bit more than anything. You could handle the nightmares. You could handle this new version of your mate, because truth be told there had been times you weren't sure he was ever coming back, whatever shape he was in was irrelevant in the long run as long as he was alive. All the newness, the unease and uncertainty, the new quite version of him was easy to handle. But the quiet, knowing he'd shut you out again...

"I know that you need time, and space, and I'm trying to give that to you, Rhys, but..."

He unfurled his wings enough to wrap one around you, an arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered against your temple, planting gentle, feather light kisses against your skin as you buried your face in he crook of his neck.

He was here. He was safe. This was real. All things you often had to remind yourself of.

"Please don't shut me out like that," you whispered, the tears falling freely down your cheeks. "Not again. I can bear a lot, Rhys, but not any more of that."

His wings came back around to cover both of you as he stroked a hand through your hair. Still, aside from a few more whispered apologies, he didn't speak, didn't attempt to explain himself. You tried to tell yourself it was fine, he didn't have to explain, he'd earned the right to keep whatever he needed to to himself, if he wanted to tell you he would. But he still had not lowered his shields, did not project anything down the bond. A part of you wanted to scream, grab onto that tether that linked your souls together and shake it like you could somehow force life back into it. Maybe things would be better if you could. Maybe they'd be worse. You tried to tell yourself this was enough.

"There are things," he said finally, his voice pained like he was having trouble putting it together, no sign of that silver tongue of his. "Things I can't... can't talk about."

You laid your hand over his heart, feeling the uneven beat. It was rare for Rhys to be so obviously anxious.

"Things I won't talk about."

"It's not healthy-"

"No," he growled, tightening his grip on your waist to keep you from pulling back to look him in the eyes. By the uneasiness of his breathing you thought he might be crying himself. "You do not need to know. You will hear enough of my sins from everyone else."

Sins, as if he had done any of it willingly, as if he'd had any choice in it.

"You didn't have a choice," you began.

"It doesn't matter," Rhys countered. "That is not the story they will tell."

He would be the villain, the little lackey that did her dirty work, the monster that ripped people's minds apart for his evil queen. You'd heard the story in the High Lord's meetings over and over again--and worse, especially from Beron and Tamlin. "I don't believe anyone else's stories. I don't care what they think you've done, or why you'd done it. I don't care, Rhys, because it's not true."

He buried his head in the top of you hair, a shuttering breath ripping out his chest.

You shot as much understanding and love down the bond as you could, hoping some of it would eventually break through that wall between you. "I love you, I'll always love you, Rhys, nothing will change that."

His wings tightened around you, soft moonlight shining through the soft membrane, highlighting centuries worth of nicks and battle scars. You longed to run your fingers over them, familiarize yourself once again with the patterns and feelings you had forgotten in the last fifty years.

"But how are we supposed to move forward if we don't talk to each other?" You whispered. "I miss you. I miss talking to you. You're my best friend, my mate, we promised to always be honest and open with each other."

You twisted to be able to look at him, pulling away just enough to catch the glimmer of tears in his eyes. You reached out gently to wipe one off his cheek and he shuttered at the contact.

"It doesn't have to be tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. I know that you need time, and I am not asking you to give me details you don't want to, but there's gotta be some way for us to talk to each other again, isn't there?"

He tilted his head to kiss your fingertips. "I'm sorry, I know I've hurt you," he murmured against your fingertips, his lips soft and warm against your chilled skin. "I'm trying." He moved his lips to your palm, placing featherlight kisses on the way down, his offering of another apology, as if to tell you he was sorry you had to be there to wipe away any tears. He'd been like that before, but not this bad.

"I know," you said, "but in the mean time, can I at least have a thought for a thought?"

He hummed against your palm. "You first."

"I'm thinking we really should have put in more comfortable roof tiles," you said, twisting against the tile that was biting into the underside of your thighs.

He shifted and pulled you to sit in his lap with a huff of what was almost a laugh. The shift in conversation was good, kept you both from spiraling further into all the uncertainty the future still held. If you couldn't talk about the past, at least there were things in the present to talk about.

"And I'm thinking," you added as you settled against his strong chest, his heartbeat a bit more steady against you now. "That you make a very comfortable seat."

"That's two."

"First one was free," you say, resting your head against his shoulder.

He was quiet for a long moment, just the two of you wrapped in each other under the stars.

"I'm thinking..." his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands finding yours so you could intertwine them. "That I clearly need to get you some new socks, your feet are freezing!"

He was clad in nothing but his underwear, you only now realized, and you had instinctively wrapped your legs around his, seeking any kind of warmth you could find. There wasn't a full sleep set between the two of you.

You couldn't help but laugh, even if this wasn't how you'd hoped the conversation would go, at least it was a conversation. "You know I hate sleeping with socks on, that's not fair."

"Slippers than," he conceded.

You intentionally brushed your cold feet up the side of his leg. "Fuzzy ones. And only if they're bright pink."

"Ridiculous," he huffed, "but if you insist."

"I want them to look like cats too."

"Pink cats?"

"Pink cats."

"Pink cats it is then."

You grinned at that. "We can go to the Rainbow tomorrow for them?"

"First thing in the morning," he promised as he settled his chin on your shoulder.

"We should go for breakfast. There's a new bakery on the Sidra. Well, new as in neither of us have been there, it's technically been open for awhile."

"You didn't go?"

You two had met in a bakery in Illyria, had fought over the last chocolate croissant until the shop owner had kicked both you out for scarring the other customers, it had become something of a weekly tradition to find which shop in Velaris had the best ones since. "I was waiting for you."

The arms around your middle squeezed a little tighter.

"I have a list of things for us to do, actually. A lot changed and I thought if, maybe I kept making a list it gave the Mother a reason to bring you back to me." It felt stupid, now that you'd said it aloud that you had hoped depriving yourself of a chocolate croissant would somehow force the Mother to bring your mate home, but you had been desperate, you weren't always thinking clearly.

Rhys nuzzled into the side of your neck. "Thank you, for waiting." You knew him well enough to know he wasn't talking about the bakery or the croissants.

"I would have waited a thousand years for you," you whispered.

"That's a long time without chocolate croissants," he teased.

"They're worth the wait," you replied, hoping he knew you well enough to know you weren't talking about croissants either.

He merely hummed understandingly as he settled against your shoulder, his breathing evening out against your back. You relished in the rise and fall of his chest, of his warm breath against your throat. He was alive, he was here, he'd made it home.

"What else is on this list of yours?"

"There's a new dinner cruise around the Sidra, an art exhibit in the Rainbow, three new plays," you counted them off on your fingers, trying to remember all of them now. Sleep was beginning to beckon again, your eyes heavy, speech slowing. "The Night Orchestra is coming back into town, you missed them twice. There's a new ice cream shop to try..." there was something else, but your mind was growing hazy. A yawn escaped you.

Rhys tried to stand, but you grabbed frantically at his wrists. "I'm ok. Wanna stay here with you."

He settled back against the roof, laying back now with you tucked into his side. The blanket had gotten twisted between the two of you, doing little to keep out the bite of the roof tiles. You didn't care.

"Oh! There's a new place that sells some lacy things I think you'd like," you mumbled as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck and breathed in deep.

"For you or me?" He teased.

"For you to rip off of me," you said.

He kissed your temple, "We'll definitely have to stop there then."

You were trying your hardest to keep your eyes open, really you were, but they were growing heavier and heavier, the stars over head blurring in your vision. Maybe you had been wrong to stop wishing on them, despite all your pain, your mate had still returned to you, that dream had still been answered.

"We're gonna be ok, you know," You murmured into his neck.

"You think so?" He whispered.

"I'll wish it onto every star I see until it's answered," you vowed.

Rhys gripped you a little tighter, you gripped him back, eyes drifting shut fully now.

"Maybe I'll start making wishes again too," he said in your ear. You hoped, as you drifted off, that the stars heard him and would answer this wish too.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader fluff #rhysand acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand fic #fanfiction #writing #a little hurt/comfort for my other depressed bitches

[quinloki]

CYOA - Eustass Kid x Reader

There's an idea kicking around in my head, just a little one-shot kind of thing, but I wasn't sure where I wanted it to go, and decided that I'd just let you all decide.

How this works: I'll write a part of the story and leave the decision point as a poll. Depending on the weight of the decision it'll either be a day or a week.

If things go well I may start doing these as a monthly series when there's not much else going on (so May, June, August, September, December, etc.)

CW: CNC, bondage, orgasm denial, gender neutral (they/them) afab reader style, dom/sub setting, free use - reader and Kid are testing the waters of an always on dom/sub relationship with a month-long trial. (more warnings may apply as the story progresses).

Summary: Modern AU. Kid owns a BDSM club, and you - and the "crew" - live on the top floor. Most everyone has their own flat, but there's a lot of criss-cross on who is in whose bed on any given night. You and Kid have been steady for a year, and you have more casual relations with other members of the crew.

Everyone knows everything, communication and consent are king - this is not a noncon/cheating story.

Frustration and nerves ate at you as you worked your fingers over your needy clit. You weren't wearing any leather cuffs, or a collar, because you were just finishing up with a shower.

A week ago you and Kid had agreed on the terms of some 24/7 bdsm play. Kid had free use rights, others in the crew just had to ask him before interacting with you, but you could turn them down. You could, technically, turn Kid down too.

Begging Kid to stop wouldn't work, you wanted to be able to scream your head off and have him rail you. But you had some hand signals, and tunes you could hum if you needed things to slow down, and a phrase that would pause things for that day, or end it for the rest of the month.

What you had expected when you agreed to this, was to enjoy all the deepest debaucheries that lurked with Eustass Kid. You expected you'd spend hours on the breeding bench, mouth full of his cock once he fucked your cunt raw, tears down your face as you gagged and struggled to please him.

You figured he'd spit in your mouth, smack you around, and call you all sorts of degrading shit. He could - he enjoyed it, you knew that much for sure, and so did you.

Instead, you'd spent the last week naked except for a collar and cuff combination that kept your wrists just a few inches from your neck. Kid fed you, touched and teased you, but never even so much as put a finger in your mouth. He'd get you worked up until you were begging him for more, and then just deny you.

If you complained too much he'd just put you over his knee until your ass was red, and then you'd be worked up, desperate, sore and even needier than you were before hand.

You slept together too, so there was no sneaking in some pleasure at night either.

You were desperate for release, and walking around naked, the feel of his hand against your skin whenever he wanted, kept you on an edge that was maddening.

But you weren't going to use any of your safe words just for some denial. Especially not when you'd come to realize that shower time was your alone time. Well, when you had to go you got privacy then too, but it's hard to do that and masturbate at the same time. There's no time to come down from your high then.

After all the things Kid had done to you, taking care of things manually was a little anticlimactic, but desperate times and measures.

Your body was tensing from the building pleasure, legs and toes starting to curl as the sweet build up began to warm your entire body. You kept your breathing quiet, and bit your lower lip to help stifle any sounds that might give you away.

Just as you were nearly there, the bathroom door opened, and Kid stood in the doorway. He doesn't look surprised to see you in the situation, but the look on his face is clear:

You're in trouble.

#CYOA Eustass Kid #x reader #reader insert #mdni #18+ only #dead dove #read the godsdamned CW #quin poll #modern au #eustass kid

[shattersstar]

secrets.

pairing: jason todd x reader

prompt: say my name (cover) by hozier

a/n: 1/3 :) enjoy <3

—

He had come home through the front door, black duffel bag slung over his shoulder despite the ache starting to spread across his body. He shuffled in with a low sigh, the pain from falling off a fire escape finally settled in as he crossed the threshold. He let his bag slip off his shoulder, catching it seconds before it slapped the hardwood as Jason remembered he wasn’t home. Well he was, your apartment was more a home than his or even the manor ever was, but it wasn’t a place to be loud without a care. Not at this hour at least. Jason set it down carefully instead, trying to ignore the pain shooting up his back as he kneeled to unlace his boots.

He heard your door creak open, soft shuffling as your silhouette appeared in the hallway. He hadn’t even looked up yet and your presence soothed something wild in him instantly. “Hey baby.” Jason grinned, surprised you were awake, but happy to see you nonetheless. “How come you’re up, thought you worked in the morning?” You stayed unmoved and Jason looked back up at you, fingers stilling on his laces.

He opened his mouth to speak, throat starting to feel thick at the cold demeanour rolling off of you, but you replied before he could, “Someone wanted my shift so…” Your voice was above a whisper, unsteady and it had Jason standing at his full height. He reached over to flick on the hallway light, letting the yellow light fill the space more than the one lamp in the living room could. You looked tired, face tear stained and your massive comfort hoodie on. He remained unmoved, swallowing the dry and bloody taste in his mouth while you shifted your weight.

Jason knew he had been distant lately, but a new dealer had popped up and was causing him problems, ones that left marks too unexplainable. He called you most afternoons when he could, but it had been almost a month since you two hung out properly, let alone went on a date. You had always taken Jason’s life in stride even if you didn’t know the details, you knew it would demand more of him than you could ever have, but what you got was enough so you didn’t care. It was what you had told him, so sincerely and earnestly when he finally agreed to go out with you again. It had been a good decision—great even—but it wasn’t easy. And Jason wasn’t stupid, he’s cancelled your Tuesday date nights twice this month and the fact he left your apartment after being there for two hours last week were stupid choices that lead to more violence Jason had to keep you from. He should have apologized then, but he was just so relieved to be able to spend a night with you.

He didn’t have to lie today, Jason wanted to tell you that so badly. That he did fall off a fire escape, slipping in the rain and landing smack on his back in a dark alleyway. And while he was in his gear, fell from seven stories up and had a helmet to protect what could have been a lethal mistake into just a stupid one. Yet, as you let out a breathy shuddering sigh, Jason wondered if half of the truth would be enough. It seemed as if you were after much more.

“Are…are you okay?” He found himself asking, voice betraying him as the nervousness he was trying to hide poured out. And he knew you weren’t okay, it was a stupid thing to ask and Jason was angry at himself for not being able to understand more.

“Just…are you—“ You stifled a sob, taking half a step back which made his veins run colder, “Are you cheating on me?” Jason’s face fell at your words, they were so far from the truth, but hurt deeper than he could have ever imagined. They scathed something raw in his heart, and he was crossing the small space in a handful of strides.

“Fuck no—no, never. I would never do anything like that to you baby, never. There is no one else, but you. You’re—fuck you’re everything okay? Just no, no, I’m not fucking cheating, no, not on you.” He was angry, stammering and tripping over his words, but held your face in his hands so gently. Jason’s capacity for tenderness even at his angriest never ceased to make your heart flutter. Tears spilled over your eyes at his words, you wanted to badly to believe him.

“But you’re so far away, distracted and carrying that bag I can’t fucking stand the sight of. And I get shit is gonna come up, but three date nights in a row? Seriously? You didn’t even say anything about Friday either Jay! I was outside my apartment for an hour and waited inside for two more.”

His eyes fell closed, Jason had completely forgot he was supposed to take you on his bike around the outskirts of the city for a picnic. It was to makeup the fact he’d miss your date on Tuesday, instead he was following a lead to Bludhaven that had him there till last night. He had been so caught up in work he didn’t even realize that Friday had came and went.

“Fuck I forgot about that.” He muttered in explanation, eyes dropping from yours.

“Yeah I kinda figured,” You sniffled, letting a moment of silence pass before as your anger simmered more into desperation. “God, its like I know you’re keeping things from me, and I accepted the secrets around your life when we first started dating, but this? This is another level. Jason, I know you’re hiding something intrinsic and meaningful to you—from me—and now you’ve just…left me in the dust.” You couldn’t tell if you had said all of that, or if it stayed locked inside your throat, until regret started to flash across Jason’s face at your words. You couldn’t stop the sob that escaped your throat, wanting to collapse into the floor while he still held you so close.

“I know, I know.” He whispered, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. He wanted to be able to say anything to break the tension, to make you smile or slap him, but you had been more than gracious. Jason had known that, it ate him alive most nights, and he couldn’t even find anger towards you within himself. Couldn’t force himself to lash out and push you away because it made it digestible and easy to leave. “I’m not cheating on you, I cant even look at anyone else–but I can’t tell you everything, I just can’t. Because Gotham, this city? It’s dangerous, and I am…close to that danger. You know me and what I would or wouldn’t do, so know I’m doing what’s right. I just can’t let you into this world, its not safe and I can’t lose you to it.” You urged his eyes back to yours, only stray tears escaping as you searched his gaze for the truth. It was so sincere, which should’ve been horrifying, but it brought peace to your chest. Something violent enraptured this man you loved, and yet it settled something in your core.

“And I’m, uh, I’m sorry. For keeping you in the dark.” He added, averting your gaze at his apology. Jason was never good with faults, with accepting them gracefully and apologizing for them, but you knew he meant it. Meant the words that often struggled to escape his lips. He only looked back when he felt your hands nudge his sides, your head moving from his hands and tipping into his chest. Jason let his arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close as you let your last few tears stain the front of his shirt. He smelled clean, like his body wash and gasoline.

“Did you ride your bike over?” You mumbled into him, feeling the vibrations of his voice as he spoke.

“Yeah, why? Wanna go on a drive?” You nodded against Jason’s chest, but held him tighter first. He got the message, and kept holding you, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. When you untangled yourselves, he dried your face with the sleeve of his shirt, a watery laugh bubbling from you.

“Fuck that bag though.” You suddenly said, nodding over his shoulder. It made him laugh in turn.

“I’ll keep it out of the apartment.”

“Out of sight works fine for me.” You replied, before Jason pulled you in for another embrace, a beat of silence before he lead you towards your bedroom. You sat down as he rummaged around your closet, finding the helmet he gave you on the highest shelf. He passed it to you before slinking out of his brown leather jacket and tossing it your way. Jason couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips as your eyes lit up once the fabric landed in your lap. You had always loved his jacket, it smelled like him and was worn down to the point of being one of the most comfortable things you got to wear. Jason instead slipped on the black leather jacket you had gotten him on your first anniversary, yanking it out of the front hall closest before sliding his hand into yours.

You walked to the parking garbage hand in hand, Jason keeping you pressed close while stealing glances down at you every few seconds. He was searching for a moment of hesitation—regret—in your eyes. His heart was still raw from it all, as was yours, but the idea Jason could even entertain being with someone else made his skin crawl. He had always felt a shade too possessive over you—you both knew that—he was trying to work on it, but god if he didn’t want to double down now. Jason wanted to show you the darkest sides of himself, to let how you made him feel consume him whole until he was an ugly, unrecognizable thing built only for violence and loving you.

An unholy beast whimpering in the dark of night.

But it wasn’t the time, not when your hands snaked around his waist and your helmet rested on his back. It made it hard to wallow in his own pity with your hands burning a hole through his torso. Instead, Jason peeled off into the Gotham night.

It was late enough the streets were quiet, the long stretching and twisting highways that connected the sprawled out city were empty save a few cars. City lights streamed by and Jason felt your head left to watch them in their neon haze. You both let the truth wash over you, you knew he wasn’t seeing anyone else, you believed him despite how daunting the truth may be. It seemed graspable, aligned with the splintered edges of his past and personality you had been exposed too. You still loved him all the same, you told Jason that enough, but as you rode through the city, you couldn’t help how your mind began to swirl. How well did you truly know the love of your life?

Jason sensed it, how your grip faltered and you suddenly felt so far off. Like you’d float away both in body and mind.

He slowed down after a turn, pulling off before a bridge and down to those small area of greenery hidden amongst exits and signs. Jason shut off his bike, letting you shuffle back as he clambered off carefully. He pulled his helmet off and helped you out of yours before setting them aside. “You okay?”

“Yeah, its just a lot of think about and I thought my head would be clearer now.” You admitted with a shrug.

“Well tanks full so we can keep riding till your head is clear.” He said, half teasing, but it sounded appealing. Jason noticed your contemplation, and smiled at you, spending a night roaming Gotham on his bike with you till sun up was nothing short of perfect for Jason, and you shouldn’t have been surprised at the suggestion let alone his silent agreement to do so. He handed you back your helmet and slouched against the side of his bike for a sec. You stared into the visor before one of Jason’s knuckles knocked your chin, pulling your attention to him. “It’s always gonna be you y’know? You’re the only one allowed this close.”

You leaned into Jason’s touch, kissing the palm of his hand before he pushed himself up and grabbed his helmet. You slipped yours on and smiled wildly underneath it. Things were going to change, but he was still the man you loved, and you were happy to share him with the grittier parts of this city if he was coming home to you. And as Jason flipped up the kickstand and started his bike to ride on through the remaining hours of dark till sunrise for you, you both knew it would be your bed he fell into every night. Or so help Gotham.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc x reader #dc imagine #writing

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Preoccupied (hwanghyunjin)

The best thing about having two best friends in love was that you were so extremely happy for them you genuinely wanted them to last forever. The worst thing about having two best friends in love was that they made you feel soooo single like soooo single you also wanted to pull out your hair one by one.

The last relationship you had ended up so bad it had made you retreat even more into your own head. Being quite the introverted, quiet person you were didn't help at all,too. It wasn't even about being the stereotypical shy bookworm who hated parties and would rather spend their existence sipping tea by the fire. It was more about genuinely not having the social battery to endure loud crowds and big social events as often as you could have.

Being around people, being around close friends especially, was absolutely fine, it made you feel good, even. You just needed your alone time to recharge. And yeah... Most of the time that alone time did include reading 4 books in a week and downing gallons of warm tea.

Now problem was that you and said best friend #1 had been invited to a birthday party of a friend of a friend over the weekend and you would have declined, being just overall tired from your exam week and uni and your part time job but Lexi had been giving you a headache with the amount of "please please please don't make me go alone Changbin will be stuck at work at least until 1am please please come with me please please I love you pleaaaaase" and so on and so forth.

Here's another thing about having two best friends in love: they were inseparable. So loved up and clingy they hated being separate, but they were also so thankful for you had played cupid and matched them up, which, in turn, as a gesture of gratitude, often lead to them making you third wheeling a number of their dates. This one time you had the chance to go a party with just Lexi, and as much as you weren't too keen on going, in the end you gave in, just for the sake of your friendship with her.

So there you were, mulling around with your half full soda drink, trying to make small talk while your perfect social butterfly of your best friend drank her beer and chatted up a storm with anyone and everyone there. A familiar pop song comes on through the speaker and you bob your head to it, mindlessly trying to keep the rhythm as you take another sip from your cup, a girl with scraggly blonde hair extensions looks at your sad red solo cup and holds up the tequila bottle, quietly offering you a shot, but you politely decline, being the designated driver for the night. Not that you minded, you weren't much of a drinker anyway, you just hated the way she frowned and made a beeline to another group of people that were clearly already drunk out of their asses, not even an hour and half into the party.

You follow Lexi around like a little lost puppy for a little while, mentally counting how many more beers and tequila shots and whatever other brightly colored drink she inhales, and as she inevitably starts to laugh more boisterously and wobble on her feet, you keep a close watch over her, offering her bits of food and silent support should she feel sick from all the alcohol.

You're about to tear a piece of pizza in two for her as she lifts her giggly, intoxicated self from a chair near the snacks table when she accidently trips on her own feet and almost fall to the ground. You have barely any time to react, you extend your arms out for her when "careful!" a tall,longish dark haired boy you didn't notice earlier swiftly catches her in his arms, steading her in place as he holds her hand briefly, then slowly guiding her back on the chair.

"Are you okay?", he asks softly, deep brown eyes squinting in concern as he frowns, "Hyunjin?? Oh my God what are you doing here!!?", Lexi completely ignores his question and instead throws herself at him, pulling him into such a tight hug his eyes pop out, you giggle to yourself and mouth a silent "sorry" in his direction, he acknowledges you with a brief nod of his head and smiles at you over her shoulder. It's a sweet, shy smile, you're immediately drawn to it. "So?? Are you gonna answer? What are you doing here at Skylar's party?". Oh right. Skylar. The birthday girl you were supposed to greet at some point since she was actually hosting this party in her own guest house.

Except you hadn't seen her at all so far. "Changbin invited me? He said he couldn't make it last minute but I was already on my way here", Hyunjin politely replies as Lexi finally lets go of him and he fixes his shirt, "my baby! I'm so sad he's still working, my poor poor baby!", Lexy whines and frowns only for then immediately snapping out of it as if she caught on fire suddenly, she dramatically gestures for you to come closer and firmly grabs your hand:"I almost forgot!! This is my best friend in the whole universe, y/n. Y/n this is Hyunjin, Changbinnies best friend in the whole universe, besides you, obviously".

The three of you burst into laughs and Hyunjin slightly bows to you as he smiles again in that timid way, his eyes kind and inviting and dang: he is gorgeous. You catch yourself staring at him in awe, "nice to meet you", you mumble, unable to stop similing.

"Great, my job here is done. I'm gonna find Skylar now. And a restroom. Who know beer made you want to pee this bad", Lexy exclaims, suddenly springing up to her still unsteady feet,  both of you and Hyunjin scramble to help her  when she almost trips again, this time quickly regaining balance and giggling like a maniac before she sashays away.

"I-I'm sorry, she's usually more composed than that. I think she's drinking away her sadness over Changbin not being here", you offer as you awkwardly play with the bracelet on your left wrist, Hyunjin shakes his head as if to signal that it is no big deal and fills up his cup with the Coke zero in front of him, "it's okay, I know he's very much in love with her too, he'd probably be crying in his drink if the roles were switched", he teases and you giggle, "cheers to hopefully not having to babysit her all night long", you prod then, lifting your cup to him, and this time he giggles and it's adorable. High pitched and bright and sincere. Absolutely adorable.

You manage to make small talk, actually pleasant small talk, and find out he's a pretty good listener, he asks you tons of questions and waits patiently for you to reply, and he really looks at you, his gaze intent and present, he talks softly and giggles and is just generally very nice and pleasant to talk to.

You're in the middle of explaining how you ended up switching courses over at uni when you chose philosophy over psychology when he notices the bracelet you still continue to play with as a way to cope with the awkwardness and nervousness overall, "is that a lava bead bracelet?", he asks, eyes wide and curios as he delicately touches your wrist, "oh, yeah. Changbin got it for me, he said it was the only one in this turquoise and black color scheme so it caught his eyes. And turquoise is my favourite color so... That was very nice if him".

You smile as you reminisce and Hyunjin lights up at the mention of your favorite color,"I have an oil paint tub at home that looks exactly like that. It's so bright and gorgeous I use it so sparingly cause I want to it to last for as long as possible", he explains all enthusiastically and you can't help but find his excitement contagious. Especially cause you're an art major: "you paint?", you ask quietly and he nods, pulling out his phone to show you some of his work, and it's incredible. He paints flowers and faces and people and landscapes and he does it beautifully. With so much color and intensity.

He starts elaborating over the inspiration behind some of his pieces but as the music grows louder and the people get drunker it's a little harder for you to hear him properly, even as you lean more over to his side with him being much much taller than you you have to strain your hearing to be able to catch onto anything that he's saying.

And he definitely notices your contorted face because he stops and giggles, he places his cup down on the table and bends down so close to your ear you can actually smell his shampoo, "is it okay if we go somewhere quieter?",  you beam at him and nod, relieved. You two make your way over to the other side of the house and are just about to step outside when you remember you haven't seen Lexy in a bit and it troubles you a little. "Uhm.. I think I might need to check on Lexy first. You haven't seen her have you?", you aks worriedly, Hyunjin nods understandingly and gestures for you to lead the way, "I'll help you look".

Together you scour through the entire first floor to no avail and then decide to head upstairs where you cautiously knock on a few doors, afraid that someone's in there, probably getting pregnant, high or infected with God knows what. After a few more unfruitful rounds you try and call her: she picks up on the third ring, sounding drunk but not completely wasted, "hellooooo!!! I'm just hanging out with a few nice girls from our chemsirtry class... Or was that physics? I don't know", "oh.. Okay sure... I was just about to step outside for some fresh air, I'll just be in the backyard if you need me, okay?".

She chuckles and sighs heavily on the other side of the line and it's like you can just picture her as she rolls her eyes, "no need to baby me, I'll be fine. Is Hyunjin still there with you?", she asks loudly, loud enough for the young man to hear it directly and giggle, "still here!", he half shouts into the phone and it takes everything in you not to just burst into hysterics, "good! Take care of her. Be safe! Love you!" she shouts back and with that she hangs up, leaving you two giggling and blushing.

Once you're outside in the cool late August air, you sit on a lovely swinging chair overlooking the vast backyard that leads on a little fence separating the property from just an immense stretch of corn fields. You both stop to admire it for a second, and Hyunjin even snaps a few pics, struggling to set the night lighting fixture correctly but succeeding in the end.

You resume your conversation right back up from where it was interrupted and it flows so naturally. When you tell him you're an art major Hyunjin's eyes literally sparkle, he bombards you with questions about everything that you've learned so far, which leads to a topic change about the books you're reading in preparation for your future exams and the ones you're trying to squeeze in as a personal hobby.

You find out he reads too, that he loves poetry and music and he too is more of an introvert, usually, but still enjoys social settings every once in a while. "I can't believe we have so much in common, where have you been my whole life?", he asks rethorically, grinning as you blush profusely but try to play it off, "hahaha hiding in plain sight? I guess. Sorry if I kept rambling, by the way. I'm usually not even much of a talker but it's rare to find someone who enjoys the same things as me. There's this quite from a movie...", you trail off, stifling an embarrassed laugh as you shake your head.

You bite down your lip in silence, playing with your bracelet again but Hyunjin scoots closer to you on the swing chair and prods you on," it's silly... but it's like... - I learned what is obvious to a child. That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals tha-", "-that a day spent with dreaming and sunsets and refreshing breezes cannot be bettered", he finishes for you, smiling so warmly at the recognition of the quote from The Notebook.

Your jaw drops as you stare at him wide eyed and he chuckles, "I've seen that movie recently, it's become one of my favorites", he admits and you almost jump in your seat in excitement, "it is one of my favorite movies too!", you blurt out and for some odd, inexplicable reason you hold out your palm as if to ask him to high five you AND HE DOES, even though you're cringing at your own self. You're literally grimacing and going over the scene in your head over and over when you realise Hyunjin hasn't let go of your hand. He hit it slightly and then intertwined your fingers together.

You sit motionless, your heart rising up in your throat as he gently holds your hand on top of his knee and for the life of you, you can't stop staring at your interlocked fingers. You can't stop thinking about how spontaneous and cute it was of him, and how nice it feels, how his hand is big but slender, his fingers smooth and tapered. You smile to yourself like an idiot and if he notices, he doesn't say anything, he smiles himself as quietness momentarily fills the air. It's not a tense silence by any means, it's just peaceful and calm. The complete opposite of your insides right now. How on earth is this real life? How can someone so stunningly beautifully and kind and sensitive and artistic can even be sitting next to you right now?

A little gust of chilly air blows at you and you shiver slightly, inadvertently making you jerk the hand that Hyunjin's holding, he frowns and tilts his head to the side, "are you cold?", he murmurs sweetly, you shrug and try not to show how you're actually unsure whether you shivered because of the wind or the very man holding your hand right now, "just a little tiny bit, but I'll be okay", you reassure him, smiling toothlessly.

He frowns and scoots even closer to you, he switches the hand that's holding yours with his other one and nonchalantly rests an arm around your back as he draws you closer to his side, rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder cap too, "I'm sorry I don't have any jacket to lend you right now", he mutters. Your hearts swells up as you look up at him, your eyes definitely looking like those cartoon inspired pink love hearts that bulge out of their sockets, even more so when he simply smiles tenderly at you.

"You are-you are too kind. But I promise I'm just being dramatic. I have very low blood pressure, I can get cold even with 100°degrees outside. I'm not a summer person at all", you joke (even though you actually do get cold quite easily and you still sleep with your pijama on in the dead of the summer, but Hyunjin doesn't need to know that). The brunette chuckles and squeezes your hand once, as if to reassure you, or quietly blot down the sweat forming there, as much as you're feeling  genuinely a little cold you're also aware you're nervously sweating.

"I prefer cooler seasons too, fall is my favourite. With all the pretty leaves changing colors and that gloomy feel to the air. Spring is pretty too, but like early spring, when it's still a little cold from the winter and the skies are clear and the air is crisp and the flowers are still slowly blossoming", Hyunjin says softly, his eyes gazing towards the fields in front of you. Listening to him speak like that, his voice airy and soothing, makes your insides feel like jelly, the way he's definitely attuned to nature and the smaller, tinier details each season offers, the way he clearly appreciates simple yet beautiful things makes you shudder in delight.

"Oof you must be so cold, goodness, come here", Hyunjin humpfs, he spreads out his legs and invites you to sit in between them... Well he basically drags you over to him until you cover your face in shame and gingerly do as you're told. You bite your lip down and sqqueeze your eyes shut as your feel your face abalze when your back finally rests against his chest: it feels so nice you want to scream.

Hyunjin laces his arms around your waist, respectfully placing his hands just above your navel, he interlaced his own hands together, careful not too touch you innapropriately even when he squeezes his thighs back against yours, making sure your skirt isn't riding up. You're screaming internally as you feel his warm, steady breath fanning your neck, his scent faintly sweet and clean, kind of floral, "you smell good...", you mumble, immediately looking down at your hands, sitting awkwardly in your lap as you're too scared he's gonna feel just how shaky and cold and sweaty they are if you try and rest them on top of his. Even though you're desperate for it. You'd love to just snuggle up to him.

It occurs to you that this has never happened before: never in your life you've felt this close to someone so fast. Nobody ever so blatantly want to just talking to you to fully holding you in such a shirt amount of time, and the thing is: he did that so carefully. So sweetly.Hyunjin chuckles and breathes out softly, "thank you. I'm not wearing any cologne, actually", he admits rather shyly, "must be just your skin then", you reply on impulse, mentally slapping your head, luckily enough for you he just laughs and shrugs, the movement reverberating through your spine, "you'd be surprised how many times people say that to me. Changbin said I smell like a human car freshener", he blurts out and you both laugh at that.

You relax into him now, using your prolonged giggles as an excuse, you dare fully adjusting yourself into him, laying your head on his shoulder, even placing your hands on top of his, your fingertips just barely tapping his skin as you blush all the way, breathing a little erratically. He seems welcoming though, even though you can't clearly see his face you can't tell he is smiling behind you as his heads leans a little closer to yours, "you smell good too, your hair smells like vanilla", he comments once you're fully settled into him, and you thank him with just a whisper.

Comfortable silence falls between you two again, and again it's that sort of quietness that's enjoyable and serene. You look up at the sky a little awestruck as the tiny silvery dots twinkle in the black of the night, you sigh as quietly as you possibly can as a deep sense of calmness and contentness washes over you, your heart might still be thudding in your chest but you feel oddly calm.

You move your head slightly as you try to follow the trajectory of a passing plane, unconsciously digging the back of your head into his shoulder blade and gasp at the contact, "oh shoot, sorry, I'm so sorry", you quickly apologise, fully turning in your seat to face him, your eyes briefly looking down to his extremely soft looking, juicy lips and then back up into his gentle orbs, Hyunjin just laughs and tilts his own head back slightly, "that was absolutely okay, you are so cute", he reassures you, he even kisses your cheek for further good measure.

Just as predicted, his lips feel incredibly plump and soft and plushy. And you shiver. Of course you do. You just can't not do it. Your body just reacts however it pleases. "You're shivering again! wait...", Hyunjin gently gazes into your eyes and cups your chin, a bemused expression on his face as he licks the corner of his mouth, "I'm making you shiver?!", he exclaims half surprised half smirking and even though you're sure you're turning purple in the face you try to deny his very right guess, "noo... I'm-I mean I'm-I'm  actually - ", you stutter,unable to continue your sentence as all of your senses go into overdrive from the intense embrassment.

He pats your head softly as he grins at you and goes in to kiss your temple, and then the top of your eyebrow, his arms cradling your trembling limbs, "you are shaking, y/n", he whispers against your cheek, and you want to say something you desperately want to but your throat seems to be completely closed on itself, "you know... I'm usually not this bold but... are you going to completely burst out of your skin if I kiss you right now?".

You get the same brain freeze you as you usually get when you eat your ice popsicle too quickly and you feel icicles taking over your jaw and the insides of your nose and your forehead. All you can do is hold Hyunjin's very intense stare and tilt your head to the side, "there's - there's only one way to find out", you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

He goes in for your lips, kissing you slowly and delicately, even when he slips his tongue past your lips he does so in such a gentle way you melt into from the inside out. "Hey Hyunjin-ah OH SHIT".

You abruptly tear away from each other, starled from the sudden gasps as you turn around and find Channgbin staring at you both with the most shocked yet satisfied look on his face.You fall silent and look at each other awkwardly as all of your internal organs feel like they're going to explode any minute now, "so I uh - didn't mean to interrupt you guys?", Channgbin smirks and scratches his chin, "I was just gonna say hi and aks you if you happen to know where Lexy is but it looks like you two were... preoccupied".

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #skz hyunjin #stray kids scenarios #Straykids #Skz #skz scenarios #Straykids blurbs #Skz blurbs #Skz x reader #stray kids imagines #straykids x reader #bang chan #changbin #hanjisung #straykids x you #jeongin #lee felix #seungmin #lee know #lee minho #stray kids #straykids fluff #skz imagines #Skz fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff

[topguncortez]

Merry Christmas, Baby(ies)

pairing: Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey ➳synopsis: Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, The Seresins were preparing for a birth to announce ➳warnings: pregnancy, child birth, c-sections, a little bit of trauma, Jake's family, a dash of angst. ➳Word count: 5.5k Opposites Attract Masterlist | Hangman Masterlist

➳ note: no, this isn't the fourth installment of the Opposites Attract world, I am still working on that (cause idk where I wanna go with it) but MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMALS:)

Since Jake was little, he had always loved Christmas. His mother always went all out, pulling out the boxes of decorations the second the last plate from thanksgiving was clean and put away. She would spend the next week decorating the house from head to toe. Garland, pine cones, lights, candy canes, and Christmas trees covered the house. Each room had its own sort of decorative vibe to it, and had its own box that went with it. Jake’s four older sisters could care less about decorating, but Jake was a momma’s boy and would spend hours helping his mom hang ornaments on trees. 

That same love for Christmas followed Jake throughout his teenage years and even to adulthood. His first deployment was over Christmas and he somehow managed to get a small Christmas tree on board and set it up in his room. He could remember his first Christmas with Y/N, and fell even more in love with realizing that she too, had the same love for Christmas. They went all out buying their own Christmas tree, and setting up their own Christmas traditions. Their Christmases seemed to get even better when they had kids. 

This year though, instead of going to Texas like they usually did, Y/N had invited Jake’s parents and sisters to San Diego for Christmas Eve. However, Jake  didn’t know that was Y/N’s plan and had already invited the Dagger Squad over for Christmas Eve as well. It sent Y/N into a bit of a panic as she looked down at her eight month swollen belly, but she put on a bright smile and said: 

“The more the merrier!” 

But now, she was slowly regretting saying that, as she looked at the house full of guests. Jolene and George had arrived on December 22nd, because Jolene wanted to help get groceries and wrap gifts for her grandkids. George would have cared less about being there so early. The next to arrive was Jake’s sister Andrea, and her husband Kyle and their kids, and Jessica and her partner Emily showed up on the 23rd, staying in an AirBnB near Jake and Y/N’s house. 

“I thought it wasn’t supposed to be this hot,” Y/N groaned as she sat down on the back patio watching the kids play with their cousins. 

“It’s not even that hot,” Jake’s twin sister, Hillary said. Hillary and Y/N hardly got along, but Y/N tried to remain civil towards her. 

“Do you need anything, sweetheart?” Jolene asked, walking out to the backyard. Part of the reason why Hillary didn’t like Y/N was because she got along somewhat well with Jolene. Jolene was almost exactly how the song described; red hair teased to the high heavens, pale skin, and electric green eyes just like Jake’s. Y/N was surprised that at least one of her kids didn’t have red hair. 

“I’m good, thank you, Mrs. Seresin,” Y/N smiled. 

“Oh baby, you have carried five of my grandbabies now,” Jolene smiled, “You can call me Jolene.” 

Y/N blushed and nodded as Eli ran up to her and climbed on the couch. He cuddled into her, pressing his face into her bump. She smiled and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. 

“What have you been doing, baby?” Y/N asked her youngest, as of right now, son. 

“I gotta take a break,” He sighed and flopped his arms out dramatically, “Can’t keep up with Alex and Tyler and Ella and Derek and Joanie and-” 

“Hard being the youngest, isn’t it,” Andrea, Jake’s eldest sister said, “Tyler and Joanie aren’t being mean are they?” 

“No Auntie Drea,” Eli shook his head, “My legs just little.” Y/N giggled and Eli climbed back off the couch and ran towards his cousins.

“Gosh he reminds me of Jake,” Jessica said and sat down next to Y/N, “What about these two? Who do you think they’ll be like?” Jessica placed her hand gently on Y/N’s bump. 

“Maybe if she found out the gender,” Hillary mumbled and sipped her wine. 

Y/N brushed off her comment, “I think they’ll be like Jake. I think they all take after Jake in some way.” 

“Especially Ella!” Andrea shook her head with a laugh, “That girl reminds me so much of him. She even has his little half smile. And those dimples! Gosh, they are twins.” 

“Gossiping about me?” It was as if Jake had heard them say his name and he leaned over the couch. He placed a kiss on the top of his wife’s head, “How are things?” 

“She’s been complaining about the heat,” Hillary rolled her eyes. 

“You would be too if you were carrying twins and ready to pop,” Jessica said defending Y/N, “Besides, momma deserves to be comfortable. Can’t imagine what it feels like having your house bombarded like this during the final weeks.” 

“It’s because she’s a trooper,” Jake came around the couch and sat down next to his wife. He put one arm around her and his hand went to her bump. He rubbed it gently and bent down to place a kiss on it. 

“How is fixing up the nursery with dad?” Andrea asked and Jake sighed. 

Over the years, Jake had slowly started to patch up the rocky relationship he had with his father. After the birth of Eli, Jake had realized that George had hardly ever wanted to see his grandkids or talk to them, and it hurt Jake. His sisters told him that it wasn’t just Jake’s kids that George didn’t gel well with, it was all his grandkids, but Jake didn’t see it that way. George was always so kind and caring when it came to his sister’s kids, but was kind of cold when it came to Jake’s brood. So, Jake sat down with him and talked to him about how it hurt him and George had apologized. 

“Trying to tell me how to put a crib together, like I haven’t put together three in the past ten years,” Jake rolled his eyes, “It’s fine. He’s inside, probably complaining about me to mom. Which, I don’t care about anymore.” 

“Well that certainly changed,” Hillary mumbled. And Jake glared at her, “What? You used to care so much about Dad’s opinion and approval of you. Everything changed when you met. . .” 

Y/N shifted in her spot and looked down at the tea mug in her hands. Jake clenched his jaw and pulled Y/N in closer to him. He knew of Hilliary’s dislike for Y/N and couldn’t figure out why. All Hilliary ever said was Y/N was just too different than Jake, and it would never work. Jake thought it was maybe because she wasn’t at his wedding. But then again, no one was really at the wedding since they just did it on a whim. His mother and other sisters were a bit upset about it, but they forgave him for it seeing how in love Y/N and Jake were. 

“This has nothing to do with Y/N,” Jake said, “I’m too old to be begging Dad for his approval. It’s his loss for being a jerk and not wanting to get to know his grandkids.” 

“It is, Jake, and I’m sorry that he’s being like that,” Andrea said sincerely, “He’ll come around someday. Maybe once he has another heart attack.” 

“That’ll be the damn day,” Jessica laughed, “I’ve been with Emily for over fifteen years and he still asks about how we’ve had kids.” 

“Science has not caught up to the old man,” Jake shook his head. 

“He’s still ordering things from infomercials. . . you think he’s understanding how in vitro fertilization works,” Andrea added and all four Seresin kids broke out in laughter. 

— — — 

“I don’t want to wear tights!” Ella pouted and Y/N sighed. 

It was Christmas Eve and the house was already filled with members from the Dagger squad. Bob was the first to arrive like always, this time dragging along his girlfriend Maggie. He was bringing her over for the first time, and thought a perfect time to meet the whole Dagger Squad would be at Christmas. Christmas with nine aviators and their families was an interesting event. Every year they got too drunk off of Fireball and spiked Eggnog. Everyone knew that Christmas was a make or break, those who could hang with the squad got to stay. 

Jake was already down stairs with the boys, being the best host like his mother taught him to be. He was mixing drinks and creating laughs at the built in bar that he so badly had to have in the house. Jolene was getting along great with Penny, Y/N’s mom Clara and Sarah Kazansky (who Jake and Y/N always invited her and her kids to Christmas). 

“Ella, you have to wear tights with your Christmas dress,” Y/N tried again to get her six year old to put her white tights on. She wanted to try and cover the large scrapes on her knees from falling off her skateboard last week, but Rooster told her she looked cool and now she was against covering them up. 

“No!” Ella crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Fine then, I’ll tell Santa no gifts.” 

“Santa’s not real. Uncle Fanboy told me last week.” 

“Dammit,” Y/N mumbled under her breath and made a mental note to talk to Fanboy about ruining kids' dreams, “Please. Put your tights on.” 

Ella shook her head again and Y/N gave up on trying to put tights on her, knowing that this battle was one she was not going to win. Y/N waddled down the stairs slowly as Ella ran up to her dad, Uncle Rooster and Fanboy. Jake picked up the girl and spun her around in a circle. Rooster couldn’t help but chuckle at the exposed scrapes on her knees. 

“Wasn’t winning the tight argument?” Jake asked as Y/N made her way to the kitchen. 

“No, and I’m not fighting with her anymore. Even pulled the Santa card, but someone,” Y/N looked at Fanboy, ''said he’s not R-E-A-L.” 

Fanboy whistled as he picked up his drink and got off his barstool, going to both Payback and Stella. Jake chuckled and set Ella down to go run off with her cousins and friends. He moved to stand behind Y/N, running his hands over her very tight bump and frowned. 

“Are you having contractions?” 

“No,” Y/N said, “It’s been like this all day. And my back is killing me. I put the band on to try and help but it’s not.” 

“Maybe it’s back labor,” Rooster said, casually sipping his drink. Y/N glared at him, “Hey! Remember the last time you said you weren’t in labor?? Yeah, Floyd ended up catching that crotch goblin.” As if he knew he was being talked about, Eli ran by with a can of whipped cream in his hand. 

“Who the hell gave him that,” Jake said, and went to chase after the three year old. Y/N looked up to see Javy and Payback with smirks on their faces. 

“I’m not in labor. I still have three weeks to go,” Y/N said and grabbed a glass of lemonade, “This isn’t like last time and I am not about to ruin Jesus’s birthday by having twins.” 

“Would beat the bible story,” Rooster smiled and Y/N rolled her eyes. She walked towards the living room where some of the other women were. She sat down next to her mom, who was deep in conversation with Penny and Jolene about something. Dragon was sitting on the other side of her and tapped her arm. 

“What’s with Ella’s knees?” The Trace girl asked. 

“Her and Alex were seeing who could go down the hill at the park the fastest. Ella took a tumble and now refuses to wear tights,” Y/N said and Dragon stifled a laugh. 

“God she’s like Bagman.” 

“You didn’t tell them it was dangerous?” Hilliary asked and Jolene scolded her, “What? Ella could’ve gotten seriously hurt. I mean, Eli just had a cast on his arm like two weeks ago.” 

“They’re kids,” Jolene said, “Kids get hurt. They break bones in the morning and are running in the afternoon.” 

“Oh boy do they. One time Y/N was. . .” Clara fell into a story about how Y/N and her brother Thomas got into a scooter race around their cul-de-sac and crashed into each other, resulting in both breaking their wrists. 

The rest of the night went along without a hitch. Jake and George had spent all day cooking up two turkeys and a ham for dinner. Jolene, Andrea, and Jessica cooked most of the sides. Y/N tried to help, but Jolene had told her to sit and watch, not wanting her to do anything too strenuous. Even though they had cooked tons of food, people still brought dishes to share. Y/N was slightly overwhelmed by the amounts of food on her kitchen counters. But she knew how the Dagger Squad was, and knew that almost every single thing would be gone and they would happily take leftovers home. 

Jake had gotten the kids plates and set them at their own table off to the side of the main dining room. That was one thing that Jake had added when he built the house. He had put in a big main dining room that would then open up to a smaller dining room so for dinners like this, the kids weren’t completely shunned to another room and out of sight. He hated that growing up, how the kids were always in another part of the house, out of sight out of mind. Javy, Payback and their wives also liked the idea so they could see their children as well. 

Y/N let out a slow breath as she pushed the green beans around her plate and rolled her shoulders back. The pain in her lower back was gradually getting worse, and she tried to push through it with no complaint. Jake had been watching her the whole night, seeing as she asked her mother several times to rub her back for her. He knew that this was probably the early stages of labor, but Y/N was stubborn. Hell, everyone knew how stubborn she was, the birth of Eli Seresin proved that. 

“Babe,” Jake whispered over to her, putting his hand on her thigh, “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Y/N said, her voice shaky. 

“Are you sure? Are you having contractions?” 

“No,” Y/N said, and squeezed his hand, “I promise, I’m not having any contractions.” Jake nodded and leaned over to kiss his wife. She giggled into the kiss, and pulled him in close. 

“Really?” They broke apart, both looking like two teens that had just gotten caught by their parents, but in reality it was just Hilliary giving Y/N a glare, “Is that how you got into that situation?” 

Y/N looked down at her swollen belly, and ran her hand over it. Jake had had enough of his sister’s sly comments towards Y/N for the past few days. He knew how much the things Hilliary said bothered Y/N. He had spent one too many nights comforting her while she cried and asked why his twin sister hated her. He respected Y/N’s wishes on not confronting his sister, but between his dad being on him for different things and seeing his wife cower under his sister’s glare, Jake had enough. 

“What is your problem?” Jake asked and Y/N felt her heartbeat start to rise. She felt all eyes snap to both of them as Hilliary looked like a deer in the headlights, “You’ve been a bitch this whole time.” 

“Jacob!” Jolene scolded. 

“He’s not wrong,” Andrea mumbled, taking a sip of her wine. 

“I haven’t done anything to her,” Hillary pointed out, “Just pointing out that not everyone wants to see you two making out at the dinner table.” 

“That was hardly making out,” Jake scoffed, and rolled his eyes, “God, Hillary! You’ve not had a single nice thing to say about Y/N since you met her! She’s been nothing but nice to you!” Jake yelled. 

“I don’t have to be nice to her!” Hillary yelled, “She hasn’t done anything but stay at home, shoot out kids, and munch off of our-” 

“Oh,” Y/N gasped as she felt a sudden rush of warmth between her legs. She looked down at her chair and then back up at Jake who’s jaw dropped. Clara was thankfully sitting next to Y/N, and grabbed a napkin off the table to try and cover up the wet spot on her dress. Rooster and Bob stood up from their spots and ran over to the other side of the table. 

“Fucking great,” Hillary grumbled, “And now she’s turned Christmas all about-” 

“Would you shut up for a damn second!” Dragon yelled at the Seresin girl, “Are you okay?” 

“Sweets,” Jake said, and grabbed his wife’s hand. 

“It’s early,” She looked at him frightened, “Oh god.” 

“I’ll get the car!” George spoke up, and Jake and Jolene both looked at him in shock. George Seresin never had anything to do with his childrens’ birth. In fact, Jolene didn’t have him in the room during a single one of her four kids’ births. He sat in the waiting room until it was over.  

“Her bag is upstairs by the-” 

“I got it!” Jessica said, and ran towards the Seresin bedroom. 

“Val, Maggie, help me take the kids down stairs,” Stella said, standing up from her chair and over to where the kids had noticed the commotion at. There were little sounds of protest as the women corralled the kids down to the basement, but the second that Fanboy stood up and said that Santa was on his way, they all cheered and followed him to the basement. 

“What do you need?” Jake asked his wife, as Rooster rubbed her shoulders as she started to feel contractions. 

“I’d like to change my clothes,” Y/N let out a breath, “But I want to get to the hospital first.” 

“Are you gonna shoot out these two on the floor like Eli?” Rooster asked and Y/N glared at him, “Hey, I just want to be prepared in case I gotta catch a kid again.” 

“You didn’t even catch the last one,” Bob said and Y/N let out a groan. 

“Dad’s out front with the car,” Jessica said, walking back into the dining room, handing Jake the go-bag, “We’ll stay here and put the kids to bed and everything.” 

“Thank you,” Jake said, and helped Y/N to her feet. 

“Oh, they're gonna hate us,” Y/N groaned, “We won’t be here to open gifts.” 

“I will record it,” Andrea said, “And Kyle promised to dress up as S-A-N-T-A. They will be distracted. Now, go have these babies.” Andrea kissed Y/N’s cheek and then hugged her brother. 

Hillary was standing in the corner of the room as she walked Jake carefully guiding his laboring wife to the car. She never thought that the argument was going to lead to her water breaking and that fact that her nieces or nephews were going to be born early. Hillary let out a gasp as she covered her mouth with her hand. She knew the dangers of having babies early, she was a nurse for christ sake, and she knew the dangers of having twins early. Hillary somehow found it in her to run after Jake and Y/N, catching a glimpse as Rooster shut the car door and George pulled out of the driveway. 

— — — 

Y/N let out a small scream as she braced her hands on the bed, swaying back and forth gently as she worked through a contraction. Clara was rubbing her back, and Jake was holding her hair back in case she were to get sick again. Y/N was used to contractions and going through labor without pain meds. She had Eli on her bedroom floor, totally unmedicated. But these contractions were the worst she had ever felt and she was waiting until she could get her epidural. 

They had been in the hospital for a little over four hours, and it was officially Christmas Morning. Andrea had sent Jake a picture showing the three older Seresin kids were asleep in Jake and Y/N’s bed. Jake had also sent an apology to the Dagger Squad group chat, but they were all more excited to find out if they were welcoming two boys, two girls or one of each into the family. Jolene and George were sitting in the waiting room, both of them not wanting to leave their son and his wife, both too excited to meet their grandchildren. 

“God it hurts so much,” Y/N cried and Jake looked over at the contraction monitor, “Momma.”  

“It’s almost over,” Clara said, rubbing her daughter’s back. She had been there twice before to see her give birth and it never got easier to see her daughter in pain. 

“Jake, can you find the doctor?” Y/N asked and Jake nodded, running to the nurses station, “Where’s dad?” 

“Getting more ice chips,” Clara answered, and Y/N started to move to sit back down on the medicine ball. Clara grabbed a hair tie off her wrist and tied Y/N’s hair up in a bun, “Do you need water?” 

“I need a fucking epidural,” Y/N groaned as Jake walked back in, the anesthesiologist and their main nurse, Vera, behind him, “Thank god!” Jake laughed as the nurse handed Y/N the paperwork and the anesthesiologist walked her through the steps of the epidural. Even though Y/N was having twins, she still wanted to do a vaginal birth, and both her midwife and OB agreed to make that happen the best that they could. 

“We’re going to get you positioned on the bed,” The anesthesiologist said. Jake, and Clara helped Y/N sit on the side of the bed, Jake standing between her legs like he had done for the first two kids. He ran his dull fingers over her hair, scratching at her scalp lightly. Clara stepped out in the hallway, giving them some privacy as James rounded the corner. 

“Babies time?” James asked and Clara shook her head. 

“Getting drugs,” Clara said, “You know. . . these are our last grandchildren.” 

“I have faith in Carson to stop being an idiot,” James said, putting his arm around his wife, “Until then, yes, these are our last grandbabies.” Clara laughed and James kissed her forehead. 

“Deep breath, Y/N,” The doctor said and Y/N sucked in a breath and squeezed Jake’s hands as the needle went into her back. She felt that same warm sensation she had felt before and let out the breath she was holding. Jake kissed her forehead, and whispered words of encouragement as they got ready to place the epidural needle in. 

Y/N closed her eyes as she felt the needle prick her skin. Jake held her hands tightly as Y/N let out a slow breath through pursed lips, and counted down the seconds until it was over. She felt her body relax a bit as the needle was removed from her skin. 

“All done, you should feel it start to set in soon,” The doctor said, and Jake helped Y/N lay down on her side in bed. 

“Need anything else, Y/N?” Nurse Vera asked and Y/N shook her head, “You’re dilating at a good rate. Going to have some Christmas Babies.” 

“Yay,” Y/N said, giving her a smile. Jake squeezed her ankle, and rubbed her calf. 

— — — 

It was about fifteen minutes later that Y/N started to feel weird. Jake had gone to the bathroom, leaving Y/N alone momentarily. She blinked her eyes a couple times, feeling her head start to swim and her hands tingle. Something was wrong, something was very, very wrong. 

“Jake?” Y/N called out to him, and tried to pull herself out of bed, but was too weak to even raise her arm up. Jake had just walked out of the bathroom, and his eyes went wide. Her color was gone, and he could see a thin layer of sweat all over her body. 

“Sweets, talk to me, what’s wrong?” 

“I-I-” Y/N felt out of breath as she tried to reach for Jake but couldn’t even move an inch. Jake reached for the call button, pressing it rapidly. He cursed, and ran for the door, going to the nurses station. 

“Something is wrong with my wife,” Jake rushed out in a panic. The nurses at the desk quickly got up and followed him into Y/N’s room, as alarms started going off. 

“Baby B is in distress,” Nurse Vera said. 

“Her heart rate has dropped,” Beverly, Y/N’s midwife said, “We need to move. Call up to an OR.” Beverly hit a button above Y/N’s bed, and a swarm of nurses and doctors came in, pushing Jake out of the way to get to Y/N. 

“Jake!” Y/N called out to him. Nurse Vera grabbed the oxygen mask from the wall, and put it on Y/N’s face. Other nurses and techs got Y/N’s hospital bed ready to move towards the operating room. Jake tried to get close to her, but another nurse pushed him towards the back of the room. 

“Ready to move,” A tech said and Beverly nodded. Y/N looked around the room, her vision becoming blurry both from tears and from the blood rushing out of her head. She tried to reach her hand out towards Jake. 

“Jake!” She yelled a little bit loud. 

“You’re okay! Just breathe! I’ll be right there!” Jake called out to his wife. Y/N kept her hands on her belly protectively as they took her right down to the operating room. He tried to follow them out into the hallway but he was stopped, “Get your damn hands off of me, and let me go with.” 

“You can’t go with her, I’m sorry,” A nurse said, “You need to go wait in the waiting room.” 

“The fuck I am!” Jake yelled as Clara and James ran around the corner. 

“What’s going on?!” Clara asked, “Where did they take her?!” If there was one person no one wanted to piss off it would be Clara Y/L/N. 

“Your daughter’s heart rate dropped and the twins went into distress,” The nurse explained, “She’s being taken back into an emergency c-section. We will update you when we can. But I’m sorry, you can’t go back with her.” The nurse turned on their heel and went towards the direction they took Y/N without any further explanation. Jake ran his hands through his hair and pulled at the ends of his blonde locks. Clara let out a soft sob as James pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. 

“Let’s go wait,” James said, and put a hand on Jake’s shoulder. 

James had slowly become more of a father figure in his life than his own father ever had. He always knew what to say, and gave Jake comfort in moments like this. Jake nodded and wiped a tear from his cheek, as he followed his in-laws out into the lobby. Jake’s own parents had left to go and help Andrea prepare things for Christmas morning. He sat down in an uncomfortable leather chair with a sigh. 

Jake looked around the waiting room and saw that it was pretty much empty except for a few people. Most people were probably asleep in their beds, holding onto their loved ones as they prepared for an exciting Christmas Morning of opening gifts and spending it with their families. Jake’s lip quivered as he thought about his family. How his wife was all alone and vulnerable, being cut open and having their last babies delivered. He wanted nothing more than to be laying in bed, surrounded by his five kids and his wife in matching Christmas pajamas that were way too hot for anyone to stay in for too long. 

Jake put his arm on the armrest of the chair, and leaned his head on his fist. He knew this was going to take awhile, so he thought he might as well get comfortable and wait. He slowly fell asleep, and dreams of future Christmases with his family filled his mind. 

— — — 

Y/N sucked in a deep breath, well as deep as she could take, as she started to wake up. She wasn’t sure what had happened and everything was a blur. The lights were bright and she kept her eyes closed, as she tried to sit up, but let out a loud groan. It felt like she had done about a million crunches, and her hands went to her belly, finding that where her bump once was, was now a large scar. Tears started to fill her eyes as she tried to fill in the blanks on what had happened. 

“Sweets?” Jake called out softly, his hand going into hers. Her eyes opened and she looked at Jake, “What’s wrong?” 

“Where are my babies?” Y/N whimpered out. 

“They’re okay,” Jake said, running a hand over her hair. She looked better than she did when they whisked her away. Her color was somewhat back, and her eyes looked more alive. She tried to push herself up again, but Jake gently pushed her back down on the bed. He took the remote for the bed, and sat her up a bit. She whispered out a thanks, and then pointed towards the water cup on the table in front of her. Jake grabbed it and helped her sip from the straw. 

She gently pushed the cup away from her, “What happened?” 

“Your heart rate dropped,” Jake said, “And it caused the boys to go into distress. They took you for an emergency c-section. Everything went okay, they are resting down in the NICU.” 

“Boys?” Y/N quipped, “I have two boys? We have two boys?” 

“We had two boys,” Jake smiled and Y/N returned it with one of her own. He leaned forward and kissed his wife, “I’ll go get Nurse Vera so you can go see them.” Y/N nodded and Jake went to go find the nurse. 

It was the most painful experience ever, getting from the bed to a wheelchair so she could go see her newborn twins. Jake pushed her down the hallway, going ever so slowly to not hit anything that would jostle Y/N’s body. Clara and James were currently in the NICU nursery, making sure that somewhere was there for each of the twins. They had let Jolene and George know that they had two more grandsons to add to their family. 

“Alright, you ready?” Nurse Vera asked as Jake wheeled Y/N up to the door of the nursery, “We’re going to have you guys do skin to skin, each of you will take a twin, and then switch. We want you to try and see if they will latch.” 

Y/N nodded and Jake pushed the chair into the room. She gasped seeing the two incubators in the otherwise bare room. There was a rocking chair in the middle of them. 

“Do you want to sit in the rocking chair?” Vera asked and Y/N shook her head, “That’s alright. We will start with baby A.” Vera put on a gown, gloves and a mask. Jake stood behind Y/N’s chair and watched as Vera carefully took the newborn out of the incubator, “He is four pounds seven ounces, and eighteen point four inches. He’s your little one. Jake, I'm going to have you untie the back of Y/N’s gown and pull it down slightly, exposing her chest.” 

Jake nodded and did what Vera instructed. Y/N felt a bit vulnerable, but then Vera placed the baby against her chest, and Y/N felt tears in her eyes. Vera draped a blanket over Y/N and the baby, to keep them both warm. Jake gently caressed her shoulder and looked down at his son. He could tell that he had her nose but his green eyes, and Jake could see the faintest color of red in his hair. 

“Maxwell,” Y/N said and looked up at Jake, “Maxwell Glen Seresin.” 

“I love it,” Jake said, and kissed the top of her head.

“Alright Jake, take a seat in the rocker please, and strip the shirt off,” Vera said and Jake sat down in the rocker and took his shirt off, “This is Baby B. He is five pounds ten ounces, and nineteen point two inches long.” Vera placed the baby against Jake’s chest. Jake immediately tilted his head down to sniff the top of the newborn's head. His heart clenched a bit, realizing that this was the last time he’d ever get that newborn baby smell. 

“Jasper Thomas,” Jake said looking at his wife, “What do you think?” 

“I like it,” Y/N said, rubbing her son’s back, “Jasper and Maxwell,” She sighed and looked at Jake, “Merry Christmas, baby.” 

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Jake smiled, and then looked down at his son asleep on his chest, “This is the best Christmas ever.”

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagine #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin fan fic #Jake Seresin fan fiction #Jake Seresin imagine #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x you #Jake Seresin x y/n #Jake Seresin x shy!wifey #Jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #hangman #hangman fan fic #hangman fan fiction #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #opposites attract

[evankinard]

okay twist my arm here's my fic rec list

category: the most underrated fics that have never once left my mind since I first read them and I genuinely think about at least every few weeks in no particular order

(disclaimer that this list does not include a great majority of my beloveds' works but that's because I picked at random from the list of at least 30 that I've compiled over the past few days)

Tell Me Anything - AnnaNSmith/@annansmith - 5.3k

“Hey, Eddie?”

Buck’s voice rings softly in the quiet. A casual lilt on his tongue as he says his name.

“Hm?”

“Tell you something?”

Shrugging, Eddie keeps his eyes fixed at the ceiling above him.

“We got time.”

--

Or, how Buck shattered Eddie's entire world one night by confessing his love to him.

2. shout if you want my heart - hattalove / @hattalove - 5.8k

“I’m not even in the neighborhood of mad,” he says, instead of vomiting any of the thousand feelings warring inside him. “But Buck. This would’ve—this took you hours.”

“I’m good at multitasking,” Buck says, and Eddie can practically hear him shrugging over the phone. “I did all the cooking after I put Chris to bed, and then I got up a little earlier to get the cleaning and laundry done. It was nothing.”

Eddie’s starting to suspect he’ll have to wait for Buck to come back to make him understand that, actually, it kind of was everything.

or, eddie has a tupperware-induced emotional crisis.

3. find a way to you (if it kills me) - foxwatson / @eddiediazes - 19.5k

It’s something about the way Eddie phrases it. Something about the combination of his words and the way he’s staring down at the floor, and the flush in his cheeks and the way he’s fidgeting. Buck thinks, abruptly, he’s going to ask me on a date.

“Well I - wanted to tell you first, and I need someone to watch Chris, anyways - I know he’s getting old enough now he doesn’t like feeling like he’s got a babysitter, so I was hoping - sorry. Not the point. Uh. I have a date on Saturday.”

Just as abruptly as his own hopes had come soaring up above the cloud cover of his own unawareness - they go crashing back down to the floor - to the basement, and into the mud. “A date?” Buck rasps out.

or - the one where eddie decides to start dating again, buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief

4. Finding Home - S_lycopersicum / @slycopersicum-in-disguise - 4.4k

"Buck!" Eddie yelled as he turned his key in the loft door and dumped his suitcase inside.

He immediately got a startled "Eddie?" in response, and thank God for that because if Buck had been out running errands it would have been the last damn straw. But he was here, where Eddie needed him to be, and pounding down the stairs from the stupid platform thing he had instead of a normal bedroom. "Is everything OK?"

"No! You won't answer your goddamn phone and my house is full of bees."

5. counteroffer - buckleyseddie / @buckleyseddie - 25k

There’s a flicker of something across Buck’s face, but he quickly goes back to grinning. “You just want me at your beck and call.”

“Maybe I do.” Eddie shrugs. “You owe it to me.”

Buck sighs, as if put out, but Eddie can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Okay, then what's it gonna be?”

Eddie hums thoughtfully. He takes his time trying to think of something good. “What about-” he starts.

And that’s the moment Buck licks his lips and Eddie’s eyes dip down to them. And before he knows what comes over him, before he can think the words through, they’re out of his mouth.

“A kiss,” he says.

Buck blinks at him. Eddie blinks back.

“You want a kiss,” Buck repeats, eyebrows rising.

***

Or in order for Buck to make it up to Eddie, Eddie suggests that Buck gives him one hundred kisses.

6. keep me as your finish line - thatbuddie (talktothesky) / @thatbuddie - 33k

“Oh no, we’re not doing this.” Chimney pops a bubble with the gum he’s been chewing as he moves one of his fingers back and forth to point between The-Man-who-isn’t-Buck’s-man-he’s-just-The-Man and Buck. “You didn’t drag me to the gym just so you can ditch me to fuck some guy in the showers."

Buck lowers his voice, leaning forward as if trying to make the words’s journey shorter between him and Chimney so they can’t escape and reach anyone else’s ears,“I wouldn’t fuck him in the showers.”

Chimney’s response is wordless in the form of an eyebrow raise.

“Not anymore, okay?” Buck clarifies, rolling his eyes. “That’s not who I am now."

(spoiler alert: Buck does fuck the guy in the showers. but that comes after nicknaming him Big Beautiful Brown Eyes, finding out his name is actually Eddie, becoming his best friend, and falling madly in love with him.)

7. bring me a higher love - KiaraSayre / @starsandatoms - 7.4k

The A-shift works 4/20, Buck gets accidentally high, and Eddie suffers.

8. home stretch of a hard time - spiritsontheroof - 4.2k

When Buck tells him that he’s engaging in a “year of possibilities” in which he isn’t saying to no anything, Eddie isn’t surprised. It’s exactly the kind of thing Buck would get himself into to break this slump he says he’s been in. He’s changing his life, or so he says.

9. tying you to me - rarakiplin (gmontys) / @hoediaz - 5.3k

“Diaz?”

The man — and it is Eddie Diaz, Buck can’t not see it now — blinks, and in a split second his expression shutters closed. “Buckley.”

Buck wonders if he looks different without Diaz’s blood on his face.

-

or, eddie and buck meet each other at rock bottom

10. Four Can Keep A Secret - Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars - 20k

When Ravi and Hen accidentally see Buck and Eddie, who are trying hard to keep their new relationship a secret, in the middle of a romantic moment, they try to make them confess without the rest of the station finding out. Shenanigans ensue.

#genuinely i know exactly where i was when i read each of these fics and some of them was like. a year ago #also genuinely there are SO many of my absolute favorite writers missing from this list but i will remedy that so soon so so soon #911 abc #weewoo brainrot #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #fic rec #911 fic rec

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

here's a wild one for y'all. cw for parental death. names have been changed, it is a kinda specific situation but I think only 1 of my family members is on Tumblr so whatever. sorry it got so long, it's a complicated situation and still VERY fresh so my brain is kinda fried lol.

tldr my dad passed away without a will and we want to give his long-distance "side" gf the house he helped her buy. I'm worried she won't be able to afford the mortgage, but don't really want to give her any of the monetary payouts. WIBTA if my brothers and I kept all of the cash?

so late last week (it's Dec 19 as of submitting) my father (60s M) passed away in a sudden car accident on his way to work. I'm (late 20s ftM) his oldest child, I also have a younger brother (mid 20s M) who we'll call Phineas and an even younger half-brother (almost tween, M) who we'll call Aaron.

so I'd describe my dad as a kind and loving but stubborn and stupid man. I would also guess, based on what I know of his love life, that he was polyamorous but didn't realize it due to his conservative Christian upbringing and didn't know it was an option so instead ended up being...well, kinda an adulterer tbh. this isn't to excuse his actual actions bc they were obviously wrong, but is the way the situation reads to me, a polyamorous person.

Dad had a long distance girlfriend (50s??? maybe??? F) on the West Coast (we live near the East Coast), we'll call her Melody. I met her a few years back when he flew Phineas and I with him to visit her. she's a sweet woman from what I know of her. when I got the news of his passing, I was the one who called her to let her know what happened. (which sucked.)

well, what I Didn't know until I was trying to scrape together travel arrangements (I live 5 hours away from Phineas and my dad) was that he also had a Wife (60sF), who we'll call Patricia. (it wasn't a legal marriage, it was "in the eyes of the Lord" as they said, due to legal complications to do with her social security benefits or something. which is why the arrangements for his death fell onto Phineas and I as his adult children. but if he called her his wife then as far as I'm concerned that's what she is.) he didn't really tell me or Phineas about the full nature of their relationship. Phineas found out bc our dad was spending so much time with her that he'd practically moved in w her, put two and two together and asked her to confirm. I never even knew she existed till all this happened. he had told his parents and siblings about her, and they approved of her. we can only speculate why he kept it so quiet to us, she thinks bc of his history with Real Duds that we'd be upset somehow. idk.

so anyway Patricia knew about Melody. my dad was already seeing Melody when he started seeing Patricia. I don't know what he was thinking when he got with Patricia tbh, can't ask him now anyway, but she knew about Melody the whole time. wasn't thrilled about it, constantly told him he needed to tell her the truth and end things, but doesn't truly hold that against Melody herself bc she didn't know.

Melody, however, did not know about Patricia. he was planning to tell her at some point. kept meaning to. still loved her, didn't wanna hurt her, but was also trying to be monogamously committed to Patricia too. he never got around to actually ending things with Melody before he passed, and as far as she knew he was still planning to move out there and get married to her. he even took out a loan to help her pay for her late mother's house, both their names are on the mortgage and deed.

which brings me to my question. my dad didn't seem to have a will (not that we can find anyway), so Phineas and I are the ones in charge of distributing his various belongings and payouts and such. we both agree that we don't have any use for some house across the country, and Melody is already living in it anyway. imo she should just Have It. however, she is also Pretty Poor. I don't know the specifics of her situation (or, really, much about the complications of home ownership?) but I do worry about her ability to continue to pay the mortgage, assuming that's a thing. we're still waiting to hear about all the details and numbers and have somebody who actually knows about that stuff translate it into layman's terms for us non-homeowners (or in Phineas's case, Brand New Homeowner) so we can get a full picture of how all that is going to work legally speaking.

Dad also had life insurance thru his employer. we are still working thru the red tape at his company to figure out who the beneficiary is, the most likely candidate being me as the eldest child. Phineas and I are agreed that we'll at least be splitting most, if not all, the money evenly between us and Aaron. Patricia is INSISTENT that she doesn't want any of it, she wants us kids to keep it bc unlike some of his exes she never cared about his money (he made GOOD money, but still ended up kinda poor due to both being generous to, and having been taken advantage of by, multiple women since my bio mom died. including having to shell out an insane amount of child support for Aaron despite already having a very active role in his life. like he paid more child support than either I or my fiancee even make at our jobs, while also frequently just straight up directly providing for him where he could). because of his income it's looking like a pretty hefty payout.

however, my brother and I are both pretty poor as well. while we don't know the exact amount we're getting, some are speculating a number that, even split 3 ways, would be Life-Changing for us. we're talking 5 figure amounts, more than I or my fiancee make in a year. like we'll still need to work for a living but, for example, it could be a down-payment on a house or a massive safety net for when I'm out of work (I have a steady job but with seasonal unpaid breaks). it could help Phineas afford expensive repairs for the trailer he now owns, which my dad was supposed to help pay for. in the right account with a decent interest rate, it could be tuition for when Aaron goes to college.

I feel like I Should probably toss some of that money Melody's way, esp since I feel so bad that she's getting the one-two punch of finding out her bf died AND also he had a wife she wasn't aware of. but my brothers and I could really use that money as well. I don't know that Phineas wants to send her any, we're saving that conversation for when we know more of the exact numbers. I don't even know how much Dad was paying towards it, or if he even was anymore. plus--and this is kinda a minor detail--but there's kind of a general vibe I'm getting from the Family (ALL 4 of my dad's siblings AND both his parents are somehow still alive) that Melody is kinda...unliked. they love Patricia and were CONSTANTLY frustrated that he was still visiting Melody and frequently sending her money; I get the feeling they viewed her the same as some of his other gold-digging exes so i think maybe sending her Even More Money would look a little weird? like she's already getting full ownership of a house out of the deal. most of them are in agreement that Phineas and I are the ones who get the final say on the bulk of these decisions but they're...a little pushy anyway.

like I said, we don't know what any of the actual numbers look like AT ALL yet, so it might actually be fine. but WIBTA if we just left her the sole homeowner when she couldn't really afford it, and not send her any money? the consensus will probably show up too late to affect our decision but hey, figured the situation would make for a wild ride anyway (or maybe I just feel like that bc it has been for me LOL).

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[reveluving]

it matters to me ; bruce wayne x batmom reader

summary: you and Bruce spend the night together after his toughest week yet.

warnings: smut (minors DNI!), fluff (reverse comfort), mentions of bruises and violence

a/n: after my post about the lack of Batmom smut, you just know I had to do sumn ✋🏼😔 not much but definitely not my last! thank you & don't forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» check out my batmom m.list, or my full m.list!

» smut includes; unprotected sex (p in v sex) in the bathtub, slight striptease, spanking, reverse cowgirl, soft!Bruce.

'His precious other half. The caring mother to his many children. The best daughter figure Alfred could've asked for.' ;

You could tell that something was bothering Bruce to the max. Hell, everyone in the house could tell. The way he zoned out at the dinner table, or the times you’ve caught him trying to control his anger whenever he was on the phone. You’ve read the news; Wayne Enterprises was under fire for a reason that you were pretty sure was the fault of the company it was working with. They weren’t even that big of a name, other than being from New York. Still, you shouldn’t be surprised by how much power the press had to manipulate the opinions of the public.

It was pretty obvious that Bruce was getting the short end of the stick, and has been for the past three days.

The next morning was no different. You almost didn’t want to wake him up by how peaceful he seemed. You took in his appearance, appreciating him at his most vulnerable and tranquil. You looked at the time, silently glad that he had over an hour before needing to get ready. So, you got out of bed as slowly and quietly as possible, tiptoeing to the bathroom to let your husband rest for a couple more minutes.

The hot shower did little to calm your nerves but it was worth trying. As soon as you were settled with your skincare routine and ready in your work clothes, you opened the door, disappointed to find Bruce sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Morning, you,” You walked over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed and kissing him on the cheek, “I was hoping you’d still be asleep. I wasn’t going to wake you up until another ten minutes or so,”

“S’alright,” He yawned before giving you a tired smile, “Promised to meet up with Lucius first thing in the morning,” Two hours of sleep was definitely not ideal, more so when he came home from work and left to patrol without seeing you. Only when Tim had told him that he and Stephanie would have the situation under control until sunrise that he would return to the manor, finding you sound asleep but no one to hold. He didn’t sleep immediately, instead, holding you in his arms before letting his exhaustion take over, and that was around 4:57 a.m., “Thank you, though. You know I would’ve stay a little longer if it wasn’t for the meeting,”

“I know,” You twiddled your thumbs, “Just… Try not to overwork yourself, okay?”

You knew it was almost impossible to request such a thing from him.

“I’ll try,” It was the best response he could offer, knowing better than to lie by promising when he himself couldn’t help with the predicament he was in. He hated the fact that he couldn’t hide his emotions better. He knew vulnerability wasn’t a bad thing, or at least, not within the family, thanks to you. But as old habits die hard, it was easier said than done. Like anyone else, you had bigger problems to deal with, so the thought of dragging you to his ‘minor and avoidable problems’ just added to his guilt.

“Alright,” You answered, “I’ll see you downstairs?”

“See you in 15 minutes,” He nodded, pulling you in for a kiss before letting you go.  It had you wishing for the universe to be fairer with the poor man. You forced yourself to leave the bedroom, but not before blowing him a kiss. You made your way to the kitchen, instinctively grinning at the voices of your children.

“Morning!” You chirped, earning different forms of answers from them, plus Alfred, who was washing the pans and utensils.

“Where’s father?” Damian asked before taking a spoonful of his cereal.  

“Just woke up,” The dining room was suddenly silent, other than the sounds of you pouring tea into your cup. The way you seemed distracted clearly concerned them, their eyes darting from one another, “I’m worried about him,”

“You mean father?” You nodded.

“I’m sure you guys noticed how reserved he’s been for the past couple of days. More than usual, at least,” You’d be more surprised if they didn’t.

“We have. He’s been careless in patrols, too,” Thank goodness you weren’t drinking the second you heard that, or you would’ve spat it out.

“Careless?” The newfound information caused your stomach to drop. The fearful look on your face forced Duke to butt in and correct Damian.

“Well, we wouldn’t say ‘careless’,” Though it was a strong word to describe Bruce’s recent behaviour, the youngest wasn’t totally wrong, “But, yeah, we could tell he hasn’t been focusing. Taking more hits than usual,”

You knew it was bad but not this serious. You would think that with the stress he has been receiving from work, he’d be better at night by blowing off some steam on a bunch of criminals. Morbid, yes, but it made sense, right? Plus, it wasn’t like he was beating up some random civilian just because they had a punchable face or something.

Cass’ soft taps on your hand forced you out of your thoughts.

‘You think he’ll be okay?’ She signed, pitying both you and Bruce.

“I hope so,” A tight smile was all you could muster, though you didn’t have to guess that they knew better, “Don’t worry, I’ll try to think of something. Maybe a small talk before we go to bed,” You pursed your lips, “In the meantime, do me a favour and keep a close eye on him during patrols?”

Their thumbs-up did help you relax just a little. You had no doubt they’ve had Bruce’s back without needing you to tell them, but it was nice to hear from them every once in a while.

Today was going to be a long day for you in the café, and a longer day for Bruce in the office.

Just a day after Damian told you about Bruce’s lack of focus as Batman since the ordeal, you’ve begun noticing more bruises coming up. The ones on his face weren’t too visible, thankfully, but the ones littering his body from the neck down were too much for you to bear.

You had to do something, and it all started with a phone call.

Friday rolled around, and Bruce came home after dusk to a quiet manor.

“Mistress (Y/N) should be in her room,” Alfred reassured the man, though he didn’t mention the kids and closed the door behind him, “Dinner will be ready shortly,”

“Right, thanks,” There was something about the mention of ‘dinner’ that had him frozen midstep. He was beginning to feel like he had forgotten something but no matter how hard he tried to remember, nothing was clicking. Still, he tried his best, all while dragging his feet to his room, eager to greet his beloved after one of the worst weeks he has ever had.

“(Y/N)?” He pushed the door open, smiling when you coincidentally came out of the bathroom in a silky robe.

“You’re home!” You exclaimed, running over to him for a hug as soon as he came in. He reciprocated just as tightly, instantly relaxing as he inhaled the familiar scent of your hair. It was tough to think that he only had a couple of hours with you before needing to go out as the Dark Knight as usual, especially after all the shit he had to deal with, “I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” His heart clenched. There wasn’t a day where he hasn’t thought about you, how you were doing, and how much he was in deep water for the times where he was needed elsewhere. You were a patient woman, though Bruce had always thought you deserved someone better.

On a more selfish note, he was beyond thankful to have you, and he hoped you felt the same way.

“What have you been up to?” He pulled away, though he had his hands on your hips.

“Nothing much. Work is work but now, I’m pretty excited,” That piqued his interest.

“Oh? Why’s that?” He asked.

“‘Cause now, I get to spoil you!” He raised his eyebrows, “Because I may or may not have made changes to tonight’s plans?”

Tonight’s plans?

Oh.

Oh.

“Shit,” He paled, “The dinner. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry—” He rubbed his forehead, looking exasperated with himself, “Look, I'll go down and tell Alfred. We can still make it. Just give me—”

“I cancelled it,” You interrupted, watching his eye widen in surprise, “It didn’t feel right going when I know you’re not feeling okay, so I called the restaurant a few hours ago and changed it to another date,” You could tell by the guilt in his eyes that he wanted to retort, “Bruce, I’m not mad, I promise. I’m just worried about you. We’ve been worried about you,”

His grip tightened, not enough to hurt but it did act as an indicator that he was in need of support, in more ways than one, that is.

"It was nothing. I just thought I could handle it myself, y’know? Just until the press gets tired of the same news over and over," He shrugged, his nonchalance caused your cheeks to puff up.

“Bruce, it clearly wasn't 'nothing'. We’ve been through this, remember?” You tilted his chin, forcing him to look at you, “I didn’t stick around with a family of crime fighters for years just to blow a fuse at you for sharing your problems. If anything, I'm proud of you,"

Living in a city like Gotham, showing vulnerability to the public was the worst mistake one could ever make. Which is why when you came along, you taught them that at least within the family, it was nothing to be ashamed of. How it was normal to feel down and ask for help when the world was too much.

You thoroughly reminded them that it was okay to not be okay, no matter how 'little' the issue was.

It took a long time to teach him, as well as the others, but damn, it was definitely worth it.

"Let me help you the way you helped me," You embraced him ever so gently. You couldn't imagine a life without him, Alfred or your children. Even if you had the café, what happens after that?

Would there even be an 'after that' in the first place?

He didn't think it was possible to love you more than he already has, and yet, here he was.

His precious other half. The caring mother to his many children. The best daughter figure Alfred could've asked for.

A symbol of hope that keeps the Wayne's going.

His parents would've loved you.

"Would you let me treat you the way you deserve?" Oh, how he would've loved to submit to your desires. The desire to please him, so much so that he wished he could've skipped his duty for the night, "You don't have to go,"

It didn't take long for him to understand, looking down at you as a sign to continue.

"Believe it or not, Damian told the others about it. About how you couldn't even focus on patrols, and Jason was able to help out by being in charge for the night. Though, I'm pretty sure he's going to use the information as blackmail," You couldn't help the boxy smile when Bruce groaned, his ears turning red. Trust the kids to tell their older brothers about him getting beat up left and right in the most embarrassing way, "I saw the bruises, Bruce. You know I was going to find out one way or another,"

You rested your chin against his chest, staring up at him with such crestfallen eyes. It held love, too, but he didn't miss the way you were holding back your tears.

"Will you let me?"

A familiar sight, considering how he has been in your shoes before. When he begged to treat you the way you deserved, especially when you were at your lowest. Rare, but it has happened, and Bruce would do anything to help you back on your feet if it were to ever occur again.

"Only if I get to do the same for you," He whispered against your forehead, and you couldn't be any happier.

"Deal," You grinned before sealing his lips with yours.

You were glad you had everything ready. As soon as you and Bruce were able to talk it out, you brought him to the bathroom, showing him the bubble bath you've prepared.

"I may have gone overboard with the soap," You scooped up a handful of bubbles, holding them in between your hands, "It smells really good, though,"

"I don't mind," He chuckled, watching you appreciate the littlest things as usual, "Haven't had a good bath in a while. I'm pretty sure my showers only lasted around ten minutes since last week,"

"Well, that won't do," You pouted, beckoning him to you after shaking the bubbles off your hands, "Come on, I'll help you out of your clothes,"

He did as he was told, moving his arms and legs when necessary till he was completely naked. He noticed how you frowned for a split second, tensing up at the sight of his bruises, some darker than the other. You shook your head, preferring to focus on what mattered at the moment.

"Alright, handsome, in you go," One leg in and he was already sighing in relaxation before submerging himself in the mass of bubbles. He rolled his shoulders, placing both arms on the edge of the tub. His current state had you bouncing on the balls of your feet until he looked at you questioningly.

"Well?"

"Well what?" You questioned back.

"Aren't you going to come in here with me?" Oh?

"I…" You didn't think about that. Your initial plan was to sit on the edge of the tub, mostly to be able to wash his hair and back. Then again, Bruce's idea sounded a lot better, "If you want me to,"

He silently motioned for your hand, allowing him to cover yours in his larger one.

"I'd love that," You shuffled your feet against the cool tile, bashful by his small but sweet gesture before slowly taking off your robe. You let the material pool next to his set of clothes, earning you a whistle from your husband. He didn't expect the black bra and high-cut briefs and frankly, he didn't mind one bit.

But, he would much rather see them on the floor.

"Take them off for me," He requested, the tone much deeper as he let his eyes rake over your figure. His voice was hypnotizing, but you wanted to toy with him just for a little bit. You turned around, arching your back to accentuate the curve of your ass while removing your bra. From your peripheral vision, he had his head tilted back, watching you closely and dare you say, hungrily.

The bra dropped to the floor with a thud but you didn't turn around just yet. Instead, you traced your hands from the back of your neck, down to your sides and finally, to the band of your underwear. He may have gone through a lot this week, but you couldn't help but have him at your mercy.

"Please, baby," There it was. You smirked before taking it off, bending down as the finale of your act. Your ass was within arm's reach, and it didn't take long till you felt a light smack on your right cheek.

"Have I ever told you how cute your butt looks?" The way he massaged your flesh sent sparks up your spine. It was amusing to hear him say 'butt' instead of 'ass', meaning he was still in a softer mood.

Not for long.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr Wayne," You playfully smacked his hand.

"Really? 'Cause flattery got me a beautiful woman in my hot tub. Well," He pursed his lips, "Or at least, she's supposed to,"

You scoffed, walking over to him with a sway of your hips. You couldn't resist teasing him a little more by bending at the side of his tub.

"So impatient," You batted your eyelashes, snapping your fingers in front of him when you knew he wasn't exactly looking at you, "Eyes up here, handsome,"

"Sorry. Well," He shrugged, "Not really," He gave you a small cheeky smile, contrasting the feigned annoyance on your face before offering you his hand, "Come here,"

He helped you in, wanting you to be as close as possible despite the size of the tub. He placed his chin on your shoulder, watching and laughing with you as you played with the bubbles. You turned your head a little, locking your eyes with his before kissing his nose.

"I love you," You whispered.

"I love you, too," He responded, nuzzling his face against you, "More than you can imagine,"

The intimacy of having his chest against your back, arms wrapped around you to be able to plant kisses on your neck and shoulder.

"Bruuuce," You whined, writhing in his hold, "You promised you'd let me spoil you,"

"You're already spoiling me by giving me a night in with you," He mumbled against your burning skin, "You can do whatever you want after this, but for now, just let me have you,"

His hands slid up your body, giving your breasts a firm squeeze. Your gasps echoed off the fancy bathroom walls, your hands above his when he rolled your nipples in between his fingers. Your legs straddled his, stopping you from ever closing them. Not when his cock was right below your aching cunt.

"Do you feel how hard I am for you?" He breathed out, "I don't deserve a woman as considerate as you and yet, here you are; checking up on me, convinced the kids so I can stay home, giving me a bubble bath,"

"I… I don't deserve you. G-Gotham doesn't deserve you," You corrected in between your mewls, "Giving y-your all to the city as b-both Bruce Wayne and Batman no matter how hard things get,"

He didn't reply, hoping to leave the banter out until much later. It wasn't that he hated it, if anything, he was absolutely touched. He knew denying it was completely out of the question, so he took it like a champ.

Just the way you wanted.

"Grind yourself against me," He rasped, feeling his length slide in between your lips. You obeyed, feeling desperate for him as much as he was for you. You rolled your hips against his, holding onto one of his legs for leverage, "That's it, don't stop,"

The splash and slosh of the bath as it spills out little by little was ignored by both you and your husband.

"Bruce, please… I need you inside me," Patience be damned, you weren't planning on cumming right then and there. You've been dying to have him split you in half for a while now.

"Go on," He urged, "Get on all fours and put it in,"

You didn't need to be told twice, your movements left your entire back exposed. The suds on your body, especially the ones decorating your ass was enticing, to say the least. You lined the tip of his member to your throbbing sex, sinking down onto it slowly with choked-out sobs.

"Slowly, slowly. There you go," He sighed, savouring the moments when you clenched around his cock.

"Fuck," You drawled in a daze, stretching you open even if you were only midway. He was trying his hardest not to thrust all at once. You raised your hips, letting the very tip in before taking more of him. One of his hands slid up and down your spine, the slickness from the suds only encouraged you to go faster, especially when a sharp smack was landed on your ass, one on the left before moving to the right, "Fuck!"

He couldn't resist when the shine from the soap practically begged him to spank you.

"You like that?" The high-pitched 'mhm' prompted him to smirk, landing a couple more to hear you yelp at every touch. Once he figured you had enough, he cooed, "Think you can take more of me?"

Oh, you knew you could, you just needed a little more time to adjust.

You have yet to get used to the size of this man.

Your whines didn't stop, even when you had him all the way. Not only were you tightening around him every time you even thought about moving, but his hands were also holding you down, breathing deeply as your walls were pretty much choking him.

"Bruce, please! I can't—" You couldn't even finish your sentence, crying out in a way that you knew he wouldn't live it down when all of this was said and done. But, if it meant being able to please your man to the fullest, so be it, "I w-want you to cum in me,"

Fuck.

"How can I say no to that?" Without a single warning, he practically jackhammered into you, the sudden roughness caused the lukewarm water to splash out much more. The breathy moans that were coming from both of you are haunting in the most beautiful way possible. You'd probably be reminded of this very night from then on.

"O-oh, fuck, right there!" You tried to match his pace, hoping to ignore how shaky your legs were in favour of chasing your orgasm. The speed was almost unrelenting, as if he was finally letting his frustrations out, more so when you squeaked at a particular spot. A spot only he could ever find, "I-I'm going—! Bruce!"

"Do it!" He rasped, unable to hold it in any longer, "Fucking cum right now!"

You nearly squirmed away, letting out a long, dragged moan as you gushed around his cock.  He didn't stop, nails digging deeper into your hips to help you reach your high before milking every last drop of his cum. You could've drowned momentarily when your elbows buckled, only to be pulled into Bruce's chest thanks to his reflexes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, shuddering every time he moved in and out of you at a much slower speed. Your oversensitive lips had you whining, closing your eyes when he stroked your back.

"Thank you," He kissed you on the cheek, forehead, nose and every time his lips could reach, "Thank you so much. You're so good to me,"

Your weak giggles were enough, only to choke out a gasp when his hips stuttered against yours. The images of your own desperation flooded your mind, shying away by hiding your face into his collarbone.

None of you moved for what was assumed was five minutes or so, feeling exhausted yet content to have each other for a little while longer.

"Thank you," He repeated, softer this time.

"You're welcome," Seeing him smile, as genuine as when he came home an hour ago, was the one thing you looked forward to.

Nothing could ruin this moment.

The sudden knocks coming from the bedroom door, considering that you left the bathroom door slightly ajar, caused both of you to jump.

"Master Bruce, Mistress (Y/N), I just had the dinner table set up. Come to the dining room whenever you're both ready," Alfred called from the other side before hearing his footsteps become softer by the second. You and Bruce shared a look before laughing softly.

"Do you think he heard all that?" He asked you.

"I hope not," He didn't, you knew that. At least, there was a high chance that he didn't. Yesterday, as soon as you told Alfred that you had 'plans' for Bruce, he knew not to come up to the second floor until he was absolutely sure you had done what was necessary, "You still up for dinner?"

"Mhm, I didn't have much for lunch today," You blinked.

"Don't tell me you only had the coffee and croissant that you ordered from the café?" You knew what his answer was going to be, and the guilty look he had didn't help much either.

"I plead the fifth?" You didn't have it in you to scold him for his negligence. That didn't mean you weren't disappointed, “Okay, okay, I’m really sorry. I just wanted to see you as soon as I finished my work. I thought I could make up for the lost time when I was so reserved about the whole issue with that other company,”

“Oh, sweetheart,” You shook your head with a pout, “Then at the very least, you can make it up to me by having dinner downstairs,”

“Deal,” He agreed without hesitation. You didn’t leave the room immediately though — Alfred did say to come down whenever you were both ready. For now, both of you agreed to stay in each other’s arms a little while longer.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

#a mother's touch series #bruce wayne x batmom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batmom #batmom reader #batman x reader #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #duke thomas x reader #cassandra cain x reader #dc #dc comics #batfam #reader #reveluving #reve's reverie

[bbrissonn]

can I get a request where kylian is always being dramatic or protective whenever the reader is out partying with friends without him cause he have away games. He always say “where are you” or “who are you with” and cannot control himself from worrying and sometimes think the reader is with a guy if she doesn’t pick up his call immediately.. 🥺🥺

under the cut !

also, im sorry i haven't written in a long time, i've just been very busy with work and school :))

also i didn't do the full request, just mainly the part of kylian always wanting to know where the ready is. hope you enjoy !

warnings: not proofread

your eyes rolled the back of your head as you felt your phone buzz in your pocket once again. this was probably the fifth time in the last minute it had done so, meaning Kylian finished watching his movie at home.

ky💕 : chérie where are youuuuu

ky💕 : the beds cold without you :(

ky💕 : you should leave your friends right now and come cuddle with me

ky💕 : pretty please

ky💕 : bébéééééé répond moi :((( [answer me]

instead of answering any of his messages, you decided on just calling him instead, hoping it'd be a better way of having him leave you alone.

"mon amour! thank god you called me! do you need me to come pick you up?" kylian asked as soon as he answered the phone, making you roll your eyes once again. you had barely been gone for two hours and he was already freaking out.

"kyky, love, you can't drive, and even if you could drive, i'm not leaving until tomorrow mor--"

"what!" he exclaimed loudly, making you quickly pull your phone away from your ear. you sent a look to your friends before stepping outside of your friend's house.

"kylian, i told you i'd be spending the night here like 2 weeks ago. and i reminded you before i left."

"i thought you were just joking with me." he said in a sad tone, making your heart ache a little. the two of you didn't get to spend much time together because of your busy schedules, but you had planned this night with your girls almost a full month ago, long before you knew if kylian was going to have a day off or not.

"i'm sorry, ky. but i promised the girls i'd be here." you whispered softly into the phone, your eyes looking at the city in front of you.

"it's okay, chérie. have fun, je t'aime."

"je t'aime."

~

a groan slipped past your lips as you slowly opened your eyes, the sound of your phone buzzing under the pillow waking you up. another groan was heard once you realized it was kylian texting you again.

ky💕: y/nnnnn

ky💕: i cant sleep chérie

ky💕: why did you have to leave me :(

ky💕: i feel so small in this giant bed

you rolled your eyes as another groan left your mouths before your fingers flew over your keyboard, quickly sending him a message before turning off your phone and putting in silent mode.

my y/n/n🤍 : kylian for the love of god, go to sleep it's 3 am !!

to no one's surprised you were met with almost 50 texts and missed calls from your boyfriend the next morning, something your friends were quick to tease you about.

#gab writes #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe blurb #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe imagines #this is lowkey shit but anyways

[unpretty]

idk man. from 2008 to 2019 i was self-employed. i dropped out of high school in 2006 and then dropped out of college in 2010 and moved to a swamp to watch my great-grandma die because that was the only thing i could afford to do. then i went back to college and lived off student loans for a while. if i managed to scrape together $500 in a single month, that was a very good month. i applied for a gamestop credit card i shouldn't have qualified for and used it to buy taco bell gift cards for when i couldn't afford groceries, then paid a stupid amount of interest on the cost of my taco bell gift cards because i couldn't afford to pay off the balance.

during that period i bought over 2000 ebooks and 600 steam games. i like to believe that i'll read or play them someday. i probably won't, with most of them. but it was nice to have the option. i paid $10 a year for a domain name that did nothing but show a single image when you went there because i thought that was funny. i bought every sims expansion. i bought a ps4 and pretended i was in debt for a ps4 instead of taco bell gift cards and the sims. i barely ever played anything on the ps4, but it was nice to have the option.

when i got a part-time retail job in 2019 ($12 an hour! 20 hours a week!) i felt RICH. i was getting $200-$300 a week! that's so much fucking money! i was spending most of it on gas, and food that i could eat in a store break room without dying. but it was still so much money!! i paid off all my credit cards and then immediately ran them back up. i bought matching couches for me and my cat at tj maxx. i bought a ferris wheel for mini cupcakes. i bought cute dresses and shoes that i never had a chance to wear because the only time i went anywhere was to work, in my work uniform. i was 29 and that was the most money i had ever had in my life. now i'm 32 with a full-time office job and most of my money goes toward debt but the rest of it ends up being spent on dumb shit. every month i look at my budget and try to figure out where it all went wrong and every month the conclusion is, "spent too much money on dumb shit". you would think that i would try to stop doing that, and yet.

it's like. i was poor and now i'm lurking somewhere near the low end of middle class, and in both cases buying dumb shit was simultaneously proof that i would be rich if i could just stop buying dumb shit, and that i couldn't possibly understand true poverty if i was capable of buying dumb shit. i do not know how to explain to people that i will always waste more time and money than anyone ever should on dumb shit that i think is funny. there is nothing i want more than to spend my last dollar on a laugh and my last minute laughing, and no one's insistence that they would use them better will change this.

#original #my worst habit from poverty is the superstition that #money needs to be spent immediately #because saving money invites money-costing trouble #if i have zero dollars and my car breaks down i will somehow some way pull enough money out of thin air to make it work #but if i manage to save up $500 then my car will immediately break down in a way that costs $600 to fix #poverty also brings the understanding that the charitable will pay for dinner but not dessert #metaphorically speaking #there are programs to get help paying for food and rent and utility bills #there are not programs to pay for video games #but the programs to help pay for necessities will demand to look at your bank account as proof you have no money #and will not accept 'that is my birthday money for a video game' as an explanation #so you get this bad habit of just #spending any money you happen to get free and clear #if the Helping Poor People Program sees you have $200 saved up they will demand you spend that first #if you spend the $200 on video games and comic books you will not have this problem #all of my worst habits as a Bad Poor came from restrictions put on assistance lmao

[iameliseposts]

can i request “Whattt, I’m not lying…” 🙈 with riddle and idia? love ur work!!

Ooh this is my last 200 followers event prompt request! I loved doing each and everyone one of these.

I wasn't sure whenever to make this hcs or full writing, so I did both! I hope you enjoy!

“Whattt, I’m not lying…” Riddle x MC, Idia x MC 200 Followers Event

Riddle Rosehearts

Today was a bright day

Up above, the sun gleams through the barrage of cloud and lightens the land below

And on the ground, Riddle’s face was so red it could be considered some sort of shining star

“WHAT ARE YOU BOTH DOING??” He screamed at the top of his lungs without his voice cracking (man is a professional) 

Ace and Deuce looked at each other and then the ground; best not to stare at the bright sun that is Riddle’s face

So maybeee burning the roses was a bad idea, but it’s not like it was their fault

They didn’t mean to magically produce fire instead of red paint

They could feel the incoming 2 hour lecture they’d have to sit through with a 1000 word apology letter that followed suite

But instead they heard, “Riddle! How could you???”

Riddle’s face looked as panicked as Ace and Deuce looked before

Behind Riddle was you

And you were clearly mad

“Rose, I promise I have a good reason to-”

“And I didn’t want you to be too mad at my friends!” You huffed, looking away. Riddle shook his hands violently to try to convince you. “I… I wasn’t mad.” 

You looked at him, his face still red, though now it was because he was flushed. “You weren’t mad? Really? Your face tells me you’re lying.” “No, no, not at all.” Riddle sucked in a breath, mentally preparing himself, “I was about to tell them that… they should do better next time.”

Ace and Deuce immediately fled to their rooms, thrilled that they got out of punishment. 

After all, you were the only one who could glare at the sun.

Idia Shroud

Idia tapped his foot rapidly as he leered on his computer screen

The sound of buttons tapping was the only noise filling the air, as the flame haired man only focused on his game

Beside him was his phone that was buzzing over and over 

He didn’t notice, as he had his headphones in and was too absorbed in his hobby 

“Hah, w for me. I was expecting this tournament to be easy, but it’s this easy? Might as well hop into another tournament to kill time.”

Idia has been spending more time on his games now than before

Ortho has been working on a big group project with a couple other first years, so he wasn’t in their shared room often

Without Ortho, Idia doesn’t have Ortho to tinker with or have someone to scold him for not going out

That was, until you came into his life

“This time, I’ll finish them in one turn.”

Right before he started another game up, the door swung open behind him and in came you

“I knew it! You were still in your room!” You pointed a finger towards Idia accusingly. “Have you been ignoring my texts?”

Idia jumped in his gaming chair, nearly falling over and taking his table down with him. “H-how did you get in here?? A-and I didn’t ignore you…” He looked over at his phone, seeing the several notifications. Oops…

You crossed your arms and turned your head away. “You said you would come out of your room this week. You promised! It’s Sunday and you haven’t come out to see me.” “No I… I was gonna come out.” He wasn’t very convincing.

You just looked at him, deadpanned. You didn’t even need to say anything. 

Idia mentally gulped as he stood up. “I’m not lying! But we’re coming back in an hour. We can play a m-multiplayer game, if you’re interested.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x mc #twst x y/n #twst x reader #twst riddle rosehearts #twst riddle rosehearts x mc #riddle rosehearts x gn!reader #riddle rosehearts x you #riddle rosehearts x yuu #riddle rosehearts x mc #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst riddle x mc #riddle x mc #idia x reader #idia x mc #idia shroud x reader #twst idia x reader #idia shroud x mc #idia shroud x yuu #idia shroud x you #idia shroud x gn!reader #riddle x reader #idia x yuu #idia twst #riddle twst #elise’s request #anon arrives in arcadia

[apparitionism]

Bonus

Happy particular Monday! Here’s a story for it, which came about mostly because I wanted to put a couple of people into a clichéd situation, and then I had to do leadup and aftermath... anyway, it’s intended to be a two-parter (yes, I know; aspirations) set in a not-entirely-canonical season 4, in which the Warehouse did get brought back and Helena did leave without explanation, BUT Artie doesn’t go full Father Data and Leena doesn’t suffer the consequences—mostly because Mrs. Frederic has sensed some badness to come and thus sent Artie and Leena away. Because why not? Also I have Claudia jumping into Caretakering, and even a bit of Artieing, with some enthusiasm.

P.S. I know I haven’t yet finished last year’s Christmas story—that’s a pain point—but I genuinely am working to get back on various horses, including that one. Weather (in all senses) permitting.

Bonus

“I genuinely cannot believe we’re stuck in an elevator,” Myka says. It may be the most true statement to which she’s ever given voice.

****

SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER...

Myka’s reasonably pleasant thought, burring along as background to her monotonous tasks, is I don’t mind this. She and Steve are in the Warehouse office early in the morning, doing file inventory, and it’s true: she doesn’t mind it. It’s a little lacking as a holiday activity, but with Artie, Leena, and Pete all away, “lacking” is pretty much the flavor of the moment.

Claudia pokes her head in and says, “Ping.” She’s unenthusiastic, speaking of lacking. Where’s the usual revving about what it might be this time? “At some midwestern accounting firm, because it’s important to have a boring Christmas.”

Ah. “An accounting artifact?” Myka asks. Speaking further of lacking: here, it’s artifacty zing. Then again, artifacty zing got Myka trapped in Alice’s mirror, among other catastrophes, so maybe boring isn’t so bad. “Balance sheets?” she ventures. “Pluses and minuses?”

“Some people at this pingy company just got extremely large Christmas bonuses,” Claudia says, “and some got their pay extremely docked. So yeah, ‘balance sheets, pluses and minuses’ just about covers it. Probably. I mean, I might be trying to manage expectations here.”

Claudia’s certainly right, in that getting one’s hopes up—about anything (or anyone)—is a fool’s game.

But still, there’s something to be said for boring-but-remunerative, even if only for some people... what a nice idea. “I’d like a Christmas bonus someday,” Myka says, “instead of a Christmas penalty. Which I think pretty accurately describes the Pete-plus-artifacts situation.”

“It’s two days before Christmas, and he hasn’t done anything yet,” Claudia says. “That you know of,” she amends.

“Because he’s been with his family in Ohio for the past week,” Myka points out, and she’s gratified when Claudia rolls her eyes. It’s practically a concession.

Steve says, “It’s inappropriate to say ‘Christmas’ bonus these days. It’s ‘end-of-year.’” The contribution suggests he’s listening with only one ear.

“I wish appropriateness mattered here,” Myka says, not really to him but in general. Who knows how a Warehouse HR department would make heads or tails of the application of employment laws—much less employment niceties? “Not that it makes a difference. Christmas, end-of-year... call it Fred, and we still wouldn’t get one.”

“If I ever do get a bonus, I’m absolutely naming it Fred,” Claudia declares.

Myka shakes her head. “Poor Fred. Doomed to be injected right back into the discretionary economy.”

“Inject-o-what are you even talking about?”

“Just a guess, but: you’d spend it on things you don’t need.”

Claudia harrumphs. “Thanks for lumping me in with the avocado-toast-and-Starbucks crowd. My fiscaling is way more responsible.”

“Really? What would you use Fred for?”

“Asus VG278HE gaming monitor. Plus a graphics card, maybe the Nvidia GTX 690, depending on how hefty Fred is.” At Myka’s snort, Claudia challenges, “Fine, where would you inject it?”

“My Roth IRA,” Myka says immediately. She’s not sure what assets her evil, crazy, or dead self will need in retirement, but given the many and varied forms each of those, or combinations thereof, could take, it seems like a good idea to have a financial plan in place. That’s another thing a Warehouse HR department might be useful for...

“You’re the actual human manifestation of an accounting artifact,” Claudia accuses. “Speaking of which, here’s the deal. I gotta stay here—some Mrs.-F homeworky stuff—and Steve’s busy reassuring all the misfit toys in the building that Leena hasn’t deserted them forever. And I’d say ignore the ping entirely, but your never know what’ll go viral, and I bet Artie’d say the last thing we need is another financial crisis. Or maybe you’d say it. Anyway, you’re it. And for your backup, when you get to Cleveland—”

Myka groans. “Cleveland? Seriously? Pete’s going to be so mad about you pulling him away from the family.”

“I’m not pulling him away,” Claudia says, blinking like she’s some innocent little lamb.

Myka groans again. “You’re making me do it?”

Claudia shrugs. “Sure. Why not. You’re partners, right? But here’s some advice: wait till you get there to call him. You know, put off the misery, if that’s what it is, as long as possible. Besides—more advice—I really think you should spend your travel time thinking about bonuses. Who gets ’em and why. Because what’s a bonus, really?”

“An economic stimulus whose nametag reads ‘Fred,’ if I’m understanding things correctly.”

“We’ll see what you think about that when you get to Cleveland.”

“On the day before Christmas eve,” Myka grouses. “By the way, that’s a whole lot of ‘advice,’ coming from somebody who’s over a decade younger than I am and not technically my boss.”

“By the way,” Claudia mimics, archly mocking, “we’ll see what you think about that too.”

“When I get to Cleveland?”

“When you get to Cleveland. On the day before Christmas eve.”

“Sounds like the title of a lesser Christmas carol,” Steve says—he’s tuned back in to the conversation. He then says, with his grin that curves so impish, “Think we could get Mariah Carey to sing it? It’s a hit if we get her, right, no matter how lesser?”

“‘When You Get to Cleveland on the Day Before Christmas Eve?’” Claudia skeptics. “Hit-wise, that’s gonna need a lot more power: Mariah dueting with Darlene Love at the very least. Plus we’ll need a Destiny’s Child reunion for at least one chorus.”

“Thanks for reinforcing my sense of how awful this is likely to be,” Myka tells them both, and Steve’s grin turns apologetic.

Claudia, however, shrugs. “Maybe you’ll sing it different.”

Myka is now the one to roll her eyes. “I won’t sing it at all.”

Surprisingly, Claudia doesn’t go with another eyeroll. “We’ll see,” she says, and Myka is struck by the Mrs.-Frederic resonance in her words. Does the homework include practicing the enigmatic tone?

Steve looks up and catches Myka’s eye. He winks. Myka would wink back, but he would probably interpret that as her saying she understands what’s happening. And that would be a lie: serious enough, probably, to make him wince and massage his temples.

So Myka just blinks—not Morse or any other code, just basic eye-moistening blinks. Then she goes upstairs to collect her always-packed travel bag for her trip to Cleveland.

****

Her flight departs late, of course; it’s December in South Dakota. But that’s this-time fine, because it allows Myka a necessary excess of opportunity to prep her Pete-placation. Under her breath, she practices the delivery of such words as “shorthanded” and “necessary,” aiming for maximum sincerity.

When she at last emerges from her Cleveland Hopkins jetway, that extensive prep deserts her entirely, for what awaits her is the manifestation of a Christmas wish she has worked overtime to convince herself would not, could not possibly be granted:

Helena.

Whose arms are crossed, and whose posture betrays that her foot might recently have been tapping out impatience with the plane’s tardy arrival. The attitude is so normal, so entirely of-the-world (rather than of-its-imminent-end), that Myka wants to reverse course, get back on the plane and redisembark, just so she might meet it again, meet it and refeel this wash of absolute relief at seeing Helena impatient in an airport.

Devious, Claudia, Myka thinks. Outstandingly devious. “Hello, Fred,” she murmurs, then tries, in the ten seconds she has before she and Helena are in proximity to speak, to engage in a far more consequential prep.

For Helena has been gone—has been, as Myka put it to Steve not so long ago, “god knows where”—since shortly after the Warehouse did not explode. She was there, in the Warehouse, but then she was gone, and Myka was told only that Helena had “matters to attend to.” God presumably also knew what those matters were, but Myka hadn’t, in the wake of that first moment of absence, and hasn’t since, been able to pry any information about matters or their whereabouts out of anyone, divine or otherwise.

And through the seemingly endless wondering, Myka’s mind and heart have gnawed themselves ragged.

Until this moment, when the wondering and gnawing end: now her blood speeds, coursing with urgency even as everything else seems to slow.... her movements, her reactions, her thinking, all are sluggish, unresponsive; only her blood matters. This blood knowledge. For all her wondering, she’s been avoiding gnawing her way to that answer.

“Claudia said you needed backup” are Helena’s words when they meet.

Myka’s attempt at prep has fallen grievously short—not that she could have risen to such an occasion, not when hearing that voice for the first time in some time, and certainly not when faced with what her blood’s embarrassing insistence has forced her to confront anew. “I... assumed I’d be calling Pete,” she says, to at least go with truth.

“Interesting assumption. Perhaps necessary, if you believe I’ll be insufficient.”

Myka’s impulse is to reassure: “More than sufficient—you’re necessary,” she would shout, or better yet, whisper. Instead, because Helena’s tone is neutral—is she in actuality indifferent?—she falls into a defensive, businesslike crouch, offering only implicit denial of the premise of Helena’s statement. “Let’s head for the accounting firm,” she says, internally cursing herself.

Cursing, but also justifying: Helena is here as backup, thanks to Claudia’s cleverness, and Myka should not assume (speaking of assumptions) that she even wants to be here. All focus should be on retrieving the artifact. Certainly on that and not on Myka’s (honestly) predictably overexcited blood.

She tries to concentrate on Claudia’s advice (while at the same time trying not to resent her success at being cryptic about it): what’s a bonus, really? Helena’s presence, the sight of her, the apprehending of her impatience, the experience of blood: whatever else may happen, these have been—must be—are!—the bonus.

****

The cab ride is quiet. Myka’s resolve to think only of backup and bonus is dissolving by the second, and she lets words reach her tongue that might start a conversation with Helena about things... but those words don’t escape her lips, for a strand of formality seems to be stiffening Helena’s spine. Does she know how Myka cherished her impatience? Is she attempting to discourage such adoration?

Myka, in regret and relief, follows that more-strict lead.

That’s a bonus too, though, for it turns the ride into unpressured, liminal time, perfect for simply basking in presence. It’s best, Myka is now thinking, to treat this reunion as something that was of course going to have happened. For backup or other professional purposes. Despite the fact that it’s the thank-god fulfillment of recurring, desperate dreams.

However: at one point in the traffic-backed silence, Helena, completely unprompted, turns and smiles at Myka.

Myka smiles back.

It’s a previously missing puzzle-piece slotting into place... yet in its aftermath, Myka finds herself having to push with force against a will to worry over other missing pieces; in particular, she must fight the fret-intensive futility of trying to count them.

****

They find the accounting firm’s lobby spacious but quiet—holiday-low staffing, presumably. Myka asks the receptionist, “Is there someone we can talk to about end-of-year bonuses? Also penalties?”

“I’m a temp,” says the young man. His tone suggests it’s his answer to every query... but then he adds, very quietly, “Unofficially, there’s this one guy...”

That has the ring of “artifact,” so Myka nods, encouraging him.

“Super-vocal about his paycheck the other day. How tiny it was. I mean, he’s the kind of guy you might have theories about what else is tiny, but I—”

“Who was that?” Myka interrupts, even as she feels Helena’s readiness to laugh. Mr. Super-vocal is thus probably not a wielder of an artifact; more likely, one of that wielder’s... victims?

“Bob,” the temp says. “I’m sure he’s got a last name, and I’m sure he thinks everybody should call him ‘Mr. Lastname,’ but my care level? Anyway he’s down the hall—one of the only ones in the farm today. Spite-working. Maybe on his anti-everything manifesto.”

“Down the hall” turns out to be a vast expanse of cubicles: definitely a farm.

Myka says to Helena, “Follow my lead?”

“Always,” Helena says.

It’s a tonally sincere utterance—and in that, admirable—but it’s also manifestly untrue; nevertheless, Myka’s blood decides to believe it, to recognize it as another puzzle-piece. I really need to function, Myka tries to explain to her interior. So if we could climb down just a couple rungs. Like to the cab-ride level, maybe?

Her body refuses the agreement.

Of course.

The occupant of the first inhabited cubicle they find is an over-coiffed middle-aged man who clearly spends far too much time in tanning booths. He’s typing aggressively, as if the force of his keystrokes will power his message. His manifesto?

“Are you Bob?” Myka asks him.

“You better be here about my money,” obviously-Bob says, clearly spoiling for a fight.

Myka finds his demand incongruous—his job has to do with other people’s money, and Myka and Helena are manifestly other people. Who could have money. Fred or otherwise.

“In a way,” she says. She follows up with “We’re from the IRS,” and it’s never not funny for that to be useful. Bob winces, as if she's about to strike him. Also never not funny. “We’ve noted some suspicious discrepancies in end-of-year reporting.”

“You have?” Bob asks. Now he’s avid rather than confrontational.

“Looks like some overreporting. Also underreporting. So you see our concern, particularly about effects on withholding.” She is making this up, as she generally does whenever she has to go actual IRS on someone. Read up on tax law, she reminds herself, as she generally does every time. Not that she’ll ever have the leisure to do that... “What we need to find out is whether it was in error, or if it warrants a full investigation.”

“Nancy Sullivan,” he says, with contempt, the name itself a curse. “She’s the one you should investigate, and then send straight to jail. She’s always been a witch about year-end, but now?  On steroids. Talking about making her list, threatening to mark down people she doesn’t like, including yours truly, as naughty... and then we got our paychecks, and somehow she did it! No idea how she managed to push that garbage through, but I swear you better get her up on some kind of charges!”

He rises abruptly, clutching a slip of paper; his chair topples over behind him. He shoves the paper in Myka’s direction, his knuckles nearing her astonished nose—but in the instant before contact, Helena intervenes, her arm blocking his, stopping his forward motion.

Backup.

Helena plucks the paper from his pushy hand. “And what’s this?” she asks.

A pretty minimal manifesto, Myka thinks initially. But then she replays his screed in her head, and his babbling about Nancy Sullivan resolves into meaningful references; struck by the realization, she very nearly misses his next statement: “My pay stub. She can’t just do this.”

Helena says, “Of course not.” She’s soothing him, her voice a faux-caress. It’s enough to tempt Myka to act out, just to hear it directed her way, even as Helena continues, “But we understand some of your colleagues, to the contrary, received large bonuses.”

His “tanned” skin darkens further. “Guess she thought they were nice. To her. Suck-ups.”

Mya looks a Find out anything else that’s relevant at Helena, who nods. Retreating back to the pre-cubicle hallway—relieved that her nose is intact—she Farnsworths Claudia. She skips the pleasantries, starting with, “A very disgruntled employee says the woman who signs off on bonuses was making a list.”

Claudia chortles. “You’re hilarious. Was she checking it twice?”

“This is my point. We don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with, not yet, but I bet that’s the crux.”

“I should’ve known you weren’t aiming for hilarity. So you really think this is some Santa thing?”

“No. I’m saying words about lists because I think it’s a grocery thing.” Myka wants to shake her fist at the heavens and every deity who occupies it. Occupies them. All the heavens. “Of course I think it’s a Santa thing! I also think it’s Pete’s fault somehow.”

“Just because it’s Christmas? C’mon.”

“Christmas and Ohio?” Myka snorts. “You c’mon. I don’t believe in coincidence.”

“Maybe you should though. For peace of mind?”

“That’s another thing I don’t believe in. Just see if you can find anything about a Santa’s-list artifact, would you?”

“Roger. By the way, how do you like your backup?” She chortles again and disconnects.

“I like my backup like I like the sunrise,” Myka tells the blank Farnsworth screen.

“What about the sunrise?” Helena asks from directly behind her.

Myka wishes the sound of her voice were either more or less startling. She wishes also that she knew exactly how much overhearing had occurred.

“It’s inevitable,” she sighs.

In response, Helena blinks.

They take the elevator to Nancy Sullivan’s office.

In that elevator, which is aggressively mirrored, Myka can’t help but glance repeatedly at herself. So many reflections. You called this into being, thinking about Alice’s mirror before, she accuses. She tries not to focus on how her hair could really stand to be more controlled... she’d focus on Helena instead, but who knows how that would be received? Instead she allows herself one glance, then looks down.

She likes being on the elevator with Helena, though; it’s a space of relative privacy, like the cab. Have they ever before been on an elevator together? Alone or otherwise? She runs through their interactions, fast-forwarding from the Wells house to D.C., Tamalpais to Moscow, Yellowstone, Colorado Springs, Ohio (here Myka trips over the fact that Helena’ s now been to Ohio twice, if only once in physical form), Pittsburgh, Hong Kong...

The review—the speed with which she can conduct it—reminds her of how limited that time has been, so: an elevator ride. Yet another bonus.

“That fellow,” Helena remarks, and Myka looks up again; their eyes meet in the mirror of the elevator’s doors. It’s uncanny, as if they’re both holograms, so Myka turns her body toward Helena, who meets Myka’s actual eyes and continues, “He attempted to make a lewd joke about his willingness and ability to be naughty when it’s called for. I pretended not to understand.”

Myka can’t help it: she snorts. “I bet he didn’t buy that for a second.”

“I have the ability to perform ‘prim’ when it’s called for,” Helena says, and Myka has to acknowledge that statement as good evidence of itself. Then Helena’s face reshapes into a devilish grin as she says, “In a slightly different vein, his quailing at those three letters with which you assailed him? Hilarious.”

“Letters?” A little perverse-quirk makes Myka want to hear Helena say them, though she’s probably not pulling off “disingenuous” in making the request.

Helena seems fine with the perversity, for she obliges: “I,” she begins, then draws out “Aaaaare.” Then, after a beat: “Esssss.”

Myka now herself feels assailed—by how right Helena’s reading her. She tries to step it down with, “I wasn’t aiming for hilarity. I never do. Claudia can vouch.” But she does spend a little moment thinking about the context of that previous assailing: we’re from the IRS. We are here, together, from an agency. We, together, represent. It isn’t by any means everything Myka would have wanted... but it’s something: part of this bonus. “Fred,” she says, sotto voce.

The office they’re seeking is on the building’s highest floor, suggestive of Nancy Sullivan’s bonus-approving rank; it features several large windows, one of which affords the office a view of the hallway, and vice versa. Through it, Myka and Helena watch a woman, presumably that powerful Nancy Sullivan, writing with a quill-esque pen.

“It’s the pen,” Myka says, because it has to be. “It’s always the stupid pen.”

“Always?” That’s unusually tentative, like Helena’s trying not to step.

“Okay, once,” Myka concedes. “My dad and Poe and a pen, and as a result I’ve developed a severe aversion to those quill things.”

Helena takes a beat. Then: “I never liked feather pens.”

“Are you just saying that,” Myka says, because she might be, and she might admit it, and that might be good or bad or something else Myka has no way of evaluating. Why does Helena say words like this? And for that matter, why does Myka keep spending her limited time on this planet trying to parse them?

“Yes? In that I’ve... said it?”

That really didn’t help with any of the whys. “I mean, just to make me feel better?”

Helena shrugs. “The fact is, today’s ballpoints et cetera are far more reliable. Does that make you feel better?”

She’s playing at being obtuse—surely that’s for a reason? But Myka has no time to wonder further, for Helena is knocking on the office door and opening it without waiting for an invitation, and the real retrieval is underway.

Myka flashes her badge. “I’m Agent Myka Bering, and this is Helena Wells. We’re from the IRS.” She glances at Helena—all these glances!—and gets a small smirk in response.

Rather than introducing herself, the woman says, “Really? I bet that’s not true.”

“Why?” Myka asks. Have she and Helena, over the course of the elevator ride, lost their ability to perform “official” correctly?

“I have a feeling you’re here for this,” Nancy Sullivan says, and she lofts the pen, waving it like a wand. “Mostly because I also have a feeling that I want to close my fist around it, punch my way past both of you, and make my escape.”

Well. “That’s self-aware,” Myka says. “Unusually so.”

“Thank you? Although it’s less self-awareness than kind of a... sixth sense.”

Helena raises an eyebrow at Myka. “Sixth sense aside, we appreciate your good sense to refrain from attempting to punch your way past us. That would have ended poorly.”

“I wish I’d had the good sense not to use this pen,” Nancy Sullivan says.

“Is there a reason for your wish?” Helena asks. She sounds, to Myka’s ears at least, like a recently summoned, slightly flummoxed genie.

“Because of how much I liked using it—particularly when I realized nobody was going to question anything. I signed off on all these orders, and it was like...” she trails off. Then she concludes, “Magic.”

To keep her talking, Myka prompts, “Was it?”

“Having the power to reward good people has been fantastic,” Nancy Sullivan continues, “but penalizing the awful ones? I mean I’ve sort of resented feeling compelled to use the word ‘naughty’ about them, because that’s way out of character for me. But other than that? Utterly spectacular.”

“Bob,” Helena suggests.

“Oh, god, you met him?”

Helena offers a dry “Alas.”

Nancy Sullivan’s smile is as dry as Helena’s tone, astringently vindictive. “I could not have been more thrilled to hit him and everybody like him where it hurt... I admit I’ve always been kind of judgmental, but wielding this pen? Intensified. Like, the hates are more. In particular, the hates are more. I’m not saying the Bobs of this company didn’t deserve what I did, but I feel it more. Punishment. It’s satisfying, but also weirdly costly. Grinch-in-reverse costly.”

That’s a little on the nose. Myka glances at Helena again, because the satisfactions of punishment, of judgment, even of hate, are among the things they will need to talk about. Maybe. Someday. If they are to have a someday that is theirs... if that is even possible after so much time and tribulation... Myka lets the glance grow into a gaze, a resting regard, and it stays that way until Helena, too, glances, with the result then that their eyes meet and lock... such a clasp, Myka feels, could ground that potential, and potentially necessary, talk of things, if only they were not in the middle of a retrieval...

...which makes Myka think. Why are they in the middle of a retrieval?

“I wish I didn’t feel like I need to articulate this, but where did you get the pen?” she asks. Because she has a niggling sense of something larger happening, something beyond her grasp. Nevertheless, it is not—repeat, not—a vibe.

Fine. It might be a vibe.

“My cousin gave it to me,” says Nancy Sullivan.

“Your cousin,” Myka says. “Whose name is?” Now she’s knows what’s coming, and that has nothing to do with a vibe: no, it is entirely deduction based on experience.

“Pete Lattimer.”

TBC

#bering and wells #warehouse 13 #fanfic #Bonus #holiday (but not Gift Exchange) #proceeding at a vaguely nonzero speed #being left in the dust by snails and tortoises #but I do still love a Myka who fights with herself about who deserves what (and why) #and of course a Helena who can be reasonably inferred to do the same #struggling against the graceful acceptance of gifts #whatever form they take