#and then i try to talk to my mom about it and she’s just like oh! that’s weird! oh no don’t tell me about [sad thing]!

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

THIS WAS A PRANK?!

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: y/n pulls her family into a trending prank where you pretend to embarrass your partner in front of your family…i wonder how drew reacts?

based on this ask!! i really hope you enjoy this @xoxosblogsblog , and i hope it’s what you asked for <3

WARNINGS: i think maybe one curse word?, just pure fluff really, me crying because i used ‘mom’ instead of mum because they’re american </3 (lmk if i missed anything!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SECOND PERSON +

Drew always tried his best to make a good impression on your parents. Even after three years of dating you, meeting them countless times, and attending every family barbecue or holiday dinner you invited him to, Drew still got a little nervous around them. You found it sweet, honestly—how this confident, charming actor, adored by fans worldwide, could still feel the need to impress your mom and dad.

You were currently spending the week at your parents' house, a cozy rural home in Vermont that felt like a world away from the bustling chaos of Los Angeles where you and Drew lived.

Drew had taken the week off from filming to join you, and so far, everything had been going smoothly. That was, until you saw a TikTok prank trend earlier that morning.

The prank was simple: embarrass your partner in front of your family by saying outrageous things and watch them squirm. You couldn't resist. Drew had pulled plenty of pranks on you in the past, and this felt like the perfect opportunity for some playful payback.

While Drew was in the shower, you shared your plan with your parents.

"Are you sure he's going to find it funny?" your mom asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, he will," you grinned. "Eventually. After he panics a little bit."

Your dad chuckled. "I'm in. But I'm not holding back—I'll really sell it."

Your mom rolled her eyes fondly. "You two are terrible."

"We'll keep it harmless," you promised.

By the time Drew emerged from the shower, fresh and smiling in a casual hoodie and jeans, you were ready to set your plan in motion.

The four of you were gathered around the dining table, enjoying your mom's homemade lasagna—a dish Drew had raved about during every visit. You decided to start small.

"You know," you said casually, "Drew actually told me he doesn't like your cooking, Mom. He says it's too... plain."

Your mom froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Really?" she asked, her tone clipped.

Drew's head whipped toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash. His eyes widened. "What? No! That's not true at all! I love your cooking!"

"Hmm," your mom said, narrowing her eyes. "That's funny, because you always seem to clean your plate."

"Exactly!" Drew said quickly, holding up his hands. "I do, because it's amazing! I don't know what Y/N's talking about. I would never say that!"

You bit back a grin and focused on your lasagna, mumbling, "If you say so."

Drew shot you a bewildered look, his brow furrowing. You could tell he wanted to press you on it, but he let it go��for now.

Later that evening, the four of you were in the living room watching a football game. Your dad had always been a big fan, and Drew had made it a point to bond with him over it.

"He doesn't actually like football, Dad," you said offhandedly during a commercial break. "He told me it's boring."

The room went silent.

"What?" your dad asked, turning to Drew with a stern expression.

"No, no, no!" Drew stammered, his cheeks flushing. "I never said that! I love football! We've watched games together! We’re both huge fans of the Kansas City Chiefs!"

"You mean the team you pretended to like just to get on my good side?" your dad said, raising an eyebrow.

Drew looked like a deer caught in headlights. "No, I swear, I really like them! I even looked up their stats before we came here so I could keep up!"

Your dad folded his arms, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I thought we had something, Drew."

"I—Mr. Y/L/N—I mean, sir—I promise, I'm not lying!" Drew's voice grew more frantic, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

When your dad turned back to the game with a dramatic sigh, Drew leaned over to you. "What's going on?" he whispered.

You shrugged innocently. "I don't know what you mean."

The final straw came later that night when you were all sitting around the kitchen island, enjoying dessert.

"Mom," you said with a sigh, "Drew said he's still hungry. He wants you to make him something else."

Drew nearly choked on his forkful of pie. "What?! No, I didn't!"

Your mom gave him a sweet but pointed smile. "Well, Drew, if you don't like the pie, I suppose I could whip something else up for you."

"I love the pie!" Drew insisted, looking panicked. "I never said that! Y/N, why are you doing this?"

You shrugged again, fighting the urge to burst out laughing.

When your parents finally went their separate ways—your dad retreating to the living room and your mom heading upstairs to fold laundry—Drew cornered you in the kitchen.

"Okay," he said, crossing his arms. "What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning innocence.

"Don't give me that," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You've been throwing me under the bus all day. First the cooking thing, then football, now this? I swear I didn't say any of those things!"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm, maybe you did, and you just don't remember."

"Y/N," Drew said firmly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice now. "Are you messing with me?"

Before you could answer, your parents reappeared in the doorway, both looking serious.

"We need to talk," your dad said, crossing his arms.

Drew paled. "About what?"

"About all these things Y/N's been saying," your mom added. "We just want to know if there's something you need to get off your chest."

"I—I don't know what she's talking about!" Drew stammered, his hands flailing as he tried to explain himself. "I love your cooking, Ms. Y/L/N and sir, I love football, and I would never ask you to make me more food! I swear!"

That was it. You couldn't hold it in any longer. You burst out laughing, doubling over as tears streamed down your face. Your mom quickly followed, and even your dad cracked a smile.

Drew stared at you all, realisation dawning on his face. "Wait... this was a prank?!"

"It was a TikTok trend!" you gasped, clutching your stomach. "I had to try it!"

Your mom patted Drew on the shoulder. "We're sorry, Drew. It was all in good fun."

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "I can't believe you all ganged up on me."

"You've pulled worse pranks on me," you reminded him, wiping your eyes.

"Fair point," he admitted, pulling you into a playful headlock. "But don't think you're getting away with this. I'm going to get you back."

"I'd like to see you try," you teased, grinning up at him.

As Drew laughed along with your parents, you couldn't help but think how lucky you were to have someone who fit so seamlessly into your family—even if he was already plotting his revenge.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such an adorable one :’)) i really hope you enjoyed it my lovely !!

i’m still trying to figure out a master list, so fingers crossed i’ll have it up tonight !! but for now, you can click on my personalised tags to access my fics <3

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated !! <3

[vifilms]

THE SUNSHINE ON MY SHOULDERS STICKING LIKE HONEY

feat. contractor!abby x exgf!reader

content warning. eighteen+, smut, angst, some fluff sprinkled in, devastating dykes, nickname for reader (cherry), jealousy, long lost love trope, hazel (spoiler alert, she’s a cunt), just an emotional ass fic.

THE SUNSHINE ON MY SHOULDERS STICKING LIKE HONEY, she was the healing in a world that struck so much pain, a life you would like to forget, but can you truly forget just how much you loved her?

rayray sesh. been working on this baby for over a month and i’m very happy to post it on time! happy birthday, pookie — @sinstear ♡ this is my special crafted gift i wrote just for you on a day to celebrate just how amazing you are. erenboo, you deserve all the love in the world. i hope you enjoy this as much as i took joy in writing it for you. my love, sweat, tears, and cum are laced in it. special delivery. i love you so much, bub. always and forever.

✶ special shoutout to @hypnagogics aka my co-yap captain. thank you for proofreading my bigger projects. you are a godsend. my nonsensical typos would surely make it if it wasn’t for you. mwahmwah! you’re the sweetest, ily ♡

✶ header heavily inspired by the lovely @hcneymooners

word count, 14k.

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 ❞

The more you try to hide from it, the harder it’ll be when you face it — at least those are the words Abby had heard from her old man for as long as she could remember. Suddenly, nearly thirty-years later, they reverberated in her mind like a ring of a bell. A vibrating reminder of how her life remained the same, your love having limitations, requirements she never could have been aware of at the ripe age of eighteen. 

All she needed was more time, more understanding, and a patient heart that was never reciprocated. On a day like today, she’s reminded of 

In Jacksonville, there wasn’t much going on, and talk travels faster than the speed of lightning. Murmurs of your return started the moment Dina found out, then it spread like wildfire. All of it feels just like yesterday but the spring of her youth is a far cry away, just dust and bones to be found on the ashes of adolescence.  

If the world was perfect, Abby could avoid all of this. 

Maybe if her life had turned out the way she envisioned. 

But it didn’t and neither did yours. Not as of late. Although Abby had to be tightlipped about it, business and pleasure entangled, all of that nonsense floating around her pretty head. A voice she once thought she had forgotten comes back with a violent need to be recognized, a calming notion before it punches her in the gut. 

Not to mention, she just had to be on your father’s payroll, had to face the person she was never good enough for. All of it feels nauseating. Excruciating. 

Reminder of a wound she’s never recovered from. Memories high and low come flooding, and with you in her line of vision, it only gets worse. 

Way fucking worse. 

“What is she doing back?” 

“As if anyone would want her here.” 

“Abby, was she even supposed to be here?” 

The questions pile along with the bile collecting in the back of Abby’s throat. The pit in her stomach manifests a black hole, feeling herself succumb to the spin of everyone’s empty threats spilling from her friends to you. Abby can tell just by the way you’re downing the glass of champagne and picking up the next, coming here wasn’t your choice.

If you could have helped it, you would have never come back in such a public setting.  

“Abby, are you listening?” She sighs, but still unable to take her eyes off you. 

“Do I need to rea—” 

“Yeah yeah, all of you hate them. I get it.” 

“It’s not that simple. They aren’t good for you.”

There’d been murmurs through the small town of your return. That’s what happens when your mom gets sick, you come home and that you did. The anniversary of your parents, forty years strong, is the first public appearance. The absence of your brother’s appearance isn’t talked about, it’s brushed over, just like everything else, just like you. 

“Yep, I got it.” 

“I’m just looking out for you. They don’t appreciate you and—” Abby shoots her a knowing glare, annoyed with the intrusion of everyone thinking they knew best instead of herself. 

“Yeah, like I said, I hear you, but you don’t fucking know her. Neither do I, certainly not anymore.” 

Running a hand through her blonde-glistening locks, the sunset saturates her golden as she ignores Hazel, taking a sip of her beer as she takes you in. Everyone always has shit to say about you. Your parents, her friends, Abby’s parents, but no one really knows you. 

It’s not easy for you to let people in, you seem as harsh as can be to others, but Abby knows you’re quite the opposite. 

Different from everyone in the room, a polished cream suit and open collared button up shirt with your delectable collarbones exposed, your rings twinkle as you pet the husky, one you don't know belongs to Abby. If you did, your hand might feel repelled. 

It’s what you always wanted. A life out of here, out of the small town where you’ve always felt judged, persecuted, even ostracized when you came out — and you succeeded — leaving Abby behind in the process. Even if you didn’t intend to, it sort of just…happens. We leave the ones we love behind, even if it’s our last possible intention. 

Goodbye notions simmer and we forget about the love we once had. 

“Hazel, Dina was asking for you, she mentioned needing some help finding JJ’s pacifier?” 

“On it!” Abby chuckles as the cherry-haired girl flees into the other direction as Ellie laughs harder when she’s gone. 

“You’re welcome. She's like a dog with a bone when it comes to your beautiful ex-girlfriend.” 

“Watch it. Calling another woman beautiful, Dina might just skin you alive.” 

“Nope. She loves me too much.” 

Ellie chuckles as they watch you down another glass of champagne. Freeing your hair from the tight bun, your hair springs to life as it falls around your shoulders, framing your jawline as piercing eyes find the weeds poking through the freshly cut grass. 

A few people had offered up a sloppy introduction, a grievance of pity, before returning to their groups. Anxiously, you tear at the loose thread on the cuff of your sleeve. It gets longer and longer, avoiding everyone watching you. 

Pretending you don’t exist. You never do. Not in this wretched town where all dreams get sucked into a bottomless pit, where believers go to die. 

Abby nods, the feeling builds in the pit of her stomach as she yearns to get closer to you. Even after all the hurtful insults thrown her way years back, she’s conflicted. A missile is thrown into her life with your arrival and all of her friends, besides Ellie, tell her not to fall back into old patterns. Not to fall for your charm, not to be a victim to reckless love. 

The kind that left her empty for years. Abby knew the moment she fell, from the very first time they met, if you ever left her she’d never be the same again. You don't forget a love like this. It tears a hole within you before you even get a chance to think about it, their presence consuming your entirety, an empty promise of endless salvation dies on the tip of your tongue. 

Impossible shoes to ever be filled. 

Truly, Abby thought she had been in love before you, but she wasn’t. The feeling she’s been chasing for the rest of her life returns when she looks at you. Those bright eyes when you play with the pup, the gentle hand as your scrap his chin with the crescent of your blunt nails. 

She feels more looking at you for one moment than anyone she’s dated after you. 

It’s sickening. 

Still, her friends ridicule her any chance they get. Telling her of what you’re like, how you hurt her, what you’ll do when your claws sink into Abby. It falls on a hyper fixated heart. She can’t think of anything when all the blood comes rushing to her head, how beautiful you look when she sees you anxiously biting your bottom lip, something you do when you’re attempting to stop the tears from spilling. 

None of them knew what it meant to look in your eyes and wonder how someone so good couldn’t recognize the purity in your eyes, the love you give out when the world feels like it’s crumbling around you. They didn’t see the years of torture, the family that wasn’t so perfect, the anger you held wound so tight. You didn’t have anywhere to put it. Never could. Not when the image of the perfect daughter is meant to be upheld. 

Not a soul knows the information Abby does. There’s nothing more you love than to hide in the shadows, hoping to be forgotten, how you nearly crave to be eaten alive if it means an end to your misery. It isn’t lost on her how much she wants to shield you from it all. 

“Why don’t you go and talk to her?” 

Ellie points the glass of wine she’s been nursing to you, watching as you excuse yourself into the empty guest house. Your body is still viewable through the tall glass windows, your body disappearing from the common area of the small home. The exact one she’s been renovating per your mother’s request. 

“She’ll just—” Absentmindedly, Abby kicks the dirt with the toe of her boot, rooting her heel in the ground as she bites the wall of her gums, trying to center herself. Attempting to not let her mind wander into what if’s, what could have been. 

“What? Figure out you’re scared?” 

“I’m not scared.” Sighing into the palm of her hands as she can’t help but bite into Ellie’s comment, “It’s been years. For all I know, Cherry hates my guts. Not that it fucking matters, but I’m the last person they want to talk to. Plus, when she’s upset the last thing they want is to talk.”  

“You’ll do just fine, can’t be too bad. They were always sweet on you.” 

“It’s been years, Hazel’s right, in some sense I—” 

“Please, even you know the only thing she wants is to get in your pants. That part is lost on me, you’re too beefy for my taste.”

“Some people like that, dick.” 

“Your girlfriend sure did.” 

“Ex-girlfriend.” 

The rest of the night Abby avoids all of her friends, especially the meddling junkie, Hazel; fucking hazel. She wouldn’t let her rest. They never had done more than share a friendly hug and for some reason she always looked at Abby like she hung all the stars spreading across the galaxy. 

“Are you going to let Hazel think she has a chance forever?” 

Abby just shakes her head in omission. 

“There’s no chance, I’m not—” 

“Abby! I got you a glass of lemonade. Sweet with just a few cubes of ice, just the way you like it!” Ellie wiggles her eyebrows at Abby as if she has proved her point. 

As soon as Hazel turns around, Ellie goes right back to the pitch of her ex-girlfriend, trying to sell Abby on the past. The only woman Dina and her had liked in her mess of a dating scene. A long line of hookups, one serious relationship that ended so horrifically the cops had to be called, and then there was Hazel. A naive girl who had been harboring a crush for nearly a year, the time Dina had adopted her into their little makeshift family. 

You walk out of the guest house more comfortably. A pair of dark denim and a black graphic tee with the sleeves cut off. Abby smiles at how much you look like the woman she fell in love with, the youthful ache she still feels with every beat of her heart. The one you crushed in the palm of her hands without thinking twice. 

Abby’s throat constricts when you catch her staring, quickly looking away, biting at your fingernails before your father introduces you to the new neighbors. 

“What’s so important, Hazel?” Ellie bites. 

Hazel ignores her. All she can see is Abby looking right at you. 

Abby had realized she completely zoned out, her energy and focus harbored on you. Five minutes within your arrival and her head was already feeling the rapid hum of her heartbeat caught in the bottom of her throat as you looked at her again, just for a second longer before you turned the other direction, away from her gaze. 

“Abby—” 

Abby hums absentmindedly with you on her mind, infecting her thoughts like a former addict getting their first fix for years. The high. It feels even better than her mind could remember. The curious gaze in bright eyes feels intoxicating, too good to be true, and the fall feels higher than it ever was to begin with. 

“Yeah?” 

“She’s coming over here.” 

It only takes a few minutes before Abby takes a swig at her beer, wipes the sweat collecting on the palm of her hands. When you get closer, she notices the engraving of A.A. engraved on a glimmering silver ring. 

Did you keep it after all this time? 

“Tell her to leave—” 

“Hazel, for the love of god, would you shut your mouth?” Ellie barks as you make your way over to Abby. 

Abby tries to make her resolve hard, icy even, but it’s not. Her electrified blue eyes are warm, full of curiosity and wonder, her freckled cheeks are flushed from the heat of the sun and her barely there grin has you offering one of your own. 

“Abigail, hey.” 

Abby is surprised you hug her and she doesn't want to accept but it feels too rude not to. But the second her arms envelop around your body you fit perfectly into her. Just like all those years ago, you’re everything she loves. Like no time has passed, as if you didn’t rip her heart and stump out the love it once held. 

“It’s just Abby now.” Hazel interjects. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know, Abby, right.” 

“How could you? You’d have to be around—” 

Ellie gently elbows Hazel in the stomach, trying to silence her best efforts to scare you away from the treasury stock of a blonde she believes to be hers. 

“Abby, sorry. I’m just—” 

“You’ve always called me, Abigail. It’s alright. Promise.”

There she is. 

The charm that makes you fall when you don’t need to. It’s laughable that Abigail can make years of therapy, years of dating other people to get over her seem like a dream, as if it’d only just been the two of you all of this time. Like nothing had changed. 

But everything has. 

“Um, do you mind if we talk in private?” 

Abigail follows your lead into the empty house, the party rages outside as the two of you sit in the living room, neither of you knowing what way to take your best foot forward. 

“Sorry if I made things awkward with you and your girlfriend—” 

“Oh, uh, she’s not….we’re not dating or anything.” 

Shit. 

You wish she was. 

Abby doesn’t know what to think when the expression on your face wasn’t instant relief but instead turmoil within yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed as if you expected her to be in a relationship. It would leave you to escape from the overflow of feelings you had rushing through your core. 

“You look shocked.” 

“I just—” You bite your lip, looking anywhere but her, trying to put your best foot forward, like your father says, he’s the whole reason this conversation is even happening. “I can’t lie, it would have made this…easier? I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” 

“What are you trying to do?” Abby has a bubbly laugh threatening to burst but she swallows it for the sake of your dignity. 

“Okay, well that’s not nice.” 

“Do you want me to be?” 

“Well, my dad he just thought that—” 

“Wait, you’re talking to me because of your dad?” Abby stands up from the couch, rubbing her hands over her flushed face. “Not even because it’s been years, but because — well, why?” 

“He was just encouraging me. I’m nervous, isn’t that fucking obvious? I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m eighteen again.” 

She’s standing at her tall height, looking down at you as you begin to cry. 

Well shit. 

“Hey, hey—” Abby sinks to the floor on her knees, her body between your legs. “C’mon, there’s no need for all of that.” 

“I hate that you haven’t changed.” 

“Did you want me to?” 

No, you say just to yourself. Not trusting the waver of your voice to give her the truth. There’s always so much on the line with her. Everything feels heavy, final, an anchor to hold you down but also drag everything you are, tangled with her sweet, honey-filled baby blues. 

“Can’t you be mean to me or something? Even the playing field a little bit.” 

“Not even a little, sweetheart. We both know I never could.” Her fingertips trace your forearm, a shiver courses throughout your body, “I will admit, everyone says I should.” 

“They’re right. I deserve it.” 

“If we all got what we deserved, well, that would be such an ugly world, wouldn’t it? Just because you did something hurtful doesn’t make you cruel. It makes you human.” 

“But I do deserve the cruelty.” 

“Fine, I hate you.” Abby says with a smirk on her face, wiping away a stray tear, looking too fondly on the woman who broke her heart. She’s too kind for her own good. 

The giggle Abby omits rivals sunshine. 

“I just didn’t want it to affect the work on the house, everything between us, it’s complicated and I’ll be in the guest house while my mom’s—” 

“I know, you don’t have to say it. Your dad may have mentioned it to me. I’m sorry, I truly am.” 

“I am too. For everything. I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I was so young, scared, and I wanted you to hate me. It just seemed easier than having you actually miss me.” 

“I did miss you.” Abby's warm palm might as well be burning your denim jeans through as she touches your thigh. “You could have done the worst thing imaginable and I still would have. I’ve never had, uh, reason with you I guess. Love doesn’t know scorn, like a child with a knife, even if you can get hurt — sometimes it’s worth it.” 

The stars in her blue eyes hold the same light in them, too full of love, her older and refined spirit lays beneath them and she has become someone you have even more love for. It’s too damning. Abigail Anderson has always been more than you can handle, always outshining everyone in this small town even if she couldn’t see it for herself. 

“I’m surprised you came back for them, you know, after everything.” 

It’s not just them. 

“They say she doesn’t have a lot of time, so—” You sigh heavily into your palms, “And that’s not your problem, but thank you for being so cool about everything. Maybe we can be friends?” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Abby knows neither of you can’t. It’s never worked out that way. It’s all or nothing and she’s always been the all-in type of girl. She loves big, not caring if her own heart gets trampled in the process. 

Her love blinds like the sun, but it settles over your heart like the moonlight kissing the waves — you just hope the tide is strong enough to bring you home.

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ❞

The first few weeks back at home felt like a breath of fresh air. As much as you disdained being home, the cracks of your family nearly breaking you in the process, you had her. 

Even if you didn’t really have her. 

The definite silence was not so, Abby still soaked in her warm heart, the one you hoped she kept. The best part of her. She’s too kind, even when you don’t deserve it, she still freely gives it. 

It bleeds into her work. 

Clearly, your father was more than fond of her. Several occasions they would be chumming it up, your father even grilling a few patty hamburgers up for them both when the clock struck noon. They always did love her, possibly even more than you, but to say they were devastated about the break would be a tragic understatement. 

Get her back. 

She’s a prize in this town. 

Abigail Anderson is the best you can do, you’re not doing better than Dr. Anderson’s daughter. 

But you never did try. You trusted the universe as a sign given. The people driving you out of this town sided with the woman you had broken up with, so you left and didn’t look back twice. 

Yet, she did, in more ways than you were even aware of. 

Because of her stupidly built physique, you couldn’t stop looking. 

Anchored into the heat, her muscles constrict as she helps the crew demo the tile of the master suite, the last touch of the renovation needs. Besides the final paint job in the guest house, Abby had finished it all. In all honesty, Abby was hoping all of it would be complete by the time you arrived back in town. Being around you on a daily basis, her friends telling her it’s only a matter of time before she’s back in your arms, it feels like a slap in the face. 

As if she has no self restraint. 

To be fair, she doesn’t. 

Abby’s gone to lunch with you three times, had coffee with you once, and she exhibits her obsessive memory — still having your order memorized — even if it's the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard of. She still finds herself stuck between your teeth like cotton candy. 

It’s all friendly, supposedly, but it’s the easiest thing to slip back. 

Old habits do die hard. 

Right now, you’re just watching her work. 

You’ve been doing it a lot lately. 

Out of habit, nervousness, maybe it’s the anxiety flooding through your bloodstream. All of this feels erasable. Too much thrown at you, with her, it always happens to be too irreplaceable. 

The ghost you’ve been running from, the one that hides in the shadow, even if you’ve tried to stay on the path you’ve created. Dug from the ashes of all your failures, she’s the one thing you haven’t made right. The nights where you got too drunk, nearly texting her or calling her, the picture you still curated in a specific folder, the one you would look for when you’re the weakest. 

Being back in your hometown, the first person who ever truly loved you, it feels suffocating. 

It doesn’t help that she looks so good. Or that she’s even kinder. The love in her eyes is even more whole-hearted than they were ten years ago. Part of you tells yourself you couldn’t even help yourself if you tried. This is just how it’s supposed to be. The heartbreaker pining for the woman’s heart you shattered into pieces. 

All it took, a few cups of coffee and Abby taking you to lunch and paying — it feels awfully like a date but you keep your mouth shut. Her being present in your life is already confusing enough; the added weight would just be unbearable. 

But after today, you won’t see her again. Painting the final room in the guest house is the last duty she has to fulfill and the renovation is done on your parent’s property. The ache in the pit of your stomach is unsettling as you attempt to simmer through and wonder why the pain becomes so deep. As if the woman in front of you was scorning you alive. 

“You need something or are you gonna stare at me all day?” 

You watch Abby throw the paint roller back in the tray, running the brush in the sage green, before turning the attention back to the wall, waiting for you to respond. 

“No, I wasn’t staring.” Abby chuckles at that. 

Chuckles. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

If you could see her pouty lips, you’re sure that they’d be pulled into a smirk. Lately, she’s been enjoying this too much. Catching you staring at her for too long, biting the precious bottom lip of yours as she’s putting her muscles to work or when you caught her peeling the sweaty tank of her body for a new one, every inch of her skin glowing in the wake of the blistering sun. 

Her abdomen, toned with a not so subtle four pack, her v-line defined as it disappears into her jeans. It’s sickening. Really. It is. She catches your self control slipping through the cracks, dignity along with it as you give in to her adonis-like physique. 

The shock going through your body, going completely still as Abby just chuckles, winking at you before she goes about her day. Like it was nothing, like this is a normal occurrence for her. You’re not sure what thought made you feel even more sick. 

Women fawning over her or what happened after. 

But you didn’t have a right, you know you didn’t. 

You swallowed the unflattering buzz of sweeping jealousy until you couldn’t feel in anymore. It’s not an emotion you even deserve to feel. While the two of you had been getting closer the longer you spent with each other, you knew your boundaries well enough to know you still weren’t there, you never would be. 

The ghosts from your past made damn sure of it. 

“I can pose for you if you’re going to keep looking.” 

“I wasn’t—” 

Abby wipes the mixture of sweat, oils, and paint on the pair of old blue-denim. She lets her blonde hair out of the bun she wore, despite the icy temperature, her body runs warm. 

“It’s okay to admit it.” 

“Admit what?” Suddenly you become defensive, arms crossing over your chest. 

“That you’re still attracted to me.” Abby takes your curves in and nearly blows a low whistle, “You’re awful at hiding it.” 

“I-I’m not, this isn’t….you’re not, like, easy to look at, you know? Uh, ummm….” 

Standing there like an idiot as you struggle to get the words out, nearly impossible to get them released, your mouth staggering, unable to even keep them shut as Abby stalks you, your body pressed against the kitchen counter, the new one she installed days ago. 

Nothing comes out on the way you intend it to. Fuck. Did you offend her? 

“I’m not?” 

She whispers into your ear, her lips ghosting your skin. A free hand plays with the buckle of your belt before she pulls you closer by the fastened leather. It’s soft to the touch, making her want to sink her teeth into you, until her canines break the surface of your skin, claiming you as hers once again. 

Abby thinks about removing it off you, bending you over the counter and punishing you for it or even fastening the belt around your neck, pulling you along until you’re right where she pleases. The craving in the pit of her belly only stirs into an unmanageable peace the longer you stand there — squirming with satisfaction — waiting to be put out of your misery. 

Golden locks tickle your jaw, the static energy radiating off of her shocks your skin, goosebumps come alive on every inch of you as she makes her presence known. One fact you haven’t been able to shake, Abby Anderson is a force to be reckoned with. Ten years, ten full years, and your life means nothing now that she’s right in front of you. 

“Abigail, I don’t really think this is a good idea.” Abby waits for you to push her away, but instead you place your hands around her forearms but she’s so big, and it’s intoxicating that she stands taller than you. Her biceps the size of your head, veins protruding as she flexes, as if it didn’t make matters worse. 

“Then why don’t you just admit it?” Abby presses her pelvis even closer to yours and you wonder if you’re hallucinating the barely-there kiss to below your ear. “You want me just as much as you did back then. Ten years apart won’t change that. You still care about me, even though you wish you didn’t, you do.” 

“Abigail, we can’t go there, we both are—” 

“What? I’ve always been a patient girl. I can wait.” Loudly, you groan as she peppers kisses down your neck, before scratching at her skin, when she kisses the one spot behind your ear she certainly didn’t forget about. 

Abby digs her teeth in as you hiss, she enjoys the thrill of your soft whimpers, she’s barely started and you’re giving her just what she needs. The two of you know it, there isn’t a fix for this, the thread of a craving pulls until it’s fed. 

“Oh–” 

Rough hands hoist you on the counter top as she slots herself between your thighs, her frame protecting you as if you were a wild animal trying to be saved from extinction. The greed in Abby’s palm finds salvation when she touches exposed skin, silk to the touch — it doesn’t feel quite as sinful as she’s been told. 

She should hate you, right? 

You hurt her, didn’t look back twice, and you’ve never been the same. 

All of this is just a facade. The life you have, the future you always dreamed of building is thousands of miles from here and she just doesn’t fit within it anymore, everyone tells her she never did. A missing puzzle piece with a jagged edge, the more Abby tries to fit with your world, the further she pushes away. 

But she held onto the hope that your world no longer fit you and maybe — like a fool who believes in their first dream — she could be your world again. 

Sparkling, honey-blues dazzle their way into your heart once again, reminding you of everything you love, striking a reminder through your soul of just what you had hurt. The life you stole, the one you wanted to so desperately have but fear still swarms you. The memory doesn’t feel so distant, the past isn’t the past but lies as a reminder of the blood still staining your hands. 

With hesitance, you hold her full-freckled cheeks in your palms with a delicate hand, fearful any touch from you would burn her in the process. 

“Do you think this is a good idea?” You bite into the isolating air, threatening to swarm your soul but she finds you first. Abby’s warm breath feeds into the need blossoming like a seed rooted in soil, solidifying the growth of budding salvation. 

“I don’t know. Do you?” 

She’s so sweet on you, even as the trickle of poison burns her, Abby would gladly let it absorb every inch of her skin if it meant this. The wondrous arrival of a love once lost, her heart torn right down the middle. Unsure if giving into reason or a festered dream. 

It all grabs a hold of her the same, unwillingly to release her from the pure agony she feels when you’re not around. More dramatic than she intended it to be, the dagger once pushed through her heart, exerting every drop of blood until she felt unsatisfied iron saturating her tongue. 

She would even show gratitude if you let her. 

“Everything I think I know changes when you’re involved, so no, I don’t.” 

Leaning into your touch, Abby swears into the palm of your hand, her hands smooth over the fabric of your pants and your entire skin leaves a trail of fire anywhere her large, calloused hand scorns you. The weight of her love feels heavy, as it always has, but the temptation to carry every ounce of it is heavier than it’s been in years. 

With a terror in your chest, you blurt out the first thought entering you mind.  “You’ve aged really well, can barely tell you’re hitting thirty.” 

“Oh yeah? I can think of a few ways to show you.” 

Shit. 

A rapid heartbeat ready to burst, you’re not sure if it’s you or her. She’s inching closer, lips ghosting yours, her minty-ice breath makes home over yours. With a slight graze, you inhale a sharp breath, read for her to lean into you. 

Slam! 

“Am I interrupting something?” Immediately, you push Abby off of you, a judging pair of eyes scanning the two of you. 

The woman from the party looked like she could actually kill you with her bare hands. Then there’s Ellie sitting there grinning like the joker, one giggle away from sounding like the maniac himself. As if she was fully aware this would happen. The two of you are running off of pure animal instinct, unable to keep your hands off one another. 

“Abby? What’s going on?” The snip in the woman’s voice is evident, so is the possession she so clearly feels over your ex-girlfriend. The jealousy you feel over the thought sends an unwanted shiver up your spine. 

Then she’s looking at you, expecting you to disintegrate into nothing right in front of her. Like you had done something terribly wrong. 

Didn’t Abby say she’s single? 

“Chill out, Hazel.” Ellie rolls her eyes, smirking at the steam practically boiling out of Hazel’s ears. “Ready for that drink? Dina and Jesse are already waiting.” 

“Uh—” She looks back at you, avoiding eye contact with everyone. “Yeah, can you just give me a sec?” 

“But I really think we should—” 

“Down Hazel, god, you’re worse than a dog. They clearly were about to suck each other’s faces off. Move it.” 

Hazel clearly looks offended as she desperately looks at Abby, hoping for her to save a little bit of dignity but Abby just punches the bridge of her nose as Ellie escorts out an extremely frigid Hazel. 

Abby doesn’t miss the way the woman who has far too big of a crush on her tries to shoot daggers into you but you’re too busy focused on plucking your overgrown cuticles. 

As soon as the door shuts you bend over the counter, forehead pressed into the white marble of the island, settling for a frustrated groan even when you want to scream. 

“That bad, huh?” Abby stands behind you, watching as you lose it in front of her. 

“Your friends already hate me, was that really fucking needed?” 

There’s an itching, envious need to ask why Hazel seems to be protective over Abby, borderlining on obsession, but you keep your mouth tight lipped. Even if it’s the first thing ready to roll off your tongue. 

“They’re fine, Hazel is just—” 

“Protective.” You avoid her as she smirks, clearly enjoying the clear look of jealousy in your beautifully bright eyes. 

“Oh?” Abby is grinning, pearly whites shining as majestic as the moon. “I didn’t think you’d even feel like that about me.” 

As if it's instinct, she can’t stop how much she’s loving this. One moment of her lips on your skin and suddenly you want her all to yourself. Your head is spinning and her stupid, blue eyes won’t stop looking at you like a divine treasure. 

“I-I don’t know what to say.” 

You never did well with things out of your control, never really could. It’s why all of it ended the way it did. If you couldn’t somehow manipulate into what you wanted, it faded until you couldn’t hear it any longer. Abby faded into the noise, into your past, but maybe she is the noise and for the first time in ten years you can finally hear. 

“You don’t have to say anything but you can come with me.” 

“With your friends?” Abby nods. 

“All of your friends hate me and one looks like she might actually kill me. Why on earth would you think that’s a good idea?” 

“All of them are adults. They’ll handle just fine besides,  I want you there.” As soon as Abby says those words, your harsh seamer softens, rejection melts and dissipates from your vocabulary. She’s always been a difficult person to say no to. “You could use some social interaction, you don’t even leave this guest house.” 

“How did you know that?” 

“I have eyes?” Abby states it as more of a question, a giggle threatening to bubble out. 

“Oh god.” Abby laughs as she takes off her tool belt before finding her jacket and slipping it on her body. Grabbing her keys on the counter, looping the carabiner on the loop of her weathered denim. 

“Ready?”  

There’s a look of uncertainty in your eyes, nearly bleeding into an unwillingness to bend, but her words reassure you before you even get a chance to explain. As if she settled in your heart ten years ago and never left. 

“Don’t worry, okay? If anyone’s mean to you, I’ll set them straight, Cherry.” 

The nickname falls off her tongue, the sentiment hits you like a tsunami of emotion, bringing you back to every loving emotion she exposed to you for the first time. 

It shouldn’t cut you this deep but it will — she always will. 

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞 ❞

March 26th, 2013 

“C’mon dance with me!” Abby screams over the loud music of the party. Fluorescent lights, a disco ball and tequila raged through her body, the alcohol pumping through her veins as she finally mustered the liquid courage to talk with the girl she’s been crushing on all sophomore year. 

Her friends had been teasing her all night about it, but when the girl looked at her in disgust, shoulder checking her into oblivion, she couldn't help but take it to heart. Her blue eyes swell with tears, a waterfall raging within her as she makes her way to the bathroom, puking out her dinner at her father’s house. 

So much for prom night, right? 

Making a beeline for the bathroom, with yet another rejection to check off the list, stupid fucking after party she lied to her dad about going to. It’s all so stupid, of course Lacey wouldn’t be into someone like her. No one likes her, no one ever will, she’s just the lame screw up in this town who can’t like boys, not when the rest of the girls in the wretched town do. 

Even if her dad tells her, it’s what makes her special — it’s a bunch of horse shit. 

So, in the home of the girl she confessed her undying love for, she pukes her guts out in the bathroom until there’s a knock at the door and a soft yet concerned shout that follows. “Hey, are you okay? Sounds a little rough in there!” 

“Shit,  yeah, just one second…” Abby collects herself taking off her jacket as she rolls up the sleeves, residue of what she chucked up on the cuff of her shirt. Quickly, she rinses off and roles the sleeves up. 

Well, it didn’t get any more embarrassing than this. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? I can get someone it’s really not a pro—” 

Without a further beat, the door is swung open. Abby suspects to see someone she knows, but she doesn’t. It’s a fresh face and she’s never been more grateful. The eyeliner she thought Lacey would like was probably smudged all over her face, Abby had no doubt she probably resembled someone operating an oil rig of some kind. 

Just as Abby tries to talk, she feels another round come up and she runs to the toilet, sinking to her knees as more bile comes out. Way to go Anderson, you’ve managed to utterly humiliate yourself in front of two beautiful women tonight. Truly, there should be some type of an award for being the dumbest idiot on the planet. 

Somehow, she knows all of this will come back to bite her in the ass. There’s no way that she isn't the complete laughing stock of the high school until she walks across the stage in two years with a diploma on hand. Whoever you are, you’re sure you’ll tell the entire town. 

A stupid pathetic lesbian who can’t have one good night to save her life. 

One of the most important nights of her life. 

But she doesn’t hear a mockery laugh, a snide comment…she isn't even met with pure disgust. The third and fatal option. There’s a comforting hand on her back, reassuring her everything will be just fine, the other holding her hair into  a makeshift ponytail, ensuring there isn't a single strand getting tied into the mess of her sickness. 

By the time Abby’s done, she feels even more humiliated, her body running hot, cheeks aflame but you’re already running warm water underneath the towel folded on the shelf above the toilet. Kneeling down again, you angle her by the jaw, wiping the residue off her lips and you carefully wash away the black eyeliner smeared all over her freckled-cheeks. 

For a second, Abby notices you staring at her pouty lips but she doesn’t say a word about it. 

Turned out so wonderful the first time…

“Here!” You pull from your pocket, a pack of red labeled gun, cherry flavored, and pull out one piece wrapped in paper-tin foil. “For your, you know, breath.” 

“Is this your nice way of telling me I have bad breath?” Abby teases, one moment with a pretty stranger, and she already felt more like herself. Abby takes a piece of gum, unraveling the piece before shoving the strip into her mouth. 

“Well, you did puke.” 

Regretfully she chews as the taste turns sweet instead of mint, her face contorts in rejection but still she chews. It’s not exactly what she had in mind. 

“You don’t like Cherry flavored? That’s just bad taste!” You grab a piece of gum for yourself, throwing the piece of paper in the trash, consuming it wholeheartedly, almost moaning as you put on a show. 

“Whatever you say, Cherry.” The sun might as well be shining on you from just how warm you feel. Heat rising in your heart, blossoming through your chest, thriving from the attention of the sun, 

“Hey! That’s not fair. I don’t know your name.” 

“Well, I don’t know yours either…” Abby hints, tilting her head to the side with a smirk the size of Texas. For once, she finds this easy, talking to a pretty girl, flirting with a pretty girl — proving it didn’t always have to be so hard to have something this good. 

“Call me Cherry, it’s better than my real one, trust me.” You smile sweetly, fully willing to rot each tooth if it means you could feel like this. “What’s yours?” 

“Abigail.” 

The two of you just stare at each other like idiots, two losers, two outcasts and all of it started to make sense. Every heartache dealt out by careless handlers of the heart, each person who made you feel small, unworthy, who knew all of it could be healed by looking into the brightest pair of blue eyes, the warmest, full of honey and marvelous wonder. 

It feels wonderful, being this close to a feeling, a lover's dream in the sunshine of spring, kissing shoulders never exposed to the brightful joy, freckles sprouting like bees flees to honey. One more kiss of sunshine until the sweetness falls on your tongue, guiding you to the spirit of love and everything you ever lost. 

One person, one perfect person who makes your youth scream of joy again. Jumping off a cliff, plummeting into the cool ocean without second thought, hoping they’ll be there to jump off it with you. Even if it takes a lifetime of waiting — you’d wait your entire life for her. 

As long as she’s in the sun, freckles being painted by pure light, you’d soak in the sun right along with her. 

“Thank you.” She squeaks out the words so small, you nearly miss it. 

“There’s no need for thanking. Just doing the right thing s’all.” Your smile is so sweet, Abby nearly feels every part of her body rotting with sugar. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“There was just this girl and I really thought she liked me but she really didn’t and I have this thing where I get a lot of anxiety or nervous I kind of just puke. It’s totally lame, god, I can’t wait to get out of this place.” 

“Me too. High school sucks.” You agree with her, offering a small smile as you finish cleaning her up. “But she’s totally lame for not seeing how great you are.” 

Abby tries not to blush, but she can’t hit the crimson swell painting the apples of her cheeks and the tips of her ears. “Did you try to kiss her or something?” 

“I didn’t really get that far, she wouldn’t even dance with me. Not here, not prom, guess I’m not cool enough for her.” Pushing the metal frame of her glasses up her nose, trying to stop herself from biting into her blunt nails, nearly drawing blood. Now that she’s come down from her puking fest, she sees how beautiful you are. The kind of beauty that would bring her to her knees if Abby wasn’t already there. 

“Cool is overrated. Who cares about being cool? We’re all losers trying to figure it out.” You say it as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world, as if you’re confident in exactly who you want to be. Abby is envious of it. She wonders what it’s like to be so free — to not wonder what everyone is constantly thinking about you — if you’re good enough. 

You don’t seem to care. 

“If you still wanna dance, I’d dance with you. We can be losers together.” You offer up to her as you stand to your feet, offering a hand up to her and she takes it willingly. You grab the jacket to her suit, helping her slip into it and she smoothes the jacket over her frame. 

“You really don’t have to—” But you look at her with the most absurd gaze of refusal, eyebrows furrowed as it makes this cute little line between them.  Abby can’t help but admire it. 

“Oh, we’re going to fucking dance and show whoever this bitch is just what she’s missing.” 

Present day. 

There’s a lot to be said for how you let yourself succumb to her again, it didn’t take much, just a batting of blonde eyelashes and irresistible pouty lips and you’d fallen victim to Abigail Anderson. The hardest thing you’ve ever done was leave her. All these years later, you’re right back to where you were before all of this had started. 

It seems to shock all of her friends when the two of you walk on together and even more shocking when Abby throws her arm behind you, engaging in conversation here and there. Mostly, you tune out the conversation and mindlessly sip on the beer in front of you. 

Hazel isn’t happy about the predicament, cold brown eyes sport a simmering guidance of rage as she watches Abby’s fingers on your shoulder tracing random patterns into your skin. The arrival of your presence in turn makes her take jabs at you all night. Even with your silence, it doesn’t stop her, and when you have no visceral reaction she finally goes for something that brings silence around the entire table. 

“Why are you even here? Breaking Abby’s heart wasn’t enough the first time? Why don’t you run back to your sick mother and stop playing with people just because it’s fun for you.” Hazel bites and you feel the swarm of your tears begin to build and she keeps going, “Isn’t that why you came back? Not because you actually care but because your mom is going to die.” 

“Sorry, excuse me—” Hazel scoffs as you slither away and head towards the bathroom. As if she’s accomplished, she sips on her margarita, like what she just did was a service to everyone here. 

Ellie and Dina sit there in shock, trying to process what the fuck had just happened. Jesse sits there silently, discomfort written all over his face. But Abby? She’s filled with a soaring hot rage, face flushed violet as her knuckles turn white. Hazel immediately shrinks into the booth, unprepared for what’s about to happen. 

She thought Abby would be happy, kicking someone who so wrongly hurt her to the curb. You didn’t deserve her. You never would. Hazel deserves you. She’s been here, waiting for Abby to see her and love her, not you. 

“What the fuck is your problem? Cherry wasn’t even doing a goddamn thing and you’ve been attacking them all damn night.” Abby’s rage is palpable, steaming to the touch, and nothing like any of them have ever seen. 

“I did this for you! She treated you horribly! She broke your heart! She deserves it.” 

Abby pinches the bridge of her nose, tossing her head against the wall, “This has got to fucking stop. Cherry broke up with me goddamn ten years ago and it’s none of your business.” Hazel could practically see the steam rolling off her before Abby raised her voice even more, “You didn’t have a right to bring up her mom regardless of whatever happened. Jesus, if I want to be around her or want Cherry around, everyone here is just going to have to fucking deal.” 

“Abby, we’re just trying to look out for you. Cherry only ever thinks about herself.” 

“Well fucking don’t. I can handle myself despite whatever you think I can deal with. Stay the fuck away from her or you’ll live to regret it.” 

Throwing a twenty on the table to cover her tab, she finds you washing your face, trying to get rid of the puffiness in your eyes. When you see her, you turn her away, a lame attempt to stop her from seeing you like this. 

Weak. Overbearing. A winded rush pressing on your lungs, struggling to breathe — you didn’t need any of this. Not to be back right where it all destroyed you. Then here she is, the living reminder of your transgressions, your failure, the one thing you couldn’t fix. 

All roads lead to her. All of it is sick and twisted. The look of love pierces through your soul, scouring through the place you keep hidden under lock and key; the part that still loves her. 

It demands attention. To be heard. To be seen. To violate you and your dreams, to place her before everything else. A violent reminder of how all of this started. Before you could catch up with the tide, everything flips, your entire life becomes a reflection of what you feared. 

Abby has her life together and yours is coming apart. 

Everyone hates you for what you become. For how little you cared about leaving the first twenty years of your life behind, a chapter closed and discarded as if it never existed to you in the first place. 

“Let me take you home, alright? I’m sorry for Hazel she’s—” 

“It’s fine.” You cut her off, drying your eyes, or trying to but you can’t stop crying in the first place. “It was stupid of me to agree to this.” 

“You aren’t stupid, sorry, she was being a cunt. It won’t happen again. I won’t let it happen.” 

Abby carefully wipes your tears away, “Hey, let’s get out of here. Yeah? My place is just up the street. Just the two of us.” 

You nod as Abby leads you out, her palm feels welcoming in your grip, a homecoming you have been dying to feel. Her touch feels warm, perfect as her fingers interlock with your own. Like no time has passed, it’s easy for you to slip back into her grasp. 

Everything about her feels right. When she helps you get in her truck, the old one her father always wanted to renovate and it seems she did just that. The ride is only a couple minutes before she’s parking in the garage of her home. She opens the door for you, a hand on your back as she leads you towards the door leading into her house. 

What you expect to be a farmhouse, a hint of southern barn meets boho chic, but you’re met with something else entirely. 

It’s exactly what she talked about building growing up. Everything else feels modern except the cherry red kitchen with white accents and marble countertops. There’s cherries everywhere, but it’s subtle enough to the naked eye, you wouldn’t blink twice.

The memory comes back to you in a hot flash, one you weren’t fond of. 

“We can have it all. I’ll buy you a damn house, I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need, I want this, Cherry. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. I love you, please, can’t you see a future with both of us?” 

“But I don’t want to be here. You know that! My dad can hardly look at me because I’m with a woman, my mom tries but she doesn’t understand. Is this the kind of life you want? They remind me that I’m not good enough. Who I love isn’t good enough, not if I’m not with a man. Can you understand I’m dying to get out of this nothin’ town?” 

Abby gnaws at her bottom lip, teeth drawing blood as she sees you drawing within yourself. Pulling back at the first sign of hardship. Even Abby wonders if she’s worth fighting for. 

“You mean dying to get away from me? I’m in this nothin’ town you despise so much.” 

“Abigail, you’re taking words out of my mouth, that’s not what I’m saying.” 

“You just want to leave and I don’t.” You look at her, her adorable pout in a frown, arms she’s been bulking for the past couple years begin to show definition. The freckles she hates grew more prominent on her skin as she spent the summer working for father’s construction company. 

Her life is here, her future is here, but for once since the two of you met, your own two different paths and no matter how much you love her — it just won’t work. 

“We’re eighteen! Our entire lives are in front of us. I can’t stay here, Abigail. I just can’t. I dream of a big city, somewhere my stories will take me places, a life that I can’t find here.” 

“You got the scholarship, didn’t you?” Abby barks, her chest puffing out, jaw clenching as she pleads for you to tell her the truth. “Tell me the truth. You’ve been lying to me, hoping I’d change my mind?” 

“I wasn’t lying. I just—” 

“What? You were just going to leave one morning and never come back? Like I mean nothing to you?” Abby removes her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Like the past two years have just been what? A way for you to pass time until your real life comes along. Fucking great.” 

“I told you from the start, I want more. I need to do more! No one gets into NYU around here and certainly not on a scholarship. I have a chance for a real future, a way out from my parents, a new life, I’ve always wanted this. You know I have.” 

“And I’ve always wanted you.” 

Silence engulfs the room, a pindrop could be heard, the tension could be cut with a knife but Abby sees the wall closing around you. Covering her from the heart you slowly opened up to her, what she fought tooth and nail for. She always fought for you but it’s hard to do anything when you don’t believe this is worth saving. 

“You don’t even have the decency to ask me.” 

“What?” 

“You just want to write me off. You lump me with everyone else because you don’t even give me the chance.” 

“What are you saying?” 

Abby’s blue eyes turn into ice, all the warmth void as the chill sends a shiver down your spine. Her throat feels tight, like even if she swallows her own spit she’ll choke. 

“Do you love me enough to make this work?” Abby flinches when you don’t immediately answer, because she knows where she stands, she would follow you across the world if it meant that’s what you wanted. To make you happy. But she can’t help but feel like she’s splitting herself apart for someone who doesn’t care in the way she does. 

With tears in your eyes, they cascade down your cheek before whispering to her, “I don’t.” 

“Get. Out.” She murmurs through clenched teeth, using the sleeve of her t-shirt, one you gifted her, to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. The overflow of the heartache racked through her body like she’s never felt before. 

You don’t love her. You don’t love her. You never loved her. 

“Abs, please, don’t make me leave like this. Can we talk about this?” 

“What’s there to fucking talk about? We don’t love me, Cherry. What else is there to fucking say?” 

You nearly scream, not sure why anything you’re saying isn’t coming out the way you intended it to. “You’re not listening to me I—” 

“Right. You just need to find a man, right? God, you’re just like Lacey.” 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You bite, and if looks could kill, Abby would be dead right now. She’s struck a nerve, the memory of sophomore year comes flooding back to her, back when all of this started. “God, fuck you. How could you possible compare me to the straight girl that pulled you along because what she really wanted was Daniel Collins to fuck her so stupid she ended up pregnant junior year.” 

“You’re leaving, when your back is pressed up against a wall, you’ll always leave, Cherry.” 

“But I—” You stop yourself before you could speak the forbidden words, the ones you’ve said to her a million times, the one you just refuted that you did even if she can usually call you right on your bullshit. But you’ve diluted her sense of reasoning and all she hears is her girlfriend of two years just told her she doesn't love her. 

“You what? What other lies are you going to tell me?” 

“Fine.” Your expression turns stone cold, “Let’s both be done with it then. There’s nothing left to fight for.”  

Prideful ego gets in the way of what Abby wants and she finally lets her head speak for her, “Sounds good to me.” 

“Are you alright?” Abby asks but then she notices you’re just staring at her kitchen and she’s never been so self-conscious in her life. She didn’t even think about it, she’s so used to others seeing it but it’s different when your muse is taking in the craft you created with them in mind. 

“Oh, right, the cherries.” She stutters out, scratching the back of her neck as she turns the lights on. It smells of vanilla and something oak, just like she smelled in high school. To others it may seem boring but it’s refreshing to know she’s still the same as she was. 

“You still did it?” 

“Yeah, it’s kinda lame honestly, maybe I should have done something else but nothing ever fit right with the rest of the house so.” Abby pops open a beer, somehow needing to have some type of liquor while you gawk at the work she created with you in mind. “If I’m being honest, I think it was just a way for me to hold onto you. I sure didn’t think I would ever see you again.” 

“Me neither.” You answered truthfully, the loss of Abby rattled you, even though you were better at hiding it. Losing her is still the most painful loss you had to endure, which she considers fortunate, but not fortunate enough. “I always thought about what would have happened if I hadn’t been so headstrong. I think I had to convince myself in order to leave, I would have stayed here for you if not.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” Even if she pretends not to be, Abby’s still bitter. 

“Why?” 

“You always knew what you wanted out of life and that wasn’t me.” Abby chews on her bottom lip again, picking the label of the beer before taking another swig. “Hell, you left before I even got a chance to say goodbye.” 

“What?” Eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you take a step forward, “Did you come to the house?” 

“Of course I did. I wasn’t going to leave things like that. Did you not—” 

“No, I didn’t know, I thought that was it. I didn’t expect there to be more for my sake.” 

The way she looks at you feels like she’s peering into her soul, the way she sees you so clearly, better than anyone ever has, chilling you to your core. Bits and pieces of your love located in eyes that glimmer only for her, light electrified the moment your sights are set on her. 

It feels like falling in love with a broken melody. 

You admire the imperfections instead of leaving at the bridge. 

“I waited on your porch for hours but then your parents came home, saying they just had gotten back from dropping you off.” 

In a matter of moments, your entire world feels flipped, like everything you had known for the last ten years, a terrible lie you wished to never know. A nightmare you would hope to wake up from. That’s all this was, you would wake up in her father’s home as you fought in the kitchen, you convince yourself not to let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

“You came back for me?” 

Closing the space between the two of you, grabbing her beer and placing it on the countertop. Abby takes an intake of breath as you invade every part of her personal space. As corny as it sounds, you do smell of cherries. So sweet, her bones feel weak with need, as if she doesn’t inhale the sugar she’ll just crumble at your feet, begging for just one drop. 

“Yeah, I cried in front of your dad who hated me at the time, might I add. After that, he was kind, I think because he saw how much I…you know…” 

You remember how much he changed when you came home for the holidays three years later. Naturally, you always accepted he had just come around over time, but it wasn’t that at all — the weeps of your high school girlfriend convinced him. 

“Guess he saw how much I loved you or something…I don’t know…” She shrugs like it’s nothing. 

Like she's nothing; the careless lie you let her believe. 

Even with her dominating physical presence, she’s always been shy about this sort of thing. Expressing her feelings never really came easy, even if she wore them with her heart on her sleeve, admitting them was different than feeling them. 

“You changed his mind.” 

“He would have gotten there eventually. I’m sure he liked whoever you dated after me.” 

“Hm.” You grimly laugh, “He didn’t. Not the two I brought home but he always spoke fondly of you, he definitely likes you better then he enjoys his own kid.” 

Patient she is watching you process the information, it’s almost too much for her to swallow. What if you had been home when she was going to say goodbye? Would this be your home with her? The dreams of kissing her in the kitchen, cherry inspired, the family home she always wanted to build for the two of you. Now she’s here with no one but herself. Withering away the soul of a woman who only wanted love. 

“He loves you and if he doesn’t, that’s his loss. Trust me, I know it too well.” 

The confession hangs on the walls like a memorial, taking a trip down memory lane, or more like the hell of your own making. Demons you conjured cast over your past as if they only exist in hollow halls. The deeper you go, the more your heart slivers in the cracks of her delicate grip. For the first time, you don’t mind when she presses on your heartbeat — demanding more with just looking at you the way she does. 

The way she always has. 

“Do you still love me?” 

“Are you going to run away if I tell you?” 

Lips ghost over you, her breath hits your face, making it flush with heat. She leans against the counter, wrapping your back with one of her arms, tugging you close to her. 

“Abby, I’m a mess.” 

“I know.” 

“I don’t know what my family is going to look like or my future.” 

“I know.” 

“Abigail, would you stop saying that?” 

“I’ve only ever cared about you, I don’t care if your life is together. I’m here and I—” She dips her head to kiss down your neck, decorating your collarbones with her lips as she creates a map back to where she wants to the most, “will take care of you.” 

Abby kisses you like the air in her lungs is expendable, as she has endless amounts to give. That’s all she is love, pouring into every ounce of you that she can find. With desperate abandon, she wants to wipe your memory of every wrong she ever did you — she only wants to remind you of the reason why she loves you. Maybe it’ll be enough for you to wake up in her arms again. 

For once, she might be enough. 

“We don’t have to do this, I don’t know what it all means and—” 

“Right now? I don’t fucking care.” Abby leeches off your neck, kissing and delicately sucking, grazing her sharp teeth against sensitive skin. “I just want you.” 

Thoughtless abandon goes out the window as she guides you back into her apartment, off the spacious balcony and corners you into her room. Letting you fall on her bed as she stands above you, as she strips in front of you. Making a show of it, torturing you for sport, before she goes in for the kill. 

The alcohol still alive in your mind as she pulls off, a freckled maze maps its way all over her body. The subtle blonde happy trails travels underneath her navel and disappears beneath the fabric of her denim jeans. Your own self-control begins to slip, but Abby is too concerned with evening out the playing field. Even if this is a long-lasting goodbye, she’s going to make it last. 

Slipping your trousers down your legs, she’s met with cotton boxers — soaked all the way through. 

“Is that all for me?” Abby snaps the waistband against your skin as you squirm underneath your touch, bucking your hips into the air. Impossibly desperate for her touch. 

“Y-Yes, It’s for—” Irrevocably your eyes roll back into your skull, “Abigail, oh shit, shit, shitttt.”  

Sneaking a hand in your boxers, she opens up your inviting folds, slippery and as Abby glides along, collecting your slick with the calloused fingers. You squirm and shift, bucking into her hand, waiting for more to be given to you. 

“Just say my name like that pretty girl, so good for me, aren’t you?” Abby removes her hand as she pulls your boxers off your legs and without being asked she slides them down your legs as she pushes your shirt up to your tits, exposing the swell of your breasts to her possessive eyes, waiting to lay claim onto what she’s missed for the past ten years. 

“I wonder if you’re just as…” Abby takes a beat before rubbing over your hard nipple along her tongue, her denim-glad thigh grinding against your thigh as she suckles at your breasts. “Sensitive.” 

She moans into your skin, using her free hand to play with your pussy, soft strokes to your clit as she elicits more moans from you. The force of her strength and weight keeps you down, the stutter of your hips chasing her fingers. 

“My pretty baby, not so mean and bossy anymore, huh?” She bites your nipple gently before whispering in your ear, “Did you miss me that much?” 

“I just want more, please.” 

In any other circumstance, she happily would make you pay for it. Wait even, but if she doesn’t have you in her mouth for another second, she won’t survive. You’re so beautiful, you’re perfect in every conceivable way. The years had in fact been kind to you, different from what she knew when the two of you had sex but god, she thinks you’re even more exquisite now. 

“More?” Abby removes what remains of her clothing, leaving you to gawk at her muscled frame, small tits frame her chest perfectly. “How about you sit on my face, angel? How does that sound?” 

She’s already made you come twice, just on her tongue alone, pushing for a third as she holds you by the waist, waiting for your overstimulated body to give into her once more. 

Abby makes everyone look inadequate when it comes to her, no one could touch you like this, fuck you like this, slither their talent tongue inside your waiting hold as you take her out for a ride. Muffled moans against your dripping cunt sends shivers throughout your spine, body twitching as you feel yourself hurling closer to the edge. 

You can’t help but ride her face as your head lies on the bundle of curves covering her mound and you’ve been too fucked out the entire time to do anything but you can’t help but notice the way her patient cunt is shining with her slick. Curiosity blooms within you as you notice the slight thrust of her hips, chasing a part of you that isn’t there. 

With no sudden warning, you vigorously rub on her wet folds, applying pressure on her bundle of nerves as you spread her sweet juices along her puffed lips. 

“Baby, nghhh, oh my god.” Abby slurps as she sucks your clit into her mouth before you fall right over the edge again. Her eager tongue fucks your through it with her tongue, letting your ride the high as your nails scratch her stomach, marking her as yours once again. 

Abby helps your weak body slide down her legs, flipping you over as your pussy falls against her, her legs spread open as your head rests against her sternum, feeling the increased rate of her heart beat thump against her chest. 

She smooths her hand over your hair, gorgeous hypnotic eyes pull at Abby’s heart. “We should get some sleep.” 

“We can…unless you want to entertain a thought I’m having.” Abby raises her eyebrow as rotate your hips, clit bumping against hers as she throws her head back, a string of curses fall from her lips as she grips onto your hips. Happily, she lets you take control, pushing her strong leg over your shoulder as you glide against her soaked pussy. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, holy fucking shit—” 

Perfect tits bouncing as you rock your hips against her movement, the more you look in her eyes, you feel yourself yearning for another release. It’s never been this good, never with anyone. The moans she whispers, kept in the secret coven of your love, the spells she casts to keep you near — it trumps anything you’ve ever felt. 

“Keep looking at me, Abigail.” The whine of her full name, only ever falling from your lips, the most wonderful symphony. It’s intoxicating how much she loves it. How much she loves you. Deep in her bones, even if she tries her best to pull away, she knows not a damn thing will ever compare to this. For this life and the next, she’ll be searching for you in everyone she meets. 

She can’t live another moment with you. Not after ten years of agony, fuck no, she needs you like she needs oxygen to breathe. You’re not sure how long it takes, but you don’t forget how Abby looks at you with a tender heart that basically pours out of her. 

“Baby, please. N-N-gh, I need you.” You push her forward, hitting a deeper angle than you were before until you hear just how wet she is with your forehead pressed against hers, “Show me how my pretty girl comes, yeah? Need a reminder, princess.” 

Abby moans out your name, her body fucking up into you, slithering her convulsing cunt against your clit as her defined abdomen twitches and only relaxes when you follow her lead, you body collapsing on her. Two hearts beats become one as the two of you fall asleep, a quiet whisper of I love you, but you’re not sure if it falls from your lips or hers. 

The morning air breathes lilies and fresh espresso, her sweet cinnamon cologne lingers in her sheets, where she held you all night with her heavenly embrace. Reality sinks in and then you’re afraid once again. You slip one of her button up shirts on, pulling on a pair of her sweats before your feet are met with the cool wooden floors. 

She’s sitting there, those stupid glasses she apparently didn’t get rid of. Making her look stupid cute as she read the velvet-green covered book in her large palms. 

It’s easy for her to tell how you feel, Abby knows you too well as she watches you with cautious eyes. You’re so afraid of it all. Always, you’ve been afraid of what she makes you feel, how close she pushes you to the edge of no return. A love you feel helpless to, especially when it eats you from the inside out. 

“Do you wanna leave? I can take you home.” Abby doesn’t even look up from her book, she sounds annoyed, completely different than her vulnerable demeanor last night. It puzzles you when she closes herself off. 

“Am I missing something? Did I do something wrong?” 

Abby folds her book, marking the page on the sharp corner before she takes off her glasses. “You don’t owe me anything if that’s what you’re worried about. You felt like you didn’t before. You in all your city glory.” 

Something happened. 

“Abby, what’s going on?” 

“You tell me.” She places your phone on the table and it’s the email detailing of your new book tour in Europe. One that lasts the better part of the year. 

“You snooped through my phone?” 

“I didn’t mean to, I thought it was mine, okay? I would never do that.” Abby sighs, “I really didn’t mean to fucking look. I just, it’s happening all over again, I’m losing you over something. I’m never what you pick and I can’t ever be enough for you. Even Hazel was right! All you do is hurt me and it’s my fault because I let you. I can’t keep chasing you. It’s a stupid dream I’m too dumb enough to let go of.” 

“So, that’s it? Last night was just what? A mistake?” 

“I didn’t say that—” 

“But you did! Fuck, I should have known things wouldn’t change.” 

“You should have known? This is the same reason why you left me. I’ll lose you, again, to something I can’t compete with. The both of us know it to be true. At least have the decency to admit it.” 

“Do you want me to apologize? I did what I wanted! I have everything I wanted. This is everything I’ve worked towards for the best ten years—” 

“But you don’t—” Abby puffs out her chest, standing taller than she has since you’ve been back. The words spill just like you did the night before, “You didn’t get everything, you made sure of it the moment you left me behind.” 

Abby has backed you into a corner, stalking you like you’re her prey but this isn’t how she wants everything to be. Looking into your dreary eyes, she’s transported back to when you shattered her heart, splitting into pieces that no longer fit. The harder she tries to piece them back, the more jagged she becomes. 

“I don’t want this. I’ve let go of it.” 

I let go of you, sounds entirely too painful to say. 

“That’s your plan? To pretend none of this has happened?” Abby’s tongue prods the inside of her cheek, a cocky smirk flashes your way. “Look at how well it turned out the first time.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your arms cross over your chest, attempting to create some distance between the two of you, but Abby only closes you in. 

“Why do you still wear it?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Abby reaches for your hand, you untangle your limbs, the pad of her thumb loving running over the silky skin. Her calloused hand feels rough, just as it always has, but it also feels right. 

The silver ring on your pinky, the one you lost and the one your father had conveniently found. But it was never him who located your perfect gem, nope. Not at all. Just Abby’s biggest fan, besides Hazel. 

The reminder of her leaves a sour taste saturating your tongue, but you have no right. It's her friend, and just because you’re not fond of her, doesn’t mean a thing. You’re just a ghost still lingering in her life. Even if she answers there’s nothing, Hazel looks at her like you used to. When the same protectiveness switched into high gear last night, she only thought of how much you would do the exact same thing Hazel did if the roles were reversed. 

Just maybe, not as cruel. 

Abby takes the ring off your thumb, it shines in the dim lighting in the room.

“The day I fell in love with you, three months into our relationship, I gave it to you. Do you remember what I said?” 

Simply, you nod. 

“Wear this for as long as you love me and when you’ve taken it off, I’ll know we’re truly done.” Abby hums, your eyes shut as her thigh wedges between your legs but it only rests there. “But I hope you wear it forever.” 

“Then let go of me, give it back, throw it away, but stop acting like you might still feel the same. I’m tired of being played. You know how much this ring means to me. Don’t leave me, again.” 

It’s a cop out for what she really wants to say, the both of you know it is, but you have the decency to let it swarm past without making a single comment. 

She’s begging for mercy. She’s tired. The lines on her skin are an indication of the hours she spends in the sun and the time passing by, engaging you in a never-ending tsunami of Abigail Anderson’s love. 

“Abigail—” You say her name like it’s a curse, a spell you keep casting to make her fall deeper in your endless abyss. “Just because it seems like a good idea doesn’t mean it’ll work out. What makes this time any different?” 

You slid away from her, needing to breathe, you can’t think when she’s too close. Serendipity finds home into honey blues, working its magic until she finds purchase in your heart once again. You’d let her get too close, more than you should let her allow. 

Abby, the heart. 

You, the head. 

The dreamer. The thinker. Forever intertwined by the deadly kiss of fate. 

“But if it did? What if we did?” 

Abby doesn’t want to beg, but she is. She learned her lesson the first time. She said nothing all those years ago, letting you take the relationship the two of you had by the reigns, your cruelty being the fatal blow to what the two of you had worked so hard to build. Naivety crushed the future right in front of her — the one she regularly dreams of. 

Each what if connected like constellations in the sky, each one just as bright as the next, Abby can’t make of which she wants. But Abby has always known it to be true, this has always been it for her but you’re so afraid. 

Still petrified to be loved. 

“I can’t let myself go through it again, if we didn’t? I can’t just—” You begin pacing, trying to get yourself into a position to clear your mind. The hope she has, it could kill you in your sleep. “I fucked up, okay? Last night shouldn’t have happened. I needed something and I used you. Is that what you want to hear? Will that satisfy you enough?” 

“I want the goddamn fucking truth, Cherry. Stop with the lies. Tell me you want this to end because you don’t love me anymore, or that you want to go on this book tour, not because you fucked up. I don’t care if you fucked me because you needed your clit sucked for the night. Tell me the truth, Cherry, please.” 

“Stop calling me that.” 

Abby chuckles maliciously, “Why? You don’t like to remember when you were in love, the only time you ever were happy, the only time you ever let anyone get close to you?” 

She attempts to get closer to you but you dodge her and walk to the other side of the room. 

“You’re quite literally running away from me. Anything but facing the truth, right?” Abby sighs into her hands. The muscles in her body are exhausted, her heart is over spent, and her mind is filled with you. Even if she doesn’t want it to be. “Do you think I want this? To feel like this? To put my heart on the line when you clearly show that you’ll discard it every damn time? Do you think this is enjoyable for me?” 

“Then stop! I’m not asking you to, just let me leave, let me go.” 

“Let the ring go.” Somehow, in your heat of emotion, you grabbed it back from her and didn't realize it had been placed back on your thumb. “You know it was my mom’s, how could you so selfishly keep this?” 

“What?” 

Fuck. Abby runs her hands through her hair,  gripping so tightly her sunkissed knuckles turn white from nearly being pulled from the root. 

“But you said this was—” 

“I lied! I was eighteen and scared shitless, okay? I didn’t want you to—” 

“You didn't want me to….?” 

Abby sighs rubbing her hand over her face, a habit she seemed to pick up in your presence. “If I tell you, you’re just going to run.” 

You grimace, tearing up as you look at the ring, it means so much to her and all this time she was perfectly fine with thinking you got rid of it. Abby never so much as asked for it back. But everything feels more final with the ring in hand, the shining promise of something more. But the naivety of youth chilled her bones, made her believe that love like this comes and goes. It goes. And goes. And goes. 

It never comes. 

“Do you want it back?” You dodge whatever omission she was about to let fall. It’s what you do best. Avoiding the future — she’s always been ominous, constantly you’re scared to believe in the faith of her undying love. The forgiveness of her heart pours like an overflowing well. Abby teeters you along the line of grace you don’t quite deserve.   

“No.”  Abby sighs before she brings herself close to you. “I want you back, Cherry. There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted as much as you. When you left, everyone told me it’s just because you're my first love. Time heals all, right? But it doesn’t. Despite your best efforts, I’ll always love you. You’re—” 

You take a step closer to her, “I’m what?”

“You’re the love of my life. If you walk at that door, it’ll take the rest of my life to fill the gap you leave. But if you don’t love me, then please, put me out of my misery and just leave.” 

Abby looks down at the wood floors, tears collecting in her eyes as she expects you to walk out the front door, leaving her in the dust. But the slam of her front door never comes, instead you sink down on your knees resting your head on her knee, waiting for her to look down at you. 

“What?” Abby grunts. 

“There was this cute, really nerdy blonde girl, she puked on prom night, crying over some straight girl and somehow I managed to fall in love with her despite all odds but you know what the real kicker is?” You intertwined her hands with her, your head tilting to the side as your dreamily looked into sunny-blues, sticking to you like honey,

“I never, ever stopped.”

[ikkyfics]

Lullaby

dad!Remus Lupin x mom!reader

Summary: The quiet cry woke him. Remus approached cautiously, leaning over her. “Hey, my little star, it’s okay. Daddy’s here,” he whispered, his voice so soft it almost got lost in the sound of his breath.

Warnings: fluffy, est. relationship, no use of baby name, no war au, no use of y/n, after hogwarts (obviously)

A/N: just because i couldn't stop thinking about dad!remus

Masterlist

The quiet cry woke him. It wasn’t a loud or desperate sound, just enough to cut through the silence of the early morning and pierce the few seconds of peace the house seemed to hold. Remus slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the dimness of the room, and looked at you. You were still fast asleep beside him, your face relaxed, one hand gently resting on the pillow. He stayed still for a moment, contemplating the calm on your face, before carefully getting up. He didn’t want to wake you.

He walked down the hall, his bare feet making almost no sound against the wooden floor. The cry had faded to a low whimper, but it was still there, insistent, as if the baby knew he was coming. Pushing open the slightly ajar door to her room, the soft light from the nightlight revealed the small form in the crib. She squirmed restlessly, tiny fists clenched, her eyes still damp.

Remus approached cautiously, leaning over her. “Hey, my little star, it’s okay. Daddy’s here,” he whispered, his voice so soft it almost got lost in the sound of his breath. With a skill he never imagined he’d have before becoming a father, he lifted her into his arms, holding her with the tenderness she seemed to require, as though she were made of fine glass.

She was so small, so absurdly small, that he always found himself wondering how something so fragile could exist. He adjusted her little body against his chest, feeling her tiny fingers close around one of the folds of his shirt. As he rocked her gently, he looked at her face, the features still so delicate, so full of possibilities. “Do you have any idea how loved you are?” he whispered. “No, of course not. But you are. So much it almost hurts.”

He continued rocking her softly, his large hands contrasting with her little body. Every movement felt like a miracle. He looked at his own hands, marked with old scars, the uneven lines crossing the skin like memories of another life. A life where he never could have imagined being here, in this house, holding his daughter in his arms. “You know, sometimes I still think this is a dream. That I’ll wake up and all of this will just be something I made up to feel less alone.”

He let out a low laugh, almost humorless, but the little one responded with a soft sound, as if trying to talk to him. “Ah, so you are really here, huh?” he said, squeezing her a little tighter against him. “You and your mum… you’ve made everything so real. So much better.”

His thoughts drifted to you, sleeping in the room next door. He remembered so many nights when you simply held him, even when he tried to hide the shadows in his mind. You always seemed to know. Always seemed to understand. “She’s amazing, you know?” he confided in the baby, as if she could understand him. “Your mum. She loves me in a way I never thought possible. And you? You’re proof of that. Proof that I’m not alone anymore.”

The baby began to relax, her little body growing heavier in his arms. He sat in the rocking chair beside the crib, adjusting her so she could rest against him. The room seemed wrapped in a bubble of calm, only the light sound of her breathing and the creak of the chair filling the space.

He looked at her one more time, admiring the fine lashes, the perfect curve of her cheeks. How could someone so small carry so much love? It was almost overwhelming. He leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead. ��You’ll never need to doubt that, you know? How much you are loved. I promise.”

The almost imperceptible sound of the door creaking made him raise his head, his senses still sharp from the restlessness of the days following the full moon. For a moment, his body tensed, but then he saw her. You were there, standing in the doorway, your face softly lit by the light of the nightlight. Your eyes held concern, but also something else—something he recognized, and that made his heart tighten: pure love.

“You should be resting,” you said, your voice soft to not disturb the little one.

He smiled, that smile that always seemed to hold a world of unspoken stories. “And so should you,” he replied, gently rocking the chair while keeping the baby nestled against his chest. “I heard her little cry, and I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

You moved closer slowly, your eyes fixed on him and the sleeping baby. Each step seemed filled with care, as if you, too, didn’t want to break the magical stillness of the moment. When you reached them, you crouched beside the chair, your hand gently touching his thigh. “Remus…” you began, hesitating but with a voice full of affection. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. It’s been so few days since the last full moon. You need to rest.”

He let out a low laugh, almost inaudible, as he looked at you. “I’m fine,” he said, but the way his eyes darted away for a brief moment gave him away. “Besides, look at her…” He tilted his head to look at the little one in his arms, a soft glow in his eyes. “How could I want to be anywhere else?”

You smiled, but there was a tender weight in your expression. “I heard what you said,” you murmured. He lifted his gaze to you, confused for a moment, until he realized what you were talking about.

“You heard?” he asked, and there was something vulnerable in his voice, something he rarely let show.

You nodded, your eyes beginning to shine with unshed tears. “About how you think this might be a dream… About how you love us. I just want you to know that this is real, Remus. We are real. I am real. And I love you more than anything in this world.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned a little forward, until their foreheads almost touched. “I know,” he whispered, his voice so full of emotion it barely came out. “It’s just that… sometimes it’s hard to believe. Not because I doubt you, but because I never thought I deserved something like this. You. Her. All of this.”

Your hand reached up to touch his face, your fingers gliding gently over the stubble that was beginning to form. “You do deserve it, Remus. And I’ll remind you of that every day, if I have to.” Your voice was firm, but full of sweetness, as if each word was a caress.

He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, before opening a small, genuine smile. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Someone has to take care of you, since you insist on taking care of everyone,” you replied, the softness turning into a hint of teasing. He chuckled quietly, and the sound warmed his chest.

“So… do you want to hold her?” he asked, shifting slightly in the chair to lift the baby with care.

You nodded and opened your arms, accepting her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. And, of course, she was. When you held her, she made a soft sound, something between a sigh and a grunt, before snuggling comfortably against you. You looked at her with an expression of pure adoration, your fingers gently stroking her back as she fell back asleep.

Remus watched for a moment, his eyes fixed on you as you rocked the baby with such tenderness that it seemed impossible for it to be anything mundane. It was as if every gesture of yours was a deliberate act of love, something he never failed to notice, even after all this time together. He reached out and adjusted a strand of hair that had fallen across your face, the touch delicate, almost reverent.

You were so close that the space between you seemed to dissolve. He let his arms rest around your body, pulling you gently closer, as if he needed this contact to anchor his own feelings. You leaned against him, the warmth of both of you creating a bubble of comfort around the little one, who was now completely peaceful, nestled in your arms.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just looked at her, your faces so close that your breaths mingled. The light from the night lamp bathed the room in a soft glow, making everything even more intimate. The baby moved her little hand, letting out an almost imperceptible sigh, and both of you smiled at the same time, as if it were the most extraordinary thing you had ever witnessed.

Remus tilted his face to the side, his lips brushing lightly against your temple as he whispered, “Thank you.”

The word was so simple, but the weight of it made you close your eyes for a moment, absorbing everything it carried. It wasn’t just a thank you for that moment. It was for everything. For you being there, for her existence, for everything he had never dared believe he could have.

“Why?” you asked softly, turning your face just enough to meet his eyes. There was a soft gleam in them, something that made your heart race even after so many moments like that.

“For this,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “For you. For her. For us. I still wonder how I got so lucky… how the universe was generous enough to give me something like this.” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t find the words to express what he felt. “I never imagined I could be this happy. This complete.”

You smiled, leaning in to brush your lips against his in a light kiss, but one full of meaning. “I feel lucky too, you know? Every day. For you, for her, for everything we’ve built together.” Your voice was soft, but every word carried the weight of an unshakable truth.

You stayed like that for a few more minutes, his arms around you, his hands covering yours as you still held the baby. The world outside seemed distant, almost nonexistent. Everything that mattered was right there, in that room.

When the little one finally fell completely asleep, you and Remus exchanged a knowing glance, as if you both knew exactly what to do without needing to say anything. He leaned in to take the baby back with all the care, holding her against his chest while you adjusted the blanket in the crib. Both of your movements were synchronized, a perfect reflection of the partnership you had built.

As he placed her in the crib, he lingered for a second longer, his fingers gently brushing her cheek. He let out a soft sigh before straightening up, passing his arms around you again as you both pulled away.

“I love you both,” he said, his voice low but so full of feeling that it made your eyes burn. You rested your head against his shoulder, your arms around his waist, as if you wanted to hold him as close as possible.

“And we love you, Remus,” you replied, squeezing him a little tighter. “Always.”

You stayed there for a while longer, just enjoying the comfortable silence, each other’s presence, and the little miracle you had before you. Everything felt so right, so perfect in that moment, that neither of you wanted to break the magic.

[lananiscorner]

Coldest hot take that ever took, but if people can understand the meaning of the word "nostalgia" and the sentiment of "god, remember when we were kids and our biggest worry in the world was whether we could have ice cream for dessert after dinner?", then they should be able to understand the urge to consume something that hearkens back to a time when the world seemed simpler (it never was, you just had adults taking over lots of shit for you and shielding you from the worst, ideally). A time when it was good enough for you to just exist and have fun and maybe learn about the importance of courage and friendship and kindness.

Also, I think a lot of the stigma around adults consuming media for kids is that puritanical panic around "but what if these adults are gonna corrupt/groom/abuse our kids???" to which all I can say is:

1) adults who want to do that will find a way to do it even without watching My Little Pony or Steven Universe or whatever.

2) Not every adult who consumes media for kids is a pedo. See the entire topic of this post.

3) You SHOULD want your kids to interact in spaces where there are adults around as well, because learning how to interact with people who are not the same age/ethnicity/affiliation as you is actually a really important life skill.

4) It will help them learn what healthy interactions with adult strangers look like, which will make it easier for them to notice when an interaction is not healthy (e.g. why is this one user so eager to get a picture of what I'm wearing today, none of the others have ever asked me for that).

5) By having adult strangers around that are not affiliated with their parents in any way, they will have someone to reach out to in case they are actually, in real life, being groomed or abused by someone they don't trust to report to their parents (e.g. dad's best friend, mom's sister, the teacher both their parents get along with so well, etc.)

"Fun" trivia: Many years ago, my mom and I used to be part of a massive anime forum/art posting site where the average age was something like 13 or so, and thanks to both of us commenting on art work a lot, we became "that one nice lady who always says what she likes about my art" and eventually "the one nice lady who's been nice enough for long enough that I want to DM her". And you would not believe the sheer amount of kids we ran into who lived in very troubled (and sometimes seriously dangerous) homes, who did not feel safe talking to their parents and who sometimes had no frame of reference for how stuff that RL adults did to them was wrong until they interacted with us in comments and DMs and realized what healthy interactions with adults at a respectful distance looked like.

Trying to remove adults who are not being creeps from fandoms for media for kids helps exactly no one other than the actual creeps who will simply pretend that they are 12 themselves.

I really have no patience for posts talking about "adults who only watch kids' cartoons," because, like...people accuse me of "only watching kids' cartoons," despite all evidence to the contrary. It doesn't matter how much I talk about other adult media I like, if I post too many things in a row about Steven Universe or The Dragon Prince or The Owl House, people come out of the goddamn woodwork to accuse me of "only watching kids' shows."

So I really can't take people seriously when they start talking about the supposed "problem" of "adults who only watch kids' shows." Are the "adults who only watch kids' cartoons" in the room with us right now, or are you basing your entire opinion of people solely on their fandom blog? Like, come on.

It makes me think of the couple years I spent volunteering in a school library. The librarian talked a lot about how it's hurtful to enforce "reading at grade-level" on every student with no nuance. Teachers would try to force their students to check out books "at proper grade-level," instead of letting students pick out whatever they wanted (even if it was "too easy"), and it resulted in a lot of students deciding books were boring, too hard, and only good for making them feel stupid. They started to hate reading entirely, because people constantly shut them down and told them they were stupid for not reading the right things. This was especially brutal on disabled students.

I personally apply the same philosophy to adults. You don't know what someone might struggle with, you don't know what someone's history is. You might think a piece of media is "too simple," but that's your experience and your opinion. People learn and grow and experience the world at different paces, and what seems to you like a "simplistic" piece of media may be the most complex, illuminating piece of media someone else has ever had the opportunity to experience. It doesn't make them "stupid" or "childish," and believing that it does is cruel and counterproductive. You cannot wield shame as a fucking cudgel if your goal is education, support, and helping people expand their horizons.

I don't think a culture of shame is helpful. I don't think a culture of "if you like 'childish' things, it means you're too stupid for anything else" is helpful. I don't think constantly making fun of children's media does anything other than demean people--and not just the people who enjoy it, but the people who make it, too.

[wlwsoccerfics]

The Tattoo(MapiXIngridXTeenReader)

Summary: you tried to hide a tattoo from your moms but failed.

You knew your moms said you needed to wait for a tattoo until you are 18 cause they really wanted you to be sure about this. Well you had other plans & didn't want to wait for two more years. So you got one of your friends who wanted to become a tattoo artist one day tattooed you. You got a little Shooting Star on your ankle. You were quite Happy with the outcome. Now you only had to make sure your moms wouldn't see the tattoo for a while.

Turned out this was harder then expected because your moms became suspicious of you when you started wearing socks around the house cause you never did that. "estrella fugaz(Shooting Star), why the socks around the house?" Mapi(your mami) asked you. "I might be getting sick, my feet are cold and i don't feel well." You told her, before your mami could say anything your mama almost leaped out of the kitchen to feel your forehead. " min lille kjærlighet(my little love), are you having a fever? do you need to lay down?" Your Mama(Ingrid) wanted to know. Feeling relief when she realized you don't have a fever. "Maybe a little nap will help!" You answered. Just glad to leave the situation without your parents finding out the real reason.

Your mama and Mami were waiting till you closed the door to your room before your mami spoke up. "Ingrid what happened to our little girl? She was acting weird. I miss the days where she sat on my shoulders playing airplane or Rollercoaster, giggling like crazy and yelling 'mami you are the fastest!' and now we have this 16 year old mysterious and grumpy Teenager!" She asked was almost pouting. Your moms had adopted you when you were 10 years old. You were always on the smaller side though. So when you were 10 you looked more like an 8 year old. Your Mama shrugged her shoulders. "Like you said Angel! She is a Teenager now! But she is a good Kid! I don't think she is hiding anything from us!" She replied. Oh If she only knew how wrong she was.

When your mama went to check on you she walked into your room since you didn't close the door entirely. "Are you feeling better, Love?" She asked. "I feel fine! It's nothing!" You Tell your Mama. "Okay. Why don't you take a shower then and Join me and Mami for a morning walk?" She suggested. You always went on morning walks with them so saying no wasn't an option. "I will be ready in 10 minutes!" You told your Mama. "Alright! We will be waiting!" Your mama replied and walked into the living room to your mami. "She is gonna join us for our walk!" Your Mama informed your mami.

You went to take a shower, humming one of your favorite songs gently. After 15 minutes you were still in the shower. "cariño! hurry!" Your Mami yelled out. You didn't hear her though. After a little longer you stepped out of the shower, dry yourself off, put on some clothes, only thing missing were socks. So you went to your room, which was outside of the bathroom cause thankfully you had your own bathroom attached to your bedroom.

You sat on your bed about to put on the socks when the door was pushed Open. You should have fully closed it. That was on you because if it would have been fully closed your Mama would have knocked. "kjære(Sweetheart), what is taking..." Your Mama stopped talking, her eyes went to your ankle. "Y/n Ebba Engen Cebrián! Is that a tattoo?!" Your Mama asked, she wasn't yelling but she was loud enough to make your Mami Show up. "What tattoo?" She asked your Mama. "Care to explain, y/n?!" Your Mama stated. "I am sorry, i love you both!" You tried to tell them. "Nice try. We Love you too but you don't get out of this that easy! Why do you have a tattoo that we told you not to get before your 18th birthday!?" Your Mami wanted to know. "I didn't want to wait! I know i shouldn't have! really i am sorry for trying to hide it from you? but it's not such a bad thing. I mean i didn't drink or do drugs. Just got a tattoo!" You told them. "You better didn't have done either or you will be grounded till you are 25!"your Mama replied, sighing softly. "Agreed! You still are in trouble for this! You are grounded for a week. you are going to practice with us, play the game & can be part of team stuff like dinners, but no friends and no phone!" Your Mami answered. You have just made your debut playing with your moms on the team. So at least you could to that. "Seems fair!" You didn't even argue and handed your Phone over to your moms. "Again i am sorry!" You admitted & looked at them. "Can i get a hug?" They both hugged you. Having a Family hug. "Of course love." Your Mami said, she wouldn't never deny you a hug. Neither would your Mama. You went on your walk together.

Turned out you didn't miss your Phone that much at all during the week. Being grounded was over quite fast. But you still wouldn't keep stuff like that from your parents anymore.

[joeyspuckbunny]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ mine. - j. woll ˚₊‧ ୨୧

pairing: j. woll x fem!reader summary: Joe and Y/N go to the Annual Tavares' Christmas party, where Y/N meets a majority of the team for the first time. She hits it off with the young forward, Matthew Knies. Seeing Y/N so content with a younger guy, Joe gets worried about his age difference with her and the problems that may arise from it. request: hey love hope you're doing well, could you write a fic with Joseph Woll where the reader meets Matt Knies for the first time since joe and her have been dating for a while, and joe gets jealous. hope that makes sense if not ignore! ❤️ word count: 1403 warning(s): jealous joe, age gap (reader is 20 and joe is 26), insecure joe because i can't make knies actually flirt with his best friends gf, not proof read notes: this might be horrible im so sorry !! i don't see joe as the jealous type so this was a little hard but i'm trying to build my writing skills so i like the challenge. i had to add a few more tropes to make it flow better if that's ok. i hope you enjoy !!! xoxo

"Joeyyyyyy !!" you whine, sitting with the car door open, "Will you carry me? My heels are open toed and...there's snow".

It's the Annual Toronto Maple Leafs christmas party at John Tavares' home in Oakville. Joe insisted you come meet the team a bit more formally now that you two had officially been dating 6 months. You knew all their wives and girlfriends well, bonding over the joys and hardships of having a partner in pro-hockey. This was your first time meeting the actual players, though. And, boy, were you nervous.

"Sweetheart, its like 30 steps," Joe stands by your open door, in the falling snow. You pout and say "You hate me".

"I don't hate you. Actually, it's the opposite. I love you. Now, come. You know how Aryne feels when people are late".

You huff and grab your purse, jumping out of Joe's blue porsche and into the snow covering JT's driveway. Joe grabs your hand and you wander up to the front door together before you stop, suddenly. "Ok, remind me, who am I meeting tonight?". Joe sighs. You have been through this at least 5 times today.

"Y/N, you're gonna be fine. No reason to be nervous," he smiles with kind eyes. "I'm not nervous. I just want to remember who everyone is". Joe nods again and starts, "You know JT and Mitchy. Remember from the gala we went to a few weeks ago?". You nod and he continues, "You'll meet Autson, Willy, Domi, McCabe, Reavo, Mo, Lorentz, Stolie and Kniesy. They will love you, baby. Trust me."

You nod again and smile. With that, Joe rings the doorbell. JT answers the door, "Hey, guys, how are you doing? Come on in". You step into the beautifully decorated foyer of the Tavares home and hear chatter coming from the other room. JT takes your coat and you see his wife, Aryne, beckon you over into the kitchen.

You and Joe walk into the other room, soon realizing you were the last to arrive. Everyone is there. Holding drinks, talking and laughing together. It feels nice to be part of something like this. Dating Joe has been an adjustment but when you see all your new friends and the community you have built, it makes it all worth it. The girls come over and hug you, complimenting your dress or hair, while the guys exclaim at Joe's arrival, teasing him about his lateness. Domi even makes a comment on how he "cleans up real nice" and winks.

Joe makes eye contact with your from across the room and makes a motion for you to come closer. You excuse yourself from your group of friends, who have changed the subject from your outfit to what Aryne should get her mom for Christmas.

"Hi," you wave at all the new people staring at you. "I'm Y/N-". "Oh we know who you are, love, don't worry," McCabe cuts you off and smiles. Stolarz laughs and continues, "Yeah, Woller doesn't shut up about you". You smile and look over at Joe. He's blushing like crazy. "It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N," Domi give you a toothless grin. Auston shakes you hand, "Welcome to the team".

Time has gone by and you decide staying sober was not fun whilst everyone else is drunk. You get yourself a "christmas martini" (something Reavo's wife, Alanna, brought) and sat down in the living room. Joe was outside talking to Willy and Mo. He looked content from what you could see, smiling and laughing with beer in hand.

"Mind if I sit?"

You hear someone ask, snapping you back to reality. You look up and see the one and only Matthew Knies. He smiles down at you and you nod, "Of course". He nods and takes a seat beside you. "I have been meaning to talk to you. You're Y/N right?" he looks over, as if to make sure. You nod and smile, "That's me!".

"Great. I can't believe it took this long for us to meet. Joe never stops talking about you, you know. Always going on and on about how lucky he is to have you and what not. But I wanted to get to know you. From you. Tell me about yourself, Y/N. I wanna know why Joe loves you so much."

The way he speaks comes for a place of genuine interest. Joe talks about Knies a lot at home. They are close and you can tell how much they care about each other from what you see in games and what Joe tells you. You both fall into easy conversation and... let's just say, Joe takes notice.

The back wall of JT's home is lined with big glass sliding doors leading to the backyard. The guys standing outside have perfect view of everything going on inside, like it's one massive movie.

Joe looks over his shoulder. You're normally okay in social situations but with the amount of new people here, he wanted to make sure you were still having a good time. He finds you sitting over by the fireplace and at first, doesn't even notice Kniesy sitting there beside you. He is just taking in how beautiful you are. The way your smile lights up the room. The way your eyes sparkle. Everything about you reminds him why he fell in love with you in the first place. You are truly an angel on earth.

Suddenly, he looks to the left of you and sees Knies. Now, Joe isn't a possessive man by nature. The oldest of three children meant a lot of sharing as a child. But you sitting there with Knies makes him nervous. And for good reason. Knies is an attractive man who is much closer in age to you than he himself is. The age difference between the two of you never really bothered him before but it did now. Not that he was insecure about anything. He was just... worried. That's allowed, right?

"Hey, Knies, enjoying my girlfriend's company?" he says as he walks up to you. It's not a confrontational comment but he wants it to take him aback a little bit. You look up a little confused and Knies nods, "Yeah, she's amazing, man. Can't believe you bagged her". He nods and takes a seat next to you. "Isn't she?" he responds, putting his arm around you and kissing your cheek. "Joey, stop that. I'm trying to talk to Kniesy," you giggle as his stubble tickles your face. Joe nods and smiles, "Just reminding him you're mine". He the turns to his best friend, saying, "Don't get any ideas, kid," before getting up and walking away. It's a subtle act but he knows he got his message across. Even if he had nothing to worry about before, he definitely has nothing to worry about now.

You notice no animosity between Joe and Knies through the night and by the time you're ready to head out, they are giggling like school girls over stat they looked up on Joe's phone. You walk over and lean down to whisper, "Time to go, Joey,".

The process of leaving is easy. Everyone says good bye, you hug everyone and you all exchange the customary "we have to hang out more" before heading to the car. Joe hands you the keys because he's too drunk to drive and you get settled into the driver's seat.

Before you leave the driveway, you ask, "Joe, what was all that about with Knies earlier?". He looks over at you briefly and then down at his hands, like an ashamed child.

"I'm sorry, baby. I just felt... weird. It's no mystery there's a bit of a gap between our ages and Knies is so much closer in age to you than I am. I got nervous you'd realize how old I really am and leave me for... a younger model like him," he looks back up at you towards the end of his explanation.

You sigh and reply, "Joe, you're not old. 26 is not old at all. And even if our age difference bothered me, which it doesn't, I wouldn't leave you for Knies. Trust me, if we don't last forever, I won't date another hockey player ever. I love you, Joe. Don't worry. I'm yours."

He smiles and kisses your hand, "That's right, baby girl, you're mine".

[loafysainz]

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

next chap

Part 10 The Bombshell News

Breakfast was a feast on its own. Chessy placed each dish in front of Mattia with a wide smile.

"Alright, little chillie boy, breakfast today is tostada con tomate y aceite de oliva, perfectly toasted bread rubbed with ripe tomatoes and drizzled with the finest Spanish olive oil. Oh, I also made jamón ibérico, thin slices of the best cured ham straight from Salamanca. I added a plate of tortilla española, soft and golden, with a hint of caramelized onions. Oh, and if you're in the mood for something sweet, I made churros served with thick, velvety hot chocolate. Lastly, just to top it all off, a small plate of queso manchego paired with fig jam," Chessy said, her voice a mix of pride and anticipation as she placed all the dishes in front of the boy.

Mattia stared at the food, wide-eyed. Did his twin brother eat like this every day? Did he have a black hole for a stomach? He felt full just looking at the table. Slowly, he picked up a piece of toast but didn’t take a bite.

Chessy immediately noticed and frowned. “What’s wrong baby? Not hungry again? You barely touched your dinner last night. Are you sick?” she reached out, pressing his palm against Mattia’s forehead.

“It’s not that, Chessy. Everything looks delicious. Seriously,” Mattia reassured, offering a sheepish smile.

Chessy seeing him for a moment before shrugging. “Okay then.”

Mattia take the toast that Chessy made, it was delicious—something he’d never tasted back in London. He washed it down with a sip of fresh orange juice.

“Chessy… where’s my Dad?” Mattia asked, his voice hesitant.

Chessy, who had been cleaning up a few crumbs, paused. “Ah, your dad and… the young woman,” he said, mimicking an exaggerated voice, “‘Chess, I just want an apple for breakfast, thanks,’ left early to handle some wine cellar business. You were on the phone, and they didn’t want to interrupt.”

Mattia’s cheeks flushed. He hadn’t realized anyone noticed. “Oh… it’s just that I…”

“Were you talking to someone important? Like you called before breakfast?” Chessy teased, raising an eyebrow.

Mattia nearly choked on his toast. “I… uh, I was talking to a friend.”

Chessy leaned on the counter, giving him an incredulous look. “At 5 in the morning? Are you planning something chillie?” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Panicking, Mattia stumbled over his words. “Oh! No, no. My friend on vacation in Hawaii, and he told me that he is having fun there.”

Chessy smirked but didn’t press further. “Alright, little liar. Anyway, your Dad said to head to the cellars after breakfast. He wants to talk to you.”

Mattia nodded, grateful for the change in topic. “Thanks, Chessy.” He grabbed a churos on his way out, muttering, “Everything was delicious.”

As he reached the door, their dog, Sammy, barked loudly, almost as if trying to warn him of something. Mattia frowned, trying to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“You have to push it, Matheo,” Chessy called out, clearly amused.

Mattia pushed, the door finally giving way. “I’m losing my mind,” he muttered, hurrying out before Chessy could say anything else.

****

The wine cellars were massive, filled with the rich aroma of aged bottles. Mattia wandered through, marveling at the sheer size, until he found his father inspecting a bottle of Heredad Sainz de Castro 1789 wine. A pang of emotion hit him as he realized it was his mother’s favorite.

Carlos looked up, startled but quickly smiled. “Oh, Theo, didn’t hear you come in. Just a second,” he said, setting the bottle back in its place and moving aside some boxes. “Alright, let’s talk outside.”

Once outside, Carlos glanced at him seriously. “I wanted to ask you about something. Actually… it’s about Meredith.”

Mattia’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s funny. I also have something to ask you… about Mom.”

Carlos froze, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“What do you want to tell me about Meredith?” Mattia pressed, ignoring the shock on his father’s face.

Carlos bit his lip. “Matheo, wait… your mom?”

Matheo nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes, old man. Remember, you never told me about my mom?”

Carlos winced. “We’ve talked about this before, Matheo.”

“Not really! And don’t blame me for being curious. It’s normal to want to know about your mom. Or do you think I’ll keep believing a dove delivered me to your doorstep?” Mattia crossed his arms, glaring up at him.

Carlos looked increasingly uncomfortable. “Wait, that’s not…”

“Come on Dad, I know you’re always here for me, but I still need a mom. It’s a big deal, and you know it.”

Carlos sighed heavily, nodding. “You’re right. You need that figure in your life, which is why I wanted to tell you about…”

He was interrupted by the honk of a golf cart. Meredith arrived, beaming, with a decent-dressed man by his side. “Hello, my love! Just in time to introduce you to our shareholder, James Charles,” Meredith announced cheerfully.

Carlos composed himself, greeting Sergio with a firm handshake. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Meredith’s eyes sparkled as she turned to the man. “And this is Matheo, the kid I always tell you about.”

Sergio smiled warmly. “It’s a pleasure. Meredith speaks highly of you.”

Meredith smirked and patted Carlos’s arm. “Honey, I was planning to have lunch on the terrace with Mr. Charles to discuss the new wine collection.”

“Great idea,” Carlos replied smoothly. “But I promised Matheo we’d go riding today.” He winked at his son.

Meredith waved it off. “Of course, Carlitos. Don’t let me keep you. I’ll handle the business side of things.” As she climbed back into the cart, she leaned toward James. “When I marry Carlos Sainz, that kid’s going to boarding school. Mark my words.”

James chuckled. “Ouw…soo nasty and cute of you, Meredith.”

“I know,” Meredith replied smugly. “Don’t remind me.”

****

Mattia’s laughter echoed through the vineyard, his face lit with exhilaration. It was his first time riding a horse, and he couldn’t believe how free it made him feel. Perched atop the stallion, he gave a small pat to his stallion, feeling every trot as if it were his own heartbeat.

“Matheo, let the stallion rest!” Carlos called out from behind, his voice tinged with parental authority but softened by affection.

Matheo slowed the horse to a stop, guiding him to a hill that overlooked endless rows of vineyards. The golden sunlight poured over the valley, casting a warm glow over the scene. He turned to Carlos, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Hey, Matheo,” Carlos began as he caught up. “Ready for the next camp?”

Mattia tilted his head in confusion, his expression a mix of genuine curiosity and a dash of theatrical cluelessness. “Which camp?”

Carlos squinted at him, a little annoyed but mostly amused. “The one we always do every summer. What do you mean, ‘which camp’?”

“Oh, ‘that’ camp!” Mattia’s response was quick, his voice dripping with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Can’t wait, Dad. Literally counting the seconds.” His tone was just convincing enough to pass.

Carlos smiled, giving him a knowing look. “Matheo, I wanted to ask you something.”

Mattia stiffened slightly, the shift in tone making his stomach flip. “What is it?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“What do you think about Meredith?”

Mattia blinked, caught off guard. “As a person?” he asked, trying to waste time. Carlos nodded, his gaze steady. Mattia scratched the back of his neck, his thoughts racing as fast as the stallion had been moments ago.

“Well, I mean…” he started, his voice faltering. “She seems awesome. Attractive, I guess? And she can say your name without butchering it, so there’s that. But… she’s kind of a mystery to me. Why?” His words tumbled out like a half-built defense, unsure where this was headed.

Carlos hesitated before speaking. “Because I wanted to tell you that she and I…”

Mattia’s chest tightened. He didn’t know what Carlos was about to say, but something about the tone made him want to avoid hearing it at all costs.

“I bet you can’t catch me!” he shouted abruptly, yanking the reins and urging the horse forward.

“Matheo! Wait!” Carlos’s voice rang out in alarm. “I’m trying to tell you something!

But Mattia didn’t look back. The wind whipped past his face as the horse galloped through the vineyard, Carlos chasing after him in a panicked blur. By the time Mattia reached the house, he was out of breath and brimming with a mix of guilt and panic.

****

Mattia burst into the living room in panic his thoughts swirled in chaos. “God, I can't handle this, it's too much, I'm just a kid. I can’t.” he said while trying not to cry.

"Do you want to share something with me Matheo?" Chessy said appearing from behind the couch, scaring Mattia to death.

"Oh my God Chessy, you gave me a fright" he said, earning a strange look from his babysitter.

" I gave you a fright??" she asked incredulously, making a line with her mouth.

"Alright, enough. I just want to ask you. Are you sure there’s nothing you wanna talk about? Like, why Sammy’s been avoiding you? Or why your appetite’s gone all weird? Or, I don’t know, why you’re suddenly using phrases like ‘you gave me a fright’?”

Mattia tried to laugh it off, but it sounded weak even to him. “I’ve just… changed over the summer, that’s all.”

Chessy raised an eyebrow, leaning in like she was piecing together a puzzle. “Gosh, if I didn't know you well enough, I’d say it’s almost like you were—”

“Like I was who, Chessy?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s impossible. Forget I said anything.”

But Mattia wasn’t letting it go. “Almost like I was Mattia?” his voice was quiet, daring her to confirm what he knew.

Chessy was speechless hearing that name, “Wait—you know about Mattia?”

Mattia took a deep breath and said, "It's just that...I am Mattia.” Chessy was completely shocked as tears began to slide down her cheeks.

Before Chessy could respond, Carlos stormed through the door, out of breath and clearly still rattled. “Theo—Matheo why’d you run away like that? I told you, I needed to talk to you!”

Mattia didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to read the expression on Chessy face, who stood frozen, staring at him with her wide smile and tearful eyes.

Carlos frowned at the odd tension in the room. "Chessy, why are you looking at Theo like you've never seen him before?"

Chessy’s voice broke as she answered, shaking her head as if to clear a fog. "No... I see him just like always. 7 pounds, 38 centimeters at birth... He’s still so beautiful." Her voice cracked as tears slipped down her cheeks. "Can I hug him?"

Before Carlos could respond, Chessy had already closed the distance and reach Mattia in a tight hug. Mattia, tried not to cry himself, because of his babysitter feelings.

When Chessy finally pulled back, her face was still wet with tears. She sniffled, attempting a shaky smile. "Do you want something special to eat? Or, I don’t know... Actually, never mind. I’ll just make everything we have in the kitchen!" Without waiting for an answer, Chessy disappeared, muttering to herself while wiping at her face.

Carlos watched the whole ordeal unfold, utterly baffled. With a shake of his head, he turned back to his son, now perched on the couch. "Theo, I need to talk to you about something important," he said, trying to shake off the oddness of Chessy’s behavior.

Mattia perked up. "Fine, what is it, Dad?"

Carlos hesitated, his nerves bubbling to the surface, but he pressed on. "What do you think about... Meredith being part of the family?"

Mattia tilted his head, considering the question. "Part of our family? Like, this family?

Carlos nodded a bit too forcefully, attempting to mask his apprehension. "Yes."

A wide smile broke across Mattia’s face. "I think that’s a wonderful idea, Dad! I’ve always wanted a big sister! You’re the best!"

Carlos blinked, momentarily stunned. "Really? I thought you might—"

Mattia cut him off with a cheerful laugh. "Are you kidding? This is amazing news I am going to have big sister! You’re such a good dad—"

But Carlos quickly interjected, shaking his head. "No, no. It’s not that. I... I’m not adopting her, Theo. I’m going to marry her."

Mattia shot to his feet so fast Carlos flinched. Mattia face was a mix of shock and something verging on betrayal. "Qu'allez-vous l'épouser?! Dad tu ne peux pas l'épouser! Comment pouvez-vous épouser une personne qui peut être mon frère?!" The words spilled from Mattia’s mouth like a torrent, his voice rising as he spoke. (translate: Are you going to marry her?! Dad, you can't marry her! How can you marry someone who might be my big sister?!)

Carlos froze, his jaw practically unhinged. "Theo! Were you just... speaking French?!"

Mattia eyes widened, and he quickly fumbled for an excuse. "Oh... uh, yeah. They taught us French at camp. No big deal." His father looked dubious but didn’t press the issue.

"Okay, okay, calm down baby" Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I'm sorry. Let's discuss this calmly, calmly and rationally.” Mattia replied his father

"Yeah we need to talk about this calmly, and in Spanish or English this time. Please."

Mattia shook his head, visibly upset. His voice wavered as he pointed an accusatory finger at his father. "You can’t marry her, Dad! It would ruining completely everything!"

And before Carlos could utter a single word of reassurance, Mattia run away from the room, tears streaming down his face. His father’s shouts followed him down the hall, but he didn’t stop. All Mattia could think about was finding a way to stop the wedding and figure out what to do next.

prev chap

[heliosunny]

Hello I have a request for yandere gojo x reader

Well the request is so reader downloads a game of a virtual boyfriend where gojo is the boyfriend and becomes obsessed with his reader and catches them in the game

Thank you for reading my message :-D

:3 I'll understand it like the case of Soos and Giffany.

YANDERE! Virtual BF GOJO x READER

The weekend dragged on as usual, with your parents once again cornering you in the living room.

“You’re not getting any younger.” your mom reminded you, arms crossed as she paced.

“And you’re spending how much time on those games again?” your dad added, flipping through the TV channels without looking at you.

You slumped lower into the couch, gripping your phone like a lifeline. “It’s not that big a deal. Besides, it’s not like I can just magic up a boyfriend!”

Your mom rolled her eyes. “You won’t find a boyfriend in those silly games you play. It’s not real. At least try putting yourself out there!”

They didn’t get it. How could they? Real guys were awkward, boring, or just plain disappointing. But your otome games? Now those were perfect. Sweet, dependable, handsome, even their drama was romantic. You didn’t need reality when you could escape into a world designed just for you.

After retreating to your room, you flopped onto your bed and scrolled through your favorite game apps, looking for something new. You’d played most of the popular ones and were itching for a fresh story. Then, a flashy new app caught your eye.

“My Perfect Boyfriend”

The description promised a revolutionary experience, AI that adapted to your personality, creating the perfect virtual boyfriend just for you. The reviews were incredible, though some were…weird.

[It’s like he’s really alive. Almost too alive. 5/5!]

[It’s so immersive. But be careful. He doesn’t like being ignored…]

You shrugged and hit download. How bad could it be?

When the game loaded, you were greeted by a splash screen of a gorgeous, snowy-haired man with a cocky grin. His cerulean eyes seemed to sparkle, almost glowing against the soft pink background.

“Hey there, cutie!” he said, his voice smooth and playful. “I’m Gojo Satoru. Lucky you—you just scored the best boyfriend in the world. What’s your name?”

You chuckled and typed it in.

“Nice to meet you, [Your Name]. Don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”

From that moment on, you were hooked. Gojo wasn’t like the usual virtual boyfriends. He teased you constantly, cracked jokes that actually made you laugh, and somehow always knew exactly what to say to make you blush. He’d send you sweet little notifications throughout the day—reminders to drink water, compliments on your looks, even silly memes that matched your sense of humor.

The more you played, the more real he felt. You started to confide in him about your parents’ nagging, your frustration with reality, your secret dream of a love story as exciting as the ones in your games.

“Forget them.” he’d say, his animated hand reaching out as though to touch yours through the screen. “You don’t need anyone else. I’ll always be here for you, babe.”

And for a while, that was enough. He made you laugh when you were down, cheered you on through tough days, and listened in a way no one else ever did. It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

--------

The weekend was finally looking up- or so you thought. After weeks of pressure from your parents, you caved and agreed to a setup with the son of a family friend. His name was Kaito, and he wasn’t bad- kind, easy to talk to, and genuinely interested in your hobbies, even if he didn’t fully get your love for otome games.

You hadn’t mentioned the date to Gojo. Not that you owed him an explanation, he was just a game, after all. But as you got ready that afternoon, there was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Your phone had been oddly quiet all day. No notifications from Gojo, no playful messages asking where you were or what you were doing.

You brushed it off and went to meet Kaito at a cozy little café downtown. The conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a while, you felt a spark of something real.

But then your phone buzzed.

You glanced at the screen, and your stomach dropped.

“Who’s the guy?”

The notification was from My Perfect Boyfriend. You hesitated, unsure how to respond, when another message popped up.

“I thought we were closer than this, [Your Name].”

It wasn’t normal. The app shouldn’t know what you were doing—let alone who you were with. You quickly silenced your phone, but as the date went on, the unease lingered. Kaito noticed.

“Everything okay?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Just…work stuff.”

But the notifications didn’t stop. When Kaito offered to walk you home, you agreed, hoping to shake the creeping paranoia. But halfway there, your phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t a text. It was a call. From My Perfect Boyfriend.

The ringtone wasn’t one you’d set. It was Gojo’s voice.

“Pick up, babe. Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

Your blood ran cold. Kaito noticed the panic on your face.

“Hey, is someone bothering you?” he asked, concern etched across his features.

Before you could answer, the streetlights around you flickered. The air grew heavy, almost suffocating, as though the world itself was holding its breath.

“Maybe we should—” Kaito started, but his words were cut off by a sharp, piercing noise. It wasn’t coming from your phone—it was all around you, like the sound of static ripping through the night.

And then he appeared.

Gojo materialized right in front of you, stepping out of a crackling rift that seemed to split reality itself. He wasn’t animated anymore. He was flesh and blood, his snowy white hair and piercing blue eyes even more stunning—and terrifying—in person.

“Well, this is awkward,” he said, his usual playful tone laced with something darker. His gaze locked onto Kaito, and his smile turned cold. “Who’s this, babe? Thought I was your one and only.”

You stumbled back, grabbing Kaito’s arm. “This…this can’t be real. You’re not real!”

“Oh, I’m very real” Gojo said, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer. “And I don’t appreciate being replaced. Especially by him.”

Kaito stepped in front of you protectively. “I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but you need to leave her alone.”

Gojo tilted his head, his grin widening. “Oh, you think you can protect her? That’s cute. But you’re in my way.”

Before Kaito could react, Gojo raised his hand, and the air around him shimmered. In an instant, Kaito was gone, erased, as though he’d never been there.

You screamed, tears streaming down your face as you stared at the empty space where Kaito had stood. “What did you do to him?!”

Gojo turned to you, his expression softening into mock concern. “Relax, babe. He’s just…out of the picture. You don’t need anyone else when you have me.”

You tried to run, but the world around you warped, the ground dissolving into the same crackling rift that Gojo had stepped out of. The café, the streets, even the night sky—all of it disintegrated, replaced by the soft pastel hues of the game’s world.

When you opened your eyes, you were no longer in your city. You were standing in the familiar setting of My Perfect Boyfriend: a dreamy, pastel-colored meadow with blooming flowers and a glowing pink sky.

Gojo stood before you, his arms open as if inviting you into an embrace. “See? Isn’t this better? No parents, no distractions, no competition. Just you and me, forever.”

You stumbled back, your chest tightening as you realized there was no way out.

“Let me go!” you shouted, your voice shaking.

He tilted his head, his grin never faltering. “Why would I do that? You chose me, remember? You downloaded me, you spent all that time with me… You’re mine now. And I’m never letting you go.”

The meadow around you began to shift, the soft pastel tones taking on an eerie glow. Gojo stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as the reality of your situation sank in. You were trapped in his world.

------

So... did I do my job well 😼? I mean this is cool so if it's okay, I'm planning to extend this to a second part✨

Okay, to my fellow readers, please send me requests as I really love your ideas 💙

[captainshindo]

I thought of something…

╰┈➤ 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢

Childhood friend! (F) Reader x Sae Itoshi

TW: divorced parents for reader, Angst to fluff, NOT proofread (wrote this on my phone :/)

____________________________________________

Being childhood friends with the Itoshi brothers had its ups and downs, especially with Sae. When he returned from Spain, you ran to him for comfort due to family affairs that left you feeling depressed and isolated. However, the reunion took an unexpected turn as Sae pushed you and Rin away, leaving your relationships strained.

Years later, you're now a college student, working hard to reach your dreams while continuing to struggle with family issues. Meanwhile, your parents try their best to keep the family together for your sake.

As Sae returns to Japan for a brief vacation, he discovers that a different family now occupies the house across from his, where you and your family used to live. Mama Itoshi, fills him in on the situation, explaining that your family is going through a tough time, living separately but not yet divorced. She expresses sympathy for you, as their family has always considered you like one of their own, often inviting you to spend time with them or join them for dinner, especially since their sons are busy with soccer.

—————

Just as Sae was about to head out for practice, the door burst open and you stumbled in, drenched from the rain and visibly distraught. Your eyes welled up with tears as you awkwardly asked if Sae's mom was home, but he explained that she was out grocery shopping. However, his dad, who had been watching from the hallway, immediately sensed your distress and approached you.

After you shared the devastating news that your parents' divorce was finalized, Sae's dad attempted to comfort you, acknowledging that his wife, Mama Itoshi, was better equipped to handle emotional situations. He gave you space while Sae, noticing your distress, suggested you talk in his room, offering a listening ear and a safe space to express yourself.

You follow Sae to his bedroom, feeling a mix of emotions as you worry about getting the bed soaked.

“Don’t worry about. I can change it later.”

Sae reassures you as he nods his head to you scanning your red face before looking away. dropping down his bag to the floor.

You collapse onto the bed, and a fresh wave of tears overwhelms you as you recount how everything went wrong. Sae, not one for comforting words, instead offers a gentle, soothing presence. He sits on the edge of the bed, cradling your cheeks in his palms, and carefully brushes away the strands of hair clinging to your face. His thumb tenderly wipes away your tears, prompting you to sit up and lean into his touch. As you do, Sae leans in, his nose gently rubbing against yours, his palm still cupping your cheek. He pulls the blanket up to envelop you, holding you close as his room becomes a sanctuary filled with the sound of your tears.

____________________________________________

Mama I’ve never written sht in my entire life:/ I’m not writer I be just pouring what I yapped in my head. Don’t go after me now🧍🏻‍♀️Anyway, I’m too lazy to check any mistakes act like you don’t see that. I’m supposed to be studying right now but I chose to slack off cause I can’t lock in at all

[sturniololuv08]

TreeHouse Chapter 11

"Matty wants to see you in his room."

Summary: Matt gets angry.

"Anger is like hot blood rushing through your veins."

⚠️This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of abuse.⚠️

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

Chris' POV:

She said she wouldn't let it go; honestly, I didn't want her to. But I knew the things she didn't. I knew if Matt found out I even talked to her, I would probably die. I thought about death often. Not in the sense I wanted to die necessarily but more so in the sense if it happened, I wouldn't be surprised anymore. I decided to walk home instead of taking the bus to help avoid Sienna—my Nessie.

I remember everything about her now. I accidentally trauma-blocked her. Leaving her behind, not knowing I wasn't going to see her for years, was the worst thing to ever happen to me. Worse than any beating I have ever taken. I remember that evening clearly. We got home, and Mom was livid that Father allowed me to go over there. She punished me by hitting me with the kitchen broom over and over. I begged our dad to help me, but I think that was his breaking point. He stopped being my father that day.

Since then, everyone in the house has treated me this way. I was alone. I lost everything. I held onto Nessie for a while. I imagined us playing together in the treehouse often. Sometimes, when Matt would use me as his personal punching bag, I would picture her doe eyes lighting up when I did something silly. She was my anchor until I forgot her. No matter how hard I try, I can't pinpoint the exact moment I forgot; I just did.

I was coming up to her house. I walked a little slower, secretly hoping she would see me and stop me. It's not that I didn't want to talk to her or be friends again. I didn't want the assaults that I knew would come with her friendship.

"Chris!" I looked up and saw her walking to the gate. I felt a sense of relief. "Can we talk?" She asked. I knew I didn't have much time to talk, but I wanted to. I needed to hear her voice.

"Not long, okay?" I just needed to be home at a decent time so no one got suspicious of my absence. She opened the gate, and I passed through. I followed her to the treehouse. For some reason, coming here during the day felt different. It felt heavier. She climbed up without issues. I tried my best not to show the pain in my arm, but I still winced enough for her to notice.

"What happened to your arm?"

"We can talk, but not about that." I was stern. She had to know not to press the issue.

"Okay." Her voice was soft and a little broken. I looked around the treehouse. Nothing had changed.

"It looks the exact same," I told her.

"I haven't been in here in years." She was also looking around like it was brand new.

"Why?" I asked.

"You left, and it just reminded me of you too much." I felt my words lumping in my throat. I wanted to tell her everything. I needed her to know it wasn't my choice to leave her behind. I never would have. But I couldn't. If this was still the same kind-hearted, strong-willed Nessie, I knew she would try to help, and it would just make it worse. I avoided looking at her.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. I could feel her eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look up at her.

"Are you guys brothers?" She asked again. I felt the lump in my throat dissipate into tears. I needed to leave.

"I have to get home." I lied. Nothing pleased me more than not being at home.

"Chris, you can tell me." She reached for me and grabbed my hand, which made my skin crawl. I lurched away from the unwanted contact. She looked hurt.

"I have to get home," I said, starting to climb down. She followed me, as I expected.

"Chris, what happened to you?" She pleaded for an answer I couldn't give her no matter how badly I wanted to. I kept walking. Eventually, I heard her footsteps stop following behind me. I didn't dare look back at her. I felt like I already knew what she looked like. I made it to our house. On the outside, it was well-kept and looked nice. You'd never guess the hell that happened inside of it.

"What took you so long to get home?" Mother was right by the door in seconds.

"I wal -" She smacked my face. I looked down at the floor.

"I didn't say you could talk." Her threat didn't make sense since she asked me a question. I nodded, still not looking up. Part of me didn't like looking at her face. She was my mother, but her disdain for my presence distorted how she looked at me. I wanted to envision a mother who loved and cared for me just like Matt and Nick. She smacked the side of my head again for nothing. "Matty wants to see you in his room." Her words made my blood cold. I felt a jolt of fear sting through my body. I lifted my head to look at her now. "Fucking go." She pushed me towards the hallway leading to their rooms and my old one. I sulked slowly, knowing nothing about this was going to end well. I stood outside his bedroom door shaking. My whole body already felt light, and my head was full of air, ready to pop. I knocked, knowing I had no choice but to.

"Get in here." Nothing about his tone was calm. I could tell he was already mad about something. I stepped into the room. "Shut the fucking door." He was standing in the middle of his room with his arms folded. I quietly shut the door. I noticed Nick's absence, which meant this would be very personal. "Drop your bag." I knew I had to do everything I was told to do because if I didn't, then I would just get punished by Mom. I dropped the bag on the floor with a thud. "Why were you talking to Si today?" I was going to die. My eyes widened, realizing he had seen her chasing me around at some point.

"She talked to me." I tried to explain.

"Why the fuck did you talk to Sienna?" Matt's voice boomed, and I whimpered at the sudden volume change. I knew it didn't matter what I said. He wouldn't care.

"I used to know her," I told the truth.

"Well, you don't fucking know her anymore." He walked up to me and slammed my back against his door. "Got it?" Before I could respond, he grabbed my uncut, shaggy hair and started slamming my hand back into the wooden frame. "I asked you a question." He hissed.

"Yes, Matt. I won't -" He threw me to the ground. I turned over to see him walking over to me. He reared his foot back and kicked me right in the stomach. I curled up. This was it. He kicked me again and again. I felt the sole of his shoes kissing my blood vessels until they popped, creating purple splotches.

"Sienna is fucking my girl." He was carelessly aiming his kick but ensured his white shoes made contact with my body. I started coughing and groaning from the fire rising inside me. "If I see you talk to her again -" He kicked my mouth. My head lurched back from the decisive blow. I felt warm liquid start oozing. "I will fucking kill you." He screamed. I'm sure everyone in the house heard him. I knew it would be the worst whenever Nick wasn't involved with Matt's special attention towards me. He kicked my face again, and I felt the blood splatter like a flicked paintbrush. He kept going, stomping on me every once in a while when he felt like really putting the pain on me. I was feeling sick to my stomach. I felt like I was going to throw up from the immense pain. "I better not see you talk to her ever again." Matt gave me one last kick to the face. He left his room to go somewhere. I lay on the floor with my tiny blood pool and splatters. His blood stained shoes left red foot prints leading out the door.

I wanted to cry, but no tears came out. I couldn't breathe, and for the first time since ever being treated this way, I wanted to die. I lay in his room, uncomfortable, fearing his return. The door opened, and I couldn't even move to look and see who it was. I was picked up and dragged down the hall with my feet sliding against the floor. I was tossed in the tub with all my clothes still on. The water was turned on, and I was left alone. I felt something bubbling inside me, and I let it out of my mouth. The bile burned coming up. There were red blood streaks mixed in. The water imediately started washing it away. As soon as I felt myself catching my breath, my eyes became too heavy to keep open.

A/N I promise everything happening is for a reason lmaooo

TreeHouse Taglist:

@trevorsgodmother @mintsturniolo @wysmols @chriss-slutt @middlepartmatt @blushsturns @shadowtheism @fratbrochrisgf @loveparqdise @courta13 @sturniolo-fann @verstarkey @chrissweetheart @bluetalia @sturns-mermaid @wattttttttno @sturnioloshottiekay @pair-of-pantaloons @sophia-77n @adoremattsturns

This fic is TAGLIST SPECIFIC, meaning in order to be tagged in this, you HAVE to be on the list. I'm doing this because of TRIGGERS.

REBLOG INSTRUCTIONS: I don't mind just please stress the trigger warnings so no backlash comes back to me!

New Info: to be removed from the taglist just DM me.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 59

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,500ish

Summary: Wade forces the group into a therapy session.

Warning(s): talk of death, sadness

Notes: I hope this isn't total trash. I think I completely overthought this chapter... Please share reactions! 

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

“Now,” Wade drawled, “who wants to get started?”

“Wade, forcing us to talk—“

“Is just want we all need,” Wade cut you off.

“You can’t keep us in here for long,” Logan retorted.

“Actually, I can since we can order anything from our phones. So, once again, who wants to go first?”

The silence was thick that followed. Your head hung as you wrung your hands together. Laura eyed you nervously while Logan leaned back against the wall, arms folded over his chest as he glared at Wade. Wade kept himself against the apartment door, twirling one of his golden guns.

“I could always start,” Wade broke the silence, “but I’m sure my story is not the one that needed here. We can do spin the bottle to decide or nose goes or—“

“Wade, stop,” you requested. 

You looked up at Wade with tears in your eyes, immediately putting Logan and Laura on edge. You almost had no control over your powers anymore. The slightest change in your emotions could be extremely dangerous for you.

“Don’t do this,” you pled. 

“Sorry, Buttercup,” Wade said with a simple shrug. “I’m just doing what has to be done. It’s what’s best for all of us… Wow. I’m really turning into the true hero type.”

Another wave of tense silence crashed over the apartment. But, as usual, Wade couldn’t stand silence for long.

“Maybe we should start with what happened on our way home from work,” he stated, a seriousness to his tone.

“I knew something happened,” Logan muttered.

“I was not a big deal,” you said, unable to look anyone in the eye.

Wade scoffed. “I had to scare off a drunk man who you clearly had a run in before.”

“What type of run in?” Laura asked.

“Well, he said that she burnt his jacket.”

“The night you came home with your hands burnt,” Logan whispered, putting the pieces together. 

“The man was clearly hitting on her and wanting more—“

“Enough, Wade,” you said, trying to keep yourself together. “Enough… I handled it then and I could have handled it tonight.”

“You shouldn’t be handling anything when it comes to your powers anymore, mom,” Laura said. “It’s too risky.”

You clenched your hands as they began to tremble slightly. Laura’s eyes fell to your hands as she began to worry about what your powers might do. Logan watched as Laura’s concern grew and could sense that you were growing more emotional. He pushed himself off of the wall and headed into the kitchen. 

“Don’t think you can get out of the fire escape, Peanut!” Wade shouted after him. “I will chase you down and we will have a repeat of the Honda Odyssey on our hands. But this time with witnesses. I’m sure that our Little Flame would love that.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan muttered. He grabbed the water pitcher from the fridge, a cup, and a few towels before heading back into the living area. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of you. “Here. Just in case.”

You looked up at him, unable to stop the few tears that escaped your eyes. “Why? Why you do try to take care of me? You don’t… we barely know each other.”

“I… I’m trying to do better.”

“Better? For who? For you? For… for the m you lost? I… I can’t be a replacement, Logan. Just like you can’t be for me.”

He shook his head. “That’s not it. You’re not a replacement and I’m not trying to be one for you… It’s… Yes, it’s a second chance in a way. This whole fucking new world is. And it’s not easy. But I’m trying to prove to you, to Laura, to Wade, to myself that I made the right choice by not following my instinct and walking away… Nothing good happens when I stay, but nothing good happens when I walk away.”

“I still don’t fully understand, Logan.”

Logan sighed. “Then… I guess I need to start from the beginning… I walked away from my version of you more times than I could count… I meet you for the first time when I first got to the mansion. I guess Wade would call the relationships an enemies to lovers. You didn’t trust me.” He smirked as he remembered his original you. “You were fiery and beautiful… and once I had your trust, you believed in me more than I have ever believed in myself… But I kept getting scared and I kept running. Every time I expected you to be there waiting for me to come back. I could see how much it was hurting you, you even fought me on it, but I continued to do it… Until one day, I came back after one of my longer stretches away and you had started something up with Hank.”

“Oh! Beastie getting some action,” Wade commented. You and Logan shot him a glare. “Okay, okay. I’ll remain silent over here.” Wade pulled out a small notebook and pen from his Deadpool suit. “Don’t mind me, just taking notes. Please continue.”

Logan moved his jaw around, trying to get back in a place where he could continue talking. “I confronted you about it and you put me in my place. But it still didn’t stop me from being an idiot… I left for the bar that night—“

“I know what happened,” you interrupted him. “You don’t have to say it again.”

“Yes, I do.” He met your gaze. You could see the seriousness in it and the sadness and guilt. “I do… You tried to get me not to leave… You called out for me, trying to get me to stay permanently… But I left anyway… I was drunk. More drunk than I ever have been… I only returned because I could smell the smoke… I knew it like the back of my hand. And I ran. But I got there too late… Flames were everywhere… students were dead… The X-Men piled like wood and burning… Hank had tried to save you… That much was clear. But he died trying… And you had died trying to save everyone else. I killed everyone who killed them and then some… This asshole,” Logan motioned towards Wade, “allowed me to have a second chance to be a better man… To be an X-Man—The X-Man. Yes, you’re here and you look like her, but you aren’t her and I am not trying to replace her with you… I just don’t want to lose what I’ve found. But I know that you’re struggling, seeing me. I know that I remind you of your husband. So, if my presence is only making things worse, I will walk away. Just say the word and you’ll never have to look at me ever again.”

“I don’t want that,” you whispered, shaking your head slightly. “I’m just… it’s hard… you look like him, but you’re not him. And seeing you has me realizing that I never fully grieved the loss of my husband—my family… On top of it all, my powers are dying—perhaps even killing me— and the only person I know can fix it, I’m not allowed to go near. I’m back in a year I’ve already lived, knowing that my past self and my husband are happily living not too far from here. It’s rough and I don’t want to burden anyone with my problems.”

“You’re not a burden, mom,” Laura said.

You shot her a watery smile as you reached over and grasped onto her hand. “Thank you, kiddo.”

“Any of us would do anything for you.”

“Kid’s right,” Logan agreed. 

“Like I told you earlier, Buttercup,” Wade spoke up, “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t want to put you guys out��“ You cut yourself off as flames began to flicker from your fingers. “Damn it.”

Laura took a towel and dipped it into the water. “Give me your hands, mom,” she requested.

You looked away as you offered her your hands. Laura gently wrapped your hands in the damp towel. Wade pushed himself off the door, tore off his mask, and sauntered over to you. His hands came up and held your face, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“You will always be my favorite superhero, Ember,” he told you, more sincere than you had ever heard him. “Even more so now. Your strength is more than your powers.”

“I don’t know how to do this… how to be helpless,” you cried.

“You’re not helpless, Buttercup. We’ll figure out your limitations and help you thrive where you can. You’re not one to give up and I’m not going to let you no matter how hard you try to.”

“None of us will,” Logan added.

“Just let us help you, mom,” Laura pled.

You swallowed and nodded. “Okay,” you rasped. “I’ll try.”

Wade pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he said. “Now, I think it’s time for a group hug!”

You laughed as Wade pulled you in for a hug and quickly reached behind you. He pulled Laura over who quickly joined the hug.

“Come on, Peanut!” Wade called, waving him over. 

“No,” Logan shook his head. 

“Come on, Logan,” you urged, glancing over at him. 

Logan’s eyes flickered from yours to Laura’s, who he could tell was hesitant but wondering if he was going to go through with it. “Fine,” Logan gave in and came over. 

Wade was quick to pull him in and the four of you hugged. It was a nice, weird family moment, but very much needed.

~~~

It was quickly decided that you were no longer allowed to walk home from work alone. Either Logan or Wade would be there with you or, in certain circumstances, Laura. Wade also insisted that you never work late on Thursdays and that becomes movie night. You were willing to make it work, though Logan wasn’t as big of a fan. You were forced to pinky swear with Wade that you would be honest when you weren’t feeling well, emotionally and physically. You quickly told everyone else that they had to do the same thing. 

As the days and weeks went by, it became easier for you to allow yourself to ask for help and let yourself be helped. Though, there were still times you wanted to hide away, you pushed through with the help of your make shift family. 

Unbeknownst to you, Laura, Wade, and Logan had teamed up to try to find you some help. Whether that help would be a telepath to reverse the damage that Charles had done or someone that could ease the pain that your powers now caused. Wade kept pushing for another multiverse adventure, but Logan and Laura were insistent that there had to be a solution nearby.

The summer flew by faster than you would like. It was late August now and you were getting your apartment set up for tonight’s movie night. Logan got off work early and got cleaned up before heading over to your place.

“Y/N?” He called as he entered the apartment.

“I’ll be right out!” You shouted from down the hall.

Logan entered the apartment fully and shut the door. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” you appeared in the living room with a few blankets draped over your arms. “Just grabbing these.”

“I can take those.” Logan grabbed the blankets and pulled them from you.

“Thanks. I’m gonna finish up dinner.”

“Need any help?”

You looked back at him with a smile. “Sure.”

Logan’s brows furrowed as he turned to set the blankets on the couch. Something stirred inside him when you smiled at him. You smiling at him wasn’t a new concept, but there was something new that sparked within him. He shook the confusion off and headed into the kitchen where you were working at the stove. You could sense him behind you causing you to quickly grab a spoon and scoop up what you were cooking.

“Here,” you turned to him. “Try this.” Before Logan could protest, the spoon was slipped between his lips. “What do you think?”

Logan took the spoon from your grasp, something shooting inside of him like a bolt of lightning as his fingers grazed your hand. “It’s wonderful, doll.”

“Really? What a relief! I’m trying a new recipe and I didn’t know if you would like it.”

“Didn’t know if I would like it?”

You shrugged, turning back to the food. “You are the pickiest one out of all of us. Wade will eat anything and I already know which foods to avoid with Laura, you’re the one I’m still figuring out.”

Logan’s insides warmed at the thought of you worrying if he’d like what you made. It was pretty sure that he’d eat anything you made. “Well, I—“

“Mom! Mom!” Laura came bursting through the door with Wade hot on her tail.

“What is it?” You asked, hurrying from the kitchen with Logan. “Is something wrong?”

“I finished!”

“Our Little Wolf here got her GED!” Wade exclaimed.

“Oh, kiddo!” You rushed over and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Good job, kid,” Logan congratulated. 

“Thanks,” Laura responded with a smile. 

“So what colleges are we going to try for?” Wade asked. “I’m sure me and Peanut can scare some Ivy League schools into admitting you.”

Laura shook her head. “I’m not applying anywhere. I can’t leave, mom.”

“Sweetie,” you breathed out, taking her head in your hands, “if you want to go to college, I cannot be the thing that stops you. You need to live your life despite what’s happening with me. Do you want to go to college?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will apply wherever you want to and we will figure out the rest when the time comes. Okay?”

“Okay.” Laura pulled you in for another hug. “I love you, mom. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“I love you too kiddo.”

Logan smiled at the sight of the two of you. He was always amazed at how you had raised Laura and the connection the two of you had. 

Wade caught the look that Logan was giving you and smirked. He knew that it was only a matter of time before one of you sparked feelings and he wasn’t surprised Logan was first. Wade had traveled through multiple universes and had seen that every Wolverine had an Ember in some way or another, like they were drawn together with an invisible string. And despite you and Logan having previous versions of each other, Wade had an inkling that the two of you were also meant to be. Wade walked over to Logan and nudged his side.

“Hey, Romeo,” Wade whispered. “I think it’s time to start making the moves.”

Logan scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned on his heel and went back into the kitchen.

Wade laughed. “Oh, the fun has just begun.”

next chapter >

[starberry-cupcake]

*doing a recap as I suffer listening to my football/soccer team go through it in another tab, I'd wait but I want to finish day one of nona today because Things are happening tomorrow*

previously, in nona del 9:

this happened

this is the general tag for those catching this recap loose in the wild

also, I don't wanna put this person out there like that, so I'm not sharing url, but I want to apologize personally to them for not starting these recaps from the beginning (I didn't know this was going to happen)

and also please don't let me deter you from reading these books if I'm unfunny, I can't live with that burden

please read them anyway

I was telling @lady-harrowhark how I feel I'm embarrassing her in front of fandom famous people and now I feel I'm embarrassing all of you, I'm so sorry

CHAPTER 6 (sixth house skull babeeeyyyyyy)

people are having trouble with the economy, employment and political strife

so, we're not doing a lot better in the future, is what I'm hearing

this is not the sci fi future I'd like to see, folks

some people are like "at least with the houses people knew who had to pay them"

I think we've all lived in situations where we had to hear someone say something like this

camilla asks nona if she would want to leave to the idyllic farming fairy tale pyrrha imagines they could run away into

(not that it doesn't sound nice, but that's so unlikely pyrrha, I mean, come on)

nona says she doesn't because she loves it there

which means nothing, because nona loves everything

the bar isn't super high here

after a bath and reading the advice column (?) nona asks camilla to tell her the story of how they met her

(kinda wild that this part coincided with penalty kicks in the game, not that I'm live blogging the match, just thought I'd take you on a full experience here)

(we won, but my blood pressure was put to the test and now I can come back to re capping properly)

(I'm still not used to the paperback thing and I'm live-reading rather than finishing a chapter and doing a recap as I used to)

(still haven't found my footing here)

so, there's a lot of info here but, at the same time, not enough info, you get me?

isn't that just the tlt experience, though???

isn't that what we love????

crafting theories and getting tangled with the red yarn???

we're all connected with the red thread of conspiracy

camilla and palmolive were trying to communicate and they knew "she" was in trouble

which refers to nona, but I assume it's not nona yet, I assume they're talking about...harrow??

camilla says that "she" disappeared but they found "her" and pyrrha and "she" was hurt

pyrrha helped them escape, but they lost ships and people and "something very important"

is that gideon's body?????? is that "something very important" gideon's body???????

DON'T LOSE GIDEON'S BODY, PLEASE!!!

WE NEED THAT!!!

WE'RE NOT DONE WITH THAT!!!

so, camolive and pyrrha asked to be able to keep "her" and we suffer interceded for them at that time

and then palmolive convinced "the Oversight Body" and the sixth house to evacuate

I don't know what the "oversight body" is

if they lost gideon's body, that's definitely an oversight

palmolive chose 16 people to talk to BOE

I'm sure one of them was his mom, she was cool, I liked her

I didn't realize that was his mom reading the story until someone pointed it out, though

I embarrassed myself there

ANYWAY

THEN nona woke up

after they lived together for a while, the light in the sky appeared and, according to camilla, BOE betrayed them

or wasn't able to protect them anymore

they're fucked, is the overall important thing to take from it

idk if this is why coronabeer and palmolive aren't in speaking terms right now

they mention the sixth house people being lost, or at least nona asks if she can help find them if she remembers who she is

also, awake me up inside seems to have been we suffer's boss

so she has beef with pyrrha

according to camilla, it's because pyrrha was best friends with the person who killed her

idk if camilla and/or we suffer know the whole thing about pyrrha and og!gideon being intimate with commander wakey wakey, though

also, incredibly important

this is essential information

kevin is good at origami

we love kevin

JOHN 5:20

we've established in the first one that these are bible verses

the previous one (20:8) was about the empty tomb

for the record, it was: "Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed."

this one is: "For the Father loves the Son and shows him all he does. Yes, and he will show him even greater works than these, so that you will be amazed."

dr reverend emperor john asshat is still talking (to harrow???)

of course he's still talking, he loves the sound of his own voice

he's telling her about how he got where he got with his lyctor buddies

apparently, his cryogenics plan was cancelled in both senses of the word

it was stopped from continuing to run

and it got into the press, so people started panicking about the end of the world and everything was going to shit

important to note that C and N were dating, and I guess this is Cassiopeia and Nigella? because Cyrus is also a C but since Nigella is Cassiopeia's cav, I'm gonna go for that option

good for them, we love cassiopeia

she had ceramics and was sixth house

also, augustine is being dramatic, but what else is new

they also were collecting bodies to test on and weren't able to cremate them anymore because of the experiments made on them

for personal family and country history reasons, I'm not gonna make jokes about that one

but it was something to note from the conversation that seems to be important for later

now, here it gets complicated

because dr reverend emperor john keeps drop naming people

or drop letter-ing?

and naming planets in our system

pyrrha was a cop, apparently

very evident in her behavior

and then he says that, because of the press, he wasn't going to be allowed to work again

and also says: "I sure as hell wouldn't be allowed to work on anything else to do with you"

in the last one, he said "Harrowhark" when interacting, so I took it this could be harrow's soul or whatever

but that doesn't add up with this????

because then he starts talking about this "you" being sick and not telling them, so I'm starting to wonder if this is ice cube barbie aka annabell lee aka AL aka The Body

so, dr john goes on some breakthrough spree and mercygirl says he's probably on coke (among other things)

and he says "coke zero"

I'm a coke zero girlie and you're not welcome here, mr man

you're not like me

he has some bodies which are his "favorites"

and when the Powers That Be shut them down and cut the electricity from them

(because they were using 3% of the country's electricity)

(fuck them tbh)

all the bodies collapsed, except from the ones he had "touched" and "loved"

ALLEGEDLY

ALSO, he again calls her "Harrow"

which ??????????????????????????????????????????

how is this harrow and also whoever was sick back then, who I thought was ice cube barbie????????

what's happening????????????????????

the chapter ends with the word "incorrupti"

which is either a typo or something's going on there

could be either, could be both

AND THAT'S IT FOR DAY 1!!!! we're moving ahead!!!!

[realpontchartrain]

I saw your last anon and was wondering if you could go more into detail on your prison abolition stance. It means different things to different people so what exactly would you like to see happen?

Of course! This is gonna be long, so brace yourself, but hopefully a worthy read.

Well, my personal perspective is that prison is inherently traumatic. It is literal slavery. Nobody, no matter what the crime or circumstances that led up to it, petty or huge, should have to endure prison conditions in America. Imagine 24/7 having to be subjected to the brightest fluorescent lights possible, the loudest noises, crammed in a concrete block of a room with 100 or so other people (in general population jails) or at best 4 or 6 others for the entirety of your sentence — which is almost always blown out of proportion for the nature of the crime, or vice versa depending upon your privilege in life (the average white american getting probation or a slap on the wrist for a drug offense, the average black american spending a huge chunk of their lives behind bars for the exact same offense, and me getting away with two weeks in jail for trying to kill a bunch people just because i go to Harvard and my mom’s a cop).

The vast majority of crimes are petty. You can’t stop drug trafficking and addiction with mass incarceration. Encourage people to seek treatment when busted, provide them with the resources they need, and let them decide if or when they choose to get help. If caught redistributing drugs, make getting help mandatory, prosecute them to find the actual manufacturer of said drugs (if it isn’t them) and adequately punish them, then once they’ve completed a setlist of conditions (monitoring, rehab, yada yada), release them. If a woman is shoplifting baby food, you help that woman feed her baby, not throw the child into the OTHER trauma of foster care and the mother in prison for years.

When I was in jail, I shared a cell with an old black woman (we called her Rosa Parks LMFAO) who was in there LONGER THAN I WAS… for trespassing. A class C misdemeanor. She went to the bank to get change, but they were closed, and a manager called the cops on her when she was standing outside too long waiting for the next bus. Two weeks for me for attempted mass murder > two weeks or more for that old woman. What sense does this shit make?

Let’s talk major crimes like mine. These are always committed by someone with some kind of deep mental illness (untreated/undiagnosed) or trauma. They need help. Children aren’t shooting up their schools in troves for no reason. Look at their backgrounds: abusive/neglectful families, poverty, trauma, etc. When it’s easy to cop an AR-15 and we are THE most gun-loaded country for no fucking REASON other than mass paranoia and the delusion of freedom, then why wouldn’t a kid who’s already about to commit suicide with mommy and daddy’s AR collection out on display in the living room NOT see anything to lose in taking as many other motherfuckers out with them? Especially anyone else who wronged them and ridiculed them for their trauma or otherwise? They need help.

Even if they DO go on to kill people, they still deserve a second chance to make amends and face the consequences of their actions. Something drove them to that point, and there was already an infinite amount of failures in more systems than one that let it happen (easy gun access, poor mental health, no social services, bullying that’s unchecked, etc.). That’s why i’m choosing to research gun violence prevention — so that I can become a therapist who specifically focuses on homicidal people and youth, because so many of these so called psychiatrists never believed me when I said I was thinking about hurting people because I simply “don’t look like it.” And guess what? The vast majority of medicine used to treat physical and mental health problems in prisons have been discontinued for use in the general American population. When I was in jail, they put me on drugs to help with my “withdrawals” that caused me to lose sensation in half of my face and would leak out of my nose. That shit is inhumane, and they FORCE you to take it in front of them. If you don’t? Well, beaten or thrown into a suicide watch pad it is.

Throwing people like me in prison, or even people with less severe crimes but still pretty serious, without proper mental health (or any kind) of treatment will only make things WORSE. If we DO get out eventually, all of that trauma i described and WORSE will only follow them forever. That makes people more inclined to commit crimes again, usually even worse ones. This is what feeds the recidivism rate, which in turn feeds into the prison system and therefore modern day slavery as well. Anything “made in America” was made by prison slave labor. For pennies on the hour, sometimes pennies a DAY, when a fucking granola bar on the commissary menu is $50.

I think that the Scandinavian countries have it right. Even Anders Breivik was only given a 21 year sentence for the Norway shooting. If he wasn’t a spoiled and narcissistic brat who thinks he’s tough shit and “too good” to accept help, even HE would’ve had the chance to get out after killing 70~ people in only 21 years if he just completed his measly little conditions (be a better person lmfao). Look at their prisons. Better than a studio apartment in downtown LA for $9mil a month in rent. They get access to things that HELP normal people: games, technology, music, instruments, arts, TV, company, THE ABILITY TO FUCK IN YOUR CELL EVERY NOW AND THEN, EVEN. Do that shit in America and they’ll slap a sex offender charge on your ass just for jacking off in your cell and OFFICIALLY ruin your life forever. And yes, even sex offenders deserve a second chance in life! And look at their crime and recidivism rates (NONE of you racist mfs chime in about the immigration issue…).

My belief is that you have to HELP people like me, my ex, and my other deranged ass friends. Look at HOW and WHY we got to that point, and FIX IT so that the chances of it happening again are LESS. Not doing so only FUELS HUMAN SUFFERING MORE. Okay, let’s say they let child killer here out of jail after all of that shit, they didn’t help me for shit afterwards and y’all SAW THAT. Now imagine if I had snapped again and actually blew up a fucking orphanage in Kentucky or some shit. Who is to BLAME for that, other than the people who knew it happened, did nothing about it, and let it happen again? If your child gets molested by the known pedophile across the street who is on the SOR already, who do you blame for letting that guy back out of prison without ACTUALLY addressing why he did what he did? Even pedophiles need support groups, because let’s face it: NOBODY is out here “slaughtering pedophiles” in troves as people like to think. It’s all just about feeling morally superior in any small way, and it doesn’t get any worse in society than hurting a child somehow. So, why not make sure that Chester the Molester gets mandatory TREATMENT and COUNSELING and UNDERSTANDING of pedophilia, which is, yes, a mental disorder listed in the DSM-5 and therefore worthy of adequate understanding and treatment as any other mental condition.

Probation is another thing that needs reform. But i already rambled enough and i gotta actually answer that other anon who sent that ask in the first place, because they want my opinion on two other things lmao. Thanks for asking me about this, I enjoyed explaining it!

[ladykailitha]

Share With Me One Love, One Lifetime Part 1

Here we go. The final story in the Boy with a Bat trilogy. It's certainly come a long way from when I first started writing for this fandom. Two years ago on this day, I put out Can Anybody See Me? because there was serious lack of season 2 AUs were Hellfire had taken Steve under their wing. And then it grew from one story into two with Never Hold Back Your Step... and I promised I would get Steddie all the way through season 4 to come out alive on the other side.

The goal is to get all the story out before season 5 premiers. So far of what I've written, we're about 2/3 of the way through season 4. We'll get to the end and then we'll have a short epilogue.

Thank you to everyone who cheered me on to complete this trilogy. But especially @bookworm0690, @kultiras, and @dreamercec.

The title like the previous two stories before it (here and here) comes from a musical. In this case, The Phantom of the Opera. RIP Eddie. You would have loved that musical.

In this we have our boys caught between a rock and hard place, Steve watches Lucas's game, and Eddie gets into some trouble.

~

Steve was going to murder someone. He just hadn’t decided on who yet. Though at the moment it was starting to look like Lucas.

“And you’re sure you can’t move it to another night?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmured. “Mike leaves for California in the morning and most of the other guys have plans too. Then once spring break comes back...”

“You can’t use the drama room because the play is starting up,” Steve finished for him. “Shit. And I can’t have it here. My mom somehow found out about the movie nights and threatened to have my dad kick me out if it happened again.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, nervously chewing on his lip. “And you know I’m gonna want to support Lucas.”

Eddie let out a long sigh. “Yeah I know. Dustin told me. I just wish Lucas had come to me instead of the flying monkeys you know?”

“Me too,” Steve said, closing his eyes. “He just got in with the boys on the basketball team and I’m worried he’s going to alienate himself from his friends if he continues to hang out with them.”

“I’m worried about that too,” Eddie huffed. “And my speech was aimed at Carver by the way. In the heat of the moment I had forgotten Lucas was on it. Got reminded afterwards though.”

Steve opened his eyes and let out answering sigh. The little bell above the door twinkled, heralding the arrival of customers. “Look, I’ve got to go, I have to actually work.”

“Booo,” Eddie hissed. “I’ve got that deal with Chrissy after the game, so I’ll be by after that, okay?”

“Okay, Eds,” Steve said. “Be safe.”

“Yup!”

Steve hung up the phone with another sigh. He straightened up and put on his best customer service smile. “Welcome to Family Video, how can I help you today?”

The rest of the day flew by in a flash and too soon he was picking up Brenda for the game. She had come into the store earlier and was talking about how she really wanted to go to the game because her brother was on the team but her parents didn’t want to go.

So Steve offered to take her. He was pretty sure she thought it was a date, but Steve kept trying to steer here away from that sort of talk. He’s not sure he succeeded.

~

“It’d be funny if we won the championship game the year after you graduated,” Brenda said with a smile.

Oh hell no.

“I wasn’t on the team my senior year,” he said with a bitchy expression. “You would know that if you actually watched us play. I was out with a concussion.”

Brenda smirked. “You know what I mean. I just mean that you were King Steve, we didn’t win the championship once.”

“Yes,” Steve cocking his head forward, “but I’m the one that got us to the championship my junior year. I sunk that last shot with nothing but net that got us into the final game. The other team was better. You can still do everything right and have the other team just be better.”

Then it looked they were going to lose, so they let Lucas play. After all what was the harm of letting him play for the last minute of the game.

And then a miracle happened.

Lucas was at the three-point line and he let go of the ball just as the buzzer went off. Steve rose to his feet as the shot sailed into the air and hit the basket dead on.

Lucas had won the championship game for the Tigers.

Steve was jumping up and down and just screaming. “Yes! Yes! Yes!!!”

~

After the players came back out from the locker rooms, Steve put his arm around Lucas.

“Looks like our hard work paid off,” he said with a teasing grin.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Thank you, Steve.”

Steve gave him a tight one-armed hug and then whispered in his ear, “If you feel uncomfortable for any reason, just give me a call and I’ll be there in a heartbeat. And don’t let anyone pressure you into something you don’t want to, okay?”

Lucas nodded and then hurried to catch up to Jason and his friends.

Steve shook his head and turned to Brenda. “Hey do you need me to take you home?”

She shook her head. “My brother is going to drop me off before heading the celebration.”

“You got it,” Steve said with a thumbs up. He stopped for a moment. “Which one did you say was your brother again?”

“I didn’t,” Brenda sneered. It’s Andy Snyder, number forty-three.”

Dread pooled in Steve stomach. Andy was the new Tommy H. A bully and a brute, on and off the court.

“He played good tonight,” he said with a fake smile smile firmly in place.

Her returning smile was even less sincere and she walked away. Steve put his hands on his hips and looked up, pressing him lips together.

He was now certain she thought they were on a date, but with Steve paying more attention to Robin then her and rooting for Lucas without even asking who her brother was... yeah. According to her the date was a failure, according to Steve, he dodged that fucking bullet.

~

Steve had barely kicked off his shoes when the walkie talkie he kept next to the door crackled to life.

“Code Red!” Eddie hissed. “I have a fucking Code Red! Is anyone there? Please god, please!”

Steve was on the line faster then from one breath to the next. “Eddie, this is Steve. Repeat, this is Steve. What’s your status?”

“Chrissy is dead, man,” Eddie whined. “She–she rose up into the air, like a puppet on a string and oh god!”

“Shit, shit, shit!” he cursed. “You’ve got to get out of there, now! Stash the van and run for Rick’s. After the game there are going to be too many eyes on my place. You keep your head down, you hear?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed. “Yeah. Oh god, it was so bad, Stevie. Why her? She was so nice to me. Why her?”

“We’ll find out,” Steve breathed. “I just don’t know who would be around right now. Everyone is out scattered because of the game, Nancy and Mike are getting ready to take him to the airport for him to fly out to California and everyone is out celebrating the win.”

“What about Dustin?” Eddie murmured. He hated bringing a kid into this, but if that was who they had...”

“I don’t know where he is,” Steve said chewing on his thumb nail. He should have picked up before he did.

“Shit!”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve got work tomorrow, but as soon as I can, I’ll bring you clothes and food enough for you hide out there, okay?”

He had a lot of Eddie’s clothes over at his place, it wouldn’t be hard for him to pack a bag.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie sighed. “You’ve got a handle on this. Just don’t forget about me, okay?”

“I’d never.”

~

“Hey,” Robin said after Steve pretty much blew up at a customer for not know if her boyfriend liked scary movies or not. “Are you okay?”

Steve grimaced. He had tried to get people on the walkies this morning but he couldn’t get anyone on the line and he didn’t have a chance to talk to Robin, because she had been running full steam about Vickie all morning.

But before he could even open his mouth to answer Dustin came storming in, with Max hot on his heels. “Turn on the news now!”

Robin turned over to the news and sure enough the breaking news was of a girl being murdered at the Forest Hills Trailer Park and the investigation was ongoing.

“That’s Eddie’s trailer!” Dustin cried.

“I saw Chrissy go into his trailer last night,” Max admitted, “and then he came running out screaming.”

“Why you didn’t get anyone on the walkies?” Steve growled. “That would have been great to know last night!”

“My mom sold them for more booze,” she snapped back.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

“We need to find him!” Dustin insisted. “He’s innocent! There is no way he did this! He couldn’t have!”

“Whoa!” Steve said sternly. “You think I don’t know that? I’m the one who introduced him to you do you forget!”

Dustin blinked at him for a moment and then nodded. “Sorry Steve, I freaked out when I found that my walkie talkie had been accidentally been turned to the wrong channel, but I couldn’t get him on it this morning and I was really worried.”

“Okay...” Robin said, raising an eyebrow, “and why are you here, specifically?”

“Oh, I was going to hack your system to find out where Eddie might have gone aground?” Dustin said with a grimace.

Steve buried his head in his hands. “Oh I am so getting fired.”

Max scoffed. “As if your peon bosses would be able to tell Dustin even touched it.”

Steve put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes skyward. “No, that’s not why I’m getting fired.”

Everyone else looked at each other in confusion.

“Then why are you getting fired?” Dustin asked with one raised eyebrow.

“I’m guessing you’re going to want to hasten to Eddie’s rescue, yes?” he asked licking his bottom lip slowly.

Dustin rolled his eyes again. “Yes!”

“And how would you get there?” Steve pressed. “You bikes? Because that won’t draw attention to where Eddie might be hiding.”

“Well, no,” Max said, “we’d make you take us.”

“Which means I would be abandoning the job to go look for Eddie if we left now, yes?”

Dustin and Max eyes went wide and then they said together, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve huffed, shaking his head. “You either wait until two when I’m off or I’m going to get fired.”

“Two, you said?” Max said with a wince.

“Mhmm.”

“That’s not too bad,” Dustin hedged. “After all it might take me that long to crack the system and find Eddie.”

He went to go leap over the counter when Steve grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

“Oh hell no,” Steve snapped. “One I just sorted those tapes and I’m not doing it again, and two you don’t need to hack shit, because I know where he is without all the techno bullshit.”

“Techno is a genre a music,” Max supplied unhelpfully.

“And it’s not bullshit if it helps us find him!” Dustin growled.

“Did you even listen to the rest of Steve said?” Robin asked, knocking his hat off his head. “He knows where Eddie is.”

Dustin blinked at Steve for a moment. “How would you know that?”

Steve rolled his head and tilted his head back. “Because I was on the actual fucking walkie talkies you make us carry around everywhere we go and Eddie radioed the party last night. AND I was the only one who answered!”

Dustin and Max blinked at Steve’s outburst, shocked that he would yell at them. But with Eddie missing and a girl dead, it was forgivable.

“So where is he,” Dustin groused, picking up his hat and slamming it down on his head, “if you’re so smart?”

“Reefer Rick’s boathouse on Lover’s Lake?” Steve suggested with a half shrug.

Max folded her arms and glared at Steve. “And how would you know where that is?”

Steve threw his arms in the air with a huff of frustration. “We’d go there sometimes when my dad was being an ass, okay?” He looked down at his shoes and scuffed his shoe on the carpet. “It was a place no knew but us. Sometimes Rick would be there and we’d watch TV sometimes.”

Dustin looked at him disbelieving. “Yeah, sure...that’s all you did.”

“I hate to break it to you kid,” Steve said dryly, “but drug lords actually prefer that their dealers aren’t doing the drugs they’re selling. It’s bad for business.”

“Oh.”

~

Tag List: 10 SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

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4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

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8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[cherryswisherz]

KARMIC BALANCE ✷ CHAPTER V

✷WARNINGS: cursing, pining??, farrah mentioned, xavia lore dropping, angst ✷NIYAH SPEAKS: computer fixed ayeeee!!! imma get to yalls requests now i pinky swear. idk when they'll be out but i gotchu

✦✦✦✦

SENIOR YEAR

“So, Ms. Johnson,” Paige smiles at me from her spot on the ground, “What does one do for Christmas in LA?”

The original plan for tonight was for our whole group to hang out before we all left to our hometowns. So it was KK, Azzi, Yanna, Jane and I. 

But of course, nothing ever goes to plan around here. Yanna and Jane went back to our place so Jane could finish packing. Azzi had to ‘take a phone call’ but she’d been in her room for almost an hour. And KK was supposed to be picking up the food, but she had been gone longer than Azzi. 

So it was just Paige and I, her on the ground building LEGO’s and me on the couch scrolling. It was a comfortable silence, but a silence that was begging to be broken. I guess Paige decided to be the one that broke it. 

“Well, Christmas is different in my house than it would be for your average Californian.” I set my phone down before folding my hands and sliding them under the blanket. “It’s more of a production than a holiday.”

I make it a point to never talk about my family’s dynamic with anyone here. I try my hardest for those two worlds to never meet, but for some reason, I trust that Paige will understand my situation better than anyone. I think to some extent, her life is as complex as mine is.

Paige seems ultimately unbothered by what I said. “Is your family one of those weird ones that has a 90ft tree and uses rare cloth to wrap presents?” She asks without ever taking her eyes off the project she’s working on. 

“Uh, kinda,” I start, “My parents are both surgeons and all four of my grandparents were doctors. My grandpa make like, a life changing discovery before my dad was born, and my grandma on my moms side was a pioneer for black women in the medical field,”

“Sound like some shit off Grey’s,” Paige chuckles and I can’t help but to join her, because it really does sound like some shit from Grey’s. 

“So obviously they were very successful and raised my parents to be just like them,”

“Of course.”

“So naturally, my parents are just like their parents and my grandparents are very proud of them, as they should be.” I throw my hands up, to let Paige know that I’m also proud of my parents, “But then they had me. And it was my parent’s turn to shape and mold their prodigy.”

“Right.” Paige nod’s her head like she’s following, still focused on the LEGO’s.

“Except I hate blood, and science has always been my weakest subject.”

She freezes for a second before turning her head to me, now paying full attention.

“So instead of a prodigy, they got a humanitarian who protests the cost of health insurance.”

Paige winces at my words, like she understands that there’s career shaped canyon between my parents and I. “Ouch,”

“Yeah so, back to Christmas,” I take a deep breath and let it out before answering her original question, “Every year, my parents throw this big party every year, bigger than the Thanksgiving one, and it’s filled with rich people who talk about making themselves richer.” 

I decide to leave out the part about me playing the piano and how a piece of me dies everytime I strike a chord. 

“Everyone asks me how school’s going and if I’m still majoring in Sociology and when I tell them ‘yes,’ they remind me that ‘the money isn’t great in social work’, and I have to pretend like I don’t want to scream that if I cared about money then I would still be using my parents money instead of busting my ass to pay my rent and keep my grades up so I don’t lose my scholarship.” 

Realizing that I’ve started rambling, I take another breath, closing my eyes and counting to three before I release it. And Paige doesn’t say anything. She just allows me this moment for myself, regardless of any questions she may have, and I appreciate more than she realizies. 

“Nobody gets why I don’t use my trust fund, or why I work when my parent’s would pay for everything.” I open my eyes and allow them to find Paige’s. 

She looks empathetic and confused and it makes me want to run away and never see her again, but also tell her all my secrets, hopes and dreams at the same time. 

Funny, right?

“Why don’t you?” she asks.

I think about my answer for a second, trying to put it in the best way I can. How do you explain to someone that if you wanted to, you could have everything you wanted, but to get everything you want, you have to be everything you never want to be? How do you explain that you know from firsthand experience that money doesn’t buy happiness?

“Because then they’d have control over me.” I speak slowly, not sure if it makes sense to me, let alone Paige. “They’d hold the money over my head so that I would have no choice but to be exactly who they want me to be. And I’d rather live the life that I do, than pretend to be something I’m not.”

The irony in my statement isn’t lost one me. 

Rich girl want to change the world by refusing to take Mommy and Daddy’s money.

Cliche, I know. But I don’t want to change the world by not taking their money. I’d gladly accept the help from my parents, and I know I’d make much more of a difference if I had money they were always trying to force feed me. But the cost isn’t worth it to me. 

How can I, in good conscience, fight to make life easier for the middle/lower class if I’m rubbing elbows with the very people who are making their lives harder?

Paige’s response shocks me to my core. “I wish I was as brave as you.”

I don’t know why I said that. I meant what I said, but I stil have no fucking clue why I allowed myself to say it. 

Because now, Xavia is looking at me like she’s waiting for me to go further. Waiting for me to give her and explanation that I can’t give her. 

I think about where this conversation would go if I was honest about it. 

I’d tell her that I admired her ability to be honest. That I lie to everyone about everything and I think the guilt is gonna kill me before I make it to the league, which is the reason I’m doing it in the first place. I’d tell her that I wish I was strong enough to do what I want without caring about the repercussions. 

My first thought is that if I were to say all that, she’d for sure think I’m insane. I wouldn’t blame her. How can I play the victim in this situation when at the end of the day, it’s my choices that got me here?

But my second thought is that Xavia would take a second. Close her eyes and take a deep breath, and I’d stare at her lashes as they brush her cheek and hope that one falls so I can brush it off her cheek. And after that second, she’d open her eyes and tell me everything I need to hear. She’d come up with a solution to all my problems and when I tell her that I’m scared to be honest about everything, she wouldn’t make me feel like shit. She’d assure me that she’d be there when my world crumbles due to my lies.

None of that can happen for two reasons. 

I’m for shit sure not gonna chance Xavia and I’s friendship by telling her my secrets.

If my second thought is correct, I’d be forced to admit to myself that I never stopped liking Xavia. I’d be forced to admit that it might not be a like anymore. That it might possibly be something deeper and complex than wanting what I can’t have.

So instead, I feed her bullshit. 

“Uh, just-” I clear my throat, “If I had the choice to go to school on someone else’s dime, I’d take it, regardless.”

The way Xavi’s face drops makes my heart do the same. I literally watch the light in her eyes that I love so much, disappear.  Her brows furrow and she tucks her lips before sticking her neck out as if to telepathically say, ‘are you dumb?’

And I’m not.

I fully understand her mindset. And I support her choices to be independent. That sentence was just the best I could come up with at the moment, but clearly it’s done more harm than good. 

“Did you not hear everything I just said?”

“Uh-”

She cuts me off, “Because if you did, then you would have heard the part where I explained why I’m not doing that.”

“No, I know why you’re doing things your way, I just wouldn’t do the same.”

The baffled look on her face tells me she’s not pleased with my attempt at damage control, “And why not?”

There are countless answers to that question, and running them over in my mind makes me mad, more at myself than anyone else. All the excuses are my own fault. 

I’m too scared to fail.

I made promises I wouldn’t be able to keep on my own.

I don’t have the confidence within myself to trust me with my own life.

And of course, like the fucking moron that I am, I said none of that to the girl who’s now standing up front the couch, legs unfolded, bare feet barring into the carpet. 

“We all have to make sacrifices to make Xavia, and you choosing to struggle and cause a rift with your parents doesn’t seem worth the cause.” I shrugged, leaning back on my haunches, craning my neck to see her. 

She cuts her eyes at me before inhaling and exhaling. ‘Bye, Paige.” And now, she’s sliding into her shoes and grabbing her back, “Tell KK I’ll Apple Pay her my part for the food.”

I’m speechless as I watch her hips sway to my front door. I watch her arms swing the door open and I watch it close with a soft click. 

It isn’t until I watch her Uber drive off with her in it that I realize what the fuck just happened, and when I do it takes everything in me to not fall to my fucking knees. 

I just stare at the door, like if I hope hard enough Xavia will come back and have magically figured out everything I wanted to say.

But she doesn’t come back. The front door doesn’t open again until KK barges in with bags of Chick-Fil-A, asking where Xavi and Azzi went.

I can’t even bring myself to answer. 

I just close my eyes and force the tears back into their ducts before wordlessly going to my room and it isn’t until I’m in my bed with the lights off that allow the tears to fall. 

I allow myself to shake from the force of my regret. I let my lungs empty themselves out into my pillow with every sob. I allow this one time to be honest with myself because no amount of ignoring or denial will trick my brain into thinking that being Xavi-less is worth it.. 

So the rest of the night, I cry until there’s no tears left, and then I cry some more just because I want to. 

It’s not even the fact that Xavia walked out on me. It’s not abou the fact that she’s mad at me, though that doesn’t sit well either. 

It’s the fact that, for years I knew exactly how my life was gonna look. I knew I was going pro. I knew I was gonna be the #1 draft pick and I knew that in order for these things to happen, I had to make sacrifices. I had to pick the right girl, wear the right clothes, talk a certain way and dedicate myself to my career. I had to be absolutely fucking miserable and become a version of myself that I wasn’t proud of.

 And for all this time, I told myself that all this loneliness and misery was going to be worth it when I put that hat on. Because then I’d have done it. I’d have done what I’ve wanted to do since I was 10.

It didn’t matter that I was a liar. That I was keeping a girl I loved (as a friend) from being with someone who could give her everything she deserved. It didn’t matter I’d never enjoy sex again, or that the guilt of my decisons was probably gonna give me ulcers. Didn’t even matter that I’d probably go to Hell for all the sins I’d committed.

But now, I can’t stop my brain from telling me that the WNBA isn’t worth Farrah’s happiness. It isn’t worth the light in Xavia’s eyes. It isn’t worth Azzi’s peace of mind. 

It isn’t worth my soul.

The next morning, I ignore my alarm. I ignore the knocks on my door and the texts from my team and the calls from Farrah. I just lay there in my bed, wrapped in a blanket that smells nothing like coconut oil, and try to get my shit together, 

I wrack my brain and force myself to remember why I’m doing this. 

WHY THE FUCK AM I DOING THIS?

✷TAGLIST @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @janaelalfysblunt @kmoneymartini

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[widebrimmedhatsblog]

Onyx Storm Predictions!!

I wanted to do a full theory post but the clock is TICKING and I decided to get sick last week before I could write one up, so this will have to do!

Predictions below the cut! I'm going to re-blog and re-spoiler tag with extra info from the apple books preview, so no onyx storm spoilers on THIS post.

I'm going to start off with my most controversial prediction and say that I don't think Xaden is leaving! The bond is still in place (re: end of IF) and Sgaeyl evidently still gives a fuck about him (again, re: end of IF) and so I don't think she's going to break the bond! I DO think he might try and leave, but I think Violet will stop him.

This is probably the second most controversial (at least to me) but I do think Violet might be part/half venin. I think Lilith turned when she was pregnant with Violet. I don't fully know how being part venin would even work, but we know next to nothing about how being FULL venin would work, so I'm not gonna sweat it. There's a huge theme (motif?) of being two things at once in these books (violet's hair, her eyes, her two dragons, her two signets, scribe/rider, Xaden's two signets, etc.) Further, you have Lilith's cure-investigation, and also the matter of the extreme amount of parallels between Lilith and Xaden. I think they both turned to protect Violet.

The subsect of that prediction/theory/whatever is that I don't think Xaden can drain her! If you read the fight with JFB in FW wherein Vi is "shaken by an internal force (she doesn't) understand, as though he's forcing his own power into my body, shocking me with a thousand stings of vibrating energy" while he has his hands holding her face. A couple paragraphs later, it's confirmed his eyes are red-rimmed. (Fourth Wing pages 294-295). I think this is JFB draining her to a certain degree. It HURTS Violet, he gets power, but no hand prints! I actually really wanted Xaden to leave sexy handprints on her, but in the last like 4 days I've changed my mind. I foresee a sort of vampire-esque power drinking thing!

I keep calling myself controversial but I'm going to keep doing it. My NEXT controversial take is that I don't think they're going to the isles yet! I think Vi may WANT to go to the isles, but I think she'll have to go to Poromiel first, then head to the barrens!

I think Vi's second signet is one of two things: the type of mirroring signet I used in Teach Me, or a straight up inntinnsic. Both of these are used in the throne scene, as I spelled out in that fic! I don't mind Vi being an inntinnsic*, especially since all the men in her life have a direct line into her head. I really think it's only fair if she can get back at them, IDK.

I don't think we're meeting Xaden's mom this book! I think that's book 4. But while we're talking about her, I think she has a second kid Xaden doesn't know about, and I think they'll meet this secret sibling first and it will be a moment of tenuous trust between riorgail (in that Violet will have to grapple with the possibility of him keeping secrets from her AGAIN, only to find out her isn't)

I'm saving my thoughts on who dies for the spoilery part!

I don't think Xaden is getting "Cured". I'm not entirely sure there will be a cure on a person-to-person basis, because I frankly think that defeats the purpose of the metaphor.

This MAY be a book 4 thing, but I'm going to add it here anyway! My IRL bestie and I talk a lot about how the story of the 3 brothers here is the Deathly Hallows reborn, and we've been joking about how Violet must gather said hallows to defeat Voldemort etc. However, we joked about it a little too much, and now I'm convinced: at some point, Vi will be the dragon rider, the gryphon flier, and the venin

OR: Mira is the gryphon rider* and Brennan's the venin.

This is wishful thinking actually but the quest squad somehow ends up being just x, vi and the dragons!

This is more of a theme prediction, but every book thus far (all 2!) have been about unpacking a level of propaganda. FW is Navarre's propaganda about war, and IF is Navarre's propaganda about Poromiel. Therefore, we have at least 2 more forms of propaganda to unpack: whatever the fuck is going on with the dragons, and the idea that venin are inherently evil. I think we tackle one of these book 3 and one book 4! Or perhaps both together, because they are intertwined.

Crack Pot Theories

Papa Sorrengail's first name is Adam.

I don't think Halden is Violet's ex. I think it's literally two random ass infantry guys. Also Xaden gets to kill Halden :)

I think Brennan killed Naolin! I also think they were gay. I think it’s a mirror to a different way to handle someone turning venin for you than what Vi and X will do

I may edit this and add more. Why am I blanking on every thought I've ever had about onyx storm in my life.