#back door 2: a key fits but does not turn the thing ?? so what does that key even go to ???

[keeps-ache]

locked out of the house lol ✌️

[poisonofthepaint]

Day After Tomorrow

read part two here!

a/n: hi! this is my first time writing for abbot so i hope this is okay! hoping to make this a series, it was really fun to write this :-) and i would love to hear if u liked it!!

content warnings: none serious, age gap between abbot and reader, lots of dialogue, spiraling reader a tinsy bit, maybe ooc jack? definitely some wacked up medical school hoopla i made up to make it fit my abbot backstory headcanons, reader is a barista who's studying philosophy, this is their first meeting. i barely proofread this. enjoy!

It was early. Way too fucking early. You could not believe that your boss had bumped up the hours again. The shop opened at 4:00 now. Four in the morning. You couldn’t believe your eyes when you got the text. You had woken up at 2:50, the latest you could sleep in and also get to work at 3:30. Honestly, you think you’ll get used to it, but right now, in the transitional period? This felt like hell. Who even gets coffee at 4:00 A.M.? 

You regret the thought the second it enters your brain, because, of course, the bell goes off on the door to signal someone is walking in. 

“One second, sorry, getting my bearings,” you say, not bothering to look up at the first of many customers.

“That’s okay. You are open, yes?”  he says while walking to the ordering counter

The deep voice makes your eyes shoot up, and his attire makes them linger longer. He’s adorned in black scrubs, a gray t-shirt peeking out from beneath them. You draw your eyes away quickly, probably not quick enough for him to not notice you were staring, but again, it’s early, you’re just moving slow.  

“Yes, open, and– shit,” you mumble. “Shoot,” you correct yourself as if your boss is around to hear it. The stranger smiles and huffs out a laugh.

“Sorry, this drawer is a pain in the morning, it never wants to unlock itself. Technology,” you say and shrug. You grab the physical key and unlock it, which has the computer registering you’re open. 

“I get it, I prefer to do things the old fashioned way.” he says. You shoot him a look. “I just mean, no technology.” he shakes his head, and pulls a hand down his face.

“What can I get you…”you glance down at his badge, “Jack.” A smile finally warms on your face, and it brings a small one to his too. 

“Just a small hot coffee, nothing in it.”

“Easy enough,” you turn around to the machine and start pouring the fresh coffee into a cup. “Starting or ending your shift?” you ask.

“I’m almost done, few more hours, just needed something better than whatever the hell they serve in the cafeteria.”

You nod your head, and put a lid on the coffee. “Well consider this a courtesy, on the house.”

He looks shocked, and… a little bit offended? You can’t tell. Honestly, he’s pretty mysterious. You feel like you can read him, but maybe you can’t? 

“I don’t mind paying.” he says, pulling out some cash from his wallet.

“I’m sure you’re good for it,” you push away the cash in his hand, softly grazing his knuckles, “But, I’m really trying to prove a point to my boss that no one comes in this early. You’re kind of putting a fork in my master plan.”

  He laughs, a genuine laugh. You smile, again. You want to impress him, but you’re unsure why. Maybe it's kind of like a kinship thing. Like, hey, I’m up this early too. I see you, we’ve got the night covered while almost everyone else sleeps.

“Oh, I see. You don’t want to be up this early.” Jack’s back to, what you assume is his normal, stoic, expression. You didn’t even notice he stopped laughing

“Do you like the night shift?” you ask. You don’t deny his claim. Who wants to be up this early to work?

“I do, yeah, I do.” Jack does, apparently.

“Is it quieter?”

“Is it ever quiet?”

He stares at you. You open and close your mouth– look around the empty cafe. “I mean, here? Yeah. in a hospital? I’m gonna go with no.”

He nods his head slowly, and looks down. He doesn’t leave, though. Even though the transaction is over. He needs someone to talk to, you realize. Someone who isn’t dying, and someone who doesn’t know what the hell is going on in a hospital at 4:00 A.M. He doesn’t pick his head up, fiddling with the stopper you put in the lid of the coffee.

“Well, I hope that coffee doesn’t make your hands shake, I don’t want to be implicated.” That gets his eyes to meet yours. He looks like he forgot he was still standing there. “You’re free to stay however long you need, say the line was long, or, whatever. I am gonna set some more stuff up but, feel free to hang out. It’s kind of nice having someone to talk to.” You turn the blame on yourself; make him feel like he’s treating you instead.

You’ve always been kind of attuned to people’s emotional baggage. And a few years of customer service in a city has certainly bumped up that ability for you. People came and went, but you could remember who was hurting, and who needed the extra bedside manners that baristas could sometimes supply. You catch his eye while you make yourself a shift drink. A London fog today, with an extra tea bag, because you do need the caffeine.

“A barista who doesn’t drink coffee?” he says, gesturing with his cup.

“Oh, I drink a lot of coffee. But, I try to save those for when it gets busy. Right now, I’m okay with just tea. If I drink the coffee now, I’ll crash by the rush, and there won’t be time to make a drink. But if I drink it closer to the rush then…”

“Smart girl,” he says.

The comment makes your face feel hot. It’s your turn to put your head down, you polish the espresso machine in front of you instead of meeting his eyes. 

“Are you in school?” he asks.

“I am, I’m getting my Masters. Last semester,” you smile. 

“In what?” His bluntness is more attractive than you care to admit. It feels like an interrogation, but also like a first date. You wonder why he’s stayed this long.

“Philosophy,” you say as you exhale out.

“Plans after?” 

“I thought everyone knew they weren’t supposed to ask people that?”

He laughs, again. Two laughs from mysterious brooding Doctor Abbot. Three if you count the tiny one. You want to go for four. You want to go for sixty.

“I guess it’s easy for Med School students. Very clear plan there.”

“Very clear. But I took a work around.”

“Oh yeah?”

He gets a small smirk on his lips, “Yeah, I served, and was a medic out there.” Your face drops, everything you think you know about anything leaves your brain, you have another stupid 4 A.M. thought and think maybe you should salute. Luckily, you don’t.

“That always stumps people. But, I loved what I did so much I did an expedited Med School program to get me in as an ER doctor.”

“So, here you are now.” you regain your thinking.

“Here I am,” he says. “Hey, are you here alone?”

“You should know there’s cameras everywhere.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he says, understanding your joke. Another laugh, that makes four. “I just wondered.”

“No, I’m not. There’s other people in the back doing, what needs done in the back.” You say, not wanting to bore an ER Doctor with what goes on at a coffee shop.

“Good, you shouldn’t be here alone.” 

“You worried about me, Doc?” 

The nickname, and question, sends him for a loop, that he can’t hide. His gaze seems to change, and he stares at you with such intensity you have to look away for a second before you can look back. When you do, his eyes are still there. He clears his throat, does a little pace around the spot he was standing. He seems like he’s stalling. You peak over his shoulder at the analog clock. 4:30 A.M. Long coffee run for a doctor, he’s probably thinking so too. 

“Do you work this early every morning?” He asks with furrowed eyebrows.

  So, ignoring your question then. “Mostly, yes, but not tomorrow, thankfully.”

“But after that?” He asks with urgency.

“I’ll be here the day after tomorrow, yes.” You try to keep a cool demeanor, but his nonchalant nature is rubbing off on you. You’re starting to get antsy. You spin the ring on your pointer finger around to try to calm yourself.

“Okay, good. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.” Like it’s nothing. Like it’s not a fucking second date type plan. Like he doesn’t even think of it.

“Okay, good.” You say, parroting him. He walks toward the door backwards, not breaking eye contact with you. He pushes it open with his shoulder, tossing the empty cup into the trash bin right next to the front door. He stands there for a second before leaving. And when he is forced to turn around from you, he shakes his head.

You’re off the rest of your shift. Everyone can tell. You’re not as fast, you’re making mistakes. You feel like you’re in a fucking dream. You can’t remember if he was even real. Jack Abbot. Jack Abbot. Jack Abbot.

You repeat the name until you feel like you’re gonna choke on it. Doctor Jack Abbot. You try to remember everything you said, and you try not to feel embarrassed by any of it. God, he caught you off guard. And it wasn’t fair! You could’ve handled it so much better if it wasn’t so, fucking, early. And he had hours of consciousness on you! When he came in, it had been, what, maybe an hour since you had woken up? 

And you really try not to think too much about it.  He said he’d come back, so it couldn’t have been too bad. But you like him, and you have never had a crush on a customer. It was a rule you had always followed. Anyone you thought was cute, you didn’t let yourself spiral about, you cut it in the bud. You didn’t want to have someone the whole staff knew suddenly disappear because you two went on a bad date.

But the staff didn’t know Jack! It was just you two, there wasn’t even a goddamn transaction on record! So of course you’re spiraling! And he’s a doctor, a good doctor, who obviously cares about his patients. You wanted to pry his brain open, have him teach you all the science knowledge you didn’t get from your Philosophy degree.  You wanted him. And all you had was a promise.

You do get yourself under control, about an hour before your shift ends. You didn’t let yourself google him. You didn’t let yourself think about him. You focused on your work, and honestly, it got so busy it did kind of get pushed to the back of your head. But he was lingering around. He was like a piece of sticky gum on your shoe. It was a promise that you would not let yourself be sad if it was broken. You will yourself to not spiral about a promise from this man you didn’t really know. Your whole life wasn’t going to be over if Dr. Jack Abbot didn’t come in promptly at 4 A.M. the day after tomorrow. 

He didn’t seem like the type to break a promise. You don’t know why he would have been so adamant about asking you when you work if he was lying. No, you’d see him again. You just had to be calm, and wait. Tomorrow was going to kill you, though. A day off with nothing to do but classes. You hoped the coursework would be interesting enough to distract you from him in your brain. For a brief moment, you wonder if you should change your thesis to applying different types of philosophy to ER Doctors. You couldn’t believe you were so caught up by a thirty minute conversation, but you were. There was no changing that. You just had to get to the day after tomorrow.

Yes, the day after tomorrow, maybe you’d get another thirty minutes.

[bjlipss]

— until the quiet finds you;

༉‧₊˚. synopsis: you’re 24, a single mom just trying to survive off of temporary jobs—until a chance elevator ride with gojo satoru, the too-charming ceo of gojo industries, shifts everything. what starts as coffee and kindness slowly turns into something real. but when you’ve spent the last 2 years in survival mode, learning to trust might be the hardest thing of all.

contents: ceo!gojo x single mom!reader, slow burn-ish, slice of life maybe? fluff, some angst, trust issues ig, very exhausted reader, eventual smut, office setting, i will add warnings as the story goes on! current word count: 4,4k. header art: @_3aem on X.

miyan’s notes: hopefully i don’t abandon this lmao. enjoy!

chapter 1 -> chapter 2

you’re running late.

you’re always running late now.

your sneakers slap against the glossy marble of the building’s lobby as you rush across it, breath already hitching in your chest. tomo is tucked tight against you in his wrap, warm and wiggling, his little fists occasionally jabbing you like tiny, accusing reminders of how little sleep either of you got last night. your diaper bag swings wildly from your shoulder, half-unzipped and threatening to spill its chaotic contents—an ominous mix of crushed formula packets, mismatched socks, and a pacifier you’re pretty sure tomo has already rejected three times today.

your purse is dangling off the other arm. your keys are stabbing into your hip. your cardigan—thrown on to appear “presentable” for the office—is wrinkled and milk-stained and clinging to your back with sweat from the subway. and somewhere, probably at the bottom of the bag or on the floor of your apartment, you’re convinced you left your last shred of dignity.

but you made it.

you slow to a stop in front of the elevator, panting slightly, hand slapping the up button with more force than necessary. tomo lets out a soft grumble and rubs his face against your chest, mouth wobbling, clearly on the verge of his next baby meltdown. his face is flushed and tired, the soft tips of his ears warm against your collarbone.

you start bouncing him gently, whispering soft hushes against the top of his fuzzy little head.

“i know, baby. we’re almost there. just hang on for mama, yeah?”

the elevator dings.

you lurch forward—too fast—and nearly trip over your own shoelaces. with a sharp inhale, you catch yourself, shifting your balance quickly to keep tomo snug against your chest. the doors slide open—

and someone’s already inside.

a man.

he’s tall, annoyingly so. and striking in that way that makes you feel like you’ve just walked into the pages of a fashion magazine by accident. he’s leaning casually against the mirrored wall of the elevator, hands in his pockets, ankles crossed, like it’s a photoshoot and not, you know, a monday.

he wears a tailored navy suit that fits him too perfectly to be anything but custom-made. snowy white hair tousled like he just rolled out of bed but still somehow looks intentional. and sunglasses—sleek, black, and very much unnecessary indoors.

you freeze.

so does he.

he tilts his head just slightly in your direction. his gaze—hidden behind those stupidly dramatic sunglasses—somehow lands on you anyway. heavy. curious.

“you getting in?” he asks, voice low, amused, just a little drawling. “or just enjoying the view?”

your face burns instantly.

you tighten your hold on tomo, huff a breath through your nose, and step in quickly, brushing past him. your shoulder grazes his arm, the fabric of his suit smooth and crisp.

“sorry,” you mutter, trying not to wince at your own awkwardness. “wasn’t expecting… anyone.”

“same,” he says easily, like this is just any other conversation, like you’re not currently vibrating with embarrassment and sweat. his eyes flick down toward the bundle at your chest. “he yours?”

you nod once, instinctively bracing yourself. you’ve heard that tone before. the subtle, patronizing pity. the judgment hidden in polite smiles. young mom, flustered, clearly overwhelmed—how irresponsible, how sad, how predictable.

but instead, he just grins.

“cute kid.”

you blink.

“…thanks.”

the elevator hums upward, the air thick with that slightly awkward silence that feels too loud in a small space. tomo shifts again, starting to squirm in his wrap, and you feel it before it happens—the growing tension in his little body, the hiccuping inhale, the inevitable explosion.

he wails.

a loud, guttural cry that echoes like a siren off the metal walls. god, this is embarrassing. not even ten minutes into this fancy building and you’re already the disheveled stereotype.

you freeze for a moment, mortified. your hands fly to the wrap, bouncing him in frantic, practiced motions, patting his back and whispering frantically.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurt, heat rushing to your face. “he’s usually—well, no, he’s always like this, but i swear i’m trying.” you don’t even know why that comes out of your mouth.

you expect the man to recoil. to sigh. to edge away like most people do when a baby starts crying in an enclosed space. but he doesn’t.

“bad day?” the man asks. he doesn’t look annoyed. in fact, he looks… interested. amused. his sunglasses have slipped down his nose a bit, revealing startlingly bright blue eyes that seem to flicker with something soft when they glance at your baby.

“bad month,” you answer, too tired to lie. “sorry about the noise.”

“what’s his name?” he asks, gesturing lightly toward the red-faced bundle in your arms.

“tomo,” you say, eyes narrowing slightly. “why?”

“just wondering,” he shrugs. “he’s got a good set of lungs. he’ll go far.”

your lips twitch, despite everything. he crouches smoothly, leaning in a little without getting too close. his voice drops to something quieter, gentler—almost conspiratorial.

“hey there, little guy,” he says. “you mad about mondays too?”

tomo pauses.

just for a beat.

then blinks at the stranger, confused but curious, his tiny brow furrowed.

the crying falters. the elevator hums upward, floor after floor, and tomo starts to settle again, comforted by the motion or maybe by the stranger’s low, calm voice.

your mouth falls open. “how did you do that?”

the man straightens with a smug smile, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. “babies love me.”

you squint at him. “that’s deeply unfair.”

he laughs. the sound is warm. unpretentious. and somehow, it actually makes your chest ache a little.

“maybe,” he says. “or maybe i’m just naturally charming.”

you try to glare, but it falters halfway through. “and you are…?”

“gojo,” he says. “satoru. top floor.”

your stomach dips slightly.

gojo satoru.

as in gojo industries.

as in the man whose name is literally printed in gold on the glass doors you just kicked open with your foot five minutes ago while juggling your screaming baby.

and here you are—sweaty, milk-stained, five minutes late—making a mess in his elevator.

“oh,” you say faintly, cheeks heating. “i didn’t realize.”

“you’re not supposed to,” he says with a shrug. “half the time i sneak down here to avoid meetings. easier when no one recognizes you.”

you glance at him, incredulous, but the words come out easier than you expect. “you’re wearing sunglasses inside.”

“exactly,” he grins. “a perfect disguise.”

you snort despite yourself. it slips out, ungraceful and exhausted, but real. tomo is calm now—suspiciously so—gurgling like nothing ever happened.

gojo glances at him, then back at you.

“you new here?” he asks, and there’s something in his tone that doesn’t feel like small talk.

“just temping,” you say after a moment. “reception on floor fifteen. friend called in a favor so i could pick up a couple shifts.”

“hm. what’s your name?” you tell him, abruptly cut off by the tiny boy in your arms.

tomo fusses again—an impatient little whimper pressed against your collarbone. you don’t even have to think about it; your body moves before your brain does, bouncing him gently, one hand rubbing slow circles across his back. it’s second nature now, stitched into your muscles, something you do without looking, without pausing, like breathing.

you glance at the floor display.

still six floors to go.

“he’s not usually this cranky,” you murmur, voice low, mostly to yourself. “it’s just been a long week… or something like that.”

your laugh is dry, tired. too tired to mask the exhaustion that seeps through your whole body.

gojo shifts slightly beside you. not away, but closer—like he’s listening.

“you don’t have to apologize,” he says after a beat. his tone is different now—less teasing, more grounded. “i’ve sat through board meetings louder than that. at least he doesn’t have a pie chart about quarterly losses.”

you snort again, surprised by the joke. “tempting. if he could weaponize his scream during financial reviews, i might actually get a promotion.”

he huffs a laugh, and for a second, the elevator feels a little less like a steel trap and more like something gentler. the kind of quiet you don’t have to fill with apologies.

you glance sideways at him. his jaw is sharp and clean, framed by that ridiculous white hair that somehow works for him. but it’s not the sharpness that holds your attention—it’s the way his expression softens when he looks at tomo. like he’s not just tolerating the noise or waiting out the ride. he’s here, present, calm.

you look down at your son, still fussing quietly, rubbing his little fists against his eyes like the world’s too much. you get it. you really do.

“still,” you say softly, your voice catching a bit. “i know people don’t really want to deal with this. with me.”

gojo turns toward you slightly. “what do you mean?”

you gesture vaguely, a quick sweep of your hand that could mean anything—your baby, your messy hair, your oversized bag, your creased clothes and tired eyes. “this,” you say. “all of it. the crying, the—the walking chaos. i get looks, you know? like i don’t belong here or… anywhere.”

he watches you for a long moment. not pitying or patronizing. just… watching. like he’s taking you in for real. his gaze is uncomfortably perceptive and you have to brace yourself to not shift away from the discomfort you feel.

“i believe it,” he says, watching tomo, who yawns dramatically. “you’re doing good, though.”

you blink at him.

“what?”

“you heard me,” he says, not even missing a beat. “juggling work and a baby? showing up even when it’s clear you’ve barely slept? that’s impressive.”

your throat tightens. you weren’t expecting that. people don’t usually say those words to you. they offer advice, concern, sometimes even backhanded praise—but never that. there’s weight of honesty behind his words. your fingers twitch where they rest on tomo’s back.

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. just the sharp burn of unshed tears pressing behind your eyes, the tired part of you that so badly wants to believe him.

the elevator dings. your floor.

you straighten up instinctively, readjusting tomo in his wrap and trying not to look like your heart just tripped over itself. you tighten the strap of the diaper bag on your shoulder, all too aware of how frayed it looks next to the man in the suit beside you.

“thanks,” you say, clearing your throat.

gojo shrugs a little, watching you with something unreadable in his expression.

“you ever get a break,” he says, just as the doors start to slide open, “come by the top floor. coffee’s decent. and i’ve got a stash of sugar cookies i may or may not be hiding from my assistant.”

you pause, half-in, half-out of the elevator. “you’re bribing me with snacks?”

“depends,” he says with a grin. “is it working?”

your eyebrow lifts, skeptical but amused. “do temps even have access to the executive floor?”

he flashes a lopsided smile, too charming for his own good. “technically? no. but if anyone asks, tell them it’s an emergency strategy meeting. highly confidential.”

“with tomo?”

“of course. who else?” he leans against the back wall again, relaxed as ever. “kid’s clearly got vision.”

“he can’t even hold his head up half the time.”

“neither can half my execs,” he says without missing a beat.

you laugh—genuinely, this time. it slips out before you can stop it. quiet, surprised. the kind of sound you didn’t realize you hadn’t made in days.

you glance down at your baby—who is now drooling contentedly, totally unbothered—and then back at gojo, whose smile hasn’t faded.

“i’ll keep the cookies warm,” he calls.

“…i’ll think about it.”

the doors begin to close. he lifts two fingers in a lazy farewell.

“i’ll be waiting.”

you shake your head, stepping out into the hall, heart still doing something ridiculous in your chest.

──────────────────────

by the time noon rolls around, you’re just about ready to cry.

the phones at reception haven’t stopped ringing. every call blurs into the next: wrong numbers, impatient clients, one woman who spent seven full minutes telling you about her boss’s astrological incompatibility with her cat. your friend’s login doesn’t work, and IT is ignoring your tickets, so the front desk system keeps locking you out every ten minutes. each time, you have to retype your credentials while tomo lets out a bloodcurdling shriek because you dared to stop rocking him.

an intern—not older than nineteen, probably still thinking this job is going to lead to something important—asked you to order “gluten-free air-fried kelp chips” for a VIP client meeting. you don’t even know what that means. you don’t care. you said yes anyway.

tomo—bless his tiny, growing teeth—is going through a phase that involves shrieking every time he’s not being held. no bouncer. no stroller. not even the wrap works unless you’re moving. constant movement. always.

you’ve been rocking him in the wrap while pretending to sound professional, typing with one hand, shushing with the other. your body aches, your back is sore, and you’re down to the last functional nerve in your entire soul. you’ve barely touched your coffee—it’s cold now, bitter. acidic. just like your mood.

you glance at the clock. 12:07.

you’re not sure if the ticking in your head is from sleep deprivation or your own heartbeat echoing gojo’s ridiculous parting words from this morning:

i’ll be waiting.

you scoff under your breath, rubbing your temples. he was probably just being nice. people like him are always just being nice. they toss charm around like it’s nothing because it doesn’t cost them anything. billionaires don’t actually invite single moms to drink coffee on the top floor of their buildings. they especially don’t follow through.

but then—

ding.

you glance up from your monitor, startled, as the elevator doors slide open with a polished whisper of motion.

and out walks gojo satoru.

again.

same tailored suit. same disarmingly white hair. same sunglasses. except now he’s carrying two takeout cups of coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the scent of warm pastry hits your nose instantly—buttery, flaky, real. not vending machine lies.

he looks like he does own the world. or maybe just the building. (which he does). his presence is loud, even though he’s not saying anything yet. and he walks like nothing in this world could possibly surprise or rattle him.

your breath hitches. tomo coos softly in his wrap, sleepy and content for once. traitor.

“you again,” you say, blinking at him.

“me again,” he replies, grinning like he planned this moment in a mirror. “was in the neighborhood.”

“this is your building.”

“and yet,” he says smoothly, “i still had to walk all the way from my office to this desk. grueling journey. i deserve a medal.”

you snort, half-exhausted, half-amused—but before you can protest and remind him of the elevator he walked out of, he sets the coffee down gently on the reception desk, followed by the paper bag. you glance at the label on the cup—your name written in messy handwriting with a little smiley face underneath. it’s hot. still steaming. the kind of cup you used to treat yourself to back when you had the luxury of treating yourself.

“thought you might be hungry,” he says, casually. “figured cold vending machine crackers weren’t gonna cut it.”

your stomach growls audibly. you want to disappear. you shoot a look at him like it’s his fault for having working ears.

“you didn’t have to—”

“i know,” he cuts in, removing his sunglasses with one hand and slipping them into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. his eyes are absurdly blue. open. curious. warm in a way that feels dangerous. “but i wanted to.”

you hesitate.

no one just wants to. not for you. not unless there’s something else beneath it—some favor, some guilt, some expectation. you’ve learned that the hard way.

“is this… charity?” you ask, a little sharper than you mean to.

gojo doesn’t flinch. doesn’t shift. just tilts his head slightly, as if he’s considering you from a new angle. the distrust in your tone might have been even more palpable than back in the morning.

“nah. if this were charity, i’d bring a camera crew and write it off as a tax deduction.” he smiles, tilting his head. “this is coffee. for a tired mom. who’s doing her best. and still looks like she could kick someone’s ass if she needed to.”

your lips twitch. damn it.

“that’s a weird compliment.” no, it’s one of the nicest things someone ever said to you. and the bastard didn’t even make it sound obnoxious.

“it’s an honest one.”

tomo stirs again, making a soft gurgling sound—somewhere between a sigh and a protest—and gojo leans in. not obnoxiously, not like a man trying to impress you. he just leans forward a little to peek over the edge of the desk, like he’s talking to a tiny prince instead of a drooling infant.

“still the cutest ceo in the building,” he murmurs to your son. “don’t tell my board.”

tomo kicks slightly and—god help you—smiles. a real one. soft, gummy, sunbeam-bright. you quickly memorize it and try not to think of the reason behind it.

you exhale a laugh before you can stop yourself. it bubbles out, tired but real, pulling your shoulders down from your ears for the first time in hours. it’s been a long time since someone made you laugh in a way that didn’t feel forced.

gojo straightens, leaning on the desk with a grin. he’s watching you now—not just looking, but seeing. like he’s memorizing the way your expression changes when you let your guard down. it should be unnerving. instead, it’s… grounding.

“so. what’s the deal? you always this hard to impress?”

you raise a brow.

“you always show up unannounced like a caffeine-bearing fairy godmother?”

“only when the receptionist is this pretty.”

you roll your eyes.

“that’s a terrible line.”

“and yet it got a smile.” he looks far too pleased with himself.

you sip the coffee slowly, grateful for the heat, the caffeine, and the brief illusion that you’re not hanging on by a thread. it’s good. rich. something with hazelnut notes. he remembered your name. got you a nice cup of coffee and pastries softer than anything you’ve tasted in a while.

for a few quiet seconds, it’s just the two of you, the soft hum of the lobby, the gentle breath of your baby against your chest—and no chaos. no judgment. no expectations.

and then, because you need to say it, because you have to:

“i’m not looking for anything, you know,” you say, cautiously, mid-sip and contemplating whether you should have said it before drinking the coffee. “in case that’s what this is.”

there’s a beat. he doesn’t look surprised. doesn’t lean away, either.

“good,” he says, voice softer now. “because i’m not offering anything. not really.”

you blink at him.

what does that mean?

“i just… wanted to see you again,” he adds. “maybe get to know the person who made me smile before noon for the first time in weeks.”

you don’t say anything at first.

but you don’t tell him to leave, either.

──────────────────────

by the time your shift ends, you’re running on fumes.

your back is killing you. tomo is finally asleep, tucked tight against your chest, his tiny hand curled in the fabric of your cardigan. you smell like formula and dry-cleaned carpet. your brain feels like scrambled eggs. and yet—despite all that—there’s still a little something warm sitting in your chest.

gojo didn’t stay long after dropping off the coffee and pastries, but he lingered just long enough to make you laugh again. enough to watch tomo like he wasn’t just humoring you. enough to make the day feel slightly less like drowning. like maybe you were treading water, not sinking.

you turn off the desk monitor, lock the cabinet, and double-check the lobby is cleared out. it’s that quiet part of early evening where the lights buzz a little too loud and everything feels still, like the city is catching its breath.

your legs ache. your bag is too heavy. your stomach is a cavern of missed meals and vending machine regrets. you just want to get home, collapse into bed, and pray tomo gives you three uninterrupted hours of sleep.

you don’t expect anyone to be waiting for you.

but there he is.

leaning against the marble wall by the elevators like he has all the time in the world. sleeves rolled up to his forearms, tie loosened, suit jacket folded neatly over his arm. no sunglasses this time. no jokes. just that unreadable expression—somewhere between calm and something else. something softer.

he straightens when he sees you.

“figured you’d clock out right on the dot,” he says, voice easy. “very punctual. i respect that.”

you blink, momentarily thrown. “i’ve got a baby who turns into a siren after six. punctuality is survival.”

he chuckles, stepping toward the elevator and pressing the button. “fair enough.”

the doors slide open with a soft ding. you hesitate. something is coming.

he gestures inside, face neutral. “come up with me for a sec?”

you tilt your head. “you always invite exhausted single moms up to your office at the end of the day?”

“only the cool ones,” he says casually, already stepping in, as if he knows you’ll follow.

you pause for a heartbeat longer, glance down at tomo—still asleep, curled tight in the wrap like he’s dreaming something peaceful—and then step in after him.

what could it hurt?

the ride up is smooth. quiet. the kind of quiet that feels intentional, not awkward. the kind of elevator that doesn’t creak or hum, just glides upward like a thought. you rock on your heels out of habit, one hand resting over tomo’s back. gojo doesn’t speak. doesn’t push. he just watches the numbers tick upward.

his office is… not what you expected.

open and clean, minimalist without being cold. warm-toned wood floors. a low leather couch. wide, tall windows that stretch from wall to wall, casting golden light across the space like something out of a movie. the skyline glows outside, bathed in the soft orange of a spring sunset.

you blink, overwhelmed for a second by how surreal it all feels.

gojo sets his jacket down on the back of a chair and gestures for you to sit on the couch. he moves like this is normal. like this isn’t strange. like inviting the front desk temp into his office after hours is just another tuesday.

“i wanted to ask you something,” he says, walking to a sleek side cabinet. he pulls out two cold bottles of water, offers you one with a nudge of his chin.

you take it, relishing in the coolness of the bottle. “if it’s about gluten-free kelp chips, i swear to god…”

he grins, settling into the armchair across from you. “no kelp. promise.”

you sit on the edge of the couch, adjusting tomo carefully. he stirs for a moment but stays asleep, face tucked to your chest, one chubby cheek pressed against your skin.

gojo leans forward, elbows on his knees, bottle turning slowly in his hands.

“i looked you up,” he says.

your spine stiffens. “…you what?”

“i googled you,” he says, with a one-shouldered shrug. “nothing weird. just… curious.”

you look around again, cautious in case you missed something, every muscle going tense. “you said you weren’t offering anything.”

“i wasn’t. then. but i couldn’t stop thinking about you after that elevator ride. and after today, i… just wanted to know more. you said you weren’t looking for anything, but i was. and i wanted to know who we had answering phones at reception.”

you wait. brace yourself. for the pity. for the soft, disappointed eyes and the “you’re doing your best” speech.

but that’s not what comes.

“you’re extremely overqualified for temp work,” he says instead, voice calm. thoughtful. “your resume’s stacked. your GPA’s ridiculous. you’ve got a double major. experience managing multi-departmental projects. fluent in two languages. there’s a whole chapter on nonprofit grant-writing that made me feel like i was reading an academic journal.”

you blink. hard. you haven’t even updated that stuff.

“how did you even find that stuff?”

“i own the company,” he says with a shrug. “i asked the right people. and i read the cover letter you submitted two years ago. it was… impressive, to say the least.”

you stare at him. the thudding in your chest isn’t panic. not really. but it is something close to fear. because you’ve heard nice things before. you’ve been told you were capable. once. before life happened. before the plan changed.

“i’m offering you a full-time position,” he says, watching you carefully for the changes in your expressions and body language. “not reception. operations. it’s a junior role, but it’s salaried. benefits. flexible hours.”

you open your mouth, but he holds up a hand.

“you don’t have to say yes. but i’m asking. officially.”

you shake your head. “you don’t have to do that. you don’t have to feel bad for me.”

“this isn’t pity,” he says firmly, eyes locked on yours. “this is simple recruitment. you’re smart. you’re capable. you’ve been underestimated and underpaid, and i’m not going to pretend i’m doing you a favor. you’d be doing us one. we need people like you.”

you swallow hard. your throat feels tight. everything feels unreal, but reality’s weight hardens on your shoulders once again as you take a shaky breath.

“i can’t,” you say. quietly. “i can’t afford a sitter. i can���t leave tomo alone. daycare costs more than i make in a week, and even if i could, i don’t trust anyone to—”

“then don’t.”

you blink. “what?”

“bring him,” gojo says, simply. “we have the space. i’ll make it part of your contract. we’ll cover on-site childcare. or remote work. whatever you need. you shouldn’t have to choose between your kid and your career.”

you’re stunned silent. this morning you were juggling phone calls and teething screams, dreaming of vending machine crackers. now he’s handing you… what? a door? a way out?

you hesitate, the weight of everything—the fear, the exhaustion, the aching hope—tight in your chest.

“i don’t know,” you admit. “it’s a lot.”

because that’s the thing no one says. that’s the thing they don’t mean even when they do say it.

the sincerity of his words make you want to accept immediately because you can see it in his face, the way he tries not to push you into choosing something even though it is better. this isn’t about guilt. it’s not about charity. it’s just… belief.

you look down at tomo—soft, warm, safe against your chest. his tiny fingers still curled in the knit of your sweater.

“why?” you whisper. “why are you doing this?”

he leans back slightly, eyes steady.

“because i can,” he says. “and because someone should.”

your eyes sting before you can stop them. you blink quickly, focus on a spot on the wall. you won’t cry. not here. not in front of him.

he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small business card. he scribbles something on the back before holding it out.

“you don’t have to decide now,” he says. “but if you think about it—and you want to say yes—text me.”

you flip the card over. his name is printed in silver foil on one side. on the other, in bold, messy handwriting: his personal number, and the words “only if you say yes.”

you nod once, unable to speak.

he doesn’t push. just stands, smooth and quiet, walking you back to the elevator like nothing about this moment is extraordinary. says “see you, tomo” and winks at you right before the doors close with an uncertain hiss.

but when you step outside, into the soft, dusky air, you know better.

you know something shifted.

and as you press the card into your coat pocket and start the long walk to the bus stop, tomo still dozing gently on your chest—

you feel something strange.

not safety. not yet.

but something like the possibility of it.

[green4allseasons]

The lights to the townhome are mostly out… save for the single lamp in the window. And Jason’s heart warms at the shallow glow because that means somehow he’d known that Jason would be returning tonight. 

Somehow he always knows.

Jason walks the motorbike the final block to the house. The thing is loud, which he usually enjoys. But tonight… he doesn’t want to run the risk of waking any sleeping occupants. So instead, he quietly stashes the bike beside the garage and hoofs it to the front door, pulling out a key that had been made specifically for him. 

He loves the way the townhouse welcomes him home. How, although it belongs to someone else on paper, as soon as he steps through the door it greets him as if he's always belonged there too. 

On the crooked end table with a single glowing lamp, there's a stack of books that he recently finished reading from the library, all long overdue. And his jackets... those are all neatly hanging from the coat hanger while another's lay stale and untouched in an ever-growing heap on the floor. 

Even the fridge is marked with his presence, occupied with tupperware full of stir fry. His recipe... though it had been made by someone else in his absence. 

And technically, he could go to his room. Tim had made sure that he knew that it always belonged to him. Even from the very beginning. 

So at first Jason considers it.  The door’s wide open and waiting for him. And it’s what he usually does when he gets into town late; they’re considerate of each other’s sleep schedule like that. 

But... it’s Valentine's Day. Or it was Valentine's Day, he thinks, looking down at his watch and seeing the short hand point at the 2:00. And while Jason’s not a sap for all that capitalist bullshit, he finds himself teetering on his feet in front of his doorway, side-eyeing his bed that looks so cold and lonely in the dark.

“Fuck it,” he decides, turning on his heels and striding into the room across from his. Timmy might get a little pissy about being woken up but he’d just have to live with it for one night. It’s Valentine's Day, or was… and god dammit if Jason isn't feeling a little sentimental. Sue him.

He sounds a lot tougher in his mind, but his actions tell a different story as he slowly nudges the door open, cringing at the resulting creak of old hinges. Had it always been so loud?

Of course, Tim startles, his eyes blearily opening, the pupils constricting at the sudden light. “Jay?” he asks, “Everything okay?”

Jason feels instantly bad. Like he said, they never do this, not unless something’s wrong. So Tim’s instant concern isn’t totally baseless. Usually they give each other a day to adjust to the timezones and whatnot before inexplicably finding themselves in each other’s beds. Intertwined for however long they're both in town… which isn’t as often as either of them would like. 

“Yeah, all good, just…” Jason pauses, a little embarrassed to say the words out loud. He was really counting on Tim being asleep. And goddammit, the little smile that crawls across Tim’s face makes him want to bury his head in a hole. 

“I didn’t take you for a Valentine’s sort of guy,” Tim teases, that little sleepy smirk so fucking annoying. And yet, Jason feels himself unraveling in ways that he can’t put words to.

He swears, “...Just scoot over, will you?”

Tim lets out a small laugh but opens the covers anyway. Jason’d already showered at his new safehouse so he doesn’t feel bad as he crawls into the sheets. But he doesn’t think Tim would mind either way. 

Tim doesn’t turn around, preferring to face Jason as he lays his head back down. They could only manage to fit a twin mattress in the room so it forces them to shift close. Jason sure as hell doesn’t care as their foreheads touch on their shared pillow. 

And god, if Jason doesn’t feel like a man with his whole world in his hands. Tim’s warmth so all encompassing that slowly he feels the tension in his muscles lessen, unwinding with every breath that flutters against his cheek. Tim’s breath is still minty from brushing, giving away that he’d probably stayed up too late… again.

Sighing, Jason settles his hand on Tim’s cheek, adoring the contrasting sensations of the impossibly soft skin under Tim’s eyes and the rough stubble over his jawline. Just another indicator that he’d been working too hard. 

Ah well, it just means that Jason needs to stay longer this time. 

Jason’s fingers rest against Tim’s jawline before he grips gently, using the leverage to press their foreheads together.

“I missed you,” he breathes, holding back so much more that he want’s to say because it’s late, and Tim’s tired, and he doesn’t get enough sleep these days as is. 

And really? All that Jason wants to say has been said before and can be said again once morning comes.

Jason plans to spend his whole life saying it. A whole life proving how it’s true. 

[underoossss]

surprise visit 2 – steve harrington

steve harrington x f!reader | no warnings | friends to lovers fluff | 3k

an: it's been a while since I've posted for steve but I wanted to continue where the last blurb left off, I hope you like this!

<<< previous part

✦✧✦✧✦

You remind yourself to breathe at least five times while getting ready. It’s not that you’re scared of going out with Steve tonight, no. This is a good kind of anxiety, a thrumming energy that has you daydreaming while you put on some mascara and makes you hold your breath in anticipation. It feels like something new is happening which is why your hearts been in a frenzy all afternoon. Mostly, you just want to see Steve again; there’s no joy like the one you feel with him nearby.

You look at the clock on your nightstand and move to grab a bag and some essentials to bring with you. Money, keys, lipgloss fit neatly inside before you make your way downstairs. It’s 7:25 which means Steve will be here shortly.

As if conjured by your mind, his car pulls into the driveway the moment you get downstairs. He’s quick to run out of his car and jog up the driveway to ring your doorbell. Your stomach somersaults in place as you look down at your clothes —a cute dress styled with a sweater and leggings to fend off the cold. Then with a deep breath you walk to the door and open it to find Steve beaming on the other side.

He looks beautiful and pink cheeked from the cold November air. His hair is perfect like always, so is the smile he gives you when he meets your eyes. The hand he runs through his hair the only clue that he’s feeling the same nerves accelerating your heartbeat.

“Hi Stevie.” You breath out.

“Babe, you look beautiful.” He smiles, pulling you into a big hug. You shiver as the cold air outside clashes with the warmth you can feel through Steve’s jacket. His arms are around your shoulders, his green bomber jacket smells as wonderfully as he does.

“ Thank you.”  You murmur as you step back;  feeling  shy under his observant gaze but glowing from within at his compliment. “I like this jacket on you,”  You grin loving the way his eyes soften

“I’ll wear it more then.” He winks before offering his hand to you. “Come on, let’s get you out of the cold.”

Your hands tingle where you touch and you can’t help but smile widely at the way Steve seems to feel it too. You separate at the passenger door which he opens before joining you inside. “It’s a little early but I wanted to avoid the line at the concession stand.”

“I don’t mind that it’s early.” You glance over at him. “You can tell me what you did while I was away, I doubt it was as uneventful as FV.”

“Mustache dude wasn’t eventful for you?” He jokes, making you roll your eyes.

“Sure, Stevie.” You concede, then shove at his shoulder lightly. “Come on.”

“Okay, I tell you one thing and you tell me something from your family reunion.”

“Deal.” You offer him your hand and steve takes it with his free one; then  shakes it once but doesn’t let go. “You start.”

“Okay…” Steve draws out the word, recalling something to tell you. “Oh, Dustin tried to teach me that dungeons game; didn’t work out.” There’s a smile on his voice that brings forth one of your own.

“What why?” you turn slightly on your seat, curious to know what happened.

“Blame Henderson. He didn’t explain the rules well enough then complained I wasn’t playing right.”

The outrage in his voice makes you laugh, a full belly laugh that has you leaning back on your sit. Steve’s hand tightens its hold on yours, like he’s happy he made you laugh. “Learning a new game is always complicated, I regret it the moment they explain the rules.”

Steve laughs. “Oh I regretted it alright. Come on, now you tell me something.”

“Alright, I… almost broke my arm?” You say tentatively, flinching at the memory. “I was climbing a tree and–”

“Babe, why were you even climbing a tree.” Steve’s eyebrows are knitted together in concern. “Did you get it checked?”

“Stevie, I was just so bored!” You groan, staring at the car’s ceiling for a minute. “My older cousins started climbing this tree in the backyard and I tried to, but I lost my footing.”

“And you fell on your arm?” Steve asks, worry pouring out in every word.

“Yeah, but I got it checked out by this doctor my aunt knows and he says it’s okay.” You reassure him, turning sideways to face him again. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Honey.” Steve sighs, his eyes glancing at you. You meet them with as much reassurance that you can offer.

“I’m okay.” You whisper, smiling at the furrow of his eyebrows. And because you can help it you hold both of his hands in yours. “Don’t worry. Now you say something else.”

Steve shakes his head, kissing your hand before nodding. “I spilled Keith’s coffee the other day at work.”

“Did he kill you?” You ask with a frown knowing Steve’s manager isn’t very fond of him.

“Sadly, yes.” He nods, keeping a serious face for a few seconds before you laugh and he starts to laugh with you. “You missed the funeral.”

You shake your head, reeling back your emotions so they’re not so easily read on your face but unable to keep it from coating your words. “I missed you, Steve.”

Out the corner of your eye, you see the drive-in theater in the distance when Steve looks at you and smiles; a soft thing you realize is just for you. “I missed you too.”

There are already many cars at the drive-in when you make your way into the lot. There are fairy lights hanging from the trees, a concession stand, the big white screen and a marquee showing the romcom double feature. Dirty Dancing and The Princess Bride.

“Stevie.” You turn to him as he drives to a secluded spot. “I love these movies!”

“Babe, I told you they were playing your favourites.” His smile is beaming, pleased with his idea of inviting you before he gets out of the car to open the door for you. You shiver as you step out but Steve’s quick to throw his arm around your shoulder. His warmth is immediate, and you don’t feel as cold while walking to the concessions stand. “Don’t tell me you didn’t believe me.”

“I did but I didn’t know they were from my top three!” You look up at him, feeling happier than you can put into words. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head, opening his mouth to say something until the lady at the counter calls both of you to order. Like he said, there are barely any people buying popcorn yet. “What do you want, babe?”

“Popcorn and soda are fine.” You say after looking at the menu and smelling the buttery popcorn in the air. “You?”

“The same.” Steve nods, then turns to order. He looks at you again as the lady, Jade as her nametag reads, gets to work filling a popcorn bucket. He sees the way you shiver because of the weather and wraps his arms around your waist. Your chest is pressed flushed to his, and you have to look up to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me for the movies, you know I’d do anything for you.”

Cold suddenly forgotten, you feel a rush of warmth flood you from head to toe. It makes you melt against Steve’s touch and focus only on him. The warm lighting from the concession stand making his eyes sparkle beautifully and you become extremely aware of how close his face is to yours. Then his hand brushes gently against your cheek –just like yours had done earlier in the day– and you’re not sure how this is all so easy between the two of you. Easy to be so close, easy to get lost in his eyes instead of looking away, easy to lean closer because his gaze drops to your lips.

It's also easy to forget you have an audience.

Until Jade clears her throat loudly, looking impatient for the two of you to pay and get back to the car. It makes you laugh, not feeling embarrassed as Steve kisses your temple instead and lets go of you to reach for his wallet. Once he insists on paying and leaves Jade a tip inside the tip jar, he takes your hand with a smile and leads the two of you back to his car. You don’t know what to say, you’d been so close to kissing him you’re not sure you can speak. So heart hammering inside your chest you lean your cheek on his shoulder, silently communicating your affection and hoping Steve knows what you mean.

He's careful with the popcorn bucket as he opens the door for you again before getting into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. A few moments later, warm air begins to flow out of the vents and you make sure to warm your hands in front of them.

“That better?” Steve smiles at you as he sets down the popcorn on the dashboard and makes sure it stays put.

You nod silently. Nerves take over you again but you push past them. “Stevie?”

His answering hum tells you to go on, so you do. “Is this a date?”

Steve’s lips part in a beautiful smile, its charm tuned down by bashfulness. It makes your heartbeat settle into a steady pace as you smile back. “It is.”

“So what happened back there…”

“What? Me wanting to kiss you?” His voice is lower now, the simple mentioning of the kiss changing the air between you. When you nod, he reaches for your hand. “I’ve been…”

You squeeze his hand when he stops himself, encouraging him to talk to you because your brain has turn into a loop of his voice saying: Me wanting to kiss you.

“I’m crazy about you.” He shakes his head, eyes turning soft as they never leave yours. “And I’ve wanted to tell you so many times, but I didn’t know if I should.”

“What changed?” You ask, a whisper between the two of you.

“The way you looked at me changed.” Steve smiles, moving his hand to hold your cheek. “It was the same way I look at you.”

You look away in embarrassment, but he brings your gaze back to his with a gentle touch. “Four days away from you and I forgot how to hide that I’m in love with you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Steve shakes his head beaming before his eyes flick down to your mouth. “Because now I can stop hiding it too.”

His words fill your stomach with a million butterflies, and your fingers tingle in anticipation. Steve leans closer to you, until your breath mingles between you, until the thrumming of your heart is so loud, he’s sure to notice. He hesitates, meeting your eyes in a silent question.

You smile, heartbeat calming down. This is Steve, your best friend, the one you love and as it turns out, loves you back. “You can kiss me.” Your voice is a quiet whisper but it’s enough for Steve to close the distance between you and allow your lips to meet for the first time.

The first brush of lips is so gentle it makes a pleasant shiver go down your spine, a shaky breath leaving you. Steve feels it and his thumb caresses your cheek just as softly before he moves his hand to your jaw as he kisses you again. This time though, he presses against your lips a little harder than before, angling your faces to kiss you better and open you up to him. He licks your bottom lip, humming in appreciation when a noise gets caught in the back of your throat and one of your hands goes to his hair.

And just like earlier, it’s easy. Easy for him to make you melt against him, to feel his emotions pouring into each caress of his mouth on yours. Easy for Steve to know exactly how to kiss you, scrape his teeth against your lips and smile against the corner of your mouth when you do. It’s better than you could’ve ever wished for; new but still familiar. It leaves you dizzy but happier than you’ve ever been.

You’re so lost in each other you don’t realize the first movie has started to play until you part and see that your faces are both illuminated by the big screen in the front of the lot. It brings a laugh out of you and soon enough Steve is laughing with you. You’ve seen Dirty Dancing enough times to know it only just started playing, so you turn to Steve.

“We haven’t missed much.” You inform him, beaming at the way his lips look very much kissed.

Steve shakes his head, like he can’t believe what you’re saying. For a moment you think it’s about the movie but soon realize he’s just feeling the same bubbly disbelief you’re feeling too. “You’re so beautiful.” He says, voice soft and eyes adoring.

You smile, feeling shy but too joyful to look away from him. Not knowing what to say and buzzing with electricity from his words and kisses you press your forehead against his. “Steve.”

He only hums, eyes closed and nose brushing yours in a silent question. “I know you said not to thank you but thank you.”

He smiles, blinking his eyes open and kissing the corner of your mouth. “I love you, I’m glad it was a good idea.”

“You can never go wrong with a romcom Stevie.”

“More like with your crush on Patrick Swayze.” Steve rolls his eyes, nothing but love shining through them. He motions to the screen as if to prove his point.

You shake your head, not holding back the smile that inevitably comes to your face. You’re on a date, he loves you, he kissed you. By the look on Steve’s face, he’s thinking the same thing. “And my crush on you.”

“Babe.” He Steve groans, looking at the ceiling. “You can’t make me want to kiss you again, you’ll miss the movie.”

“I think you can give me one more.” You lean close, loving the way Steve gravitates towards you. “They haven’t danced yet.”

Steve grins and the second kiss is even better than the first one.  

✦✧✦✧✦

I hope you liked this! reblogs are always appreciated

masterlist

[doorlesscub00]

The Last Goodbye

Spencer x reader drabble authors note: Hey guys!! This is the first time posting a fic I've written, so please let me know what you think!! all feedback it appreciated and welcomed!! Short write- Less then 500 words, but potential for a second part!! Not proofread either!! The reader isn't mentioned of gender- It's written in second person point of view. Theirs mention of yelling, a bit of toxicity and Spencer out of prison. It is angsty.

He's been more distant lately. You were growing more and more concerned about him. Ever since he got back from prison, he changed. He grew cold. Pushing you away. The constant fights, unable to even hear you. You tried, tried to your last bone in your body... but everyone has their breaking points. 4 years withering away like it was merely a facade.

Here he is. Dismissive and angry. Why is he shouting so loudly and incoherently? You asked him how his day was, and if he was alright, and then the split happened. Spencer is turning into this unrecognizable person, yelling at you for being too invasive, too pushy and nosey. You just wanted to help. And now he is screaming in your face...

Ring... Ring...

He answered the call in two rings, it takes him two calls to answer you. It was like his entire personality shifted... He was kinder, sweeter, understanding... reminds you of the Spencer you once knew... the one you lost.

He looks at you and answers the line... "Yeah I can make it in right now. I don't have anything special going on. Yeah, I know. I'll see you in 20 Emily."

He hung up the phone and spoke coldly, telling you he needed to go back to work, went into the bedroom and grabbed his to-go back, and went straight to the front door and left.

This time would be different, you knew it. You didn't weakly tell him goodbye and to be safe. No. No more of that. You've done it every time he left, but not today. Did he even notice that.? Probably not. He left, and it gives you at least one day to get everything out, at best 12 days. But you wouldn't risk taking your time. Straight to your room and grabbing all of your belongings, throwing them into your car. Questions swarm through your head. Where would you go. What will happen to the thing you can't fit in your car to bring. Would he care you left.? Would he notice your absence when he gets back.. Would he be happy. Maybe try to find you and try to change. Could he change back to the man he once was.. You hope he could go back to Spencer you fell...

Wait! No. Stop thinking about him. You're leaving him to be happier. Free. So then why does it feel like you have a 50 pound weight on your chest. It doesn't matter. You had to do this. You had to leave.. Staying would only make you loose your mind. Be driven to insanity. It's time to hurry. Not another night here. Booking a hotel for the night and going from there would be the safest option. It's already 11:27pm. You threw the rest of the belongings you could carry in your car, leaving quite a bit behind but you needed to prioritize what you took, went back and left your key on his counter and walked out the door..

Looking back one last time, leaving behind all the forgotten laughs, all the petty fights... Your new start begun now. As you started the engine of your car, you started your new chapter in life. A chapter of which you can only go up. Find joy once more. Backing out of his driveway, you knew you could never go back on what you're choosing. And so there you were, dead of night with the street lights to show you the way as you drove away from the empty shell, the once you once considered to be a warm and loving home..

A/n: Okay so I am debating on making a second part to this- or maybe like 2 different endings to the story.? A sad one and a happy one. But let me know what you guys want!! If I should leave it as is, or continue onto it. Anywho, thank you so much for reading my Drabble!! Means the world to me, but for now, goodbye my lovely cubs!! Till next time, have a wonderful day or night!! Better yet, both!!

[ronearoundblindly]

For your Valentine's ask game: #7 Jake Jensen x reader, idk why but it seems fitting 😂

Shut Up, Jensen, one of my Valentine's Fics for 2024!

Oh, this poor, poor, awkward perv. He's pervy until there's a naked lady around and then 😳 "...when I was four, I shoved pennies up my nose..." Seriously, boi, shut up!

Warnings for spice, i.e. a setup to smutty times, but mostly suggestive. MINORS DNI, just to be safe. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this one is not for you! WC 1042

You’ve always had a soft spot for nerds, and now, that’s translating to a damp spot on your fanciest panties you wore for this date.

Jake Jensen goofy-grinned his way through the entire evening, making you almost snort a tequila sunrise through your nose, and he never let up. The humor made you comfortable. It’s endearing to see his nervousness right on his graphic-T sleeve as opposed to being ‘manly’ and aloof.

It’s so, so refreshing to hear someone say, “I’m having a great time,” “I don’t want the night to end,” and know deep down in your bones that they mean “spending this time with you has made me happy” instead of “I’ve done enough to get laid now, right?”

Unsurprisingly, it does mean Jake’s done enough to get laid.

You give him your address so he could park his Jeep outside your building. There are parking meters, but tomorrow is Sunday when they’re free. No big deal. You left the bar (which was after the restaurant, which was after the coffee shop) a minute or two before in order to meet him at one of the open spots and walk him in. He can’t meet you at your door because there is a locked gate to your courtyard, and then a keypad for your building, and then about three corridors to navigate. It’s just easier to show him the way.

You can hear that fucking car coming a mile away.

Jake smiles and waves as he parallel parks—with extreme precision, you note—then hops out, gesturing to the meter questioningly.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrug, jumping to the edge of the curb before he steps up so you can use the height for a kiss on his cheek.

It’s adorable how flustered he gets at just that tiny bit of affection. Though it’s dark, it’s obvious he blushes ferociously, rubbing at the back of his cropped, short hair, racing to gather his thoughts.

“Did you know there are almost three hundred ways to make change for a dollar? Two hundred ninety-three to be ex—woah—“

You grab his hand to lead him inside.

At the gate, you have to pause for the magnetic lock.

“I’m surprised those things even take change anymore,” Jake muses quietly, courteous for the neighbors’ sake, “because physical money only makes up 8% today’s currency…in the whole world.” He slides past the thick steel grating. “Thank you, digital banking.”

He follows behind you in the maze of concrete paths to the next entry.

“People leave like half a million dollars worth of loose change at airport security. That’s a little shocking,” he whispers when you motion for him to take a left, “think you’d splurge for some decent toilet paper with that kind of dough, or maybe some more cup holders in those row-seats? They could, I don’t know, offset the cost of making pennies. Shit cost two cents. Is worth one. Wild…

“Meanwhile, a dime has 118 ridges on the rim of the smallest circumference.”

Doesn’t even matter what he’s saying, the more his plump pink lips move, the more insanely turned on you get. You have to crowd him through your own doorway before you start stripping in the middle of the hall.

You peel your blouse off the instant your keys clatter onto the dinette table. You spin around to grab him by the screen-printed emblem of his t-shirt.

“There are 1.4 billion $2 bills in circulation.”

He gives a little oof sound when his back hits one of your bedroom walls, and there’s a barely audible whimper as your hands snake up under soft, well-worn fabric.

Holy shit, is this boy cut!

Your thumbs actually catch on the deep ridge of his Adonis belt. Dimes got nothing on you, Jake Jensen…

His breathing has changed significantly. “Did you know they—“ he gasps and swallows “—still make those?”

Ok, why is it hotter when he’s not even trying?

“Fun fact: if you went to Zimbabwe, guess which currency you’d…use?” The neckline of his shirt has to pop over his glasses before he fixes them. “The U.S. Dollar. Seriously! Same damn mon—EH.”

His belt buckle is tricky to navigate from this angle and in the very low light of your bedside lamp. You give up on his pants to unzip your skirt at the hip and let it fall.

Jake stands perfectly still with his hands half-raised.

“You’re…really fucking pretty—sorry—really pret—sexy, not that I—but beautiful. You’re really—”

He sucks in a breath as you step within inches of him again, reaching up to carefully pull his glasses over his ears and place them by the lamp.

“Fuck…”

Your index finger tucks into the elastic of his boxers where they peek out above the belt.

“Yeah, so I’ve been—I’m—I don’t have a—what I’m trying to say is—“ he squeezes his eyes shut and wiggles his fingers higher in the air, searching for the right thought “—the most commonly printed bill is actually the one-hundr—“

“Jake,” you interrupt, gently smoothing your hands over his thick shoulders. He is so ripped, what the hell? You guess there are nerds and then there are nerds, wow…

“Do you want to continue?”

He nods super fast, eyes growing wide in panic.

“Good.”

You smash your lips to his, hauling him down and you up by the sturdy tower of muscle he is.

“Condoms are in the drawer,” you mutter between breaths.

He lets out a high, choked whine before clamping his huge, warm hands to your waist, melting into you and your touch.

You coax the both of you toward the bed, swatting at his belt as a signal for him to help, and he does, though he’s not the greatest multitasker. He huffs and smirks, breaking the kiss so he can unlatch, unbutton, and unzip.

Then he looks up at you. 

“So you like movies…?”

You cup his jaw in your hand and pinch, a gentle peck on his lips as encouragement to focus. “Less talking, more fucking, Jensen.”

He opens his mouth, clearly running through a series of replies, but thinks better of it and  pushes down his pants and boxers all at once.

Lloyd Hansen and a kiss on a place of insecurity ⬅️ ➡️ Steve Rogers and a kiss on a scar

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @peyton--warren Y'all getting sick of me yet???

[morgana-larkin]

Hey peeps, so this is an idea that randomly came to me, especially since today April 26 would have been my dog Toni’s 17 birthday who passed away a year and half ago. I based the puppy’s appearance off of her as she was a blonde miniature poodle and she also loved cuddles too.

Now here’s the summary: You and your wife Melissa get a puppy for the first time. The puppy and Melissa form an instant attachment but slowly the puppy starts taking over all of Melissa’s time and attention and leaving you behind.

Now don’t yell at me and say I turned up the angst too much, I may have gone to the extreme but stuff like this does happen, especially with dogs who were found on the street or born with anxiety and they tend to overly bond with one person.

Puppy Crazy

Warnings: lots of angst but happy ending I promise *pinky swear*

Words: 3.3k

You and Melissa stare at all the puppies at the shelter. You both have always wanted one and now you’re here to adopt one.

“Any catching your interest?” You ask her.

“That blonde one who seems to like cuddling the other.” She says and you look at the one she’s talking about.

“You want a little cuddler?” You ask with a quirked eyebrow.

“Ya, that way they’ll like me cause I like cuddles too.” She says and you pout.

“I thought I was your little cuddler.” You tell her and she giggles at your response.

“You are, and there’s always room for another in the house.” She tells you and gives you a side hug.

“The blonde one is cute. What would you name her?”

“Eleanora.” She says and you look at her.

“It’s beautiful, what does it mean?” You ask, knowing her family only picks out names carefully due to their meaning.

“Shining light.” She says and you look at the little blonde cuddler and then back at her.

“It’s perfect.”

The person at the shelter goes and picks up the blonde miniature poodle puppy carefully and brings her out. The little puppy is a bit shy, understandable, but she lets you take her home, deeming you’re not a threat.

You stop at the pet store though and little Elea (her first nickname) was so excited. She met a few other dogs there and she attempted to play with them, a couple of them played with her. You got her a collar that fit and a name tag, you got a leash for her as well. You brought her down the toy aisle and Elea picked out a bunch, pretty much whatever she grabbed or pawed at you put in the cart. She helped pick out her new beds, although you drew a line at the ones that were meant for large dogs as you doubt Elea will be more than 15 pounds. You then got her food, food bowls, a toy basket and treats. You also bought a thing of pee pads as she isn’t housebroken yet as she’s 10 weeks old and some poo bags.

Elea stayed on your lap, cautiously, for most of the ride home. It was a nice day so you ended up putting the window down at red lights and she stuck her little nose out and she started sniffing the air.

Once you enter your home, Elea stayed near you or Melissa as it was a space she didn’t know. You guys got to work and you put out her food and water bowl, you filled the water bowl first. The worker at the shelter said she’ll need to eat as she’ll be skipping her dinner time, so you also filled her kibble bowl. Elea munched on her puppy kibble happily as you and Melissa got her things set up. You put the toy basket beside the couch and put most of the toys in there and brought the rest upstairs. You put the leash near the door with your keys and you put her name tag on the collar. You put the treats and kibble in the pantry, and you put 2 beds downstairs, one in the living room and one in the dining room, and the third one upstairs in your bedroom. You then placed a couple pee pads around but knew you’d put them down where she decides to pee later on.

Once Elea finished eating, she started sniffing around and found her toys and pulled most of them out. Melissa found the sight so cute as her little tail was wagging the whole time. Melissa got on her knees and stuck her hand out and Elea came up slowly and sniffed her hand before giving little nibbles on her hand to play with her. Melissa took a toy and started moving it around the floor and Elea chased it around. You couldn’t tear them apart so you made dinner instead. When dinner was ready, Melissa came in holding Elea in her arms and she was fast asleep.

“Aw. That’s so cute.” You whispered.

Halfway through dinner, Elea woke up and Melissa put her down as she got a burst of energy. You both ended up playing with her for most of the evening, although she seemed to go more towards Melissa.

At nighttime, Melissa carried her up the stairs as she got too scared to do it herself, and Melissa put her on the floor at the top and Elea explored the upstairs while you two got ready for bed. When you were ready, you called Elea but she didn’t come, Melissa called her and this time she came.

“That’s favouritism.” You complained and crossed your arms and Melissa giggled.

“Oh Amore, don’t hate me because she likes me more. You’ll always be my favourite human.” She tells you and you glare at her then get into the bed. Melissa ends up bringing Elea into the bed and you roll your eyes. Honestly you would do the same. Melissa spooned you and she whispered that Elea is cuddled into her back and you let out a little “aw”. She may prefer your wife but she’s too cute to hate.

The next day, Elea jumped in the shower with you two and then immediately jumped out and let out little puppy barks and ran around the bedroom until you got out. When Melissa was cooking breakfast, you filled Elea’s food bowl with some kibble and she inhaled her kibble. When she was done she went over to the dining table where you were eating and she sat down between you two and begged but mostly looked at Melissa. Melissa did end up caving and put a piece aside for her to which she put her bowl when she was finished.

After you decided to go for a walk with Elea. You and Melissa were both teachers but it was the beginning of summer break so you could stay at home and train and bond with Elea. Melissa ended up holding the leash and brought a couple treats to give to Elea and you held on to the poo bags. One Elea peed outside, Melissa pet her and gave her a treat right away. Elea wagged her tail when Melissa was petting her and swatted her little paws around as she hasn’t grown into them yet. She got on her back when her and Melissa were playing and she kept pawing at Melissa and giving her playful puppy nibbles. To which you took a bunch of pictures. You got her less than 24 hours ago and you already have 30 pictures of Elea on your phone, you realised that’s more than you took of Melissa when you were dating her for 4 years. But you shrug it off, I mean it’s probably accurate for all animal owners.

When you got home from the walk, Melissa carried Elea in her arms while she was sleep and went to sit on the couch. You brought Melissa a cup of water to which she thanked you for and drank the whole thing. 20 minutes later, Elea woke up and bounced out of Melissa’s arms and on to the couch. She got down after 2 minutes of trying and ended up slipping off the couch but Melissa congratulated her either way. Elea walked around and decided to drink some water then pulled the majority of toys out of her basket that you put away last night and you groaned.

“Why bother with a toy basket or putting them away.” You complained and Melissa laughed and came up to hug you. Elea saw you two hug and wanted in on it too. Melissa of course complied and went and picked her up, then you three had a little family hug. During the hug Elea licked you both on the face and you both laughed. You both played and ran around with Elea for most of the day. You then fed Elea her dinner kibble while Melissa got dinner ready.

“You fed her so many treats today, I’m surprised she still has room.” You told Melissa and she just shrugs.

“She’s a growing puppy, she needs to eat.” Melissa says and you laugh.

“I love you, you know. Never change.” You tell her and you wrap your arms around her waist.

“I don’t plan too Amore. And I love you too.” She tells you then turns around and gives you a quick kiss on the lips then finishes getting dinner ready.

And just like at breakfast, Elea begs, at Melissa mostly, for some human food, and again, Melissa caves and gives her the piece when finished in her food bowl.

After dinner, you both settle on the couch and Melissa picks Elea up when she whines and you put on a Disney movie. You chose the little mermaid and you kept glancing over at Melissa petting Elea’s head while Elea nuzzles her head in Melissa’s lap and falls asleep. You lean your head on Melissa’s shoulder and she wraps an arm around you. Halfway through the movie, Elea wakes up and starts barking. You pause the movie and get her leash to take her out. You take Elea out as Melissa did it before supper and she does her pees. You bring her back in and she goes right to Melissa to get picked up again, which Melissa does and she goes and falls asleep on her lap with Melissa scratching her head.

The rest of the month goes like this, and you end up bringing her to puppy class and teach her some commands, go to a dog park to introduce her to other dogs and introduce her to some family members that you’ll see multiple times a year.

Melissa and Elea end up spending a lot of time together and while it shouldn’t bother you, it is taking a lot of your Melissa time away. You knew you wouldn’t spend as much time with Melissa when you get a puppy but Elea is demanding ALL of Melissa’s attention and it’s started to make you a little jealous. Like you couldn’t have sex without Elea demanding Melissa’s attention. You’re starting to think that dog just wants Melissa away from you, cause maybe she doesn’t like you.

Like when you’re having sex, at the beginning, when Melissa is kissing your neck, Elea comes over on the bed and starts biting Melissa’s hair and doing her little puppy barks. Melissa eventually gives in and gives her attention to Elea and you end up having to use the vibrator.

It was cute at first but not being able to touch your wife, like sometimes not even a nice long kiss of like 10 seconds. Cause everytime you do, Elea comes over and gets Melissa’s attention. You’ve tried to get Elea to like you more but her and Melissa bonded exceptionally quick and you don’t know why.

Melissa thinks it’s funny when you complain that Elea is getting all her attention, everytime you bring it up.

“I swear it’s like she doesn’t even like me and is just separating us. Like she gets all your attention and I get the scrapes.” You complained one night and she just brought you to lean on her shoulder while Elea laid on her lap. Melissa rubbed your arm while she scratched Elea’s head. She loves her 2 girls, y/n and Elea and she wouldn’t change it a thing.

“Y/n, if you think about it, Elea went through a lot. She ended up at the shelter cause she was found on the street. When she was like 3 weeks old and spent 7 weeks at that shelter. Then she comes home with us and everything is new. She just bonded to one of us and wants comfort to help soothe her.” Melissa explains and you take a deep breath.

“I know, you’re right, it’s just a little annoying right now cause I can barely touch my wife, without little sunshine here interrupting us. And you always give her the attention.” You say and cross your arms. “Like I wanted a puppy too and I barely get time with either of you individually.” You say and before Melissa can say anything, Elea gets up and starts barking and Melissa gets up to take her outside as it’s her turn. You huff as Melissa carries Elea downstairs then outside.

When Melissa gets back, you’re asleep so she just climbs into bed with Elea, puts Elea in front of you, turns off the light and cuddles you. She sees Elea go to nuzzle her head into you and you unconsciously move your arm and she climbs underneath. Melissa smiles then falls asleep.

The next morning you wake up and Elea is underneath your arm and Melissa on your back and for a second you think you’re dreaming. You then fully wake up and realise that it’s real. For one, Elea and Melissa stayed apart and two, Elea is cuddling you instead of Melissa.

“I told you she likes you.” Melissa says quietly and you smile.

And as if knowing you’re awake, Elea wakes up and demands to be taken outside.

“I’ll take this one while you wake up.” Melissa tells you and you nod.

“Thank you.” You tell her and she picks Elea up who wags her little tail.

Another month goes by and it’s more or less the same, Elea cuddles and plays with you sometimes but still is overly bonded to Melissa. It’s starting to really frustrate you and you’ve ended up starting fights with Melissa to which you apologise to her later, and she always forgives you.

Melissa does start to clue in that Elea is taking a lot of her attention away from her wife but can never say no to those sad little puppy eyes.

When school starts back up, Melissa spends 10 minutes saying goodbye to Elea while you wait in the car on your phone. She finally leaves when you threaten to drive there without her, even though she knows you won’t. Due to barely being able to be physical with your wife or any physical touch, any kisses at school dropped drama from last year and even the Abbott crew notices and questions you about it at the end of the week.

“Melissa has a new wife now.” You grumble out and they all look at you confused.

“She’s talking about the puppy and she’s gotten a little jealous that Elea prefers spending time with me.” Melissa explains and they all have their mouths shaped in an ‘O’ form.

“That’s not what I’m angry about and you know it. I’m angry because she takes away all your time, I can barely kiss or hug you.” You grit at her and then you get up and walk out of the break room. You hide away in your classroom the rest of the day, you didn’t even let Melissa in when she came to check on you a few times.

Melissa was starting to get worried about you but doesn’t know what to do. So she went to Barb.

“I mean I don’t know what I should do, I mean we can’t give Elea back to the shelter because she’s our dog now and I know that no matter how angry y/n is, she’ll never agree to give her back anyway.” Melissa complains and slumps back to the wall.

“Melissa, you’re missing the point. Y/n isn’t angry she’s upset cause she feels she doesn’t have a wife anymore.” Barb states. “I’ve noticed how detached you both are from each other since you got the puppy. And I know that puppies require a lot of attention and time, y/n knows that too. But maybe you spend a little too much time on Elea.” Barb states. “Like Elea is like a child right. And sometimes you just have to let children do things themselves.” Barb explains and Melissa sighs.

“I know, I guess I got too wrapped up with Elea.” Melissa says.

“I know and I know y/n knows too. If she didn’t then she would be a lot more angry right now.” Barb says and Melissa chuckles.

Melissa plans to take you out on a date tomorrow to spend time with you but you immediately decline and Melissa frowns.

“Wouldn’t you rather go with Elea instead of me?” You tell her.

“No, I’d rather go with my wife.” She tells you and you scoff.

“Like I said, wouldn’t you rather go with Elea.” You repeat and before she can say anything else, Elea comes running in and barks to go out. “Oh look, your wife is calling you.” You tell her and go upstairs.

When Melissa returns she sits on the couch and thinks about how to change things. She gets an idea and goes upstairs to where you’re on the bed, on your phone pouting. She brings Elea up with her and she sits on the bed and puts Elea on your lap.

You refuse at first and then Elea whines for your attention and you start petting her a bit but then she nuzzles into you and she falls asleep.

“Look y/n, I’m sorry that I put all my attention on her. I didn’t notice and I was so excited about this puppy and that she bonded to me more. I guess I didn’t kinda forget about my wife. I mean we did basically only accomplish sex completely probably 4 times this summer.” She says and you glare at her.

“It was never just the sex, I mean ya it’s part of it but I would like my wife back.” You tell her and cross your arms. “You’re gonna have to start giving less attention to Elea or I might leave.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“Isn’t that a little dramatic?” She says. You whip your head at her and glare. You then pick Elea up and place her in Melissa’s lap then you walk out.

You end up sleeping in the guest bedroom the entire weekend, to Mel’s very reluctant begging. She even tried sneaking in during the night but you caught her and was sent back to the main bed. She then realised that nighttime is pretty much the only physical contact you two still have, cuddling at night, and you're asleep for most of it.

So she decides to make some changes. She starts putting a fluffy blanket down at the foot of the bed and Elea starts sleeping on that, while you two cuddle. She got anti anxiety beds for Elea and you two are able to have sex and cuddle on the couch. She goes on walks everyday with Elea and you, and insists you hold the leash while she has an arm around your waist. If you two are kissing and Elea barks to get Melissa’s, you at first pulled away, thinking Melissa will give her the attention but Melissa’s starts pulling you back and ignoring Elea for a bit until giving her attention.

Little by little you start to get your wife back and Elea’s overly attached bond with Melissa starts turning into a normal bond and Elea even starts bonding with you now.

By end of September, Melissa has you back in her arms, where you should be and a cute puppy with a normal relationship bond with both of you. She fully admits she went a little puppy crazy and forgot about the other important person in her life. But now she’s back to holding you in one arm while Elea is snuggling on both of you.

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

sooo I have this idea, for Sam Winchester where (gn) reader does something stupid (up 2 u) and Sam gets rlly mad and they don’t talk for a while, but Dean and them are still in contact and go on hunt together every once in a while. Sam finds out (reader gets srsly injured) and you can end it how you see fit!

-💋

.⋆｡Risks and Rewards｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

You take risks on hunts, it’s what you do but this time, the risk was greater than the reward

Warnings: gn reader, injuries, angst, arguments, hunt gone wrong, bleeding out, reader is called beautiful, mutual pining, deathbed confessions, major character death, still a happy ending tho (you’ll see)

WC: 2k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“I can’t believe you!” Sam’s voice partially shook the very foundation of the safe house you had just barely made it back to. “I can’t believe you would do something so fucking stupid!” His hair is sticking up in a million different directions as a combination of dried blood and utter frustration.

“If it wasn’t for what I did, you both would be dead by now!” You shouted back but winced as you pulled at the hastily done stitches on your side. Dean’s arm, which was the only thing keeping you upright, tightened around your waist.

“Can we save this for later, maybe when we’re not all exhausted and hurt?”

“No!” You and Sam retorted at the same time. 

“There were way too many fucking vamps for you to handle alone, it was easy pickings for them!” Dean attempted to guide you to the single bedroom at the back of the cabin but you shook him off with a glare. “I did what either one of you would have done in that situation.”

Sam breathed heavily through his nose, the vein in his forehead bulging with anger. “You turned yourself into bait! You had no plan, no weapons, and no backup. You’re lucky that Dean got to his machete in time.” 

“I had it handled!” Pain ricocheted through your body as you tried to stay standing without any support and you felt the hot trickle of blood leak down onto your hip. 

“You were impaled!” 

“I was fine! I had them right where I wanted them.”

“So you wanted three vamps to be practically dogpiled on top of you while you bled out?” The question was rhetorical but you answered anyway.

“Yes! Three vamps on me meant that you both only had to deal with one each. It’s basic fucking math Samuel.” 

“You fucking-“

“Alright that’s enough!” Dean finally interjected. “It’s been a long hard day and we’re all a bit wound up. We can have a more rational conversation in the morning once we’ve all gotten some rest. So Sam, go clean yourself up and I’ll get some food ready. And you-“ He turned to you with a harsh look. “-You go sit down cause it looks like you’re about to pass out.”

Sam’s jaw clenched and his eyes flicked to you but he quickly looked away. “Fine.” He grumbled and stomped off to the bathroom, his duffle bag in hand. You flinched when the door slammed shut. Dean gingerly cupped your face like a father would to their child and wiped away a tear you hadn’t noticed rolling down your cheek.

“He didn’t mean it, he just got scared.” You scoffed.

“Go make your food Dean.” You knew you were being unnecessarily harsh to your friend but you were still too angry and hurt to act rationally. He sighed and stepped back.

He pointed to the couch. “Sit, I’ll take a look at those stitches when I’m done.” But as Dean turned away to the kitchen, you didn’t go to the couch, instead you grabbed your car keys from the side table and quietly hobbled out the door.

When Sam had finally finished his shower and redressed in clean clothes, he was considerably calmer. He knew you were right, that they needed a distraction to kill all those vamps but when he saw you- metal pipe through your side with three huge vampires trying to get a bite at you, his heart stopped. 

Sighing, he looked at his reflection in the small mirror above the sink. Your blood that had covered his hands was washed away but he could still feel it staining his skin. He had been on the edge of tears as he stitched you up in the back seat of his brother’s car but those tears had evaporated into anger when you doubled down on your actions.

You were reckless and stupid and gone.

Sam stepped back into the main room of the cabin and immediately noticed there was one less person. The wide open door to the bedroom showed that it was empty and with Dean in the kitchen, there was nowhere else you could be. “Dean, where are they?”

His brother immediately froze, gaze darting to the couch before looking out the window and seeing that your car was conveniently gone. “Son of a bitch.”

——————

It was the silence that was killing you. You could hear everything, the few animals that scurried around in the forest that surrounded you, the wind rustling the leaves in the branches overhead, the sound of your blood as it poured from the huge slash in your abdomen.

You knew no help was coming because you were alone.

You couldn’t feel the pain anymore and you supposed you were grateful for that. “At least it’s a clear night.” You murmured to yourself as you turned your gaze upwards to look at the stars. It was dumb to go hunt a wendigo alone but you were still mad and you had a point to prove. Although, since you hadn’t talked to him in nearly three months, Sam wouldn’t actually know that you won the argument but it was enough for you to prove him wrong without him knowing.

But now, now you want to be wrong. You would give anything to hear his voice just one more time, even if it was because he was yelling at you. 

It took all of your remaining strength to reach into your pocket for your phone, praying that it wasn’t cracked as you switched it back on. The bright screen illuminated your face. There was a text from Dean and one from Garth that obscured the photo in the background, the photo of you and your boys at the Grand Canyon.

With trembling fingers, you scrolled to Sam’s contact, his name surrounded by childish hearts like you were a middle schooler with a crush. His photo was one you took in secret, a candid shot of him reading a massive book. He was hunched over and his brown hair uncombed but his eyes shone in the dim light of the Bunker’s library. You hesitated over the call button.

The ringing of your phone overpowered all other sounds in the forest and you were grateful for the reprieve from the quiet. “Sam’s phone.” Dean’s voice echoed through the small clearing, slightly broken and muffled because of the poor cell service.

“Hey Dee.” You smiled, biting back a whimper of pain as you spoke. 

“Hey kid! It’s been a minute, you ok?” There was a brief pause as you summoned up the courage to lie to one of your closest friends.

“Yeah- yeah I’m good. Do you think you could get Sam for me? I wanted to talk to him.” 

“Course. Hey Sammy, phone for you!” Dean shouted and you could vaguely hear Sam yelling back at him ‘stop answering my phone jerk!’. There was a brief scuffle and then a new voice, one that immediately soothed the burn of your injuries and set your soul at ease.

“Hi.” He said as Dean retorted with a fond ‘bitch’. There was a thud and then the line went quiet for a second. “Sorry, you know how Dean is.”

You chuckled and blood dripped down from the corner of your lips. “Yeah I do.” There was a beat, an awkward silence falling over you. “Hey Sam-“

“I’m sorry.” He interrupted you. “You were right, and I’m sorry for yelling at you, you just really scared me. I don’t want to lose you, I lo-,” his voice became thick and he cleared his throat, “You’re important to me and I want to keep you safe.”

Your eyelids fluttered as tears began to build along your waterline. “I’m sorry too, I was being reckless, I just thought it was our best bet.” You tried to readjust your body on the cold ground but hissed as pain exploded through your stomach.

“Are you- fuck are you hurt?” The panic in Sam’s voice was like being doused in cold water. Suddenly the blissful fog you were floating in, that was undoubtedly shock, drifted away and everything crashed back into you.

“No no I’m fine.” You attempted to calmly reply but it came out as more of a sob. 

“Where are you?” You could hear the jingling of keys and thundering footsteps. You laughed tearfully.

“Nowhere you could get to in time. Just talk to me please, I want to hear your voice one more time.” The sounds stopped but he didn’t speak again. “Please Sam, do this one last thing for me.” 

He took in a shuddery breath. “Don’t do this. Tell me where you are.” His voice wavered and you knew he was close to tears.

“Sam-“

“Tell me.” 

“You fucker.” You huffed. “Montana, Custer National Park. Don’t know my exact coordinates.” Your legs were cold, far colder than they should have been considering it was August.

“Keep talking to me.” He spoke into the phone and then turned and yelled into the Bunker, calling for his brother and Cas. “C’mon let me hear your beautiful voice.”

“You think my voice is beautiful?” Your heart jumped even as you felt it slowing down.

“I think all of you is beautiful.” Tears rolled down your temples, wetting the dirt beneath your head. You sniffled and clutched your phone even tighter.

“You’re beautiful too. Most beautiful man 've ever met.” Your words started to slur together but you kept talking, just like he asked. You would do anything he asked. “Got those big hazel eyes nd nice hair. Never told you but you made me nervous when we first met. You were so big and you were frowning but then you smiled and I knew.”

“What did you know?” You smiled.

“I knew that I was gonna fall in love with you. And I did. Sam-“

“No. No.” He cut you off again. “You don’t get to tell me that, not now. Not when I’m not there with you to tell you that I feel the same. You can say it when we get you home safe.”

“Sam, I’m not gonna last that long.”

“You will.” He firmly replied. “You have to.”

“Ok, then I won’t tell you how meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me and I also won’t say that you became my home.” Blackness curled around the end of your vision, and the stars slowly began to disappear. “Why can’t I see the stars anymore?”

“Don’t you dare close your eyes!” Sam screamed but his voice began to fade away as the darkness settled over you.

“I’m sorry Sam.” Your eyes shut as a bright light appeared before you.

——————

The first thing Sam was aware of was the smell of pine. It was so achingly nostalgic, he couldn’t help but smile. The raging river beneath his feet provided just enough ambient sound to disguise the familiar purr of an engine.

“You certainly took your time getting here Winchester.”

You looked just like he remembered you, from your hair down to the smallest details on your skin. Dean stood next to you, arm thrown over your shoulder as he laughed.

“He was always the slow one.” Sam just smiled and embraced his older brother, holding him as tightly as he could. Dean cupped the back of his head before letting him go with a teary smile. “You did it Sammy.”

They pulled away from each other and Dean gestured to you. “Go on, they’ve been waiting for a long time.” 

Sam approached you slowly, his smile growing wider with each step. You looked away bashfully. “I know we didn’t end off on a great note and my death was ever so slightly dramatic so you can be mad at me all you want.”

His big hands cupped your wide hips, pulling your attention back to him. “Tell me.” Your eyes sparkled under the setting sun.

“I love you Sam.” And as he kissed you for the first time, everything clicked into place and you both realised that maybe the risk of hunting was definitely worth the reward.

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[streetlightyeri]

Would you ever write for Scott from twisters?

I am in the midst of writing something for him! I have three fics in the works (part 2 for tyler, the main fic that "false god" fits in for boone, and one for scott). they're all based off of Zach Bryan songs.

I just feel like everything I'm writing sounds like I'm illiterate. It's very hard for me to write things that don't have extensive backstories (ig that's what a masters degree in creative writing does to a person lol), so I have to actively fight myself to not write 100 pages of fanfiction about a side character that gets 10 minutes of screen time bc literally no one would read that. for reference of how inane I am when I write: I am currently searching academic sources to get an understanding of sound wave acoustics bc I've decided one of my characters will have a PhD in it - like what is my problem, this is a movie about TORNADOES. anyway lol here's a little sneak peek for the Scott fic. very rough - hasn't been proof read even once. <3

“ASPEN!” It felt like the world was spinning around him, as though he was the center of the tornado. He had his hat clenched in his hand. He felt his lunch fighting to come up. All around him was destruction with a death toll of 14 and climbing. If she was one of them, he wouldn’t know what he would do. He had searched every same piece of rubble that was once her grandmother’s house and had no luck.

Javi walked up to the Tornado Wrangler crew with arms extended in a gesture that one would use when approaching a bull. “I understand you do not want to see me, but trust me, we are not working these people.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Scott scouring what he could only imagine was the remnants of her room for the 3rd time. He pulled his phone and swiped to the photo Scott shared with him. He turned it to the group. “Have you seen this girl?”

Tyler blinked a moment too long and a tanned girl with cropped hair swallowed harshly. Dani was her name, if Javi remembered correctly. She stepped away from the table where she was handing out food and pulled Javi to the side. “It’s bad. I found her in that flipped StormPar truck pinned to the seat by an old iron post through the chest. It didn’t seem like she was trying to take cover, more like she was trying to grab something because this was in her hand.”

Dani handed him a hunk of plastic that would’ve seemed like nothing to someone else. But Javi knew: this was the StormPar data. She could very well be dead, all because she didn’t want Scott to lose everything from the Par.

“It . . . I thought she was dead, her breathing was so shallow. I’m a trained EMT, so I almost called it. Anyone else would have. But she twitched, so I investigated some more. I had to trach her to keep the stress off her heart. Tyler and I put her in an ambulance with the post still in about 20 minutes ago.”

Javi turned to run to get Scott, but Dani’s hand gripped his upper arm, forcing him to turn back to her.

She leveled her eyes with his, steeling her voice. “I can guess who she is to him. She may not have even made it to the hospital. Her breathing depends on how well the EMTs can bag her. What he sees may scar him. He may be identifying her. Make sure he is prepared. Do not give him false hope.”

Javi gave one strong nod. “Thank you.” He glanced at the rest of the group who pretended to not be listening. “Y’all are good people.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and let him go, watching as he ran to Scott who had screamed himself hoarse. Javi slipped the data pack into his back pocket; the reason she was in that truck was not something he was going to be telling Scott, at least not at that time. Javi tried to explain everything else, but the second the word ambulance came out of Javi’s mouth, Scott was running for the truck. Javi had to tackle him against the door and take the keys from him. “You are not stable enough to drive.”

Scott would’ve argued any other time, but every second he spent outside the vehicle was one where he could be on the way to see her. He complied, climbing into the passenger seat.

[temptingfatetakingnames]

The Last Steve Harrington Part 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

It was another beautiful summer day and Steve had taken the Chevy out for a drive. With the windows rolled down, he drove out to a country road listening to Hopper’s Johnny Cash tape. He had spoken to Hopper about borrowing the car and after a quick trip together to make sure Steve remembered how to drive, he had given the green light. There was a moment before he handed Steve the keys where he was sure Hopper thought he would never see him again. He didn’t really know what to do with the trust – that even though the thought crossed his mind that Steve might run, might take his car and go – Hopper gave him the keys anyway. It was a good feeling, knowing that he could take the car and leave if he needed to. Today, he needed to.

It was strange having Johnathan and Argyle in the house. They were generally very quiet but Steve still found his carefully crafted peace disturbed. They were two more people who asked questions, who he had to dance around and avoid. Argyle kept offering him weed, which seemed like the best and worse idea imaginable. Steve couldn’t deny that he was tempted but the fear of a panic attack always held him off. Johnathan didn’t talk much, which he was grateful for. He was much more reserved than the Johnathon Steve had known and he was unsure what to make of him. The feeling seemed mutual – he caught Johnathan staring at him a few times.

Nancy had only stayed long enough that first night to see Steve before heading home with the promise that she would be back soon. She had pulled him into a tight hug before she left, his frigid stance not dissuading her. Her scent had engulfed him – had overwhelmed him with memories and fondness – reminding him of first kisses and falling in love, of heartbreak and moving on. Her and Johnathan had fit so much better and Steve couldn’t be bitter when they realized it. They had tried to hide it from him at first, like he wouldn’t be able to tell when two of his best friends started dating. He could be oblivious, but not that oblivious.

The country road continued in front of him for miles, the music was loud and the wind blew his hair wildly around his face. He could keep driving, keep going until he found a place that didn’t know the name Steve Harrington. Start over fresh. It was his original plan to leave once he was well enough, prepared enough. But the thought wasn’t as enticing as it once was. His stomach rumbled and he was surprised to see the clock read almost 1:00 p.m. He did a quick U-turn and started the drive back home.

Home…?

He didn’t know when he started to consider the Hopper-Byers’ house home. They were all just so good to him. Too good. Hopper and Joyce were understanding, Will and Eleven were easy to be around and kind. The only thing Steve had to really compare it too was Eds’ and Wayne’s trailer. They both had the same warmth, the same feeling that Steve always found difficult to describe – the easy comfort of a safe place where he was loved, welcome, wanted – home, he now considered.

When he pulled up to the house, Joyce’s car was gone and so were Will’s and Eleven’s bikes. He wasn’t sure who would be home when he walked in the door. He heard banging and muttering coming from the kitchen when he walked past so he peered in to see who it was. Argyle had his head in the freezer and was digging around. If his muttering was anything to go by, he wasn’t finding what he wanted. He hadn’t noticed Steve standing in the doorway yet; he could still leave and Argyle wouldn’t know. But this was his home, and Argyle was looking for something.

“Hey, what are you looking for?” Steve asked as he walked into the room.

“Steve!” Argyle exclaimed as he pulled his head out of the freezer. “Where does Joyce keep her dough? I want to make a pizza. I found everything else I need, but no dough.”

Steve scrunched his face in confusion. Why would he be looking for dough in the freezer?

“She has flour and yeast in the cupboard,” he said pointing across the room.

“Flour is not going to cut it, my dude. I am looking for some premium premade dough balls.”

“Didn’t you make your own dough at Surfer Boy?”

“Of course! Trent always went in early to prepare a bunch and freeze it for the day. I was the toppings man… not the dough man.”

Steve smiled and walked over to the cupboard, grabbing out the flour, yeast, and sugar before turning back to Argyle. “Well, I guess today you get to be both.”

Steve set to work mixing the ingredients into a large bowl as Argyle watched intently. They settled into a routine as Steve explained the process. There were a few moments where they had to wait for it to rest or rise that Steve was afraid would turn awkward but Argyle was good at keeping up a mostly one-sided conversation. When it was ready, Argyle took over and started flipping the dough above his head like a true professional.

“What do you like on your pie, Steve?”

He shrugged. “I’m not picky, I’ll eat whatever you put on yours.”

Argyle tsked at him and wagged a finger in his face after he slapped the now rounded dough on the counter. “No can do my dude, of course you can try a slice of my delicious pineapple fiesta but you gotta have your own, too.” Argyle spread his hands out in front of the toppings he had pulled out like he was a game show host showing off the prizes. “What appeals to your current mood and hunger?”

“Mushrooms, onions, and…” Steve looked at the available options and pursed his lips in thought, “ham.”

Argyle nodded enthusiastically and smiled wide. “Good choices, a well-rounded pie.”

Steve started cleaning up while Argyle put his toppings on one side of the pizza and Steve’s on the other and then popped it in the oven. Nothing to do now but wait for it to be ready but Steve didn’t know how to politely excuse himself. Argyle just kept smiling at him and nodding slowly.

“Thanks for the help, you’d make a fine dough boy my dimension hopping buddy.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve said as he raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll keep that in mind for when I decide on my future career plans.”

Argyle nodded sagely and then asked, “does it feel weird?” 

Steve blinked at him, having no clue what the hell that question meant. “Does what feel weird?”

“Being outside your dimension or universe or whatever. I once wore my shoes on the wrong feet for a whole day and I could tell that something was off but I didn’t figure out why until I got home and took my shoes off and everything felt right again. Does it feel like that?”

That… was a surprisingly insightful observation. Steve did feel constantly off balance – especially when he had to interact with the other versions of people he had known well in his universe. He was always making comparisons in his head, wishing he could stop because it was exhausting. But how do you stop? How do you forget?

“It does feel weird. It’s been weeks now and it hasn’t got better, I – I’m afraid it never will,” Steve said, looking away.

This was a fear he hadn’t spoken aloud to anyone. Steve didn’t know why he admitted it to Argyle of all people. The other man came over to him and put his hands on his shoulders. Steve flinched a little but held steady as Argyle looked him in the eyes intently.

“It will. If I kept wearing my shoes the wrong way eventually I would have got used to it, right? Then putting them on the other way would have felt wrong. It’s time, man. It just takes time.”

Time. Steve had spent a year surviving an apocalypse – he remembered the first few days thinking he would never make it, but like Argyle had said – it had become his normal… Eventually. Now, trying to live life normally did feel wrong.

He nodded and Argyle dropped his hands before bending down to check on the pizza in the oven. A peaceful quiet settled over them as they waited for it to be ready.

---

Later that evening, he was reading in his room, hiding from everyone. Dinner had been loud and chaotic and Steve needed some time to himself afterwards. He found that he truly enjoyed sitting down for dinner with them all, even if he still didn’t talk much. The feeling of a family coming together after a long day and catching up with each other was… good. Food was passed around haphazardly and multiple conversations were going on at once and it was a lot for him and hurt his head a little, but he liked it. Joyce would always quietly ask how his day was and Will and Eleven always made a point to tell him how the rest of the kids were doing. It felt like family. Even though Steve was still holding himself back from them they kept trying to include him. Sitting at that table, he realized how easy it could be – to have them, to let them in.

That scared him. So, as soon as dinner was over, he ran to his room. He still felt like he didn’t deserve them and kept trying to squash that ball of sunshine glowing in his chest when they included him in their family.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He set The Princess Bride aside and called, “come in,” expecting Joyce or the kids. He wasn’t expecting Johnathan.

“Hey,” he said as he entered the room.

“Hey,” Steve replied.

“Nancy is coming over tonight and I was wondering if we could invite Robin and Eddie over, too? We haven’t seen them in awhile and it would be good to get the gang together, if you’re up for it.”

Steve didn’t know why he had to be there or give his permission. This was Johnathan’s house more than it was Steve’s; he could invite anyone he wanted over. He supposed he was really asking if Steve would hang out with them. His first impulse was to say no. His first impulse was always to say no. But that impulse also made him think of the promise he had made – that damn promise.

He used to love getting together with friends. Drinking and laughing and swimming. He was the life of the party, once upon a time. He didn’t know how to get that part of himself back, didn’t know how to be carefree and light anymore.

But… he had promised to try.

“Sure,” Steve said and hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

---

He regretted it.

He found himself in the same predicament he always seemed to find himself in nowadays – he didn’t know what to say. Nancy and Jonathan were sitting on the couch across from him, open expressions on their faces like they were waiting for him to spill his entire life story.

No, thank you.

He had already done that once and would not be doing it again.

Robin was sitting close beside him, their knees touching. She was always touching him. Completely without hesitation, she would reach out at any time – and he didn’t know why but she never made him flinch. Eddie and Argyle were both on the floor, talking quietly with their heads together. Steve wanted to pull Argyle’s fucking hair. Wanted to pull him away from Eddie until he was sitting at an appropriate distance. He sipped his beer and tried to ignore them.

“So, what have you been up to?” Nancy asked.

How do you say absolutely nothing without saying absolutely nothing?

“Resting, mostly,” he replied, “reading, hanging out with the kids. What about you guys?”

“I’m going to school for journalism and Johnathan is working as a photographer. He’s growing his own business.”

Steve nodded, unsurprised. That fit with what his Nancy and Johnathan would have pursued too. The silence grew between them as they all seemed to think of what else to say to each other.

Steve turned to Robin. “You graduated, right? Why are you still in Hawkins?”

“I did graduate and was all set to go to university but…” she trailed off and looked away, her hands fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt.

“But what, Robs?” he asked gently.

She looked back at him. “But then Steve died and it didn’t feel right to leave without him. I manage Family Video now.”

It was his turn to look away from her. He saw Nancy looking at Robin with a deeply sympathetic look on her face and Steve wondered if there was more to the story. He didn’t want to push her about it though, especially when it was about Other Steve.

“You could go now. It’s not too late,” he said instead.

Nancy nodded enthusiastically. “You could!”

“Maybe,” Robin said still sounding sad, “but not yet.”

“Hey, if you’re the manager maybe you could give me a job? Part time, just one or two shifts a week? I need something to do.”

“Yes! Of course, I can!” Robin said and smiled at him so brightly you’d think he’d just given her a gift that she had been waiting her whole life for.

He smiled back at her. Working with Robin part time would be a good way of getting out more and he was grateful for the opportunity to make his own money. One step closer to independence. Hopper and Joyce never made him feel like a burden but he hated having to rely on anyone for his needs.

“Thanks, Rob.”

The conversation flowed more easily after that as everyone got caught up with each other. Eddie and Argyle finished their conversation and joined the group, which took some of the pressure off Steve. They complained about their jobs and the terrible customers they had to deal with, blowing off steam by trying to one-up each other. Steve learned that Eddie was working as a mechanic. Eds had been good with cars too, so that didn’t surprise him.

Steve moved around the room, sipping his beer and chatting, mostly with Argyle and Robin. The beers loosened his tongue and he was feeling pleasantly drunk when Nancy asked him about his universe – she wanted to know what it was like. The conversations around him quieted as they all seemed to wait for him to decide if he was going to answer or not. He certainly hadn’t been willing to talk about it before and he knew they must be curious. So, he told them that in general their universes seemed very similar, most of the differences started after Vecna. He told them about the sky and how much he had missed having weather, and his anecdote about Madonna made everyone laugh. He tried to steer the conversation away from The Upside Down as much as possible, not wanting to talk about those differences but Nancy had other plans.

“How did we die?” she asked suddenly.

Her eyes were red and a little unfocused, they were all drunk by this point but that question poured ice cold water down Steve’s back.

Flashes of blood, of sightless eyes staring up at a red sky, of screams filling the air overwhelmed him. Steve shook his head, hoping to clear the memories from his mind. Felt anger rise up in their place. Nancy wanted to know how she died? Wanted to know how they all died?

Well, Steve would fill her in.

“Johnathan died trying to get to Will, a Demogorgon cut him clean in half. He was still screaming as he watched him get taken by the Mind Flayer. Vecna killed Nancy, snapped her neck like it was nothing. Robin was crushed and suffocated by The Mind Flayer. Argyle burned alive. He was throwing a Molotov when a bat attacked him and he dropped it.”

He paused and looked at Eddie. “Eds…he died in my arms after being torn apart by Demobats. Anyone else’s deaths you want to hear about? Maybe Mike’s? Or Dustin’s?”

The silence was loud. They were all looking at him, horrified. He put his beer on the table and got up. He walked up the stairs calmly and out the front door. Sitting on the front steps he tried to calm his racing heart, ashamed of what he had said. It was a question he probably would have asked if their positions were reversed. Anyone would be curious to know how they died in another universe. Nancy also would never have asked if she wasn’t drunk. He dropped his head between his knees and sighed. He didn’t want to go back in there. After a moment he heard the door open and close behind him.

He expected Robin so he was surprised by the manly grunt his new companion let out as he sat beside him on the step.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Eddie said.

Steve couldn’t help but snort at that.

“Okay. I definitely owe you an apology.”

“I’m waiting,” Steve said as he lifted his head and turned towards him.

“I am sorry,” Eddie continued, “for how I treated you in the hospital. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Steve nodded, fighting back tears. “You didn’t know.”

“I’d like to explain why I was such an asshole, if that’s okay?”

“Sure, Eddie.”

“I wasn’t being facetious when I said I died the other day. I was torn apart by bats just like – just like Eds was but Vecna brought me back. He used me to get close to Eleven and the kids. I was screaming at them not to trust me, but they did. They were so happy to see me, that I was alive that they didn’t question how. That’s why I didn’t trust you. Just because you have someone’s face doesn’t mean you can be trusted. And the kids – fuck. You have no idea what they were like those first few days you were in the hospital. They were freaking out, man. Blaming themselves for taking too long. They were expecting Steve – who always just seemed to let all that shit roll off him, ya know? And instead…” Eddie seemed to realize where he was going and stopped mid-sentence.

“Instead, they got me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Maybe not. But it’s the truth.”

Eddie looked at him intently. “You think I didn’t blame myself when I was doing what Vecna ordered me to do? Afterwards, when I tried to apologize, they wouldn’t let me. It was… hard, getting back to myself after that. I guess I just understand a little, maybe – about what you’re going through.”

Steve thought about it. Maybe…Eddie could understand a little. At least about the after part anyway, the getting back to normal part. But Eddie wasn’t to blame for his actions when he was being controlled by Vecna, Steve had no one else to blame but himself. It wasn’t the same, but it was something.

“Did you hurt them?” he asked.

Eddie shook his head. “I was a spy, I told Vecna everything that they were planning. I broke free before he ordered me to hurt them, though I could feel how much he wanted Eleven dead.”

“How did you break free?”

“Eleven. She knew something wasn’t right but it took her awhile to figure out the connection between me and Vecna. He left me torn up, made it look like I had crawled my way out of The Upside Down so I would be less suspicious. She thought it was the bat bites that she was sensing, not Vecna. Took her awhile to find him, longer to get him out.”

Steve couldn’t imagine having someone in his mind, ordering him around, ordering him to spy on the people he loved. It probably wasn’t something Eddie liked to talk about, but he was grateful that he told him. It helped. Their situations weren’t the exact same, but the guilt Eddie felt… Yeah, he understood guilt.

“Thank you,” Steve said, “I appreciate you explaining. I didn’t understand why you were so angry at me.”

Eddie winced. “I really was an ass. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah? How are you going to do that?”

“It’s a surprise, but I think you’ll like it. I’ll pick you up at 11:00, let ya sleep in a little, hmm?”

Once again, his first impulse was to say no. After tonight he wanted to hide out in his room and never come back out.

But it was Eddie. How could he say no to Eddie?

He nodded. “11:00 sounds good.”

---

Part 10

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @queenie-ofthe-void @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @hbyrde36 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @newtstabber @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues

Thank you all so much for you comments, likes, and reblogs! I cherish each and every one. This community has been so lovely and welcoming. Thank you <3

[xoxo-author]

What Happens in Vegas Part 2

Note: Not quite sure how I feel about this one but here we are! I am definitely planning to make this into a series, regardless of my shitty writing! Hopefully it's not awful! I also tagged some people because they asked in the first part and that is so exciting! Thank you!

Jake Seresin x FemReader

Warnings: Shitty writing (as usual), drinking

I halt as I enter the kitchen, eyes locked on the open sliding glass door, "Hangman, did you leave the backdoor open?"

"No, I've been upstairs waiting on your ass to finish getting ready."

Rolling my eyes, I head over to the door before pulling it shut and ensuring the lock is in place. I couldn't help but let my eyes wander over the backyard, which in reality was the beach. There was a feeling that washed over me that caused a shiver to run down my spine as I gazed out but I didn't have time to dwell on it as I heard footsteps stomping down the stairs. 

Shaking my head, I turned back towards the counter to get my clutch, opening it to make sure I had everything I needed. 

"You clean up nice." 

My head snaps up to see Hangman standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking very sharp in his outfit. Hangman was busy fixing his shirt cuffs which gave me a bit to look over him. His white dress shirt hugged him rather nicely, his biceps on display and his shoulders looking even more broad than normal. His pants fit him nicely, not too tight but not too loose. Not a single hair was out of place.

"Thank you, you're not so bad yourself." 

While I wasn't conceited, like some people ( cough cough Hangman), I thought I looked decent. The lilac-colored dress didn't look awful like I thought it would.  I was a bit nervous about the strapless A-line part but it turned out to be great, not to mention I was in love with the "ruffle" slit up the leg. 

Grabbing his jacket off the counter and the keys out of the bowl, Hangman looks at me, "Ready?" 

Nodding, I follow Hangman out of the house, mumbling thanks as he opens the car door for me. He handed me his jacket before closing the door and heading to the driver's side. 

Hangman and I seemed to have fallen into the husband-and-wife routine pretty easily over the last month. I was a bit worried when we first moved in, I wasn't quite sure how our lives were going to intertwine with each other. I had so many questions; How would we decorate? How would our routines coincide with each other? How would this impact the next eleven months? How are we going to convince people that we were given this whole marriage thing ago? Are we going to end up hating each other after this? How would my ex react?

I am genuinely shocked with how well it was going. Hangman was, unsurprisingly, very neat. The first night we moved in, everything was unpacked and put away. He built furniture like a madman and tore down boxes like his life depended on it. I was also very shocked to learn that he is a good cook. Now I can throw down in the kitchen so I am usually the one doing all of the cooking but when Hangman manages to get in there, it's good. So far our routines work out great, he works out in the morning and goes to work, I make his lunch in the morning, and then go to work. By the time we get home, whoever gets home first has dinner ready by the time the other gets home, we eat, chat, and either sleep or sit out on the deck.

                                                                            *********

"Mrs. Seresin!" 

A smile breaks out on my face as my eyes land on Phoenix making her way towards me, "Mrs. Floyd!" 

I wrap my arms around her and give her a tight squeeze before pulling back to look at her, "The ceremony was beautiful Phi! How does it feel to be a married woman?"

She briefly moves her head to look at Bob over at the pool tables before turning back to me, "It's an amazing feeling!"

I tightly squeeze her hands, "I am so happy for you!" 

"Where's Hangman?"

Shrugging my shoulders, "He told me he would meet me in here." 

As soon as the ceremony was over and everyone was making their way up to the beach to head into the bar, Hangman told me to go in and that he would meet me in there. Didn't tell me why or give me a chance to respond, just walked off.

"Well, go get yourself a drink and then head over to our spot, I will meet you all there as soon as I can."

Smiling at her, I turn on my heel and head towards the bar. The bar was filled with uniforms. Everywhere you looked, you were hit with a Navy uniform. 

Squeezing into a space at the bar, I smile at Penny when she waves and starts to make my go-to drink. "Penny, can you add Hangmans too?" 

She nods before going back to making the drinks and talking to Mav. 

"Bride or groom?" 

Turning to the right, my eyes land on a young man in a Navy uniform leaning against the bar. This man barely looked old enough to be in here. "Both."

Inching a bit closer to me, the youngster says, "I'm here for Bob, we were deployed together a bit ago." 

I nod with a smile, "It's great you came."

"Want to dance?"

Shaking my head, "No thank you." 

Penny places my drinks in front of me before hurrying off to help someone else. 

"Two drinks? Need help drinking them?" 

Before I could answer someone pressed their chest up against my back, "Her husband will help her."

Tilting my head back, I see Hangman staring down at the young sailor who looks a bit scared. 

Hangman doesn't let the kid say anything else before he slides in between him and me, bringing up his hand that held my jacket, "I figured you would be cold so I went to the car to grab it."

I gently take it from his hand and slip it on, "Thank you."

Hangman hands me my drink before grabbing his, nodding his head towards the back of the bar where everyone else is, "Fancy getting your butt kicked in pool?"

Taglist:

@harperdoodle @untoldshortsofthefandoms

[twisted-turtels]

Crossed Paths (Pt.2)

Farleigh Start x black!fem!oc

Author’s note: I’m on a role tonight. This is gonna be a friends-to-lover kind of story. I guess Farleigh's personality is kind of a head cannon, but we know he is a dick head and he still is, but not to Jordan. Just cute, playful banter. I can't wait to keep writing more. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

1133 words

Crossed Paths

Does the fit give rich, posh English major whose school is paid for by daddy’s money? Jordan thinks to herself as she’s admiring herself in the mirror. She woke up extra early today to make sure everything looked good. Jordan took the time to do her makeup and even set out an outfit the night before. The weather will be pretty chilly, but “A hoe never gets cold,” as her mother would say, so Jordan decided to wear a skirt today. She looks down at her watch. Only 8:30. I still have time to grab something quick to eat and drink. She grabs her school bag and keys and exits the door.

Jordan comes across a quaint cafe and decides to go inside. She notices there’s a line, so she decides to wait. As she takes a look at the menu, she feels a presence standing behind her. She turns around to see Farleigh standing in line as well.

“Look who’s trying to fit into the Oxford aesthetic,” Farleigh remarks with a sly grin. 

Jordan looks down at her outfit, “I- Well,” Farleigh laughs, “I’m just messing with you. Your outfit is cute,” he turns to look at the menu, “What are you getting?”

Jordan laughs, “I think it’s only customary to try the tea that the British lose their minds over. And a scone as well.”

The line continues to move until she and Farleigh are at the counter. 

“Hi, can I get-” Jordan starts, “Can we get two teas with milk and a vanilla scone?” Farleigh continues. Jordan stares at Fareligh in disbelief, “So you’re paying?” She asks. “Of course, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” he responds.

Oh, so he got money?

“I suppose so.” Jordan smiles.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Farleigh and Jordan walk out of the cafe towards campus. 

“How does it taste, Jordy?”

“Oh, so it’s Jordy now,” Jordan laughs softly, “and it tastes fine, nothing like sweet tea, though, which is ten times better. The scone is delicious, though.”

“I never asked, but what are you studying?” Farleigh asks. “I’m actually studying English,” Jordan responds. “No way! Me too. What's your first class today?” Farleigh persists. “I’m gonna be honest. I only know the professor and room number. It’s Professor Ware, if I’m not mistaken-” 

“I have Professor Ware, too,” Farleigh continues

“In room 220?” Jordan questions.

“Yeah,” Farleigh confirms. “Oh, thank god. I thought I was gonna be alone,” Jordan says. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “You’re never gonna be alone. You got me, Felix, and Venetia,” Farleigh checks his watch, “Oh shit, we’re gonna be late. We gotta walk faster.” He teasingly walks ahead of Jordan. 

“Wait for me. I got short legs!” Jordan rushes after him, laughing. As they pick up the pace, the laughter continues. Maybe Oxford won’t be so bad. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They finally make it to the room. Is this the professor’s office? Before Jordan even had a chance to question it, Farleigh grabbed her wrist and rushed them into the room. Jordan hurriedly sits in one of the chairs while Farleigh throws himself on an armchair. 

“I’m so sorry. Sorry, I’m late. Sorry, I’m late. We got completely lost.” Farleigh hurriedly explains.

“Yes, so sorry, Professor.” Jordan apologies as well. 

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Fareligh says to the other boy in the room. I did not notice him at all. Farleigh turns back to Professor Ware, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re Farleigh Start and Jordan Williams, I take it?” The professor asks, “Nice of you to join us, finally.” The professor focuses on Farleigh, “You’re not a relation of Frederica Start by any chance?”

Farleigh nods, “Yeah, she’s my mother.” The professor breaks out into a grin, almost like he’s reminiscing. 

“I knew her when I was your age. We were both here! When she was still Frederica Catton. Before she went to America. Farleigh, in a mocking tone, exclaims, “No way! Oh, my god. I’ll tell her. She’s going to be thrilled I’m being tutored by one of her friends!”

Ware shrinks down, “Oh no, Not really friends. More of an admirer…from afar. We didn’t even speak. No need to mention me.”

Jordan snorts and quickly tries to hide it. Farleigh smiles charmingly and looks at the professor, “Shall we start?”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jordan is staring absently out the window as the boy she now knows is Oliver is reading his essay. He said  ‘thus’ like 8 times already. 

“And thus the shape of the verse can be said, like Browing’s ‘Last Duchess,’ to look as it were alive.” 

Finally, he’s done.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as they wait for the professor to respond. Ware finally shifts his gaze to the group, “ Okay, yeah. That was very good. A lot of food for thought there. Intriguing.” 

Farleigh chuckles, “Thus.” Jordan quickly glances at him. So he noticed it, too.

Oliver sharply asks, “Hmm?”

“Sorry, just ‘thus’. It’s just a funny word.” The air feels thicker in the room.

“Why,” Oliver asks.

“I don't know. I don't think we really use it that much in real life, do we? It’s kind of verbose,” Farleigh looks Oliver in the eyes mischievously, “don't you think?”

“No. Not really,” Oliver quips

Jordan interrupts bluntly, “You used it eight times.”

Oliver visibly reddens, “No, I didn’t.”

Farleigh and Oliver continue to debate while Jordan’s mind continues to wander. In the next session, I’ll have to bring my own essay. She finally comes to when she hears Oliver sarcastically remark, “Look forward to hearing your essay!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“I didn’t know that we had to bring our own essay. This is so embarrassing,” Jordan complains as she and Farleigh walk back to her apartment. “It’s not a big deal; the professor said it was fine anyway, seeing as you’re an exchange student. Just bring it next time.” Farleig explains calmly.

“I guess you’re right,” Jordan pauses, “That Oliver guy is kind of odd, yeah?”

“Yeah, and annoying as shit,” Farleigh confirms while rolling his eyes. “Anyways, are you doing anything later, at like 5 o’clock?” Farleigh asks.

“No, I’m not actually. Why, you just can’t get enough of me?” Jordan quips.

Farleigh raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly, “Um, don't get ahead of yourself, but Felix and Venetia wanted to know if you wanted to join us at the bar.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t like me, and yes, I do want to join y’all at the bar. Come get me at 5, okay?” Jordan replies as they stop in front of her door, “Thanks for walking back with me, I’ll see you in three hours?” Jordan walks in and turns around to wave at Farleigh. He waits until he can’t see her anymore before walking away, letting out an audible groan. She’s got me. 

[sysakiddo]

5 times Lewis confronted Sebastian about his writing and one time he did not have to

1.

“You're not even listening to me.” Lewis, for lack of a better word, whines. He has a deep crease between his eyebrows. Sebastian wants to tell him the wrinkle will stay there, just to see him panic. Though he manages to hide it, Lewis is really vain sometimes. 

“I'm kind of busy at the moment.” No apology. “You were saying?” 

The room is too hot and sticky for Sebastian to play mind games with Lewis. He wants to be alone and count down the minutes to when he can take a cold bath. 

Suddenly, Lewis moves quickly, soundlessly. He likes to remind Sebastian he is a cheetah, with or without a car. 

Sebastian does not manage to hide the tab he had opened. As a rule, these days, he is not fast enough. 

“Seriously, Seb? The Times crossword is more important than what I'm telling you?” 

“I would never dream of saying you're not the most important thing in the world.” the blond huffs, feeling mean now. 

He is very obviously fishing for a reaction and Lewis knows it. From previous experiences, he also knows the fight would not bring him any gratification. He smiles tightly instead, sitting down on the couch. 

Sebastian glares at him, hating how Lewis looks like he belongs there. Like there is no place where he belongs more than on the couch in Seb's driver's room. 

“I finally read your book. The one about the spies, Burning Snow?” he clarifies as if Sebastian doesn't know the plot and names of his own books. 

And look, Sebastian is still mad at whoever leaked his identity to the press. It is more than a month since the whole world discovered that he, Sebastian Vettel, four times world champion, is also an acclaimed author. He published all of his books under a pseudonym, which worked pretty well. Until now. 

The people in the paddock took it in stride. Out of them, who looked like they could write a book that became a bestseller long before his identity had been revealed? The bee rescuer is the only one fit for the job. 

Valterri was the first to go through the bulk of his publications, three novels and one book for kids. 

Your writing is pretty good. Maybe you should try and publish it someday :) 

The text from Valterri after he finished made him huff, but deep down, something in his chest had eased. 

Lewis, however, was weirdly evasive on the topic. He was apprehensive about reading any of Seb's work and only got to it when Valterri left all of the books on his desk, with a post-it note on the top. 

READ IT!!!

Immediately after finishing the first chapter of the first novel, he regretted not starting earlier. Uncovering the similarities between the side characters and the people in the paddock was a lot of fun. It felt like an intimate look into the story that Seb's readers wouldn't normally get. One of the characters, the one who actually holds the key to the climax of the story and is far more important than the reader would have thought at first, is based on him, he thinks. Lewis only puts it together at the end. It's the way the character's dialogues are written that gives it away. He thinks it fascinating to find out how Sebastian privately perceives him. He describes him with great detail, things that Lewis wouldn't think to notice about him even. The thought of being so closely watched makes the top of his ears heat up. 

Now, Sebastian is watching him, unimpressed. “You can read?” 

Lewis keeps ignoring him - it works most of the time. “My favourite was Thomas, naturally.” 

The top of Seb's cheeks turns bright red.  “N-narcissist.” He tries to keep his composure, shaking his head a little. The stutter exposes him and Lewis smirks like he has just won. And his trophy is sitting on a stool in front of him. 

“Well, I gotta run now. I'll come back with a review of book number two!” 

Seb is too overwhelmed to react before Lewis slips out of the door. He sighs, returning to his crossword.

2.

The next time Seb sees Lewis, he curses the way his heart flutters in his chest when he sees his smile. 

“I tried the recipe, you know,” Lewis lets his hand linger on Seb's forearm as he stops him in his stride. They are both rushing to get to the debrief on time. Lewis does not care. 

At Seb's quizzical face, he puckers his lips a little in annoyance. “The one from Freedom to Pheasants; what Matilda used to offer her cousins when they came over. I, of course, used soya yoghurt and I still had a little bit of the honey you gave me-” Seb opens his mouth to interrupt him but does not succeed. “I used almond butter and cherries instead of raspberries and let it freeze for a few hours. Why didn't you tell me sooner? It is delicious.” 

“We really have to go, guys.” the intern standing beside them looks like he regretted taking this job and would rather jump off the cliff than listen about frozen yoghurt treats for another minute. 

“Did you like it? The book, I mean.” Seb asked, feeling like a kid asking for compliments on his drawing. He regrets it almost immediately. Lewis flashes him a big smile, open and sincere, the sight only a few people are graced with. 

“Yeah, man. The dialogues were spectacular.” 

When Seb opens the freezer in his motorhome a few hours later, he is taken aback by a small white box with a sharpie-drawn smiley on top. When he opens it, five perfectly symmetrical yoghurt bites punch the air out of his lungs, like he missed a stair. With shaky hands, he fishes out one and takes a bite. The aftertaste of honey in his mouth makes his eyes water. 

3.

“Seb! Seb! Sebastian!” the whispering grows louder with each call of his name and Sebastian feels himself getting pulled out of the slumber. He groans loud enough for the woman sitting next to him, someone from McLaren's marketing team, to glare at him. 

“What?” he snaps at Lewis, the other man taken aback. He doesn't expect to see the dark circles under Seb's eyes, his ashen skin looking almost white. 

He gulps, worry bubbling in his chest. “Care to join me for dinner?” 

The German sighs, hunching in his chair even more. He jerks his shoulders, which Lewis takes as an affirmative response. 

A few hours later, every corner of Lewis' apartment is filled with quiet music. Seb is watching his every move from the bar stool in his kitchen. Lewis feels weirdly exposed like that, chopping onions for their dinner, even though it isn't the first time he has made dinner for Sebastian. Not by a long shot. 

“Daniel must have been thrilled,” he cuts the silence abruptly. Seb doesn't understand and makes a go-ahead gesture with his hand. “When he found out you based the main character on him, I mean.” 

“Oh,” Sebastian smiles bashfully. “You've read This room can not be eaten?” 

Lewis nods. The book for kids took him the shortest to read, naturally. To his bewilderment, he enjoyed it a lot. After he had finished, he immediately bought a copy for every kid in his family. 

“I don't think Daniel had realised Rick is based on him, actually.” Seb chuckles, his eyes lighting up in joy. 

Sebastian starfishes on the couch after they finish eating. Lewis pours them a second glass of wine and sits down next to him. Carefully, carefully. 

The German looks better after eating, though he still very clearly lacks energy. Lewis turns on the television, mainly as the white noise. 

He falls asleep in no time, and Lewis stands up to put the fluffiest blanket on him. He makes sure both his shoulders are covered, hesitating a bit before brushing the stray strands of hair out of his forehead. 

When he sits down, Sebastian whines softly and puts his cold feet under Lewis' thighs. 

Lewis lets himself hope. 

4.

The next time they see each other, Lewis is a few drinks in, talking a little louder than he usually would. Seb finds him laughing in a circle of a few of their friends. He is like a magnet, though he never fully realised how much power he holds in a crowd of people. 

“Birthday boy!” Seb beams at Charles, hugging him firmly. He already congratulated him this morning with a gift and a proper speech. Now, it's time to clink his glass with him, which, he personally thinks, is too old to do properly. 

Either way, he lets himself get lost in the conversation. Charles, Lewis and Daniel make it easy for the debate to flow without his input. 

“Oh, Seb, I almost forgot! Arthur told me to tell you he loved When I Was Older! He wanted to know if it would be okay to ask you some questions later.” 

The attention shifts to Seb after Charles' words. Stupidly, he can feel his cheeks flush. “Eh, thank you. I appreciate that. Sure, send him my way when you see him.” 

“He kept talking about the plot twist for days. I still haven't finished the first one - I'm sorry, I'm such a slow reader - but yeah, Arthur thinks the sequel is even better.” 

Lewis snorts. Charles whips his head towards him, surprised. The same goes for Sebastian. Sure, the reviews for the second book in the spies series were mixed. But he thought the bad reviews were biased - the book came out at the same time his alias got revealed. 

“You did not like it?” Charles asks naively. He hasn't been sober for hours now. 

The Brit looks affronted by the idea of liking the book. “I hated it.” he spits and, yeah. Sebastian is shocked at just how much those words hurt. He has no resources to hide it, so instead, he bares his teeth in a leering smile. 

To his great surprise, Daniel joins in. “Well, of course, what Thomas did was questionable, but that made the plot twist even better.” 

Lewis is not buying what Daniel is selling. “Nah, it was stupid and made no sense, man. Why would Thomas betray his lover if-” If he is based on me. He almost blurted it out, thankfully cutting himself off before he could do something he would regret. 

Still, Sebastian averts his gaze, bashful. The tension in the air is tangible and Charles, not wired to understand bad vibes, as he calls it, asks him another question. 

“Are you working on something now?” 

Seb looks at Lewis when he lies through his teeth. “No. I think I'm quite done.” 

5.

That's the reason why, three weeks after the party, when Lewis sees a post on his insta feed with Seb's picture and BOOK ALERT in big red letters, he clicks on it. He is doubtful at first, but then it turns out that, yes, Sebastian really published a new book during the winter break. It is a poetry experiment, explains Seb himself in the interview Lewis reads through. 

Unexplainably, his hands shake as he tries to google a page where he can buy the poetry collection. When he finally finds it, he curses. Seb wrote a poetry book in fucking German. 

He has no shame and immediately calls him to ask about the translation. 

“No, I do not think it will get translated.” Seb is wary. “Why?” 

“I would like to read it, that's all.” 

Seb snorts, can't help himself. Why would you want to read it if you hate my writing so much.

“Well,” he says instead. “I've told you a long time ago German could be useful.” 

Lewis pays big bucks to the publishing house to make the translation happen in the shortest time possible. He makes sure Sebastian has no idea he is the one who pushes for the English translation and pays off everyone, so it stays that way. 

Out of all places, they are in the aeroplane when it all falls apart. 

Sebastian is returning from the bathroom when he notices what Lewis is holding. 

“Jesus, don't read that around me.”

“Why?” Lewis asks. “You don't have to be weird about it. It's great.” Lewis wouldn't say he is a poetry guy by any means. But there is something about Sebastian's words that curl off pages, sticking like caramel and breezing through his chest like a breath of fresh air. Sebastian's poetry is shockingly emotional, exposing his feelings with a sort of bravery Lewis has never felt. Most of them are reflections, sweet or poignant. Lewis can clearly see the inspiration from the Swiss nature, and the relationship with his family. It's beautiful. 

Yet the ones that cut through his heart like a burning knife are the heartbreaking stanzas of unrequited love. And even though Seb states that not all poems are inspired by a personal experience in the prologue, Lewis knows poems like these cannot be fabricated. The one he's stuck on at the moment, Absolution, makes Lewis a bit dizzy. 

In the seat across from him, Sebastian shrugs. “If you say so.” 

“I mean, these love poems, man. They must have broken your heart. How come you've never told me?” 

The pronouns sit awkwardly on his tongue, and he watches Seb squirm a bit. 

“It did not feel like there was something to talk about. It would - I don't think it could ever work between-” he pauses, hauling a slow breath through his nose. He rubs his eyes with his right hand like always when he is agitated. He also forgets to use the eyedrops for his dry eyes;  Lewis usually has to remind him. “Between him and me, I guess. I could never be the one for him.” He trips over his words.

Lewis blinks, feeling all turned out. He tries to process the words that feel too much like a confession to him. 

“I doubt that, Seb.” He says earnestly. “I doubt anyone would find you anything but-” Perfect. 

Sebastian interrupts him, a painful grimace on his face. “Just - just stop.” Suddenly, he looks exhausted and resigned all at once. “You must know, Lewis.” 

Seb is not looking at him and misses the look of utter shock on his  face. “Me?” Lewis feels like there is cotton in the back of his mouth. “But- But I-” 

“You what?” snaps Sebastian, his face closed off now. He managed to build his walls high enough that it took more than a little love confession to make them crumble. 

Lewis' head spins. There is just no way, no way that Sebastian could wax poetic about him. It's hard to breathe, and his face turns splotchy red. 

“But you've never told me. Or reacted when I tried -” 

“Oh, trust me, Lewis, I would have noticed if you had tried.” 

“Sebastian.” he says, his voice breaking with the possibilities flashing through his mind. Sebastian is brave and he can be, too. “I have loved you for years.” 

Now it's Seb's turn to look shocked. “But- You always-” he stutters, unable to finish. 

“Come here,” Lewis beacons him over and Seb sits down next to him without hesitation. Lewis leans in and caresses Seb's cheek with his right hand. “You are very silly,” he presses their lips together and the feeling of Seb relaxing completely under him makes Lewis' fingers tingly. 

+1 

“Hurry up!” Sebastian is wearing an atrocious old flannel shirt. Lewis swears he has put it in the 'donate' cabinet twice already, yet it always finds its way back. 

He walks to the table where Seb sits, a big red box in front of him. “Open it,” he instructs and Lewis opens the lid. 

“I wanted you to be the first to hold it.” 

Lewis takes out the brand-new book in awe. When he opens it, the pages smell so good he closes his eyes for a second. He flips the pages until he finds what he is looking for. The dedication says: 

Love, I've seen it all. I've seen the sunrises in Africa, the sunsets in Asia. The sun shining on the Mediterranean, the snow melting in the Alps. I've seen fireworks meant just for me, the beauty of the never-ending road. Seeing you smile beats them all. 

For Lewis.

[theinndefinite]

[ You have awoken for the first time in a hotel room that is strangely in line with your tastes. You do not remember checking in, or how you got here. You’re not even all that sure what the last thing you did prior to falling asleep was. ]

[ You notice a piece of paper on the desk. You pick it up, and realize it’s a hotel brochure. As you begin to read, the TV—which isn’t plugged in, doesn’t even have a cord, in fact—suddenly turns on, filling the room with static noise. And then, amongst that noise, a voice—tone pleasant and bright, but horrifyingly layered and distorted—starts to speak the very words within the brochure you currently hold. ]

“Welcome to The Inndefinite! We’re so happy to have you here, and you’ll find over the course of your time here that we have everything you need and more.”

“We’re sure you’re wondering about check-in. We would like you to rest assured that check-in was completed upon waking in your room, and no further steps are necessary. However, if you wish to acquire additional room keys, you will need to request this at the front desk.”

“We know your room is to your liking, we’re so glad you enjoy it! We pride ourselves on our dedicated to detail staff, so that your room feels authentic to you. If anything is missing, give the front desk a call with the phone in your room, and we’ll do our best to accommodate, within reason.”

“Most of our amenities are available 24/7, and they include:”

All inclusive food and beverage

Bar

Fitness center

Indoor Pool and Hot Tub

Rooftop Pool, when conditions allow*

Toiletries

Room Service

Coffee bar

Arcade

The Inndefinite cable channels and internet ( no wi-fi password necessary! )

“And more!”

           “ *We do not always know when conditions allow, but the elevator does. The rooftop button will become operational when conditions are good, and will cease to be operational when conditions do not allow. If you are enjoying our rooftop pool when the latter happens, an alarm will sound to indicate the change, at which point you have 1 minute and 46 seconds exactly to get back in the elevator before it shuts off access in and out of the roof.”

“We do have a few hotel rules that are in all Inndefinite residents best interest to follow.”

Be respectful of other residents and their spaces.

Don’t enter unlabeled rooms, especially if the door is ajar.

If rule 2 is disregarded, you must obey the rules posted in the room. We are not responsible for any consequences that arise if these are not followed.

The stairwell is off limits. It may try to beckon to you, and the doors refuse to stay locked, but please do resist. Staff are unfortunately unable to do anything about this at this time.

You may gaze outside, but try not to do so for too long. There may be consequences to this, and experiencing unpleasant side effects is possible.

Don’t leave. We’d hate to lose you.

“If you have any issues, you may ring the bell at the front desk. When the chandelier lights turn green, you may express your concerns, and staff will get to work on what they can shortly. Don’t be discouraged if you never see them—hotel policy is that staff remain unseen at all times.”

“We encourage all residents to work out issues with each other as best they can before reporting to the front desk. We wish to avoid the use of hotel security. If hotel security becomes involved, all building lights will turn red. We advise all residents to heed the lights and return to their rooms post haste, until the lights return to normal.”

“Finally, hotel news and updates will be broadcast through all hotel TV’s. Stay tuned!”

“We hope the information we’ve provided for you here is sufficient, and we look forward to what you make of your time here at The Inndefinite.”

[legacyshenanigans]

Lord have mercy I'm fuckin RAGING..

So I share a side passage with my neighbour (who I don't get on with) between our houses. It's how we get our bins out to the street ready for collection. Which is today (it's after midnight)

LEGALLY we BOTH own it.

Its on the deeds to our properties that we basically own half each and the gate itself is OUR gate not just HIS, though he's incredibly fucking weird about this fact, and likes to think he OWNS the passage way. He's got loads of his stuff there, but I only ever use the passage to take my bin out, so I'm not fuckin bothered if he wants to put his CRAP all over it.. I've never said a damn thing about it, or kicked up a fuss.

Anyway..

So it's gone midnight, and I decide to go and take my bin out, and this dude has changed the fuckin lock on the gate!! Which I now dont have a fucking key for! When we moved in, the set of keys came with a key to the lock, and now he's fuckin changed it, and we've literally been in all day! And he KNOWS we have. He could have posted the spare key with a note? If there's only one key, he could have told my fella (seeing as he likes my fella MORE than he likes me) and given him the key to go and get a second one cut today? But no, nothin! And istg he's done it on purpose to be a fucking dickhead because we had a petty argument last week at some point.

This is what he does lmao, whenever he runs his mouth, and I bite back, he doesn't like it, and he'll do something petty like this.

I physically can not take my bin outside for collection, I can't even drag it through my house because my recycling bin won't fit through the hallway door leading to my front door.

And the bin men come at the ass crack of dawn so I won't even see my neighbour before they turn up.

He's now left me with NO SPACE in my bin for 2 weeks! Until the next recycle collection day..Which is now going to be a huge inconvenience to me to be honest. And he KNOWS that, and THATS what boils my fuckin blood.

He's going to get a fuckin CLACK around the back of the head tomorow when I see him if he tries to gob off at me when I say something about getting a key to something that I ALSO legally own.

He should have 100% mentioned about changing the lock for the gate. Whether he fuckin likes me or not..

Ya gals on period too, so as you can imagine I'm FLYING off the handle at any little fuckin thing 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣