#but moving back here was such a bad decision

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Did he do this to you? | JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You and your husband move back to Kildare. JJ is your safe haven.

A/N: based/inspiration from the book/movie It Ends With Us. DV warning. !!

A bit rusty, I haven't wrote anything in a while and started this a while back. Hope you enjoy it!

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

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!! Warning: domestic violence, violence, abuse, verbal abuse. Please don't interact or read if this is a trigger. I do not go into deep details but it is the theme through out.

It had been 5 years since you'd stepped foot on Kildare Island. A broken heart had took you thousands of miles away. You twisted the ring around your finger, watching out the window as the familiarity set in. When your husband had mentioned a new job opportunity, you never would have expected it to be Kildare, yet here you are. You knew there was no arguing.

"Well this is a shit hole." Your husband grunts in disgust as he takes the drive through the cut.

You recognized familiar homes, people you grew up with. You did a double take at the mailbox with the letters "Maybank" across it.

Your husband pulls you from your thoughts, "Lock your doors." he says as he coasts to a stop at the red-light. A few people hanging around a worn down building. It used to be the hangout place for the Kildare kids. You'd spent many hours there, good and bad decisions were made.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, knowing none of the people would mess with you guys. "They won't bother us."

"How do you know? I'm driving a brand new Mercedes and they look like druggies."

You sigh softly, deciding it wasn't worth the energy to argue. "If you take the next street up, there's a short cut to the country club."

You would be living on the water at the country club. A whopping $1.2 million dollar house, a $25,000 initiation fee and extra $5,000 a month just to be a part of the club. You'd married into the type of people you despised growing up.

~

"Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" He asks, fingers tracing the back of your hand on his chest.

You two are sprawled on a blanket in the sand, watching the sun set on the horizon. You smiled softly, tilting your neck up to look at him, "I see us, here." You bite your lip, sitting up on your elbow, "You own your own surf shop on the water. I'm a teacher at the elementary school. We're married.. still hopelessly in love." Your eyes twinkle at the dream.

JJ kisses your hand, "You've got it all thought out, don't you?"

"Every detail."

He chuckles softly, "Sounds like the perfect life."

"Any life with you is the perfect life." You lean forward and catch his lips in a kiss, "I love you JJ Maybank."

"I love you too." He whispers softly against your lips, "With everything I have."

~

If only you'd never left. Would your life have looked like what you'd dreamed of?

You and your husband had met in college. You'd fallen quick. He was romantic, thoughtful and overall perfect. That should have been the first sign. It was too good to be true.

He never showed his true colors until after you two had married. After he had you roped in and you had no way of leaving. He'd controlled every aspect of the life you two lived, meticulously planning, locking you down with a lock and key. He'd convinced you to quit school, where you were close to graduating and becoming a teacher.

He'd broken you. He'd broken your spirit, your confidence. Convinced you no one would ever love you like he did. That you wouldn't make it without him. And you blindly believed and followed him. You were his puppet.

You two settled into the home. Your movers and designers did everything. You didn't have to lift a finger.

"I need to go to the store and get groceries." You mention at the breakfast table. Your husband is typing away on his computer.

"Didn't Martha go to the store a couple days ago for us?" Martha was your house maid.

"She did, but I wanted to gather what we needed for the party Friday." You push yourself to his side, taking a seat in his lap, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, "I want to make sure your party is perfect."

You were the housewife and it would be the first gathering at your new home, hosting your husband's new colleagues and wives. It needed to be perfect, he'd reiterated multiple times.

He takes his card out of the wallet and hands it to you. He controlled the money. He loosely wraps his arms around your mid section.

As you stare at him, fingers running through his hair, you feel a light tug of love in your heart. He was a handsome man, with dreamy eyes. You love this man and could make it work with him, you say to yourself. Everything is going to be okay.

"It better be perfect." He tightens his grip on your hips, a warning to you.

And just like glass your dream shatters, reality setting in.

You nod, "it will be." you force a smile, leaning to kiss him. "I'll be back later."

"I'll be on the course, but I expect dinner at 6." He releases you, giving you a soft shove as you step away from him.

"You better change clothes and do something with that hair. Put some make up on too." He calls out to you, "People know you're my wife, you need to look perfect."

~

You stepped out of the Mercedes and headed into the grocery store, unfolding your list as you grabbed a cart. You were grabbing vegetables for the appetizers.

"y/n?"

You turned around to see Sarah Cameron. She had been one of your best friends.

"Oh my god." You look her over, she hadn't changed at all, still looking the same. A wedding band on her finger.

She smiles, "It's so good to see you!" She leans in and hugs you, "You look the same as you did 5 years ago!"

"So do you!" You give her a squeeze, "How have you been?"

She holds her hand up, "Well John B and I finally got married," Her face is glowing as she tells you. She looks as in love as she was 5 years ago.

"Oh Sarah, that's amazing." you smile, "I'm so happy for you!"

"What about you? How as life in the city?"

"It was an amazing. I moved back here.. with my husband."

You think you see something sad flash across her eyes, but she moves on, "How wonderful.."

"Yeah, we moved into the country club, Bleaker street?"

"Wow," Sarah nods, "the country club. You definitely moved up in life."

You laugh and nod, "definitely a different life than the cut."

"I'm happy for you, y/n." She says genuinely, "look," She glances at her basket, filled with lunch meat and snacks, "I have to go, I'm meeting John B and JJ-"

"JJ?" you ask, your heart fluttering at the even mention of him.

"Yeah," She nervously bites her lip, "We're heading out on the boat this afternoon. but I would love to catch up another time. Here's my number." She pulls a piece of paper from her purse, scribbling her number on it.

You recover and nod, "I would love that."

She leans in again for another hug, "It was so great to see you."

~

Sarah went back and forth with herself, debating on whether to tell JJ who she saw. John B notices right away something is bothering her.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"You'll never guess who is back in town."

He raises an eyebrow, "Who?"

"Y/n."

"What? Seriously?" He leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, "How do you know? Did you see her?"

Sarah nods, placing the sandwiches in the cooler, "I ran into her at the market. She's married," She whispers the last part, glancing to make sure JJ was still outside.

"Oh shit," His eyes widen, surprised.

"And living in a house in the country club. Bleaker street."

John B knew of the houses, "Shit, really?" His eyes widen even more, "Damn. Her husband must make good money."

She nods, "Ive been debating on telling JJ, I don't want him to see her and be caught off guard ya know?"

He shrugs, "he's a big boy. He was heart broken at first, but he knows it did them both good, making her leave."

Sarah sighs and nods, "I-"

"What are we waiting on? We're wasting daylight." JJ interrupts at the screen door, tapping on the door frame.

~

Dinner was laid out on the large granite table by the pool, a couple candles to keep the bugs at bay. The table had cost a fortune and been flown in specially for you, but your husband didn't say anything. He wanted the best of the best for this house, wasting no penny. A bright and beautiful flower arrangement in the center. The table could seat 6 but was only set for two tonight. You reach across the table, gently adjusting the flowers and placemat. It needed to be perfect. You couldn't risk anything setting him off, especially after a day on the course.

You heard a car door slam, three different sounds of laughter. His colleagues must have come with him. Glancing nervously at the table, set for two. It was too late, they were already entering the gate nearby.

"hey doll," Your husband greets with a grin, he has a sway in his walk. Too much to drink on the course. Two men dressed similar in golf attire fall in behind him.

"Hi baby," You meet him with a glass, whisky neat. His dinner drink of choice, "How was golf?"

He presses a kiss to your cheek, sloppy and he smells of booze, maybe even a little perfume. "These fuckers kicked my ass."

"He's a horrible shot." The one guy laughs, you believe his name is Charlie.

"Hey but it won us a lot of money," The other one adds with a chuckle and pat on Charlie's shoulder. You couldn't remember his name. Hunter? Paul? Aaron?

"Lucky day for you." Your husband points his finger between the men, "Don't get use to it."

As you all near the table, your husband sees it set for two. "Thought I told you to set the table for two more?"

"Yes-I um was just about to get the other place settings," You force a smile through shaky lips, "I wanted to greet you with your drink and a kiss first." You add, hoping to save yourself.

He glances you over, an approving nod at your attire and cracks a smile, "I've got her trained well," He teases to the boys, one arm reaching around your waist and bringing you against him.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You feared this would be what set him off, but it had worked. You saved yourself this time. "You boys sit down, I'll go get plates and drinks." You slip away from your husband, "Whiskey okay?"

The men nod, taking a seat at the table.

~

The sun was beginning to set, a bright orange and pink tint in the sky. The weather was warm, but that perfect warmth that didn't leave you sweating and wishing you were inside with AC.

John B had took a seat next to Sarah, JJ taking the driver's seat for the ride back. The boat treaded softly in the water, a no wake zone in this channel. Nothing but marsh and water on one side and lining the other, the multi million dollar homes of the country club.

Time seemed to slow down when a familiar laugh filled JJ's ears. He'd know it anywhere. Even after 5 years, your laugh was burned in his memories.

Standing near a table, he spotted you instantly. You somehow looked the same, but so different. You were dressed in something he'd never expect you to wear, handing out drinks. His heart leaped out of his chest at the sight of you. 5 years had passed and he never expected you'd have come back to Kildare.

He watched as the man you were standing next to pulled you into his lap. How was it even after 5 years, he could tell when you were uncomfortable? He'd pulled you into his lap dozens of times and never did you look like you did at that moment.

As the boat passed, it caught your attention. Your heart skipped as you realized who it was. For a moment a thought crossed your mind. A vision of you running down the dock toward him, into his arms, where he could take you away from here.

Your husband squeezing your thigh brought you back to reality. "Look at that piece of shit. Should that even be allowed on the water?"

The boat hadn't changed and the HMS Pogue letters faded. Oh the memories.

"Fucking Pogues man." Charlie states.

~

You unfortunately had not escaped your husband's anger from the evening. You touch the tender area around your eye and cheek, red and beginning to bruise.

He'd already come up with a story for your injuries. You'd had too much to drink and fell down the stairs. He'd place the storyline with Charlie and Aaron (you finally figured out his name) that night as you'd sipped on your second glass of wine, not at all tipsy.

"Easy on the wine baby, you know how you can get," He says, rubbing your back, "She sometimes drinks too much and gets pretty clumsy," He tells them and they laugh at the story.

You only hoped it would be gone enough to cover up before the dinner on Friday. He'd find someway to place blame on you.

~

It was Thursday night and your husband had been invited to a dinner at the country club with a few more of his colleagues. You tried to talk him out of making you go, but he was insistent, even with your bruising.

"Doll, there's nothing to be ashamed of." He says cradling your cheek with one hand, "Everyone has a little too much to drink sometimes. You just get so clumsy." He sighs, "I'm just glad it wasn't any worse."

He was such a good liar, you almost believed you actually did trip and fall down the stairs.

"Me too," You force, playing along to his lies. Your energy to argue or fight this, was gone. You realized even though you'd moved to a new city, it would still be the same life you lived before. Full of lies, narcissism, abuse. You'd never be able to escape it. People would eventually catch on to him, question him and you'd be packing and moving once more.

~

You entered the country club, arm looped through your husbands. You'd done your best with the makeup to cover up the bruises. Thankfully the lighting had gone to its evening dim and helped in hiding them. You approached the table where his colleagues and wives were sitting. Charlie and Aaron included.

"Go get us a drink," Your husband orders after introducing you to everyone. You could feel their eyes on you and your bruises, but no one said a word, keeping to themselves.

You make your way through the crowd, taking a seat at the bar. You're glancing over the menu when the bartender steps in front of you, "What can I get started for you?"

Oh that voice. Your eyes meet his blue ones. A look of shock comes across his face, his smile faltering as he eyes your bruises. He wasn't a stranger to bruises.

"Hi JJ," You manage to say with a smile, "Crazy seeing you here."

His eyebrows furrow, but before he can say anything, your husband shows up at your side.

His large hand placed on your back, "What's taking so long?"

Your eyes flicker to your husband, "I was just-"

"My fault sir, I was telling her the drink specials for tonight." JJ interrupts, forcing a smile. "I sometimes talk too much."

Your husband nods, "Well, less talking. Whisky neat. She'll have a water."

"Coming right up, sir," JJ forces a nod, trying to keep his anger and emotions at bay. He glances your way before making the drinks.

Your husband doesn't miss the glances JJ is giving you. You feel his eyes on you. You make no mistake to even glance in JJ's direction. You try to keep your focus on your husband, "I have the menu set up for tomorrow's party."

"That's lovely dear."

"Here's those drinks," JJ slides the drinks across the bar, "Sorry about your wait."

Your husband nods before taking his drink and turning away to head back to the table.

You're careful in your long dress to slide off the stool, "Thank you,"

"y/n-" JJ starts, but stops himself at the look and subtle shake of your head you give him before heading back to the table.

JJ can't think straight the rest of the night, recognizing the bruises. He keeps a careful eye on the both of you during the night, wishing you would slip away for just a moment, a moment he could have alone with you.

You're no stranger to JJ's eyes on you the entire night. You're careful not to engage, scared your husband may notice. Your husband was a jealous and possessive man that you treaded lightly to avoid that part of him.

"I'm going to the bathroom," You whisper to your husband, a kiss on his cheek.

He glances at the bar, "get me another drink on your way back." He grips your wrist as you stand and turn away, "No flirting with the bartender this time." His eyes and grip are enough warning.

~

As you make your way back to the restaurant, you're pulled into another room by surprise.

"What the-JJ!"

"I needed to talk to you. Away from him," His eyes are soft as he takes in the injuries. He reaches his hand up toward your jawline and doesn't miss the subtle flinch. He's still hesitant but does it anyways, cupping your cheek, he whispers, "Did he do this to you?"

"I fell, down the stairs," You reply, tears welling up. "I had too much to drink,"

"Yeah," He scoffs in disbelief, "I know a right hook when I see one y/n. Been on the other side of plenty."

"He didn't-I swear I fell," You're trying to convince yourself and him, but failing.

"That's such bullshit."

5 years is nothing when the woman he still loves has been hurt at the hands of another man. JJ's blood begins to boil, anger settling in, "I'm gonna kill him-"

"JJ no-" You grab his arm to stop him, "JJ, please don't make this harder on me."

"He hurt you, you think I can stand by and let that happen? I don't care if it's been 5 years since we've seen each other. No one lays a hand on a woman. He's a sorry excuse of a man."

"It's nothing I can't handle. Please, let it go." You beg.

"I'm not going to just let it go, y/n."

"If you want to help me, I'm telling you to leave it alone." You step forward, putting yourself between him and the door, a firm hand on his chest, stopping him, "I have to get back before he gets suspicious."

You turn around to exit the room and don't know when it happened, but JJ's hand is gripping yours. "Don't do this to me," JJ pleads, "I can't let you go back to him." His mind flashes to the worst. If he lets you go and does nothing, it ends in you hurt or worse dead.

"I'll be fine," You gently squeeze his hand, "JJ, I can handle it. I've made it this long."

Your fingers gently touch his as you release him, exiting the room with one more glance back and a reassuring smile. JJ's shoulders sag in defeat, watching you walk away from him. He doesn't think of himself as a religious man, but he prayed to God at that moment to keep you safe.

As you step back into the dining room, you try and calm yourself. Not only did seeing JJ stir up the old feelings, but it gave you hope. You'd known no one in the past cities, no one to confide in. You were utterly alone in your suffering. Maybe this could be your saving grace. Here you weren't alone. You knew people. Maybe JJ would be your saving grace.

Your husband's eyes trail behind you, watching as JJ walks in behind you toward the bar, his suspicion rising.

"Where's our drinks?"

You were flustered, forgetting completely to stop by the bar and get him another drink, "I-I, did you still want whisky? or something different?"

"When have I ever drank anything else?" He sits up a little straighter, eyeing JJ behind the bar, who's already been taking looks at the two of you.

"Right," You nod, "Sorry I'll be right back. I'm just exhausted, my minds all over the place." Flashing a small smile, you press a hand to your head.

You feel your husband's eyes burning a hole in your back, you slip into the stool, JJ already sliding the drinks to you.

"If you need anything else, let me know." He taps the napkin under your water.

At first you don't understand, but he's firm, "If you need anything, let me know." Tapping the napkin again.

You tilt the corner up and see his writing on the back, realizing what he's done. You weren't alone.

~

"What the hell was up with you and the bartender tonight?" Your husband asks as soon as the car door closes.

"What?" you ask in confusion, buckling yourself in, "Nothing."

"Don't!" His booming voice causes you to jump. "Don't fucking lie to me." He points an accusing finger at you, "I saw the way you looked at him. You want to fuck him."

"I don't-" Your shoulders sag with exhaustion. You were tired of treading on eggshells every moment you're around him. No matter how hard you tried to avoid setting him off, there was always going to be something you missed.

"Baby, I only have eyes for you," You reach over to touch his cheek and he grabs your wrist, earning a yelp from you.

"No cause I saw you two come back from the bathroom together." His anger boils and before you can react, his hand is around your throat, "You fucked him."

You're gasping for air, clawing at his hand. You can only squeak out a sound. For a moment you wonder if he's truly going to kill you. Here in the car, in the parking lot of the country club.

He gives one hard squeeze before letting go, "fucking whore. You just wait until we get home."

You gasp for air, beginning to sob, hand against your throat. For the first time you actually feared for your life and wondered if you'd make it through the night.

~

As soon as your husband arrives home, he exits the car with a slam of the door, stumbling his way up the stone walkway and into the house. Slipping the napkin from your purse you stare at the number.

You're only able to type out JJ before he's yelling at you to get inside. Hiding the napkin in your purse you get out of the car.

The rest of the night is a blur. You're lying on the floor of the foyer, curled in a ball. A sobbing mess. There's broken glass around you, a puddle of blood nearby, you're pretty sure it's from the gash on your head.

Your vision is blurry but you make out a figure coming through the front door.

"Oh god,"

Suddenly the figure is bending down in front of you, becoming clearer, "JJ," you croak out between sobs. Your saving grace. How did he even know?

"I'm here," He's smoothing your hair out of your face, "Where is he?"

"I don't know," You let out between sobs, "He's probably passed out somewhere now."

"I've got you," JJ carefully lifts you out of the glass, a shooting pain across your middle causes you to cry out. As he carries you out, John B and Sarah are on the front porch, horrified at the sight.

He gently lays you into the back seat of the car.

"H-how did you know?"

He's pressing a shirt against your head to control the bleeding, "All you texted was JJ and I just had a gut feeling."

"Hey!" Your husband stumbling out of the house. "Where do you think you're going!" He's waving something around. Before anyone can react, a gunshot rings out.

JJ's eyes are wide. Blood begins to seep through his shirt, creating a circle at his chest. "JJ-"

~

You awake with a scream, heart racing. It was only a nightmare.

"Hey hey---" JJ's at your side, "Shhh it's okay-"

"JJ-" Your hand finds his chest, no bullet hole. it was only a night mare. "He shot-"

"I'm fine, I'm okay." He's comforting you, hand caressing your hair, "It was a nightmare-not real."

Your head throbs, hitting you at once, wincing you press a hand to your head, a bandage wrapped around it.

"You have a pretty bad gash. No stitches needed, but you're probably going to have a horrible headache for a little while." JJ says.

"Last night- I don't even remember what happened." You slowly sit up, "I just remember coming home and walking through the door."

"You texted me. All you said was JJ and I just had this horrible gut feeling. I came home and told John B and Sarah about it. They wouldn't let me come alone. and it's a good thing." The anger is fresh as he thinks back to the scene that he walked in on.

"I would have killed him if they weren't there. You were on the floor in all this glass. Blood was everywhere. I thought you were dead." He shakes his head at the memory. His heart had stopped, thinking he was too late. He made sure you were okay and safe in the car before he tore through the house and found your husband on the back porch, smoking a cigar. JJ attacked him. He'd blacked out in anger to the point John B had to yank him off.

"I've already spoke to Shoupe. Your husband's probably sitting in a jail cell right this moment."

"No one ever believes me.." Tears fill your eyes as you think back to the times it's been swept under the rug. "it was always my fault."

"Not around here." JJ shakes his head, "You've got people here." He takes your hand in his, "You've got me."

The flood gates open with full emotion. Your body shaking in sobs. JJ takes you into his arms, holding you against him. "I never should have let you go." He tightens his arms around you, "I'm not letting you go this time." Pressing a kiss against your hair, he promises himself. "You're safe with me."

~

A bit rusty, be kind. Also, I apologize for any grammar errors. Thanks for reading! likes, comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

[killmeleatherface]

I’m Here

Jack Abbot x F!attending (OC)

AN: this will be a series! I will be writing between this and my already published series about Dr. Robby, It Had To Be You

Summary: Jack Abbot and you have a complicated relationship to say the least. It goes beyond attending resident and more into…who knows. When he offers you an attending position you don’t realize that both of your life’s are about to be thrown upside down and neither of you will know what to do.

TW: medical setting, cursing, age gap relationship. Let me know of any more!

—

“Where do you think you’re going to go, actually? No bullshit.” Jack Abbot asks you.

You’re on the roof of the Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center leaning against the metal railing. You’re trying to look at the stars, but you can’t ignore Jack’s eyes on you for any longer.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s really between here and Minnesota.” You’d been offered an attending position at Mayo, as well as the emergency department at the hospital you were currently standing on.

“Here and Mayo? That makes sense. Did they offer you more money? A moving stipend?” He inquires.

They hadn’t. In fact, the offer from the Pitt, or more specifically Jack himself, was better. But you weren’t going to mention that.

“Yeah, they did actually. Also offered an allowance for a four wheel drive truck.” You’d say with a smile, trying to incite a laugh. You fail. He stays silent, not breaking eye contact with the skyline in front of you.

He’s always so quiet, never saying more than he needs to, or saying less than he wants to. The attending you’d worked under the past 4 years was a very pensive man, all about healing and medicine and honesty and integrity.

He turns around, crosses his arms and stands in front of you and faces you. “When do they need to know by?” He asks.

“The day before the wedding.” You say, refusing to make eye contact.

“Oh that’s fast.” Is all he says. In reality it’s two days away.

“Maybe there’s something I can get Robby to talk to Gloria about, sweeten the deal ya know. Keep my best resident here.” He’s thinking out loud.

“No, no, Jack. Don’t do that. There’s nothing left to do. I just haven’t made a decision yet, honestly.”

He won’t stop looking at you. Like he’s trying to get his eyes to say something that his mouth can’t. Or more like his mouth won’t let him because his brain is winning in the fight against his heart.

You finally pull away and crawl back through the railing, suddenly needing more air that an open rooftop can give you. You close your eyes and take your turn to look at the sky. You hear the crunch of rocks and dirt behind you, but you don’t dare open your eyes and look behind you, suddenly feeling as if you’ll turn to stone if you dare make eye contact with the dangerous man behind you.

“Daphne.” He says. You just shake your head, moving your long ruby curls.

“Daphne, please. What do you want me to do? The weddings two days away. I’m stuck.” Jack says.

With that, you finally open your eyes and turn around, fury in your unmet eyes.

“You’re stuck? You’re stuck?” You ask as if he’s a kindergartener and not a man in his late forties.

“Jack, don’t even try it. It’s way too late for that. Don’t do it now.” You say, with tears stuck in your eyes.

“Daphne, please. I-I- don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Do you want me to beg you to stay here? Do you want me to beg you to take the attending position so I can continue to spend every day with you? Fine. Yes. Yes, I do. I want to call Mayo and say lies about you so they’ll rescind the offer. I want you to stay here so bad with me that it hurts. It’s killing me how fucked up this all is. That’s how bad I want you here. There. Damn. Are you happy now?” Jack says, getting louder the more he goes on.

“Jack, you can’t say that. Stop, it’s-it can’t happen.”

He steps towards you and you freeze. What’s happening? You should step back. You should turn around and go back down those stairs that you came up, and back to the emergency department. But you don’t want to. You want what’s right in front of you.

When he gets to touch toe to toe with you, he reaches for your hand, playing with the friendship bracelet a twelve year old patient had given you three years before. Jack had a matching one. He skins his hands down your palms and to your fingertips. “Stop me.” He says, looping his hand through yours. “Please, stop me, if you don’t want this, stop me.”

But you want this. Of course you want this. You want nothing more than this man in front of you. The man you fell in love with six months after meeting. The one you shared your highs, lows, and everything else in between with. The man you’d spent hours after both of your shifts in the same spot just discussing life with. Jack told you a little bit here and there at first. He was testing the waters. He was testing you, seeing if he could truly trust someone with sensitive information. After, in his mind, you proved you could, he told you everything. He told you about being a medic in combat, he told you about going to school, where he did his residency, how he started at the Pitt and met Robby. There was just one story he’d never told you, and it was about the metal attachment he had beneath his pant leg that not many people knew about.

“Jack, I do-“ he interrupts you with his lips crashing on to yours. At first you’re surprised, but you almost immediately reach your hands up to cup his jaw. You let yourself savor the moment. He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling himself into you. This man, he made you almost lose control. Almost.

You’re the first one to come to your senses, pulling away as Jack chases you with his lips and you push against his chest with your right hand.

“We, we can’t do this.” You say through gasping breaths and red swollen lips.

Jacks surprised, he’s hurt. But what did he expect? He looks at you somberly, he wants to say something, but shakes his head and turns to look at the right of him instead.

“You can’t be mad. You’re getting married in a few days, Jack! You have a fiance! And you’re kissing the girl you’ve repeatedly told her not to worry about. That’s fucked up!” You scream.

“I don’t love her. Not like that. Not like you.” He says, looking back at you.

That takes you off guard. That’s a really low blow, especially coming from him. You can’t stop the tears now.

“Bullshit!” You croak out, crossing your arms over yourself, instinctively trying to protect yourself in any way you can.

He tries stepping towards you and you step back, rocks crinkling beneath sneakered feet. He’s the first to stop.

“Daphne, come on. You know it’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you.” He offers.

“Stop. Stop. I don’t want to hear any more. This is wrong. So wrong.” You throw your hands up and turn around. You’ve almost made it to the door when Jack side swipes you and jumps in front of you, pushing the door to the stairway exit closed.

“Daphne, Daphne, please, stop. Listen to me.”

“Jack, get out of the way.” You say sternly. “Let me go down the stairs.”

You try reaching for the door and he stops you.

“Stop this already. Get out of my way and go back to your future wife, I bet she’s worried about you.”

“I’ll leave. Right now. I’ll go tell her I’m in love with you and can’t marry her. I will.” He’s pleading.

“Oh, stop. You will not. Rachel is a really good girl and she doesn’t deserve that. You know that. You can’t do that to her.” You try.

“I don’t care. Just please don’t leave. I promise you I’ll go downstairs right now and tell her it’s over. I can’t lose you.”

“Ya know that’s a really fucked up thing to say right now. You could’ve said this years ago Jack. It’s too late now.”

“No, no, no. It’s not too late. I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to come to my senses, but I’m here now. For you. Me and you. Just say the words.”

You look at Jack Abbot, crumbling in front of you, trying to hold it together. He’s practically on his knees begging you to stay here. But you’re not the right girl. You’re not the one with an Abbot family ring around your finger. You can’t be.

You’re silent.

He waits for a response, but one doesn’t come and after he’s deemed it enough time, he relents. Looking at you, and then away, one last time, turning around and palming the door open. He signals for you to go through.

You listen to him, for once tonight and walk through. Before he closes the door, you turn around and say, “Bye, Jack.”

He purses his lips together and pushes the door closed in response, letting the door close behind him.

Here’s the next part!

[sammki]

i'm gonna add my two cents for the zero people that asked

also i never write up posts like this so be nice to me. or don't. i'm not your mom

i love eddie as a character. i love messy characters, i love messy relationships, i love conflict and drama and flaws and shades of grey. i'm of the opinion that just about anything can make for a good story in the hands of a skilled enough writer. everyone being fluffy and getting along always and agreeing with each other can make a good story.

but that's not what 911 is about.

i'm absolutely due for a rewatch, but ever since eddie's introduction he's been a guy trying to make the best of a bad situation, but can get in over his head with the decisions he makes. he struggled with chris's schooling/care situation at the beginning, and it was after buck introduced him to carla that progress was made on that front.

his grief over shannon's death leads to the street fighting arc in season 3, where it takes almost killing a guy to snap him out of it. his treatment of buck during the lawsuit arc is an extension of this turmoil. bottling up his emotions after this, and the shooting, leads to his breakdown in season 5 that scares christopher enough that the kid calls buck in for help. his unresolved issues lead to the kim fiasco, which results in chris moving back to his grandparents. he follows chris to el paso to rebuild their relationship--yay! (ignoring the lack of addressing the kim of it all) ...but because he's there, he misses bobby's death, and the guilt and the grief of it all causes him to lash out again.

is this healthy behaviour? not really! should he probably go to therapy and maybe address some of this? everyone on this show needs to go to therapy! and maybe this is an unpopular opinion, but this mess is what makes eddie interesting to me.

stepping back for a moment, i've also seen people bring up that eddie is far from the only character to physically lash out at anyone--buck, bobby, chimney, they've all done it in the past. how was eddie putting hands on buck any different from bobby pinning him to the wall in season 1? what about buck spraining eddie's ankle due to his jealousy over the whole tommy situation?

chimney punching buck--i only recently started watching (within the last year) so i wasn't around in the aftermath of that punch, but i do see some of that bashing floating around. i'm not gonna say racism has nothing to do with it. i'm white. it's not my place to say what does and doesn't count as racism. others have and are able to put it much better than i ever will, but i didn't want to say any of this without at least acknowledging it.

the difference between eddie last night and these other physical altercations? the narrative frames the others as in the wrong.

bobby's actions are not depicted as in the right because buck was snooping through his stuff. sure, buck shouldn't be snooping, but that very same episode ends with him and hen performing a welfare check on bobby after he's fallen off the wagon. bobby is deep in his suicidal self-hatred spiral. even the score throws in a little dramatic sting here. there's reasoning behind his actions, but they're not reasonable.

chimney's punch is less in-your-face since the apology happens offscreen, but the narrative makes sure to throw in a line that there was an apology. he's at the height of this great emotional maelstrom--maddie's left him with their months-old daughter, who he's just found out had to go to the er after the incident in the bath--and he's just found out that buck's been keeping important information from him. sure, jee was fine and it was an accident, but as her father he certainly had a right to know. nonetheless, lashing out physically is presented as wrong, even if only as an afterthought with a throwaway line. there's reasoning behind his actions, but they're not reasonable.

after buck checks eddie and sprains his ankle, he spirals in his guilt. he let his jealousy get the best of him, and he maimed his best friend. bad behaviour, and it's all on buck. he says as much! in both his conversation with maddie, and with tommy at the end of the episode, he owns up to his actions! we don't see him apologise to eddie onscreen, but he's pushed to do so and i get the implication that he does call and clear the air. there's reasoning behind his actions, but they're not reasonable.

*beats that last sentence in with a hammer* see what i'm trying to get at here?

with eddie, his actions are born out of his immense guilt and grief at not being able to do anything when bobby was dying. earlier in the season, he snapped after buck told the rest of the team about eddie's plan to move back to el paso, which eddie was not comfortable sharing yet (again, putting aside whether the secret-keeping was smart, to eddie, buck still betrayed his trust by telling everyone while he's dealing with the stress of trying to find a subletter)

but... does he really apologise for either of these? in the first fight, they're interrupted by bobby hen and chim showing up at the front door and taking him out for a goodbye celebration. in the second he flies christopher in from texas as a surprise visit with tia pepa with an offhanded "heard some dick was being mean to you"

chris was the apology? eddie took responsibility? he doesn't even say i was a dick. he distances himself and throws chris and pepa at buck as a diversion. only one diaz actually said i'm sorry in that scene and it wasn't eddie.

i just. this whole thing could play out exactly the same and it'd sit so much easier with me if i knew there'd for sure be some form of payout at the end of it all. if you have two characters that are supposed to be best friends and one of them has buck's insecurities, then having the other go for the jugular in fights like that can't be fixed with a simple "aw someone was mean to you :(" and throwing a kid at him.

and backing buck into a corner, getting his face, putting hands on him? call it abuse or don't, but in what world is it at all okay to put hands on someone like that, in such an emotionally charged moment? i don't buy the argument that buck and eddie's friendship is Like That, or even that some irl friendships are. someone putting their hands on another in the middle of a heated disagreement is NOT RIGHT and the number of people i've seen calling it "romantic" is. concerning.

write him flawed. write him angry. write him aggressive. but for the love of god stand behind what you're putting on the screen.

[mikimakiboo]

Mermay day 9 - Shattered Ice

Told you the trope would be back

- Leviathantale -

Geno is trapped, orcas are circling his patch of ice, in a few minutes he will be their snack... unless a very specific orca shows up.

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Geno knew he shouldn't have taken a nap here, it was too in the open, too unsafe, even if he didn't plan on sleeping for long it had been a very bad decision, because right now ? There were clearly four black fins circling his thin plate of ice. He should have slept on the lands, here he would have been safe, with no predators able to reach him, but he didn't want to be bothered and had chosen the ice instead, thinking it was a calm area without orcas. He had been wrong.

He looked around, anxiously shifting on the ice, the water wouldn't give him any way out, but maybe he could jump on another ice patch ? If he took off his skin, maybe he could make the jump, as risky as it was ? He looked for the closest ice plate, but the orcas were already working on isolating the one he was on, jumping would only make him fall in the water, and out of his skin he wouldn't be able to swim fast enough the escape the predators, and he couldn't fight them, not alone against four.

As he turned again he saw the fins getting farther from him, nothing to rejoice about though, he knew what that meant, and the thought was about to get confirmed as the orcas got together and turned around, returning to the patch in one group. Geno quickly crawled to the middle of the ice, he really didn't want to be on the edge for what was to come. The orcas sped up, diving right before hitting the ice, creating a wave that went all the way under the patch, shattering it and almost sending Geno rolling over. He managed to stay on the now smaller plate, but he knew the orcas wouldn't stop until he fell over completely and there wasn't any ice left to climb on.

It was the end, he couldn't fight, he couldn't escape, all he could do was accept his fate. He would have wished for a more glorious death, dying in a fight would have been honorable, but dying because he took a nap and got caught by surprise ? That wasn't what he would call an honorable death. That was the exact contrary of an honorable death, other selkies would just laugh, if they even noticed he wasn't around anymore. And why even worry about how he would be remembered, if he would even be remembered ? He wouldn't be here to see it either way. He let out a desperate cry, such a pitiful noise, but he was alone anyway, so who cared ? The orcas didn't care, they were already preparing another wave.

The wave hit, shattering the ice further, but still not making the seal fall, it felt like torture, delaying the fatal moment like it was a game. It was a game, for the orcas it surely was, but for him it wasn't, but it wasn't like he had a word to say that would change things. He let out another cry. A desperate attempt to call someone, anyone, in this cold ocean, a call for help...

But...

The ice shone blue, a bright light spreading under the ice floe until it exploded, making place for a black and blue orca to jump and dive back in the water, the tall fin coming straight towards the small ice patch.

Death came, and he had souls to claim.

The orcas spread, but the Leviathan was faster. The first fin dissapeared, leaving nothing behind, swallowed whole, the second was victim of the same fate. The Leviathan turned around, he still had two fins to make dissapear.

The movement of the water made the small ice patch flip over, the poor seal falling in the freezing water before he could even realize he was slipping. He turned in the current, trying to stay upward and frantically looking around for the orcas, but all he saw was Reaper in front of him, the two last black fins falling to the depths without the orcas. Geno didn't dare move, staring at the two glowing sockets radiating nothing but an eerie energy, a feeling of endlessness, and yet he didn't feel in danger. He didn't fight it when two hands closed on him and he felt the current slip through the black fingers as the Leviathan moved.

Geno soon felt the air as the water fell from the hands, and he was delicately placed on the floor of a large ice floe. He took off his hood and sleeves, looking up, but the Leviathan was gone.

- Didn't anyone tell you it was dangerous to rest in the middle of nowhere ? Reaper's voice came from behind.

Geno turned sharply, the mer was leaning on the ice, his lower body in the water, having turned back into his small form. Geno could have cried if he didn't have a bit of dignity left.

- You.. you came... he whispered, almost not believing it.

- You called, Reaper replied as if Geno had just asked him to hang out.

- But how... ? I was alone...

- Death will always find the way to the souls it has to claim, he stated matter of factly, sometimes the souls aren't exactly the ones we expect to get taken.

Geno didn't know what to say to that. Reaper had come to save him, the Leviathan of Death had saved his life. He should have died on that ice, and yet Death itself decided otherwise. He didn't know how he felt about that, above nature's laws maybe ? Above any other mortal ? No, he wasn't above anything, he was just... He was Reaper's friend, that was what he was, he was his friend who needed help and Reaper helped him.

- Thank you...

The mer smiled.

- Any time, I'm not gonna let my fat seal be anyone else's snack, he joked, though Geno knew he meant it.

- Oh fuck off, you stupid orca, Geno laughed, tension slowly leaving his body.

Reaper's tail flapped in the water as he smiled, chuckling too.

Yeah, he wouldn't let anyone hurt his seal, what would be the point in being the incarnation of death if he couldn't choose who would die and who would live, right ? As long as he was swimming in this ocean, Geno would be safe.

[ancha-aus]

Bitty Surprise - Chapter 13 - Pov Cross

Back for another chapter of the bitties!! We are slowly coming to the end of this little story!! lets see how Dust will get himself out of this situation :)

First Chapter: [Here] AO3 link: [Here]

*------------------------------*

Cross stares at Nightmare as he tries to think of how to get the message across before being as blunt about it as he dares “I should just… really go clean out my jacket. I just noticed I have dust in my jacket.” And he stares at him.

It takes Nightmare a moment but then Nightmare’s socket widens as he glances down at the pocket which still holds Cross’s hand, and the sneaky bitty. Killer looks slightly panicked as well before quickly putting a large grin on his face “Really? That must be from ages ago then!”

Cross shoots Killer a thankful look and uses the set up Killer had made him “That is what I figured. So I should really go and get it cleaned!” He can feel Dust trying to struggle out of his hand hold. Cross needs to get home as soon as he can.

Dream gives another smile “I am sure it is fine. We are halfway through this meeting anyway.”

Cross wants to hit someone. Just let him leave!

Then pure panic as he feels Dust escape his grip and moments later feels him crawl into his sleeve and up his arm. Cross can feel the tiny and light grip of the bitty as he makes his way upwards.

Seems like that now Dust is discovered he isn’t going to bother with being stealthy.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Nightmare notices his panic and nods “Very well, Killer and I have got this covered. Good luck with cleaning your jacket.”

Cross feels relieve and grabs his knife but before he can cut open a portal Dream stops him. Dream glares at Nightmare “It is fine. He can stay.”

Cross chuckles “I would really prefer to go.” Dust has reached his shoulder and is slowly making his way over his clavicle. Cross can feel how he is crawling and moving along it slowly but surely.

Nightmare glares at Dream “What does this have to do with you exactly? That makes you think you can make this decision. If Cross wishes to leave he can leave.”

Dream glares at Nightmare “Oh? So he can only leave when you say he can?”

Nightmare stares at his brother, clearly annoyed “That isn’t what I said and you should stop that bad habit where you twist my words to better fit your narrative.”

Dream looks enraged “I am worried about my friends across the multiverse. I know you don’t understand that as you can’t care about others like that.”

One of Nightmare tentacles trashes but Cross rips his arm out of Dream’s hold and glares “Stop that. I don’t fucking need your babysitting. I never wanted it either. Your interest is unwanted and honestly creepy.” He glares at Dream “And unlike you Nightmare cared enough to help Killer and me out of dying AUs. While you were too busy making friends in happy timelines.”

Dream stares at him shocked and Cross feels a tiny bit of guilt over the hurt look on his face but he steels himself. He is not going to stand by and let Dream talk shit about things he doesn’t understand.

Dream just continues to look sad “I am just trying to help.”

Killer glares harshly from Nightmare’s side “Only now it is convenient right?”

Dream flinches and looks away.

Nightmare sighs and turns to him “Cross?”

Cross nods and goes to swipe when he realises he hasn’t felt Dust move in a while. He freezes and shifts a tiny bit from side to side but… oh no. He shoots Nightmare a panicked look and glances at the ground. Where is he?!

Nightmare realises it himself and switches tracks “Are you alright? Feeling sick?”

Killer grins and puts an arm around his shoulder, easily disguising the actual thing he is doing, which is seeing if he can feel Dust anywhere “Got sick for their useless talking and bumbling? Same!” Killer shoots him a look and gives him an up and down and his sockets pinch in worry.

Oh no. That means Killer doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Where did Dust go?!

Cross looks up and feels his own breathing stop. Because in the back of Dream’s cape he sees Dust hang on. Cross remains frozen and doesn’t look away as Dream speaks with some of the others who have gathered.

Killer probably notices his staring “Crossy?” because a moment later Cross hears him gasp as well.

What do they do?!

Nightmare’s tentacles all trash again and Cross can only assume he spotted it as well.

Blue looks around confused “Well, seeing as we got off track anyway. Maybe we can call it for today?” he smiles.

Dream looks at him and blinks before nodding. Dust barely manages to hold on and not fall at the sudden movement. “That is for the best.”

Killer shoots them both a look before rushing forwards and grinning widely up at Dream. Dream yelps and takes a few steps back. Killer grins “Wow. So when you want a break or stop the meeting it is fine? Talk about double standards. But then again.” He grins and puts an arm around Dream before he pokes Dream in the sternum “We are used to your bullshit by now.” Dream glares and pushes him away but as he walks backwards he grabs Dust and puts both hands in his pockets.

Razz glares from where he is acting as if he is important “You are being worse than usual.”

Killer goes to speak when someone else speaks up “Just because none of you have a working brain.”

Oh no. Oh no!

Razz glares “What the fuck? Who said that?!”

And the Dust somehow pops up out of Killer’s sweater neck and attacks Razz’s face with a loud hiss and claws. Razz curses as he takes a few steps back but Killer grabs Dust again with both hands and glares at him “Why did you do that?”

Dust however keeps his skull turned to the others and growling. Clearly unhappy. Cross runs over to Killer’s side and takes the struggling bitty over “Dust don’t do that! You can end up hurt!” Dust continues to glare with his tiny adorable face right at the group.

Razz groans “What the fuck was that?!” he steps behind Blue as he keeps glaring, now blood slowly dripping down his face.

Blue gasps “Why do you three have a bitty!?”

Dead silence around them as everyone turns to stare at Dust. Cross can see that Dust just doesn’t care and continues to glare with all his might at Dream, his tiny skull still obstructed by his hood. Cross sees everyone stare and just pulls Dust closer to him, trying to keep him safe and secure.

Outer glares “I thought they weren’t allowed in a bitty universe?”

Dream frowns “We aren’t. Breaking rules and agreements there Nightmare?”

Nightmare frowns “For your information. We aren’t allowed in the universes in the positivity sphere you set up, which includes most bitty universes. We were in one of the many neutral universes where we found bitties.”

Dream huffs “I highly doubt it.”

“They are right.”

Everyone turns to Error, who is still just laying on the table looking unhappy. He doesn’t even bother to look up “While most bitties are from positive universes. There are neutral and even negative universes and timelines where they also pop up. These universes are rare and rarely have bitties that resemble other big forces in the multiverse but it is possible.” He looks up bored for a moment “A matter of chance of happening upon one of these places.” He goes glares lightly at Nightmare “Removing people from timelines however?”

Nightmare raises a brow “All of us are technically removed from our universes and traveling. They are settled in my universe.” Error frowns but gives a slow nod. He doesn’t like people moving between the different universes and settling in other timelines. Seems like the bitties leaving their universe and going to Nightmare’s universe which is completely out off the universe system is acceptable for now.

Dream glares “They still stole a bitty!”

Killer glares back “For your information we legally adopted Dust and Horror. We did all the legal steps and procedures!” Cross nods his agreement, Killer is right of course. They had to do many trainings and classes to get all the necessary information on bitties and to prove they would take good care of the bitties.

Blue raises a brow “You called them Dust and Horror… also two?” he just looks intrigued as he shoots Cross’s hands a curious look. Cross pulls Dust even closer and tries to hide him more.

Killer waves it off “Please. We called them Axe and Renegade before. Much better than the name Bitey the store gave Horror. But then Dust and Horror told us their names are that so we use those.”

Nightmare steps forwards and Cross relaxes when the tendrils hide Cross, and so Dust, from view “Either way. If the meeting is over it is time we go home. We need to return Dust to Horror and their bitty housing.”

Dream steps over “No! It can’t be healthy for bitties to be in… in… a realm of negativity!” he frowns “I am sure we can figure out where to best move them to and-”

Nightmare glares “You have no right to demand that without knowing anything about them or bitties. You didn’t even ask them what they wanted.”

Dream glares but Ink speaks up “That is an easy fix then right? Just hold that bitty out and we ask him!” he grins.

Nightmare huffs “As if I trust anyone here to not try and grab him and take him from us. No.” he opens a portal “We are leaving. Dream read those reports and figure out where to lessen the positivity. Goodbye.”

Cross rushes through the portal first and looks down at Dust “Why did you do that?!”

Dust shrugs “Curious.”

Killer glares at Dust “And attacking Razz?”

Dust hums and grins “Rude.” Then he pouts “Couldn’t get close to the other one…”

Great. Just great!

Nightmare sighs as he rubs his face “This is a mess.”

Yeah… Cross agrees with that. He walks over to the couch and sees Horror stare at Dust.

Horror hums “Got caught?” Dust just nods.

Wait a minute.

“You were in on it?!” Cross stares with betrayal at Horror even as he returns Dust to his side.

Horror blinks and nods “Yes.” Then he smiles at Dust and nuzzles him.

Nightmare frowns at them “You two know that this means that they will demand meeting you two right? They will try to take you to another world for ‘Your own good.’.”

Horror huffs “Nothing new.”

Dust nods as he snuggles closer to Horror.

Nightmare sighs as he rubs his face. Killer frowns as he sits by them “This sucks. What are we going to do? No one is going to shut up about this!”

Cross frowns as he tries to think of a solution “Well… first we can say that we don’t like taking them out of our universe. Mostly because again, bitties, they are small. We lose sight of them. So that will be a good reason as to why we won’t take them along anywhere.” He glares at Dust “Unless someone decides to give us another heart attack by sneaking out using our clothes.”

Dust stares down and shrugs before a soft mutter “Sorry…” he tugs the hood closer over his skull.

Cross feels his soul break as he leans close and gently pet the bitty “It is okay… we are just scared and worried. We don’t want to lose either of you.” Dust leans into the gentle contact and that gives Cross more happiness than he can logically explain.

Nightmare nods “We can make it so another meeting doesn’t happen. At least for a while. They can demand what they want but our reasons are sound to make it that no one will actually try to force it… But they won’t shut up about it.”

Dust and Horror share a look and Horror looks up “We can come. Tell them we want to stay here.”

Cross’s soul is going to melt with how much he loves his bitties.

Killer coos and nuzzles both of them “It is okay! Thank you, you two are just too cute!”

Maybe it will be alright?

----

It just got worse. They kept whining about meeting the bitties meeting after meeting after meeting!

Cross is this close to punching someone.

He lays his skull on the table and groans “No it isn’t safe to take them here. Yes we heard you want to meet them but it isn’t happening. Let it rest.”

Ink pouts at him “Come on! For old times sake?” and he grins.

Cross glares at Ink “You mean the time you would visit me in a broken universe. Lie about the fact you could have just helped me escape. All so I could be manipulated into kicking off the X-event? Those old times?”

Ink chuckles and nods “Yes!”

Cross hates Ink with every spec of matter that makes him him and if Cross could he would kill the artist.

Killer sighs as he leans back in his chair “And you guys say that we are the bad guys when you all can’t even understand or respect a no.” he just stares at the ceiling. Uninterested.

Cross chuckles and nobs “For real.”

Nightmare just looks annoyed. Clearly he just wants to be done with it. As he has already, multiple times, tried to get Dream to give his report over the overflux of positivity.

Dream rubs his arm “I am just worried and-”

Nightmare rubs his face “For the love of everything holy and unholy. It doesn’t matter! What I do in my own time isn’t your concern anymore. Why is it that you are so focused on what I do instead of your actual job as a guardian?”

Dream glares at the table “It is my job.”

Nightmare looks very unimpressed “Everyone knows it isn’t. You are just making excuses again to not do what you actually need to do. What. Is. The. Status. On. The. Overcharged. Positivity?”

A long silence as Dream doesn’t look up. He hugs his own arms tighter and Cross can see multiple people reach over to reassure him and shoot Nightmare dirty looks.

Dream sighs and nods “There is an overcharge and… it will take a while to clean it up.”

Nightmare raises a brow “Why?”

Dream looks to the side “Well. I have a busy schedule! I need to help so many people and everyone just needs assistance. It will just go slower instead of all in one go.”

Nightmare sighs as he rubs his face “You changed nothing. You are still skipping on your responsibilities to play nice and gain popularity.” He rises from his chair and just stares at Dream with disappointment “I don’t see why I figured you would finally take your duty more serious.”

Dream flinches “Nightmare… I didn’t.”

Nightmare shakes his skull “Don’t. We will come back after you fixed your side of the balance. I am no longer cleaning up your messes. We are leaving.”

Blue frowns “The… the meeting isn’t over yet?”

Nightmare waves him off “The part that concerned me is over. And I hardly understand why I am even here, seeing that none of you take the balance or what I say serious to begin with.”

And they leave again. And immediately all lay on the couches they can reach.

Horror looks up from the game he and Dust are playing “Rough meeting again?”

Cross groans and nods “Yeah.” Just like the other last eight had been. “They just don’t listen.”

Dust frowns as he stares at the screen “Sorry I made things harder…”

Killer coos “It is okay… you didn’t mean to.” He sighs and rubs his face “Have half the fucking mind to just let them meet you two and be done with it.”

Horror nods “We don’t mind.”

Nightmare looks worried “We will need very clear rules for you two’s safety. That you two will have to follow and listen to. Is that okay?”

Both the bitties nod.

Cross is already worried about this. He can’t help but feel like this will either go very well or very badly.

--

“…”

“…”

“This is going to be a mess.”

“Oh absolutely.”

“Think they will react well to us?”

“Maybe… if you don’t try to stab them again.”

“Hey. I didn’t stab that guy last time. I didn’t have my weapon on me.”

“The thought was there.”

“Of course it was there. They are annoying and they insulted our big mates.”

“I didn’t say I disagreed. I can maybe take my axe. Losing one finger isn’t too bad. Should be a nice warning.”

“Oh I like that! I am taking my needle. Make someone lose an eye. I can make the losing an eye for an eye joke.”

“Killer will like that.”

“It is why I will make it.”

“Love you bunny.”

“Love you big guy.”

*--------------------------------*

Next Chapter: [Here]

[adailytea]

Mayblade 2025 - Affection

The first thing Tala acknowledged was pain.

A beam of morning sunlight sliced mercilessly through his hotel room’s curtains, aiming at his closed eyelids with laser precision. Groaning, the boy buried his face deeper into the pillow, acutely aware of a dull ache radiating from every single muscle he possessed. His head throbbed insistently, pounding as if Wolborg decided to howl and break dance inside his skull. Red eyebrows joined in a steep frown. The taste in his mouth vaguely reminisced of sand, sour apples and very bad decisions. 

Something had gone spectacularly wrong the night before.

He tried to move.

A heavy, muscular and very much male arm was draped possessively over his bare waist like a seatbelt, locking him firmly in place.

His eyes snapped open.

There was a solid chest pressed on his back. Movement down below denounced one hairy leg hooked between his. Warm breath from snoring tickled the back of his neck.

Slowly, he tilted his head to glance backward, desperately hoping he wouldn’t find what he was expecting. 

Bryan. Dead asleep. Shirtless. Spooning him with a disturbing tenderness completely foreign to Falborg wielder’s reputation, his usually scowling face tucked against his hair with a lazy smile as if cradling a particularly comfy lover. 

“...You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Tala’s pupils shrank to pinpricks and his teeth gritted, dread swiftly overriding all that ache he suddenly found himself not so interested in analyzing.

“Bryan,” he hushed, voice cracked from exhaustion, dehydration and possibly trauma. 

No response.

“Get off me,” he tried again, shaking them both lightly.

The boy grunted and pulled him closer like a teddy bear, inhaling deeply amidst the red, wild locks as if sniffing a bouquet of rage and cinnamon. “Mmm. Shut up. M’comfy...”

“BRYAN!” Tala elbowed him hard right in the ribs, a vein throbbing on his forehead. It was a mistake. His arm screamed in protest. 

“Argh! What the hell?!”

What followed was a flurry of shoves, curses, sheets and limbs. Bryan landed on the floor with a loud thud and a groan while Tala scrambled to the opposite edge of the bed as if the mattress was suddenly on fire, pulling the sheets around his waist to salvage what little dignity was left. 

The slate-haired boy propped upright with the grace of a newborn deer, hand holding his head, blinking blearily at the room. His body was half naked. Silver eyes slided up at the bed, then at his childhood friend and captain, then at himself.

“...Why are you in my bed?”

“This is my bed, genius!” Tala snapped. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Bryan hissed, rubbing his face as he tried to collect the lost pieces of memory. “I can’t remember anything. Just warmth.”

“You were clinging to me like a damn koala!”

He grimaced, his vision and mind still twirling. “My back hurts. And my ass. And my knuckles. And my face. Why are we naked?”

“My jaw hurts,” the redhead observed as he touched a tender spot on his jaw. “And you reek of gasoline. Is that a burn mark on your hair?”

They both looked at each other.

They were disheveled. 

They were bruised.

They were in their boxers.

There was something on the nightstand that suspiciously looked like a tube of massage oil, winking back at them.

They did the math.

Long, horrible silence. 

Both boys looked down at the bed again as if it might eventually explain itself and offer a refund.

“…Did we…” Tala’s whisper trailed off, teetering on the edge of sanity, one eyebrow twitching.

“Oh, hell no,” Bryan gagged, his face twisted as if he swallowed a toad. “No. Never. Even drunk me has standards.”

He received a withering glare in return. “Standards? You snore like a busted chainsaw, you maniac. You spooned me like I was a long-lost girlfriend!”

Bryan waved at him, unimpressed. “I probably mistook you for a pillow, you're basically the same size.”

Tala threw a pillow at his head with deadly force. “I swear to every god, Bryan, if you ever sniff my neck again-”

Kuznetsov batted the missile aside with a snarl. “Your hair does smell like strawberries. Not my fault.”

His face shone a distinct shade of red. "IT'S THE HOTEL SHAMPOO, YOU IDIOT!"

A polite knock echoed from the door before it slowly creaked open, and both of them jolted like guilty children caught by a parent.

Spencer made himself visible in the doorway, his broad figure immaculate and fresh from training and a bath, a towel around his neck, a steaming mug of coffee in hand and the other one sank in his sweatpant’s pocket. Ocean-blue eyes landed on the two battered, half naked, miserable boys, on the pieces of clothes on the opposite ends of the room and then on the disheveled bed, gradually taking in the scenery.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "I always thought you two had chemistry."

“It’s not what it looks like,” Tala snarled between clenched teeth, clutching the sheets tighter around him like a damsel in holy armor.

Bryan just groaned and flopped back against the bed, tossing an arm over his face. "Kill me now."

Seaborg’s wielder raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you had a lovely night.”

“I hate you,” Tala muttered and demanded. “Explain. Now.”

He sipped his coffee. 

Slowly. Smugly.

"You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“Understandable.”

The wolf’s patience frayed to the snapping point. "Spencer," he warned, voice dangerously low, "you have exactly five seconds before I shove that coffee mug up your-"

He lowered the coffee cup, savoring every drawn-out second. "Sure," he drawled calmly. "You too had a little misunderstanding after you both drank half of those fancy 'fruit juices' from the minibar and you didn’t know had alcohol. Cute."

The redhead’s expression shifted from fury to humiliation so fast the blonde’s heart almost ached. Bryan just scowled harder, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

"You started arguing about something utterly moronic,” Spencer continued. “At some point the bellboy knocked and asked for some information. Bryan snarled at him like a chihuahua. You didn’t like it and scolded him. Bryan didn’t like it. Yelled something about tyranny, African wildlife and power dynamics. Then you threw hands."

Tala narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Oh, I have videos,” Spencer patted the pocket near his thigh where his cellphone lay. “You were arguing about whether or not penguins have knees.”

Bryan looked confused. “…Do they?”

“Not the point,” the captain groaned.

Spencer continued with wicked cheerfulness. “You went into a full-blown wrestling match in the living room. You knocked over three chairs, the table, punched the wall, scared the hotel’s cat, and then chased each other into Tala’s room yelling something about ‘settling it like men.’”

The slate-haired muttered, “I do vaguely remember yelling about mortal combat…”

“You both passed out mid-fight,” Seaborg’s wielder explained, now leaning on the doorframe, fingers drumming on the warm mug. “Bryan was trying to put you in a chokehold. You rolled onto the bed. Then… snoring.”

Tala frowned as if surrounded by utter, pure betrayal. “And you didn’t think to stop us?”

He shrugged. “I did. For like five seconds. You tried to bite me. Then I grabbed popcorn.”

Tala sank his face in his hands and fell back onto his pillow,  groaning dramatically. Bryan glared daggers at the ceiling.

As Spencer turned around and left, his laughter echoed down the hallway, leaving the two battered boys alone and embraced by a thoroughly awkward silence.

Bryan sighed reluctantly, breaking the tension. "If Spencer actually has that video, we’re burning down the damn city."

Tala nodded, exhausted. "I'll get the gasoline…"

[eddiecoweyesdiass]

well that was certainly an episode so thoughts! (in no particular order)

firstly, buddie is being messy as fuck again in that fucking kitchen😭 also low-key eddie was fighting with himself BUT that is not to say that he's fucking abusive or whatever fucking bullshit everyone has been saying on here

should have eddie said all the things he said to buck? absolutely the fuck not. is eddie abusive because of one fight? also the fuck not what's wrong with you people

THEY AREE GRIEVINGGGGGG

also the 5 minute buddie divorce (are we on number 4 now??) had me shitting fucking bricks i was scared out of my fucking mind and the shaky camera work and in general how the whole thing wss filmed and the chemistry? fucking masterpiece

ALSO WE ACTUALLY GOT THE EDDIE PHONE CALL I WAS SOBBINGGGG

but the most important thing is that BUCK AND CHRIS ARE REUNITED😭😭❤️❤️❤️ when i tell you i started jumping with joy i mean it i was fucking crying and jumping around like a mad man my babies are back together the whole scece was just so-

eddie waiting for buck? buck's face IMMEDIATELY lighting up the second he saw chris even though his mood was in the trenches? buck and chris mirroring eachother and looking identical? eddie looking at them and smiling like a lovesick fool? i have so many thoughts about buddie this episode that i might have to make a separate post

moving on

idk how i feel about hen not making captain because i do think it would have been good both her and the 118 but i understand her reasoning so at least they didn't fuck that up kudos to them ig

karen wilson the woman that you are, i love her so much and i was soo happy with her involvement this episode she was absolutely amazing as usual

athena and chim still being on the outs broke my heart but based on the promo we saw it's probably going to be resolved in the finale

which wow i can not believe s8 is over cause like finally this season has been a shit show of bad decisions sprinkled with bit of good writing and a fuck ton of phenomenal acting from everyone

carrying on

buck in the confessional fucking got to me bad ngl

cause

1) he looks so fucking young it actually broke my heart

and 2) "you were wrong. you said id be okay, and im not. and they don't need me" SHUT THE FUCK UP IM NOT OKAY

im ending this here or ill be going on about this ep forever

[fridgrave2-0]

hehe ghost-turbo haunting felix au

turbo is connected to the last piece of his code in the whole arcade - a trophy he gifted to felix in mid 80s as a symbol of him genuinely caring about their relationships on par with being the best racer. felix also gave him one of his medals and both kept their gifts next to other rewards, but when roadblasters and turbotime were unplugged, the medal was gone with everything else

now, after burning in cola-lava turbo is basically dead, but scraps of his code still were intertwined with the trophy (after all, it was his first winner's cup, but felix never knew about it), giving turbo an opportunity to exist as a shadow incapable of interacting with anything and anyone besides felix, who kept the trophy even after the roadblasters incident

also I went crazy in tags, feel free to check them out

[eggofchaos]

this decision is going to kill me probably

[doodlemancy]

Hey, so, Patreon is lying to you about Apple forcing their hand.

Patreon is getting rid of 1st-of-the-month/per-creation billing, claiming a new decision by Apple has forced their hand. This will hurt a lot of creatives, and their excuse is bullshit. Allow me to explain.

In 2018, Patreon tried to impose a new ill-considered fee structure on everyone that would have cost creators a lot of smaller pledges. They ended up apologizing for this profusely; they have now deleted this apology from their website and unfortunately I was unable to find it on the Internet Archive. This was shameful, but to their credit they backed off quickly when things got ugly.

Back in 2021, Patreon discussed plans to force all creators into a rolling bill structure and get rid of first-of-the-month/pay-up-front billing. The community once again very decisively shouted them down, and they had to walk it back again. This whole fiasco damaged the already shaky trust between Patreon creators and staff.

This week, Patreon announced that, along with extra fees, Apple's policies were supposedly forcing them to move everyone over to the rolling fee structure that they first tried to get us to agree to in 2021. Patreon will tell you they are not happy about this. As a person who spent a long time watching Patreon make terrible decisions, I can tell you-- they are probably very happy about this, because it's exactly the smokescreen they needed to do what they've been trying to do for years, which is pull ALL Patreon creators away from 1st-of-the-month and per-creation billing.

The spin in the news I've seen so far is "Apple bullies Patreon, boo hoo hoo poor Patreon". This is very obviously not what's happening. Mind you: Apple does suck, and they are doing something bad here. Fuck apple. But Patreon and Apple are BOTH the asshole in this situation; Everyone Sucks Here. Patreon has options: they can make the iOS app a reader app and do billing through the browser to avoid the restrictions and the extra fees (Netflix and Amazon, notably, both do this), or they can allow creators to opt-out of iOS billing if they want to use billing models that don't work with it.

It seems most likely to me that the Apple situation is a real fire that Patreon has chosen to use as a convenient smokescreen to do what they've been wanting to do since at least 2021, and maybe since 2018.

What do we do?:

They have a feedback form specifically about this.

They also have a creator discord.

And they have lots of social media pages where they probably really, really hope that this doesn't blow up again, because they never learn. The incidents I've described here aren't the only two other times Patreon has pissed off their creators. They know if they don't contain the noise it'll be harder to get away with it, so make some noise. They've done a lot of work to spin this cleverly so you'll have sympathy for them and they won't get the kind of backlash they know they deserve.

Please don't misuse these links and make threats or spam or something. All you have to do is give well-reasoned feedback. Patreon hates feedback. Make sure they get a nice heaping helping of their least favorite vegetable.

[floral-hex]

going through old letters and cards today to see what I can throw away, mail I received when I lived in New York and never remembered to go through again until now, and I kept finding a) old school photos of my brothers, & b) letters my youngest brother wrote to me while I lived away from home, and… oof. I’m glad no one was around because I criiiiiiieeeeed so hard. Had to step away for awhile.

[solxamber]

And I Choose...

In which you pick the dorm you want to join

Part 1: Choose Us

Heartslabyul

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d be willingly moving into Heartslabyul, but here you were, standing at the entrance with your bags (and Grim, who was loudly complaining about the lack of a tuna fountain).

Riddle was the first to greet you, looking as composed as ever. “Welcome to Heartslabyul,” he said, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was formal, but the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed his excitement. “I trust you’ll follow the rules properly now that you’re part of this dorm.”

Before you could respond, Trey appeared beside him, looking far more relaxed. “We’re glad to have you here,” he said with a warm smile. “I already saved you a slice of cake—figured you’d need a snack after all the chaos today.”

Bless this man. Truly.

“Say cheese!”

You barely had time to process Cater’s voice before you were blinded by the flash of his phone. “Oh my Sevens, the new dormie vibe is immaculate! This is totally going on Magicam!” He snapped another selfie, this time pulling you into the frame. “And guess what? I’m using my clones to make moving day a breeze! You’re welcome!”

True to his word, Cater’s clones were already grabbing your stuff. You stared in disbelief as three Cater clones carried a single small bag together while laughing like they were in a cheesy sitcom. Efficiency clearly wasn’t their strong suit, but at least they were trying.

And then there was Ace and Deuce. The moment you’d announced your decision to join Heartslabyul, the duo had erupted into what could only be described as the most uncoordinated, chaotic victory dance you’d ever seen.

Deuce was spinning in circles like he was trying to summon a tornado, while Ace alternated between bad breakdancing and finger guns pointed at no one in particular. “We won! We won!” they chanted, completely ignoring the way Riddle’s eye was twitching in disapproval.

“You know,” you said, watching them make absolute fools of themselves, “I think I made the right choice.”

Grim snorted from his perch on one of your bags. “You’re surrounded by idiots, henchhuman.”

“Maybe,” you said with a grin. “But they’re my idiots.”

Savanaclaw

The moment you announced that you’d chosen Savanaclaw, chaos erupted.

Jack’s tail started wagging so hard it was like a propeller trying to take off. You half-expected him to lift into the air. “You won’t regret it,” he said, his usually calm voice brimming with excitement. “We’ll make sure you feel at home here.”

Ruggie wasted no time grabbing you in a headlock and giving you the noogie of a lifetime. “I knew you’d make the smart choice! You, me, and all this bribe cash—donuts for a whole year, easy! You’re officially part of the Savanaclaw hustle now!”

“Ruggie, I swear, if you ruin my hair—”

But the true shocker was Leona. At first, he played it cool, lounging lazily in his chair like your decision was no big deal. “Hmph, took you long enough,” he said, voice dripping with fake indifference. But then, as if he couldn’t help himself, the corner of his mouth lifted into a smug grin.

And that’s when he pulled out his phone.

“Leona, what are you doing?” you asked, watching as he sidled up to you with the confidence of a king.

“Taking a picture. Gotta rub this in a little.”

Before you could protest, he snapped a selfie of the two of you. Then, with the smoothness of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, he took another.

One went to Vil. The other went to Malleus.

The captions?

To Vil: "Looks like I win. Stay beautiful, princess."

To Malleus: "Better luck next time, lizard."

You groaned, face burning. “Leona, was that really necessary?”

“Absolutely,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket and smirking like the cat who caught the canary. “Welcome to the pack, herbivore.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help smiling. Maybe Savanaclaw wasn’t such a bad choice after all.

Octavinelle

The second you announced you were choosing Octavinelle, chaos descended faster than you could say “Mostro Lounge.”

Floyd let out an earsplitting cheer and, before you could blink, scooped you up and tossed you into the air like a beach ball.

“Shriiiimpy’s ours now!” he cackled, catching you before launching you up again like he was testing the room's ceiling height.

“Floyd, please!” you yelled, your life flashing before your eyes as you flailed. “I don’t wanna meet the Great Seven this soon!”

Eventually, Jade stepped in, placing a hand on Floyd’s shoulder. “Now, now, Floyd. Let’s not accidentally lose our new dormmate to an untimely accident. We wouldn’t want to scare them away before they’ve even unpacked.”

Floyd, grumbling, set you down but kept a firm arm around your shoulders, as if daring you to second-guess your decision.

Jade, meanwhile, adjusted his gloves with a serene smile that somehow felt a little too sharp. “Welcome to Octavinelle,” he said smoothly. “It’s wonderful to have you with us. I assure you, you’ll be treated with the utmost care here.” He looked way too pleased with himself, his gaze lingering like he was already planning your initiation.

Then there was Azul.

Azul looked like he’d just won a billion Madol jackpot. His eyes gleamed, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to break into a little dance right there in the lounge. But then, with Herculean effort, he composed himself, clasping his hands and clearing his throat.

“Well, this is certainly a wise choice,” he said, adjusting his glasses like he hadn’t just been doing mental cartwheels. “I’m honored you’ve decided to join Octavinelle. We’ll make sure all your needs are taken care of.”

But then… he slid a very familiar-looking contract across the counter.

“Of course,” Azul added with a dazzling smile, “just a small formality. You see, this document simply guarantees that you’ll remain a proud Octavinelle student until graduation—oh, and a few other things.”

You stared at the contract hoping it might spontaneously combust. “Azul. I literally just joined. Can I have a minute to breathe before I sign my soul away?”

“No rush, no rush!” Azul said, not looking remotely deterred. “Take your time. But, ah—do keep in mind that signing sooner ensures the best possible benefits…”

As Jade handed you a drink (which you were very suspicious of) and Floyd draped himself over you, already talking about all the “fun” you’d have together, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d just made a deal with the devil.

Still, as Azul's smug smile softened into something almost genuine, you decided it wasn’t the worst deal in the world.

Scarabia

The moment you announced your decision, Kalim was on you like a whirlwind.

“YOU CHOSE SCARABIA!!” he yelled, tackling you into a hug so tight you thought you might pop like a balloon. Before you could even gasp for air, he was spinning you around the common room like you were some kind of trophy he’d just won.

“This is AMAZING! We’re gonna have so much fun! Parties! Feasts! Adventures! You’re gonna love it here!” Kalim babbled, his infectious excitement making it hard to even feel dizzy despite the rapid spinning.

“Kalim,” you wheezed, clutching his shoulders, “please put me down before my life flashes before my eyes.”

“Oh, right!” he said, gently setting you down with a sheepish laugh. “I got carried away. I’m just so happy!”

As you tried to steady yourself, a much calmer—but no less relieved—voice spoke from behind Kalim.

“I’m glad you chose Scarabia,” Jamil said, his expression carefully composed, though you could see the faintest hint of relief in his eyes.

You blinked at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes,” Jamil replied, crossing his arms and glancing away like he didn’t want to elaborate. But after a beat, he sighed and added, “You’re one of the few people here who keeps things balanced. With you around, maybe I’ll have a chance to stay sane.”

Your heart melted a little at his quiet admission, even as Kalim jumped in again, declaring he’d throw a party that night to celebrate your move.

“Let’s get food! Music! Oh, we should decorate your room! Jamil, can we hang up those golden lanterns I found last week? And—”

“Kalim,” Jamil interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose but unable to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips, “one thing at a time. Let them breathe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the dynamic, feeling a warm sense of belonging already. Scarabia might be a lot, but it felt like home.

Pomefiore

The second you announced your decision, Epel let out a laugh so sinister it would’ve sent chills down a villain’s spine. “HA! TAKE THAT, EVERYONE ELSE!” he shouted, whipping out his phone to snap a selfie with you.

Of course, Rook popped into the frame with perfect timing, striking an overly dramatic pose as Epel sent the picture straight to the first-year chat. “VICTORY IS OURS!” was the only caption needed.

Before you could even blink, Rook had swooped in, bowing theatrically. “Ah, mon cher, your choice has blessed us with the most magnifique triumph! Let us celebrate with a dance!”

You barely had time to protest before he twirled you around the room like you were in some period drama. His excitement was so contagious you almost didn’t notice when he dipped you dramatically—until you felt yourself tipping back, only to be caught by Vil.

“Honestly, Rook,” Vil sighed, steadying you with all the grace in the world. “Do try not to give them whiplash their first day.”

He turned to you, his usual poised demeanor firmly in place, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his true feelings. “Welcome to Pomefiore,” he said, his voice soft, yet commanding. “You’ve made the right decision.”

You were about to respond when Vil, ever the perfectionist, immediately began fussing over your uniform. “Honestly, you can’t be seen like this. Your tie is uneven, and—Rook, stop standing there and help them adjust their collar properly!”

As Vil worked, meticulously fixing every little detail, you couldn’t help but notice the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He might’ve been playing it cool, but there was no hiding how pleased he was to have you here.

Epel and Rook, meanwhile, had started arguing about who deserved the credit for your choice, while Vil made it very clear that it was his influence that sealed the deal.

And just like that, your chaotic new life in Pomefiore began.

Ignihyde

The moment the words “I’m choosing Ignihyde” left your mouth, Idia froze like someone had yanked his power cord out. His hair flickered erratically, and for a second, you thought he might actually pass out.

“Big Brother? Big Brother!” Ortho shook him frantically, his mechanical arms making a soft whirring sound. “Stay with us! They chose us! You can’t glitch out now!”

Idia finally snapped back to reality, though his face was still pale, his hair sputtering like a dying neon sign. “W-Wait, what?! You…chose here? Are you serious? This isn’t like, a prank, right? Did Ortho bribe you?!”

“No pranks, no bribes. I chose Ignihyde,” you said, trying not to laugh at his genuine bewilderment.

He blinked rapidly, processing your words. “B-But the PowerPoint… I thought it was way too cringe. I mean, I had like, fifty slides about food optimization! Who’d find that interesting?! You were supposed to be like, ‘Ew, no thanks,’ and leave!”

“Actually, I thought it was kind of cute,” you admitted, watching as his hair flared a bright pink.

“C-CUTE?! AAHH, STOP, YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!” He clutched his hoodie like his heart was going to short-circuit.

“Big Brother, calm down!” Ortho interjected, practically beaming. “They chose us! Isn’t this the best thing ever?”

Idia rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. “…So, uh, do you wanna, like…celebrate or something? I-I mean, I know you probably have better things to do, b-but if you wanna…play a game or something, that’d be cool.”

You smiled. “I’d love to.”

Ortho let out an excited cheer and zipped over to hug you tightly, his arms surprisingly warm. “Welcome to Ignihyde! I’m so happy you’re here! This is gonna be the best!”

As Ortho buzzed around you, already listing off all the things you could do together, you caught Idia sneaking a shy glance your way. His hair was still flickering pink, and he looked like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You weren’t sure what life in Ignihyde would bring, but if it meant seeing Idia like this—flustered, happy, and maybe a little hopeful—you knew you’d made the right choice.

Diasomnia

The moment you announced you’d chosen Diasomnia, Sebek practically burst into flames.

“OF COURSE YOU CHOSE DIASOMNIA!” he boomed, puffing up with pride. “It’s the only logical choice! With the Young Master here, there was no other dorm worthy of your presence!”

Silver chuckled softly at Sebek’s theatrics, stepping forward with a kind smile. “Welcome to Diasomnia. I’m glad you’re joining us. Let me know if you need help moving your things—I’ll be happy to assist.”

Before you could respond, Lilia appeared out of thin air, laughing like a mischievous ghost. “Ah, welcome, welcome! We’ve been expecting you…or at least, I have. Let me go fetch Malleus so he can hear the good news himself!” And with that, he vanished in a puff of green smoke, leaving you blinking at the empty spot he’d occupied seconds before.

Malleus arrived moments later, his towering presence filling the room. His emerald eyes softened as they landed on you. “I heard you’ve made your decision. Have you truly chosen Diasomnia as your dorm?”

You smiled up at him. “Yeah, I chose Diasomnia.”

The way his face lit up was unlike anything you’d ever seen. His usual composed demeanor melted into something warmer, brighter. He almost looked…giddy.

“This pleases me greatly,” he said, his voice rumbling with quiet joy. “Come. I’ll give you a proper tour of our dorm.”

You didn’t even get a chance to answer before he gently ushered you forward, beginning the grand tour of Diasomnia. Lilia popped in and out of nowhere as you walked, adding bizarre and entirely unnecessary facts.

“And over there,” Lilia said, gesturing to a decorative suit of armor, “is what I wore when I once tripped and almost spilled soup on Malleus when he was a child. Ah, good times.”

Malleus sighed but didn’t stop him. “This area is the library. Feel free to browse the shelves at your leisure. I can show you my favorite tomes later.”

“And this hallway is where Sebek shouted for the first time when he thought Malleus was missing! Nearly shattered all the windows,” Lilia added with a grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the whole thing feeling so surreal yet oddly comforting. Silver walked quietly beside you, throwing in the occasional useful tidbit, while Sebek followed behind, grumbling something about Lilia not taking the tour seriously.

By the time the tour ended, you felt strangely at home. The eccentricity, the warmth, the oddly familial atmosphere—it all wrapped around you like a cozy blanket.

Malleus turned to you, his expression soft but sincere. “You’ll be safe here. I’ll personally see to it.”

Lilia smirked. “Safe and well-fed. I’ll whip up something special to celebrate!”

“Please don’t,” Sebek muttered, but you just laughed, already feeling like you belonged.

Secret ending: Ramshackle

When you finally dragged yourself back to Ramshackle, you were met with Grim, lounging on the couch like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Well, henchhuman? Which dorm are we moving to? I hope you picked the one with the best tuna," he yawned, tail flicking lazily.

You slumped down next to him, groaning. "None of them."

Grim's ears perked up. "Huh? What do ya mean, none of them?!"

"I told Crowley to just fix the worst parts of this place. I’d rather stay here. Everyone’s so excited for me to join their dorm—I don’t wanna disappoint them."

Grim blinked at you, then shrugged like it didn’t matter. "Eh, as long as you're still my henchhuman, I don’t care. Besides, this place has character! And by character, I mean it’s haunted, but still."

The next day, Crowley gathered the staff and shared your decision with them. You’d half-expected him to brush off his promise, but to your utter shock, the teachers actually…pitched in.

Vargas showed up first, flexing dramatically. "Alright! Time to show these walls the power of my biceps! I’ll have this place sturdy in no time!" He started hammering away, though you were slightly concerned when he tried to patch a hole in the ceiling using a workout bench.

Trein followed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "This building is a historical relic, and it deserves proper restoration." He brought Lucius along, who mostly supervised by napping in different corners.

Crewel arrived next, snapping his gloves on. "We’re not half-assing this. Ramshackle is getting a full makeover. And you’re going to help, pup. Start scrubbing those floors. Chop, chop!"

Even Sam surprised you by popping up with a toolbox and a grin. "Can’t have my favorite customer living in a death trap, can I? Plus, a little investment in the neighborhood never hurts business!"

The repairs were chaotic but effective. You spent days dodging Vargas’ overly enthusiastic demolition attempts, enduring Trein’s lectures on historical preservation, and running errands for Crewel while he barked orders like you were a rookie in boot camp.

By the end of it, Ramshackle was almost unrecognizable. The roof no longer leaked, the walls were sturdy, and the floors didn’t creak like a ghost was stalking you (though you were pretty sure the ghosts were still there, just quieter).

Grim looked around, nodding in approval. "Not bad, huh? Maybe this place isn’t such a dump anymore."

You smiled, patting his head. "Yeah, it’s still home."

And as you settled back into your slightly less ramshackle life, you couldn’t help but feel a little grateful. Sure, your dorm might not have been the flashiest or fanciest, but it was yours. And that was more than enough.

Masterlist

[merrinla]

More finds in the cut content. What's interesting is that this is post-game content. I don't know if these are pieces of DLC or an extended epilogue. Rook and Lucanis drink wine in a gondola. In one version, Lucanis refused to be First Talon and left the crows. The Viper arrives to Treviso to hire Lucanis to kill the local Venatori. The lines in the localization file are out of order. I've organized them as best I could, but I'm not sure if everything is correct.

The gondola scene

Rook: What are we celebrating? Revenge? Saving the world? Lucanis: How about a quiet moment? Rook: Is it quiet? Really? Lucanis: If it's not quiet, it's at least clear.

Option: If only the Antaam were gone. Rook: Treviso's beautiful. Too bad it's filled with Antaam.

Option: You're surprisingly romantic. Rook: Who knew you were a romantic? Lucanis: You bring it out in me. Rook: Yeah, yeah. I'm a bad influence.

Option: Let's not go back. Rook: Let's stay here forever. Lucanis: A little. Not forever.

Rook: What? No fancy glasses? Lucanis: That's Caterina's style. I'm more pragmatic. Lucanis: Well, more pragmatic than her anyway.

Option: Learn from your elders. Rook: There's nothing wrong with a bit of class. Lucanis: (Chuckles) I'll remember for next time. Rook: Oh yes. This is so pragmatic. Lucanis: I know.

Option: Casual's better. Rook: Less clean up. Rook: That's why we're having drinks in a gondola instead of the kitchen. Lucanis: Knew you'd understand.

Lucanis: Is it wrong? Enjoying ourselves while the Antaam terrorize our home... (Crow Origin) Lucanis: Is it wrong? Enjoying ourselves while the Antaam terrorize Antiva... Rook: Does it feel wrong?

(apparently Rook moved, causing the boat to rock.) Lucanis: Careful. Gondolas are more fashionable than they are stable. Rook: They're plenty sturdy. Rook: See. Nothing to— Rook: Oops? Lucanis: You were saying? Rook: Sorry. Lucanis: (Chuckles) Classic Rook. Rook: Classic Rook, he'll/she'll/tehey'll never change. Rook: I've made things awkward. Lucanis: I like this side of you. Lucanis: More wine? Rook: I saved the wine? Lucanis: (Laughs)

(Talon's version) Rook: How are you settling in as First Talon? Lucanis: There was some initial... friction with Caterina, but she got over it. Lucanis: She thought I'd do things her way and was surprised when I had my own ideas. Rook: Really? You'd think she'd be the most welcoming. Lucanis: No.

Rook: Have you spoken to Caterina or the others? Lucanis: Letters here and there. We haven't met since the party. Lucanis: I don't want to cut ties. Lucanis: But Caterina needs to get used to the fact that I'm no longer her heir. Rook: Are you used to it? Lucanis: I was never comfortable with the role to begin with. Rook: So, no regrets? Lucanis: (Sigh) Rook: It's a yes or no question, Lucanis. Lucanis: It's not. You've enough experience with regret to know that.

Rook: I respect your decision to walk away. Lucanis: It wasn't an easy decision. Lucanis: It was hard. Walking away. Rook: It was hard watching it. Lucanis: Let's not talk about me.

Rook: It's not an interrogation if you care. Lucanis: Why not? I've been thoroughly interrogated. Rook: (Snorts) Is that how it works?

Option: Your priorities have changed. Rook: You've changed your tune. Lucanis: I am. On what's important.

Lucanis: Rook. I owe you. For my life, my freedom.

Option: Consider it paid in full. Rook: That debt was paid when you helped us defeat the elven gods. Lucanis: No. That was a job. What you've done for me...

Option: I needed a mage killer. Rook: I had selfish reasons. Lucanis: Rook. I'm serious. Lucanis: Whatever your reasons...

Lucanis: The Venatori killed the man I was. Lucanis: You put the fight—the life—back into me. Rook: I... Thanks.

Lucanis: If you need someone taken care of... Just say the word. Lucanis: Your enemies are House Dellamorte's enemies. (Talon's line) Lucanis: Your enemies are my enemies.

Option: You make murder sound sweet. Rook: Awww. That's sweet. And scary. Lucanis: Of course those are the same thing to you. Rook: I was only teasing. Lucanis: How am I supposed to argue when you say things like that?

Option: I'll settle for friendship. Rook: Or we could just be friends? No killing required. Rook: I still care about you—as a friend. Lucanis: Didn't want you to get the wrong idea... Lucanis: We're still friends. Lucanis: If that's what you want... Rook: Appreciate it.

(non romance/friendship version?) Rook: Oh, I'm aware. Just haven't figured out what I want in return. Lucanis: (Chuckles) Lucanis: For a price. Rook: And you'll charge me... Lucanis: Like I said—a fair rate. (Talon's line) Lucanis: I'm not a Crow anymore. Rates are negotiable. Rook: Still sounds pretty Crow-y to me.

Rook: It's passed sundown. Lucanis: (Sighs) Rook: Time to go? Lucanis: I've business before we return. Rook: What kind of business? Lucanis: Competitive analysis.

Lucanis: Don't worry. I'll collect. Rook: Fun time over? Lucanis: I've business before we return. Rook: What kind of business? Lucanis: Competitive analysis.

Possibly lines from a subsequent quest.

Rook: Business at a Chantry. Not very Andrastian of you. Lucanis: What in our experience together makes you think I'm a good Andrastian? Rook: (Chuckles) Fair enough.

Rook: You sound like you have a plan. Lucanis: Always another mark. Rook: I take it the Antaam are the subject of this so-called analysis? Rook: Why do I get the feeling there's going to be less "analysis" and more stabby-stab? Lucanis: Keeps Wrath content. (Wrath is Spite's previous name?)

Lucanis: Viago said it'd be a fitting spot. Rook: You've proven it's a good spot for an ambush. Lucanis: And you're loud. Which do you think will attract the Antaam?

Meeting with Ashur

It seems as if Lucanis and the Viper were discussing their business, and then Rook came.

The Viper: If you don't trust my intel— Lucanis: I trust your intel and... Lucanis: Fortunate the Rook is here to save the day. Rook: The Rook can detect sarcasm!

Option: Ashur, you shouldn't be here. Rook: This isn't Minrathous. Rook: Ashur, if the Antaam find out you're here... The Viper: I've paid the right people so that they don't.

Option: You two make quite the pair. Rook: The Viper and the Demon. Sounds like a nursery rhyme to scare children.

The Viper: I was just leaving. Rook: Leaving so soon? Rook: You don't have to. Lucanis and I could show you the sights. Rook: There's wine tasting, Antaam assassinating, gambling— Lucanis: Rook. The Viper: Go ahead. I can afford it. Lucanis: (Grumbles.) Course you can. The Viper: You're ruining Rook's fun. Rook: Think about my offer.

The Viper: Should I pay now or— Lucanis: Just go.

Rook: What did he want? Lucanis: Some of us have work to do. Lucanis: It's about time I take care of things at home.

Rook: Who's the mark? Lucanis: Venatori who fled Minrathous after Elgar'nan's fall. Rook: That's why Ashur was here. Lucanis: He's the one who hired me to dismantle the Venatori in the first place. Lucanis: Might as well finish the job.

The most unclear part

Maybe it's related to the quest to kill the Venatori that Viper pointed out.

Rook: Can't take the huge door. Lucanis: The Venatori are inside. Strike from above and we'll take them by surprise. Rook: Above, eh? Rook: Good thing I'm not afraid of heights.

Rook: Not sure why Antivans even build doors. Rook: We never use them. (Crow Origin) Rook: You never use them. Lucanis: We're the Antivan-fucking-Crows.

Rook: We need to be cautious. Rook: If we're not careful, he'll kill the girl. Lucanis: Not if he's dead.

Lucanis: Focus on the self-important bastard. I'll take care of the rest. Rook: They're all self-important—and why do you get so many? Lucanis: Their predictability makes them easy targets.

Venatori: Two, four, six piggies come to slaughter. Venatori: Be grateful. Your meager existence will serve a higher cause. Rook: I'll show you a higher cause right up your— Venatori: (Grunts!) Venatori: Uh—God killer! Right he— Lucanis: Mage killer. Venatori: (Yells in pain) Rook: Lucanis! That's cheating! Lucanis!

Lucanis: Fucking Venatori. Rook: (Sigh) You can take the blood mages out of Minrathous, but…

[rexhya]

yandere!prince who's 3 months way from becoming king, the citizens and palace have already begun preparing for his coronation.

yandere!prince whos more terrifying than his father, nobles bow before him like GOD, his dark violet eyes gleaming with power.

yandere!prince who's favorite word is obedience, so it's no surprise when you're accepted as his personal maid he revels in your compliance.

"[Name], stand. Now." You're in his chambers holding a bowl of grapes. (he insists you feed him)

you stand.

"spin." you spin.

"lift up your skirt." you blush, giving him an almost disgraced face. as his personal maid, you were treated better but he'd never been perverted. you should have known better.

you move to set the bowl of grapes down anyways, you'd rather be humiliated for a moment then disobey and be forced to the torture many servants were subjected to. it wouldn't be so bad anyways, you had a petticoat under and would only lift the first layer.

the prince moved before you could, a pleasant smile taking up his brown cheeks, "God you really are perfect. I was joking, m'lady." he layed back down on his red velvet couch, motioning with his hands for you to continue feeding him.

now you were even more confused, the prince nicknamed "iron of evil" was making a joke? (and what was m'lady about, you were quite literally a commoner) you set the ruffles back down and continue pricking the grapes from the vine and into his mouth, this was probably your least favorite task he requested you do.

not because it was hard but because the prince was completely different from how he presented himself to the public.

moaning and whimpering exaggeratedly as you fed him the fruit, the worst is when he licks at your fingers, even taking one into his mouth, pearly whiteness flicking around the digit.

he always seemed to be smiling around you, it was worse knowing how horrible he could be to others.

like that time a noble staying temporarily was caught trying to poison him, usually their sentence to death would be immediate no questions asked but this prince loved to play games.

it was in the throne room, two gaurds stood by the captive and the prince stood in front of him ( you standing silently by his side praying they wouldn't behead him in front of you ) .

and after staring at the man for almost ten minutes without saying a word, he turned to you.

"pick a number between 1 and 1,000"

you jumped, eyes flickering between the man and the prince, "don't look at him, look at me. number quickly." he graps your jaw within seconds. you gasp, there was no arguing with the prince.

you stared directly into his eyes, sputtering out a number, "o-one"

"hmm." his grip doesn't falter, instead he turns your face side to side peering at all your features. "would you look at this, you actually have a desireable face."

you didn't know wether to take it as a compliment or an insult.

he finally lets go, "okay, have him drawn in quarterd. i want him out of my sight."

you gulped, guilt shredding at your heart as the man screamed. now you felt responsible for his punishment, though you suspect he would have done anything he liked anyways.

as usual.

the prince kisses your palm bringing you back to the present, he's been like this lately too. becoming affectionate in private spaces ( and in public spaces ), insisting you dote on him, care for him and play good girl all while you face the consequences ( many people think you're secretly sleeping with him, though hes met his suitor many times )

"what are you thinking of, tell me your thoughts love."

you gulped, "well honestly my prince i was thinking this is highly inappropriate and that your should stop so that the both of us will avoid trouble, and also—"

the prince stops kissing you, darkened eyes glaring at you viciously. "[Name]" he said suddenly.

you gulp, regretting your decision to speak up immediately.

"you're perfect, okay? i need you to continue being perfect so that everyone here stays happy alright?" you nod. "and i told you to stop calling me that."

"i-i apologize my-sorry um, Anul."

Anul grins and shifts his body to sit upwards, "good, now come here." he motions to his lap and you sigh, as of the past few weeks this was common as well. he pats his thigh impatiently and you smooth down your skirt to move towards him. his arms are around you before you can even make it on him, his nose grazing your neck, "mm, perfect, all mine, so perfect."

you sigh again and fold your hands over your lap, you wouldn't deny this prince was comfortable to sit on but it was not only highly unprofessional but horribly nerve racking.

you were just glad nobody was in here to see it.

and just then a knock came from the door. you scramble to move but Anul hold on fast, "come in." his voice was like murky water compared to how he was speaking to you before.

another servant maid opens the door, looking at your turned down face for a moment before adressing her reason for being here. "uhm, [Name] has been requested in the chambers by Ms. Jalei just for a quick meeting." Ms. Jalei was the head of all thr maids in the palace.

Anul looks bored at her. "She's busy." and quickly turns back to you, but the maid hasnt left yet.

she clears her throat again, "it's umh, it's urgent." she say looking at you and the man, his arms tighten around your waist. "[Name]? what should i do? seems likes there another pest trying to disturb our peace. number, 1-1,000" the maid freezes up, even she knew was this meant.

your eyes went wide as you looked at him, god not this again. "I-I don't want her to get hurt."

"Oh how sweet. Don't worry she won't feel a thing." Anul smiles devilishly. The maid looks ready to cry.

You turned between them, you hears what happened with the other guy, you didn't know who this was but you certianly didn't want her to get hurt, not because she f you anyways.

"w-what can i do? to fix it, i don't think she deserves such a punishment. it's me there asking for anyways, so what should i do?" you pleaded.

that caught his attention, "What you can do...?" He thought for a moment, "You. Get out."

The door was such in seconds.

"ya' know ever since i've met you [Name] i've just been so much better, i'd really love it if you gave me a kiss. I think i deserve it dont you?"

you gulped, you saw something like this coming, you were prepared. you gave a small okay and Anul shifted so you were sitting on his crotch rather than his lap. "okay here i go." and placed the tiniest contact on his lips he almost missed it.

he blinked, "what was that."

"well, i just kisses you my prince. as you requested."

"that wasn't a kiss."

"well—" you don't get a chance to answer as he cups your mouth with his, your tounge sliding on the roof of his mouth, by the time he's finished you can barely breath. his hands had someway crawled themselves onto your side and he found himself craving you, needing you carnally and more than ever. he lets go.

"that was a kiss, and don't make me teach you again."

[strangerexee]

(1) ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ɢɪᴀɴᴛꜱ | ᴇʟɪᴊᴀʜ "ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ" ᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ

𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽!𝙶𝙰𝙽𝙶!𝙰𝚄

pairings: Elijah "smoke" Moore x black!fem!reader

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 | 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 | 𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚐/𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜 | 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎/𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 | 𝚝𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚜 | 𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 (𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜), 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 | 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚜����𝚊𝚛𝚝-𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚢 | 𝚃𝚆𝙸𝙽 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙵𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 | 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

You weren’t even supposed to be out that night.

Whole week had been trash — your boss on your ass, car acting stupid, apartment loud as hell with neighbors fighting through the walls.

You needed a break.

So when your girls hit you up — “Bitch, we outside tonight, put some heels on” — you said yes.

You didn’t even think twice.

Short dress. Glossy lips. The kind of heels that said you might make a bad decision if the right man breathed on your neck.

The club was packed — lights flashing, bass thumping deep in your chest — and you felt yourself finally breathe when you got a drink in your hand and a song you loved came on.

You were dancing, laughing, living your little free life — when you felt it.

Eyes.

Heavy.

Watching.

You turned your head — slow — and caught them across the room.

Two of them.

Tall. Built like trouble. Dark eyes gleaming under the lights like wolves in the woods.

And fine?

God help you.

One leaned back against the wall — arms folded, chewing on a toothpick — looking at you like he already knew what you tasted like.

The other was talking to some girl, but his eyes? Still on you.

You swallowed — heart hammering.

Your friends screamed when the song switched — dragging you further onto the dancefloor — but you kept glancing back.

Who the hell was that? You couldn't really tell.

Fast-forward twenty minutes — you outside cooling off, drink in your hand, scrolling on your phone.

And he stepped to you.

The one from inside.

Black jeans. Black hoodie. Gold chain swinging. Those heavy-lidded eyes eating you alive.

“What’s your name, lil’ mama?” he said, voice low and slow.

You squinted up at him — heart pounding — but your mouth moved faster than your brain.

He was tall in that way that made you straighten your spine, hoodie hanging loose on that broad-ass frame like it was clinging for dear life. Gold glinted at his neck, catching the low streetlights, and the way his eyes moved—

Slow. Unhurried. Heavy-lidded like sin itself.

He wasn’t blinking. Wasn’t smiling either. He was watching.

And it was doing something to you that your little glossed-up, club-ready self hadn’t prepared for.

You scoffed lightly, not letting your eyes linger too long on his mouth, or his hands—veined, tatted, big enough to make your thighs press a little closer.

“Who, me?” You sipped your drink. “I don’t know you like that, sir.”

That “sir” was sweet. Smart. Maybe a little sharp.

And it made his jaw tick.

He dragged his tongue across his teeth, slowly, like he liked the way you tasted already.

“You gon’ know me,” he said. “Sooner or later.”

Lord.

He didn’t say it loud. Didn’t say it with a smile.

Just…stated it. Like gravity. Like fact.

You swallowed hard and tried not to show how hot your neck was getting.

He took a step closer.

Not enough to scare you. Just enough for the space between you to feel smaller. Warmer.

You leaned back against the wall casually, trying to play it cute—but your pulse was thudding. Your friends were still inside, probably throwing ass to the beat, and you were out here flirting with a man who could’ve been the devil’s body double.

“What’s your name?” you asked, voice smooth.

He smirked—but barely.

“Smoke.”

“That your real name?”

“Nah. But it’s the one you need to remember.”

You hummed, glancing down at your phone. Trying not to melt.

You had heard the name before. People whispered about him.

And his brother, Stack.

The Moore twins.

Trouble in two different fonts.

But Smoke? Smoke was the one they said moved different. Quieter. Crueler.

The one you didn’t want mad.

He didn’t act out.

He handled shit.

And here he was. In your face. Asking your name like it wasn’t probably already in his notes app under “sweet lil’ thing in that pretty dress.”

“You dangerous?” you asked him, tilting your head.

“What you think?” he said, voice low. “I look dangerous to you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

Didn’t need one.

Because the way your lashes dipped told him plenty. The way you bit the inside of your cheek, looked away real quick like you weren’t all hot in the chest…

Yeah. He knew what time it was.

But still—you had the final move. And you weren’t about to let him play you into giving it all up like a dumb little groupie.

So instead—you smiled.

Real pretty.

You put your hand out slow, took his phone when he offered it, and dropped your number in.

Just your first name. Nothing more.

He looked down at it like it was gold.

And when you handed it back—you leaned in. Light. Soft.

Kissed his cheek.

“That’s all you getting tonight, smoke.”

And then you turned—heels clicking, dress swaying—walking right back into the club like you hadn’t just left the king of the damn city standing there with your number in his hand and a smirk blooming slow on his face.

He didn’t even chase you.

Just watched.

You woke up in your bed with one heel still on and glitter in your eyelashes.

Head pounding.

Mouth dry.

Phone buzzing.

“Ughhh…”

You rolled over and squinted at the screen.

Smoke (Mobile) 9:07 AM.

Hell no.

You tossed the phone face down and curled back under the blanket. Mind still foggy with club lights and too many tequila shots, feet sore from dancing in heels you should’ve thrown out two summers ago.

The night felt like a dream.

A blur.

Except him.

You remembered him crystal clear.

That voice. That smirk. That goddamn cheek kiss you gave him like some sweet lil’ Southern belle.

You groaned into your pillow.

Why did you do that?

Phone buzzed again.

Smoke (Mobile) 9:12 AM.

Back-to-back?

You side-eyed the screen, biting your lip.

And then—

Third call.

Smoke (Mobile) Incoming Call…

You stared.

Then finally hit ignore.

“Sir, it’s not even 10am,” you muttered, dragging yourself upright.

You made it to the kitchen, sipping orange juice straight from the bottle like a menace, still in last night’s dress with one strap slipping off your shoulder.

You rubbed your temples, then your phone dinged.

Unknown Address shared a location with you.

Your stomach flipped.

No name. No message.

Just a red pin hovering over your damn building.

You froze.

Then another message dropped.

“Come open the door”

No punctuation.

No emojis.

Just that.

Your eyes snapped to the door.

Was he joking?

You tiptoed over, heartbeat in your damn mouth. Peeked through the peephole.

And there he was.

Black hoodie. Hood up. Leaning against the wall like he owned the entire floor. One hand in his pocket. Other hand holding his phone. Head down.

Smoke at your damn front door like he’d lived there his whole life.

You didn’t even think.

Just unlocked it.

He looked up when it clicked open — and that slow, heavy gaze rolled over you like smoke under a door.

“Damn,” he muttered, eyes dipping down your body. “You always look like this in the morning?”

You pulled the door open wider and stepped aside, blinking up at him.

“How the hell you know where I stay?”

He stepped in without answering, brushing your shoulder — his presence thick — that quiet heat pouring off him again.

He looked around slow. Clocked your messy counter, the couch, the half-dead plant in the corner.

“You live alone?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, arms crossed. “You still ain’t answer—”

“I will get to that,” he said, low. “I asked a question.”

You stared at him, mouth open.

He just smirked.

“Relax,” he said. “Ain’t like I kicked the door in. You let me in.”

Damn.

You did let him in.

Something about the way he stood — tall, calm, like a storm in a hoodie — made your mouth dry.

You cleared your throat.

“I need a shower.”

“Go ahead,” he said, tossing himself onto your couch like it belonged to him. “I’ll be here.”

You blinked.

He pulled his hood down, leaned back, spread his legs — just making space. His gold chain caught the light. His eyes flicked to you.

“Go on, baby. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

You stood there like a deer in headlights, every nerve buzzing.

You turned and headed to the bathroom — lowkey speed-walking — and locked the door behind you.

Your back hit the wood. Chest rising and falling.

Why was this man in your house?

More importantly—

Why did it feel good?

You stripped, hot all over, and stepped into the shower.

Let the water run over you while your mind raced.

He was sitting on your couch.

Comfortable.

Knowing damn well you were naked in the next room.

And your heart was pounding like you liked it.

You stepped out, dripping, towel wrapped around you, and cracked the door open to peek.

He was still there. Phone in hand. One knee bouncing slow.

“You good?” he called out, not even turning around.

“Yeah…”

You closed the door fast and leaned against the sink.

He didn’t knock.

Didn’t ask to come in.

Just showed up.

Showed up and sat there like he belonged.

And maybe that was the scariest part.

Because some twisted, hungover, half-dressed part of you?

Kinda wanted him to.

Anyway —

You weren’t about to be that girl. Walking out in a towel like you ain’t have an ounce of sense. He was fine, yeah. Dangerous, yes. Built like everything you knew you should run from…

But still.

You had dignity.

Even if you did keep looking at yourself in the mirror—checking your face, adjusting your curls, heart thudding like you had something to prove.

You took your time. Went out the bathroom and into your bedroom.

Lotioned slow. Fresh pair of panties. Cotton shorts. Cropped tank top, soft and snug, your favorite one that always sat just right.

Simple. Cute. Still had a little “you can leave if you want, I ain’t pressed” to it.

Even though you were very much pressed.

You stared at the door for a second.

Took a breath.

Then turned the knob and stepped out.

The scent of your vanilla body cream followed you like a cloud as you moved through the hallway—each barefoot step slow, hesitant, but steady.

And there he was.

Smoke.

Exactly where you left him.

Leaning back into your couch like it was a throne. Legs spread. One arm tossed over the backrest. Phone gone now—he was looking at you.

Eyes dragging from your face, to your neck, to your waist, to your thighs.

Slow.

Like he was learning you.

“You clean?” he said, voice low, warm.

You nodded once.

“You still here?”

He smirked.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

“You mad about that?”

“I ain’t say that.”

He nodded, eyes never leaving yours.

“But you thought about it.”

You shrugged, stepping into the kitchen to pour a glass of water—partly to distract yourself, partly to avoid looking back at him.

He watched you move, the way your shorts hugged your curves, the way your fingers curled around the glass.

“You let all strangers up in your spot like this?”

“You a stranger?” you asked, turning to lean against the counter.

His lips curved.

“Not after last night.”

You swallowed and sipped slow, heart tight in your chest.

"I kissed your cheek — you're acting like we fucked."

He wasn’t loud.

He wasn’t boastful.

But something about the way he said it — like you were already his — made your skin hum.

“So,” you said, setting the glass down. “You just…decided to pull up? No warning?”

“You ain’t answer the phone,” he said simply. “You gave me your number, yeah? Thought that meant something.”

You squinted.

“So you tracked me down?”

“Didn’t have to,” he said. “You know how many people know you? Or watch you? You too pretty to be out here thinking nobody’s paying attention.”

That made your breath catch.

And he saw it.

He leaned forward a little, elbows on his knees, voice dropping deeper.

“Don’t matter how late you leave. Don’t matter what you post or what you don’t. Eyes on you. Always. I’m just the first one to say something about it.”

You didn’t know if you were flattered or terrified.

Maybe both.

But you crossed your arms, trying to act cool.

“You always this intense?”

“Only when I want something.”

That shut you up.

Because that gaze? That posture?

He didn’t look like he wanted your number anymore.

He wanted you.

And not in some quick, messy way.

No.

He wanted to pull you. Keep you. Figure out how your day started and ended. Learn what made you tick. Put his name in your phone and in your mouth, just to hear how it sounded.

He wanted to sit on your couch with his hood off and his legs wide and look at you like you were already home.

And it was scaring you.

Just a little.

“You hungry?” you asked finally, voice smaller than you meant.

He leaned back, eyes raking over you again.

“I’m good. Unless you cooking.”

“You ain’t getting all that today, sir,” you said, smiled a little. “I’m still hungover.”

“I could fix that.”

You gave him a look.

He just chuckled — low and short — like he already knew he’d wear you down eventually.

And maybe he was right.

Because when you sat down across from him, arms still crossed, biting the inside of your cheek —

You didn’t tell him to leave.

But the quiet stretched out thick between you.

Not awkward — but heavy. Heavy like smoke after a fire. The kind of silence that made your skin itch ‘cause you felt like you were supposed to be doing something, saying something — but he was doing just fine saying nothing.

His eyes moved slow when he looked at you.

Not greedy, but precise.

Like he was trying to clock your tells. Your tics. The way you blinked when you got nervous. The little tongue poke when you were being smart.

Made you wanna fidget.

But you didn’t.

You sat on that couch, one leg crossed over the other, arms still tucked under your chest like a shield, trying not to let your eyes drop to the gold chain hanging loose around his neck.

That chain was disrespectful.

“So what you do?” you asked finally. “For work. For money. Or is that a rude question?”

Smoke snorted low — amused.

“What I do,” he said, dragging the word out, “ain’t always something you ask in daylight. Especially not when you still smell like vanilla body oil and got your knees showin’.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Sir—”

“But since you asked,” he cut in, “I got a few things. People call. I handle it.”

“So vague.”

“You want details, or you want the truth?”

“Both.”

He smiled—slow, lazy, like it tasted good in his mouth.

“Truth is, I move weight. Truth is, I don’t clock in nowhere. Truth is…” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees again, head tilting just slightly. “I don’t let nobody tell me what to do. Been that way since I was fourteen.”

You blinked.

He didn’t sound like he was bragging. No hype, no theatrics. Just matter of fact. Like he knew what he was and wasn’t about to apologize for it.

“So you are perilous.”

“I’m useful.”

“That what they call it now?”

“Only when I’m being nice,” he said, eyes dipping low as he glanced over your body again, “which I usually ain’t.”

You felt your breath catch. Again.

God, this man was good.

“I feel like I should tell you I don’t get down with all that,” you said, voice light, deflecting. “I like peace. Quiet. I like my little paycheck and my little business and my little sanity.”

“And yet,” he said, “you still gave me your number.”

Damn.

He had you there.

You leaned back, lips pursed.

“You’re real sure of yourself.”

“Nah,” he said. “I’m just sure about you.”

You looked away.

Because what the hell do you say to that?

No man ever told you that before—not like that. Not like he meant it.

Not like he already decided that the two of you were something, and your mouth just hadn’t caught up yet.

“You ever get tired?” you asked. “Of acting like nothing scares you?”

“You ever get tired of pretending you don’t like when I act like that?”

You snorted, surprised.

“You good at reading people?”

“I’m good at reading you.”

That stopped you. Again.

You felt your arms uncross before you even realized you were doing it.

Like some part of you was already surrendering.

Your voice was softer when you said, “Why me?”

Smoke let that question sit.

Then —

“’Cause you smart. Real smart. But messy with it. Like you trying to keep it together and falling apart at the same time.”

You blinked.

Hard.

“And you pretty,” he added. “But you don’t lead with it. You act like it ain’t your weapon. That’s cute. Dangerous too.”

Your throat got tight.

“And I like the way you talk. Mouth slick. You got fight in you. But your eyes? They stay looking for something. You tired, but not done yet.”

His voice dropped.

“I like that.”

You weren’t sure what emotion was creeping up your chest, but it was hot. Heavy. A little scared, a little intrigued. A lot turned on.

You leaned your head back on the couch.

“You always do this?” you asked. “Pull girls in with that therapy voice and street prophet energy?”

“Nah,” he said. “You special. I don’t do repeat games.”

You swallowed again.

"Right, right..."

Felt your stomach knot.

“You staying long?” you asked.

“Long as you let me.”

You looked at him.

He was still sitting back like he owned the room. But now his hand was resting on his thigh, slow-tapping, like he was thinking about moving.

Like he wanted to.

“Don't you got a brother?” you asked randomly, needing to ground yourself.

He nodded.

“Twin.”

You tilted your head.

“Fraternal or Identical?”

“Identical.”

“So there's two of you running around town?”

Smoke smirked.

“Yeah. But he ain’t me.”

You smiled — real slow.

“Noted.”

He tilted his head.

“Why? You planning to test it?”

“I don’t repeat games either.”

That made him grin — wide this time.

“Told you,” he said. “You real slick. Keep playing like that and you gon’ have a hard time getting rid of me.”

“Who said I wanted to?”

You didn’t even mean to say that out loud.

But the way his eyes lit up? Whew.

“Aight then,” he said, voice silk. “Now we getting somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, checking the time without meaning to.

He’d been on your couch longer than some of your exes lasted in your bed. Legs spread like he paid rent here. Voice low and lazy like he had nowhere else to be.

So you said it.

“You don’t got shit else to do today?”

Smoke turned to you with that half-smirk, half-squint thing he kept doing. Like every word out your mouth amused him more than the last.

“I mean, I’m flattered,” you added, kicking your bare heel against the floor. “But I know y’all street boys don’t just sit still like this. Ain’t you got corners to stand on or money to count or something?”

He snorted.

“You think that’s all I do?”

“Ain’t say that,” you shrugged. “But I know you didn’t wake up and decide to play house on my couch. I’m not that fine.”

“You are that fine,” he said easily. “I just got better taste than time.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Boy, whatever.”

But he didn’t respond.

His phone buzzed.

Once. Then again.

You clocked the quick glance he gave it. The screen lit up bright across his thigh. He tapped it, turned it face-down, didn’t move.

“What’s that?” you asked, leaning a little.

“Nothing.”

“Your girl?”

That made him grin. Head tipping back a little as he stared at the ceiling like he couldn’t believe you asked that.

“You think I’d sit this long in your house if I had somebody else blowing up my shit?”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen men do worse for less.”

“Ain’t my girl,” he said, straight-faced now. “If I had one, I’d have said it.”

You gave him a long look.

Didn’t say anything else.

But then the phone rang.

Loud. Sudden. The name flashed up — too quick for you to catch it — but his mood shifted the moment he saw it.

Just a flick of something. That calm-mask tightening.

“Yo,” he answered, standing up.

His tone dropped. Business.

He turned away, walked toward your door.

You stayed on the couch.

Didn’t ask.

You weren’t stupid. You didn’t need the details. Man like him? Phone call like that? It wasn’t brunch plans.

“Aight,” he said into the phone. “I’m on my way.”

He hung up.

Turned around.

And there it was — the shift back.

That calm he wore like armor.

You didn’t bother asking what it was. You already knew better.

Instead, you pulled your phone into your hand and scrolled. Just enough to let him know you weren’t pressed.

He watched you for a second. Then:

“Lemme get a kiss.”

You scoffed — head jerking up.

“You for real?”

“Deadass.”

“You wasn’t even here ten minutes and now you tryna act like this our place. Boy, please—”

“C’mon, baby,” he said, slow and syrupy. “You not gon’ do me like that.”

And the worst part?

You folded.

Not fast. Not right away.

But slow, like butter melting on hot bread.

You rolled your eyes — hard enough to give attitude — and stood.

“You so needy,” you muttered.

“You like that.”

You walked over.

He was already smirking.

And when you got close enough for him to reach — you knew.

You knew what he was gon’ do.

Still leaned in.

Still let him pull you in soft. One hand to your lower back, the other brushing your jaw.

His lips found yours like he’d kissed you before.

Like he’d been thinking about it since the second he saw you.

The kiss was slow — firm. Not sloppy, not rushed.

Just pressure. Warmth. Intention.

And right when you started to lean in deeper—

Boom.

Not one, but both his hands slid down to your ass.

Gripped.

Full palms, full squeeze.

You pulled back just enough to give him a look.

“Really?”

“You surprised?”

You tried to step back.

He didn’t let you.

Just stood there with that fucking smirk, hands still in place like they had a right to be there.

“You gon’ let go?”

“You gon’ ask me nice?”

“Smoke.”

“Aight, aight.” He finally eased up. “Go on then. I’ll call you.”

“Please don't.”

He leaned in one more time — kissed the corner of your mouth.

Then he was gone.

Door clicked shut behind him.

And your heart?

Still tapping a wild rhythm in your chest.

What the hell was that?

And why the hell did it feel like the beginning of something you wasn’t ready for?

[inspiredangel]

rafe shuts you up by kissing you.

You two were chilling by his pool, you were sprawled out on the lounge chair, your sunglasses laid on your head as he sat on the edge of the chair, rubbing his hand up and down your thigh.

This time you were ranting about how rude a customer was at the country club the other day, your hands moving around as you re-told the story for the 30th time.

He nodded along to whatever you were saying, letting out occasional "hm´s" and "Mhm´s" here and there so you knew he was listening, even though you told it so many times already, "It was crazy!" you huffed "she just wouldn´t stop complaining, it was so annoying."

Rafe chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement as he watched your animated gestures. "Sounds like a real nightmare," he murmured, though his attention seemed more focused on the way the sunlight danced on your skin than your actual story.

You sighed, leaning back on the lounge chair and pushing your sunglasses back down over your eyes. "Right? I mean, how hard is it to just accept that we were out of sparkling water?" you grumbled, your tone exasperated.

You kept yapping and yapping for what felt like an eternity for rafe. "Alright, enough," he muttered, sliding closer to you.

You barely registered his words, too caught up in replaying the absurdity of the customer’s complaints.

"And then she—" he let out a huff as you continued "Babe." he interrupted, but you kept going.

"Babe," Rafe repeated, a little more firmly this time, his hand now resting on your thigh squeezing gently to grab your attention. You glanced at him briefly, still mid-sentence, "What? I’m just saying, it was ridiculous how—"

Rafe cut you off entirely, his lips crashing onto yours in one swift motion. His kiss was firm, decisive, and laced with just enough frustration to make you realize he was done listening to your rant. You froze for a moment, caught off guard "Rafe,"

Then he kissed you again, his hand slid up to cradle your face, deepening the kiss. The world around you seemed to blur, the faint sound of the pool water and the distant chirping of birds fading into the background.

When he finally pulled away, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as his thumb traced lazy circles on your cheek. "You done now?" he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement. You blinked at him "What was that for?" you sighed.

He shrugged "Needed to shut you up somehow." he chuckled, clearly pleased with himself, you swatted his arm away and huffed "You could´ve just asked me to stop talking." you crossed your arms "I did." he said smugly, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

"But I figured this was way more fun."

‎ 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 , 𝐛𝐞𝐚

𝐚/𝐧 — got inspo from this fic ! i apologize if there are any misspells or bad grammar, english is not my first language.

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