#but then people???¿¿¿ are taking her papers and lying or whatever???

[rosykims]

ok question does it still count as chronic pain if it comes and goes every couple of months ?

[stillmonsterz]

be with her tonight

pairing: heeseung x reader

genre: smut

summary: every week, you go to the same coffee shop for their great service and wonderful drinks. but for some reason, the barista has always rubbed you the wrong way. he seems harmless, though.

contains: unprotected sex, rape, noncon, somnophilia, drug mentions, lying, swearing, johnny is there, mark is there, twitch mention

word count: 5.0k (unproofread)

---

Heeseung’s eyes were shifty, his hands trembling over the paper cups. He plucked one off, a grande, and started to prepare the same familiar order. Despite his quivering hands, Heeseung went through the motions of making the drink with the utmost of effort. A small splash of hot coffee dribbled from the spout onto his hand; he scarcely noticed the pain. 

He set the cup down on the counter and surveyed the small cafe where he worked. Patrons were settled into small wooden tables, the windows were bright, and succulents lined the windowsills. Heeseung tugged at the collar of his black button-up and adjusted his apron. His coworker, Sunghoon, noticed him and smirked. 

“Is she coming again today?” Sunghoon asked while he restocked the croissants in the pastry display.

It took a few seconds for Heeseung to process that Sunghoon was talking to him. “Huh?”

“That girl, what’s-her-name…” Sunghoon conspicuously slipped a small brownie bar into the pocket of his apron.

“Oh,” Heeseung said softly. “I dunno…” Of course you were coming today. You came here every Wednesday and Friday at 2:00 pm, during your lunch break. Your favorite coworker was off those two days, so you ate alone and got yourself a coffee and a pastry. You were coming today. Heeseung had to see you again. 

When 2:00 arrived and you hadn’t walked through the doors with your usual vivacity, Heeseung got nervous. He begrudgingly served some other people whose faces he couldn’t have recalled if he had been paid to do so. 

2:15 and Heeseung’s hands shook even more. Sunghoon was already glancing at him strangely, so Heeseung busied himself by wiping down the counter. Why weren’t you here? He only got to see you twice a week, so he savored the time where he got to drink in your face, to inhale your scent that percolated so harmoniously with the ubiquitous scent of coffee. 

As the second hand slipped to 4, a cold chill spread all over his body and he felt as though someone had forced him to swallow a handful of nails. They sat in his stomach, tearing apart the delicate lining, puncturing holes in his organs, ripping him apart from the inside. It was Wednesday. You were normally here by now. What had happened? 

The drink he had made you in advance was getting cold. 

Had you switched coffeeshops? Had you forgotten about him? What if you hated him? What if you had caught onto him?

Heeseung swallowed hard; he dug his jagged nails into the palms of his hand. “Sunghoon…” he began quietly, “I think I’m going to step outs-,”

The door opened and you stepped inside, waving at Heeseung. The nails melted away and were replaced by spoonfuls of honey, soothing his throat, filling him with golden light. 

“Hi,” you said, pulling your purse out of your wallet. You glanced over at the forgotten drink resting on the counter. “Oh, was that mine?”

“I’ll make you another one,” Heeseung said, far too quickly. He unceremoniously dumped the drink into the sink and started bustling about in the kitchen. Once he was facing away from you, a grin split across his face, and he had to restrain himself from giggling. You hadn’t forgotten him! You had come back. While he pulled himself together, Sunghoon input the order into the machine before wandering away, presumably to take care of more customers. Whatever. 

Heeseung lifted his head up to face you again.”The same as usual?”

You nodded and grinned. “Same as usual. You know me so well.”

If only you knew, Heeseung thought. “You were late today- I mean, you came in later than you, uh, normally, arrive, at the uh, here. Why?” Heeseung wasn’t known for his eloquence on a normal day, but you rendered his vocal cords obsolete, his frontal cortex inoperable. 

“Oh, well, had a long day at the office,” you said, tapping your card on the reader. “Another useless meeting from HR.”

Heeseung wished he had something clever to say, something that could win your heart, make you love him. Instead, all he could offer was, “That sucks.” He bit his lip and got another grande cup so he could remake your drink. 

“It does suck,” you said with a wry smile. “How’s your day been?”

You were asking him how his day was, too? Heeseung nearly dropped the cup as he pumped syrup inside of it, and he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face. “It’s been…good. Good. A little busy.”

“Well, busy is good,” you said. Then you cleared your throat. “Hey, I was going to come over on Saturday with a…friend of mine. What time do you think would be the best? You know, so it’s quiet?”

Heeseung carefully pressed the lid onto the cup, scrunching his nose as he thought. “Probably…I’d say 5 pm-ish? Most people don’t really want a coffee around that time.”

“Good to know,” you said, placing your wallet back into your purse. Heeseung admired how confident your motions were, and his eyes lingered on your hands. When his eyes flickered up to your face, he realized that you were looking at him. 

Desperate to seem like he wasn’t ogling you, he stammered out, “Y-your friend…does she work at the same, uh, place as you?”

“He actually works down at the insurance company, the one on Smithson?” you kept talking, but Heeseung couldn’t hear a word. His blood ran cold, and his vision went blurry. Him. He. You were going to have your date here? You must despise him. 

Heeseung thrust the cup in your direction. “Uh, enjoy,” he murmured, looking away from you.

“Thanks, Heeseung! You have yourself a good day,” you said brightly before leaving. 

Heeseung felt Sunghoon put a hand on his shoulder, heard him ask if Heeseung were okay. “I feel sick,” Heeseung whispered. “Could I step out for a bit?” Heeseung didn’t actually hear Sunghoon’s answer, but Heeseung was already leaving, stripping his apron and casting it aside someplace in the little break room. He tugged his worn leather jacket on and went outside. The sun stung his eyes so he lowered his gaze to the ground. Heeseung sat down on the concrete step leading into the back room and fished his lighter and cigarettes from his jacket pockets. 

He took a long drag as he tried to calm down, but it was difficult. Every time he thought about your date with some other guy, he started to feel strange. Beyond his initial panic and feelings of abandonment, there was something else nipping at him. A feeling he couldn’t quite place, but it was harsh and red and ragged. 

Heeseung wasn’t an idiot. He knew he wasn’t normal. He knew that his fascination with his pretty customer was irrational, and deep within his heart, he knew that you didn’t belong to him. Yet at the same time, Heeseung knew that you should belong to him. Already, he could read your emotions so well, and that was just after quick interactions twice a week for 3 and a half months. Heeseung would do anything for you, just so he could bask in your sweet glow. 

Normally, the world was cold and boring. Everything was predictable and trite. Heeseung couldn’t remember a time in his life where there had been any novelty. Talking to people wasn’t fun to him at all; navigating the labyrinthine social rules that others seemed to understand effortlessly just made him feel confused and worn. All throughout elementary school and middle school, even into high school, Heeseung had been ignored and ridiculed. He couldn’t decide which was worse. Even at his menial barista job, people purposefully averted his gaze. 

Not you, though. You had given him a bright smile and had even dropped money into the little tip jar. Most importantly, you had awarded him his first compliment. Despite his current misery, Heeseung smiled at the memory. You had sipped the coffee he had made you, your eyes had lit up like a little kid’s, and you had said, “You make great coffee, Heeseung.” When Heeseung had protested shyly, you had continued. “No, no, this is really good. You have a knack for this, you know.”

Heeseung took a long drag off of his cigarette as he sulked. Tears pinpricked his eyes at the thought of you disappearing from his life. Of course, he figured he could always spy on you at work (he had spent hours trying to find your LinkedIn based off of your first name), or maybe break into your house and hide under your bed (he had followed you home from work a few times.) but it just wouldn’t be the same. What made him happy was that you chose to come see him. There were a lot of cafes near your workplace, some even closer than Heeseung’s, but you came to his. Even if it wasn’t for his personality, you liked the coffee that he made. You chose him, but now you were choosing some other guy. And if this date went well, then you might disappear from his life.

Salty tears streamed down his sallow cheeks, and Heeseung swiped them away with his free hand. That feeling simmered within him, festering within him like rot. Angry. That’s what he was. Angry, upset, mad. 

Heeseung couldn’t let you disappear. He couldn’t let you go. 

He stubbed the cigarette out on the step and started coming up with ideas.

Then Heeseung smiled. 

– 

You pursed your lips in the mirror as you applied your red-tinted lip gloss. You had your coffee shop date at 5, and you wanted to look nice. The way you saw it, it was a win-win: you got to get a free coffee and pastry out of a guy, and you could finally subtly let Heeseung down without having to acknowledge his feelings for you at all.

It wasn’t hard to tell that Heeseung felt something for you. Ever since you had complimented his coffee, his dull eyes had developed a shine whenever he saw you. He always made your coffees with the utmost of care, which was one of the reasons why you kept coming back instead of going to another place. And, of course, you’d be lying if you said that his attention didn’t flatter you in some small way. Heeseung wasn’t necessarily unattractive. If he did something about his lank hair, stopped fidgeting so much, and could string together a sentence without stammering, he’d be passable. Even cute. That wasn’t the problem.

It was the same thing you had told your friend and workmate just before she had proposed the date idea. “He’s just…creepy,” you had told her over a shared Cobb salad. “Something about his eyes.”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” she had said, snapping her fingers. “Like they’re empty, right?”

“Exactly,” you had said, relieved that she understood. “Empty. It freaks me out.”

Your friend took a bite of salad and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “So stop getting coffee from there.”

“No can do,” you had replied. “Gotta take you there sometime. The coffee is amazing.”

“Okay, well, just tell him to back off.”

You frowned. “Technically, he’s never actually said he liked me or done anything or anything, so…”

“Subtly hint that you have a boyfriend?”

“I’m a bad hinter.”

Your friend groaned. “You suck, you know that?”

The two of you had hemmed and hawed over the dilemma before she had offered up a solution: Find a guy from the office, ask him out on a coffee date at that exact place, and make it seem like you were enjoying the date.

So now you were in your bathroom, tucking the front of your sweater into your skirt. As you were posing one last time, you got a text from your date, Mark. He had texted you a succinct “yooooo i’m pulling up 😬”, so you locked up your apartment and walked out. 

When you got to the coffee shop, you were initially worried about Heeseung’s reaction. He looked like a sad little deer when he got upset. You shook your head slightly to get those aberrant thoughts out. You were here to get him off your back, anyways. So that the creepy barista wouldn’t get any ideas and you could keep enjoying some of the best coffee in this part of downtown.

You needn’t have worried, though. Heeseung was kindly towards you and your date. He had even taken your coats at the door and hung them up on the coat rack at the front. He had plied you with pastries, and even stuttered out a, “T-take care of her, she’s a good one” to Mark. When you glanced at the counter, you could see Sunghoon smiling at Heeseung as he brought out refills of coffee and dusted extra powdered sugar onto delicate little desserts. 

Mark looked at you with glee as he dug into his second croiffle. “Nah, this place is dope,” he said, crumbs surrounding his lips. “I see why you come here every week.” You hadn’t bothered telling Mark about Heeseung. It seemed a bit cruel to use a guy  to get rid of another unsavory guy.

You reached out and rubbed some of the crumbs from his mouth, hoping that Heeseung would see you. “Yeah, it’s great. Maybe…” you lowered your voice and leaned in, “this could be our spot, you know?”

Mark gently reached out and took your hand. “Why were you wiping my nose, weirdo? Did I get crumbs up there?”

“Huh? I was wiping your mouth…” you reached out with your other hand to touch his mouth, but your arm started to feel a bit heavy. 

“You okay?” Mark frowned as his eyes scanned your face. 

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

“Drink a little more coffee,” he suggested. “It’ll make you alert and shit.”

As you sipped your drink again, you realized that the drowsiness wasn’t going away. Even though you had downed a whole grande latte, you felt like you were about to

–

You slumped over the table and Heeseung had to suppress his smile. This part had to be perfect. He called your name and strode over to the table. Mark was just sitting in his chair, frozen. “What happened?” Heeseung asked, trying to make himself sound worried. His naturally anxious tone actually helped him.

“N-nothing, she just…fell over,” Mark said, staring at you. “I dunno, she must have had a long work week. Or she’s anemic, women are always anemic.”

Heeseung made a show of checking your pulse on your wrist and on your neck. Getting to touch your velvety skin, and not just a quick brush of hands when he handed you a coffee cup, was exquisite. He could already feel himself getting hard, so he had to move fast. 

“I’ll take her to my place,” Heeseung said, already lifting you out of the chair. Mark quickly stood up, blocking Heeseung’s path. Heeseung bit back a groan. 

“Nah, shouldn’t I, you know, take her home? I know her from work,” Mark said, crossing his arms. He looked from Heeseung to you to Heeseung to you as though he were following a ping-pong match. 

Heeseung sighed and attempted to try using that wheedling, condescending tone some male customers had used on him sometimes. “No offense, but when normally, a pretty girl like this passes out on a date, it’s not because of a-anemia.” 

Mark stepped back, holding his hand to his heart. “Ay man, are you tryna say that I roofied her? I’m not like that!”

“Yeah, well…” Heeseung pushed past Mark, carrying you in his arms. “I don’t know you, do I?” Then he paused and turned around. “Tell you what. You give me your number, and after she gets a little more rest, I’ll call you so you can pick her up, okay?”

Mark nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah, sounds good, thanks.” He told Heeseung his number, and Heeseung carefully repeated the numbers in his head. “I think I’mma head home, thanks for the…hospitality.” Without his jacket, Mark stepped into the cold and ran to his car. 

As Heeseung was leaving, he called out to Sunghoon: “Cover me until I get her some medical help, okay?” Sunghoon gave him a curt nod, and Heeseung left the coffee shop. 

With some difficulty, he managed to get you buckled up in the front seat of his old clunker. Now that he was alone and no one could see him, Heeseung could finally smile. The way you were sitting here, all dolled up, it almost seemed like you and him were on a date. You were going on a drive together after a date at the coffee shop, and you would be going home with him. Heeseung carefully adjusted the car seat so that you were reclining, so it would look like you were just napping. 

“Carbs will do that,” Heeseung said sympathetically, rubbing your hand. “Make you tired. You should know better, baby. You come here all the time.” He stroked your warm, soft hand, and he ran his fingers along your sweet little cheeks. The hand that caressed your face slowly fell to your chin, then your neck. “You look so pretty. You always look pretty, of course, but you looked really pretty today. All for me.”

His hand slid all the way to your chest. Heeseung hesitated; he was risking everything, and he didn’t have much time to execute the rest of his plan. Just one kiss, he told himself, just one. Heeseung leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, ever so gently. It made him shudder, the sweet taste of chocolate lingering on your lips. He wanted to keep going, but he would have to wait. 

As Heeseung drove to his apartment, one hand rubbing your thigh, he congratulated himself on his ingenuity. It hadn’t been easy to coordinate this plan. 

–

First, he had had to figure out who you were cheating on him with. That wasn’t hard; you had foolishly Tweeted: “sooo excited for Saturday!” and “onyour_mark” had replied with a devil emoji. A cursory flick through his Twitter account offered Heeseung an informative, if not somewhat nauseating, look into Mark’s life. Heeseung found out that he worked the same hours as you, but he was on a separate floor. He lived with a Twitch streamer, Johnny “suhcondem” Suh, who streamed on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. As he scrolled through Johnny’s Twitter account, Heeeung found that Johnny had once complained about his fans sending them dildos, pizzas, and other “weird ass shit.” Perfect. 

After that, Heeseung had searched for Mark’s Instagram. Thankfully, Mark had posted a picture of his outfits in front of an open window. Utilizing a combination of Mark’s own descriptions of his neighborhood and Google Earth, Heeseung had found Mark and Johnny’s apartment complex within three hours of tireless searching. He could extrapolate the floor from the basic positioning of the tree, and after scouring Mark and Johnny’s social media accounts for more descriptions of their living space, he had narrowed their apartment to a potential unit. 

Now came the more difficult part. Using Tor browser, Heeseung was able to access a site where he could purchase some Rohypnol. It cost a pretty penny, but Heeseung wasn’t about to experiment with other roofies and potentially ruin his chances of having you. He ordered it on Wednesday, and on Friday he had two packages sitting in front of his door, one small and unmarked, the other a lettermail package. Heeseung used gloves to pick up the white package and take out the white box. He couldn’t have his fingerprints on it, after all. The other package held precious cargo: a used Papa John’s uniform with a pizza carrier.

Next, he had to plant evidence in Mark’s room. On Friday, he begged Sunghoon to cover his shift, citing violent diarrhea. Heeseung knew that Mark would be working, but Johnny would be streaming all day. Heeseung changed into the Papa John’s uniform, threw his jacket over it, ordered a meat lover’s pizza from Papa John’s, and drove a few blocks away from Mark’s apartment complex. No way was he going to risk people seeing his car. 

Heeseung placed the pizza inside of the carrier and headed to the apartment. He was nervous about getting inside, but thankfully an older couple let him inside. With a tremulous hand, Heeseung pressed the button for Mark’s floor. If he screwed this up, then Mark would get to have you. The thought alone spurred Heeseung on to keep going. 

He walked to Mark’s door and rang the doorbell. After a full, heart-wrenching minute, Johnny opened up and gave Heeseung a slow once-over. Johnny was wearing a baggy hoodie that said “I ATTENDED SUH CON AND I GOT THE LONG JOHN” with sweatpants. 

“Uh… meat lover’s pizza for Johnny?” Heeseung said tentatively. 

Johnny groaned. “Dumb ass chat gotta stop buying me pizzas,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Heeseung asked, shifting his weight between his feet. 

Johnny shook his head and waved dismissively. “Sorry man. I uh, I stream on Twitch, so a lot of my fans like to send me shit. I didn’t order this.”

“Oh,” Heeseung said contritely. “Well, I can’t exactly keep it…” 

“Why don’t you eat it?” Johnny asked, leaning his arm on the doorframe. 

“I’m vegan,” Heeseung lied. 

Johnny chuckled. “I can tell. You skinny skinny.”

Heeseung laughed awkwardly. “Right, yeah.” He shifted again, and he could feel sweat pooling under his armpits.

“What, you gotta piss?” Johnny gestured at Heeseung. “You’re dancing like you gotta go.”

“Oh, yeah,” Heeseung said, trying not to appear too eager .”I drank too much, uh, soylent.”

Johnny stared at Heeseung like he was an idiot. “Whatever. You can use the bathroom. Use the one in my buddy’s room, actually. Don’t need chat to hear someone piss.”

As Johnny stepped aside to allow Heeseung to enter, Heeseung fought to keep himself in check. The apartment was as sparsely decorated as a Twitch streamer and male office worker’s living space could be. Which is to say that the only notable decorations were Johnny’s streaming awards that were strewn on the walls and Mark’s bible on the living room table. 

“You can just put the pizza down there,” Johnny said, pointing at the kitchen counter which was already littered with a variety of take-out boxes and greasy bags. “Down the hall and to the right for Mark’s room. Make it quick. Mark gets weird when people go in there.” Johnny retired into his own room, and from the clattering noises he made, Heeseung figured that he was going back to streaming. As Heeseung hurried into Mark’s room he heard Johnny say, “Chat, you’ve been very, very bad…” 

The first thing Heeseung did was take some rubber gloves from his pocket and tug them on. Then he scoured Mark’s room to try and find condoms. They weren’t in the bathroom, they weren’t in his nightstand, and they weren’t under his bed. Heeseung searched desperately for them, before he found them behind his pillow, along with some lube. Just how much fucking does this guy do?

Heeseung inspected the box and was pleased to find that him and Mark were actually the same size: Mark used Trojan larges. Then Heeseung frowned: him and Mark were the same size. Heeseung had always been proud of his size, but now it didn’t feel so special. No matter, Heeseung thought as he removed a condom from the pack, I’m the one who’ll fuck her. He slipped the condom into his pocket and made a note to purchase the same brand of lube. Heeseung went into the bathroom and pulled out the flattened Rohypnol box from a Ziploc bag he had kept in his pocket. He placed it inside of Mark’s trash can and covered it up with some tissues he found in there. As Heeseung searched, he found a tissue coated in Mark’s dried semen. Couldn’t hurt to have it. Heeseung put it in a spare Ziploc and kept it for later. It was nasty, disgusting work, but it would pay off. 

Finally, Heeseung did actually use the bathroom. All this stress made him piss a river. 

When he left the apartment, Johnny didn’t even notice. Heeseung had actually done it. 

– 

Now Heeseung gently carried you into his apartment. It was still early, so thankful there weren’t a lot of people milling around. 

He laid you onto his bed, and your head hit the headboard as he lowered you. “Sorry,” Heeseung said apologetically. “I’m sorry, baby.” Heeseung kissed your forehead. He could wash your forehead, but for the next part, he figured he should put on some gloves. Rummaging around in his nightstand, he found more latex gloves and tugged them on. 

Now that he finally had you, he didn’t actually know what to do. Should he take off your clothes first, or his? He decides to disrobe first, so he could take his time with you. Quickly, Heeseung tossed off his work clothes, throwing them into his dirty laundry pile. His room was about as bare as Mark and Johnny’s living room had been, but once you were his, he would decorate it however you wanted. 

Heeseung forced himself to take his time as he popped your skirt buttons, one after the other. It was the kind of skirt that opened from the front, so when he was done, he could part the skirt off of you, admiring your panties. 

“You wore this just for me?” Heeseung asked softly. God, he wished he could touch you, skin on skin, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He ran his finger along your clothed pussy, and he trembled from the white-hot flames he felt licking at his cock. Patience, he told himself. Patience. Your sweater came off next, and Heeseung folded it up into a neat square and set it to the side. 

Heeseung pulled the condom he had filched from Mark’s room onto his cock,wishing he could just go in raw. At least Mark used ribbed. Then, he got the lube from his nightstand and slicked his cock with it,making sure it wouldn’t be too hard to slide in.

 He couldn’t believe it. There you were, so pliant, so vulnerable, so his. Of course, now that he was hovering over you, he couldn’t deny the twinge of guilt he felt. As he tugged your panties down, he kept whispering apologies. “Sorry,” he said as his cockhead tapped your entrance. “I’m so sorry,” he said while marveling at the way his thick cock bulged your stomach. 

Heeseung moaned so loudly he thought for sure the neighbors would hear. But he didn’t care, even though he should. How could he care? He had never experienced anything like this. Your pussy was gripping him so tightly, its walls enveloping his cock so warmly, he couldn’t care about anything else. With some effort, he pulled out of you and drenched his cock with even more lube.

He plunged back inside of you and gripped your hips, admiring the way your tits jiggled as he fucked into you. As he took your pussy, it dawned on Heeseung that he wasn’t being very romantic about this. “Sorry,” he said, feeling like an idiot. Heeseung pulled out of you and used his gloved hands to put you in a more sensual position. He would just have to wash the places where your bodies touched. He put you on your side and crawled behind you, so that he was spooning you. 

He groped at your tits as he slid inside of you again. This much was much better. Ever since you had told him that you were going on a date, Heeseung had been edging himself for hours so he could last longer, just for you. He did it all for you.

Heeseung started going faster, pounding your cunt harshly. A part of him was sad that you wouldn’t remember this. No, you would wake up scared, wondering why Mark had done this to you. You wouldn’t even know that Heeseung had given you the most passionate fucking of your life. His headboard smacked against the wall as he pushed himself into you from behind. Using his gloved hand, he turned his face towards his. Your face looked so peaceful, and seeing it only made him go faster. The bed creaked as Heeseung relentlessly thrusted in you. He could feel you getting looser and wetter, accommodating his dick. 

Heeseung felt himself bottom out, hitting the firm muscle of your cervix. He couldn’t stop now. Heeseung gripped your tits, loosening his grip when he remembered that he could leave handprints, and thrust up and down. He could have spent all day in your pussy, but he didn’t have much time left. 

His balls smacked into your thighs as he felt his orgasm approaching. It was unlike any other orgasm he had had; he had never felt so in-tune with his body, and the sensation burned. Heeseung grunted and pulled out of you before he came inside the condom.  Heeseung rolled off of the bed and laid on his carpet, panting. 

Soon, he would get up, wash himself off, then wash you off. Then, he would call Mark and say that you weren’t waking up. While Mark drove to his place to get you, he would use the cum he had extracted from Mark’s tissue, wet it with water, and smear it in your pussy. As soon as Mark had gotten you, Heeseung would dispose of the used condom and wash his sheets. After half an hour, he would call Sunghoon and say that you and Mark had forgotten your coats. 

Undoubtedly, Sunghoon would find the bottle of roofies that Heeseung had planted in Mark’s jacket. 

Heeseung sighed, completely content. After this, you wouldn’t trust men again, let alone Mark. Except, of course, for the man who had taken you home, tried to take care of you, and had called the police on Mark, the man who had assaulted you. 

Heeseung couldn’t wait for you to wake up.

[pickingupmymercedes]

It's not just a win - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

The 104th win Special - He's bloody done it ❤️

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities.

Also, wrap it before you tap it guys

wordcount: +2K

a/n: Don't have anything to say really. I don't even think this gets close to putting to paper what it meant. To him. To us. But I also think it's going to take time for us to really understand how much this win meant.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

Y/n stirred gently in the early morning light, the soft glow of dawn filtering through the slits on the window of the motorhome. She blinked sleepily, her eyes slowly adjusting to the soft, golden hues that bathed the room.

The warmth from the arms around her brought a lazy smile to her lips, and as she turned, she saw Lewis lying awake, staring at the ceiling with a faraway look in his eyes.

"Good morning, GP winner" she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.

Lewis turned his head towards her, a content smile capturing his features as he returned from whatever world had been occupying his mind. "Good morning, love" he replied softly.

Y/n scooted closer, her arm draping over his chest, her head resting on his shoulder as he embraced her tight. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat pick up as she looked back up at him " Wanna debrief?" her voice gentle and inviting.

Lewis sighed, his eyes gazing into hers, searching for the right words. "Just...thinking about everything," he admitted. "Yesterday was...a lot."

Y/n nodded, encouraging him to continue. She knew that he needed this, a chance to make sense of his emotions out loud.

"There were moments in the past few years when I doubted myself," he began, a low rumble in his chest. "That maybe I couldn’t do it anymore. That I should have retired. It felt like I would never win again. But then...yesterday."

"I thought I had healed from 2021" Lewis admitted for the first time to her, his voice low and hesitant. "I know I always told everyone I was through. And maybe I had tried to convince myself I had. But standing on that podium yesterday… I still have so much to give."

He paused, taking a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. "I’m not one to accept love easily… you know that” he almost whispered shaking his head a bit as you lowly chuckled “But these past years… the energy and support people have given me. I couldn’t… I can’t let that go unnoticed.”

Y/n traced small circles on his chest, her touch soothing and grounding. "What makes you think that?" she asked softly.

"I kept catching myself thinking about Abu Dhabi," his voice barely above a whisper. "About how close… how everything just...slipped away. It felt like...like I had failed. Like I had let everyone down." He sighed, a deep, shuddering breath. "I just...I needed this. I needed to win. To prove to myself that I still can."

Y/n tightened her embrace, her heart aching for him. "You deserve every bit of love you receive, Lew." Her hand going to trace the lines of his cheeks where his beard started. “And I’m sure people don’t expect anything more than the best you can do. And I know you always try and give your best.

Lewis nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know. I know. But I could always fight on track those who doubted... and then when I couldn’t…" he shook his head looking away. “Finally winning again. At home, with everyone there, my mom, my dad, my family. You. It was...overwhelming. I sobbed when I got out of the car. I couldn't help it. It was like everything I’d been holding in just poured out because I knew I had proven myself. That I had shown everyone what you all believed in... even when I doubted it"

Y/n sat up a bit to reach for his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. "There will always be challenges, always be obstacles. But you’ve proven time and time again that you can overcome them. You have an incredible strength, Lewis. And you don’t have to face them all alone. I’m here. Your family is here. Your team is here. And we’re always going to believe in you." she said honestly.

Lewis smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes "It felt like...like a new beginning. Like maybe, just maybe, I’m finally starting to heal." he said softly.

"It's not just a win, is it?"

He looked at her, his eyes glistening with tears. "No" he sighed; his voice thick with emotion. "It's...closure? Proof that I'm not finished. Not just yet."

Y/n agreed. "You can finally let go of the past now … or at least put it in its place."

He nodded, a sense of peace settling over him. "Thank you. For everything. For being here, for believing in me."

"Always," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I’ll always be here." she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

Lewis angled his head slightly, meeting her lips with his own. The kiss was tender at first, a sweet affirmation to her, but it quickly deepened. His hand found its way to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as he pulled her closer.

Y/n responded eagerly, her hands roaming over his chest and shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. She pressed her body to his side, savoring the feel of his warmth and his muscles.

The kisses grew frantic and soon they were wrapped up in each other, lost in the moment.

Y/n felt Lewis's hand slip under the hem of her shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin. She arched against him.

When she felt his hand move lower, sliding towards the waistband of her underwear, she pulled back slightly, breathless. "Do we have time?" she asked, her voice a husky whisper. "You’re supposed to head to the factory this morning."

Lewis looked at her through hooded dark eyes "They can wait" his voice rough with desire. "I feel like celebrating a bit more." Y/n smiled, a slow, sensual curve of her lips, and leaned in to capture his mouth in another searing kiss.

But just as their lips met again, a sudden bark from the foot of the bed pulled them back to reality. They both glanced down to see Roscoe looking rather annoyed and impatient. His expressive eyes, almost accusing, seemed to say "Are you two quite finished?"

Lewis chuckled, the sound vibrating through Y/n’s chest. "Looks like someone needs to go to the bathroom" he said with a grin, his fingers gently brushing Y/n’s cheek.

Y/n laughed softly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before sitting up. "Duty calls, go one dad, we’ll resume after" her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Lewis gave her a playful nudge before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Alright, buddy, let’s get you sorted" he said, his tone affectionate as he leaned down to give the bulldog a scratch behind the ears.

When he returned the sounds of running water drew his attention, and he made his way to the bathroom, a soft smile on his lips.

He found Y/n in the shower, the steam curling around her, obscuring his view. And as the mist cleared, he could see her silhouette through the glass door, the water cascading over her body. She glanced back through the glass, catching him watching her.

"Enjoying the view?" she asked teasingly, her voice thick with amusement.

Lewis chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "Very much," he replied, his voice low and warm. Y/n turned to slide open the box door, her expression softening. "Care to join me?"

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Quickly shedding his clothes, he stepped into the shower, the hot water immediately welcoming him.

They stood there for a moment, letting the water pour over them, washing away the remnants of the previous day.

He was the first to reach out, his fingers gently trailing along Y/n’s arm, marveling at her. She almost felt exposed at his gaze, but the way his eyes held her captivated had her forget everything but him.

She stepped closer until their bodies were pressed together and he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, their movements slow and deliberate. A rhythm that was achingly familiar although their hands explored each other’s bodies like they had to reach every bit of skin they were yet to memorize.

Y/n’s fingers traced the lines of his muscles, her touch light and loving. Lewis mirrored her actions, his hands caressing her curves, his touch both soothing and electrifying.

The water continued to cascade over them, a warm, comforting presence that seemed to heighten every sensation. Y/n tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering shut as Lewis kissed a path down her neck, his lips leaving a trail of electricity.

"I love you " she breathed, her hands tangling in his loose braids as she pulled him closer.

"I love you" he whispered back against her skin; his voice filled with emotion.

They lost themselves in each other, the world outside the shower fading into insignificance. The water poured over them, mingling with the soft sighs and whispers that filled the small space.

When Lewis’s hands found Y/n’s waist, he pulled her flush against him as he kissed her deeply. She responded, her body arching into his, seeking more of his touch. They savored the moment, the feeling of being so close, so connected.

Y/n's hand slid down his chest, her fingertips tracing the hard planes of his muscles. Her touch was electric to his skin.

She reached his half-hard erection, her fingers wrapping around him with a gentle but firm grip. She began to pump him slowly, her movements teasing and deliberate. Lewis groaned softly into her mouth, both of his hand finding her waist. Her pumping combined with the hot water cascading over their bodies was almost overwhelming. He responded by pressing her against the cool tile wall, his lips never leaving hers.

With one hand still wrapped around his length, Y/n used her free hand to anchor herself against his shoulder. Lewis lifted one of her legs, creating better access to her core. He positioned himself at her entrance, his eyes locking onto hers.

"You ready?" he whispered, his voice a low rumble.

Y/n nodded; her pupils wildly dilated. "Yeah" she breathed.

Lewis kissed her deeply, his tongue tangling with hers to muffle her moans as he slowly entered her. The sensation was almost too much, her walls stretching to accommodate him. He paused, holding himself still to regain control, feeling her warmth envelop him.

She gasped into his mouth, her breath hitching as he filled her completely. He waited a moment, allowing her to adjust, before he began to move. Each thrust was slow and measured, his lips still pressed against hers to keep their sounds low to possible bypassers around the motorhomes.

Y/n's nails dug into his shoulders as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her body arching to meet his movements. She bit down gently on the soft spot where his neck met his collarbone, making him wince in pain and pleasure.

The rhythm between them became more urgent, their need for each other driving them on. Lewis groaned softly, his grip on her tightening as he lifted her other leg, supporting her entirely against the wall.

The change in angle allowed him to penetrate even deeper, eliciting a moan from Y/n that he quickly swallowed with another kiss.

As he felt her walls start to flutter, he pulled out to turn her in his embrace, her back pressing against his chest as she moaned in protest. He entered her from behind, the new position allowing him to reach even deeper.

One of his hands slid around to hold her close by her lower abdomen, pressing into the spot where he could feel himself pushing into her.

Y/n's head fell back against his shoulder, her moans growing louder despite their attempts to stay quiet. Lewis kissed along her neck, his other hand moving down to flicker at her clit with precise, deliberate movements.

"I'm so close" she whimpered, her body trembling.

Lewis's own control was slipping, the sensation of her tight around him driving him closer to his own orgasm "Let go" he whispered against her ear. "I've got you."

With a final thrust, he felt her walls clench around him as she saw white. Her body convulsed; her cries muffled by how she bit on the skin of his neck, her head hanging on his shoulders. The mix of her walls and the biting of his skin triggered his own release, a wave that left him shaking.

They held each other close when he pulled out and turned her on his arms, his forehead resting against hers. "Hi there gorgeous" he murmured when she opened her eyes to look at him, his breath still coming in ragged gasps.

Y/n smiled; her eyes glimmering with satisfaction. "You’re handsome too" she joked, chuckling softly.

They stayed like that for a few moments longer, savoring the intimacy of the moment and the water falling on them. Finally, Y/n reached out and turned off the shower, the sudden silence almost deafening after the steady sound of running water.

Lewis grabbed a towel, wrapping it around Y/n before pulling her into his arms. "I think that’s the best way to start the day," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her damp hair.

Y/n leaned into him, her heart swelling with love. "Couldn’t agree more. Now go, they’re waiting for their champion."

______________________________________________________________

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[yourlocalcorviddad]

Ok Ok so.

In dpxdc stories. Danny always gets assumed to be sick or uses it as an excuse or whatever to hide his powers right?

What if he wasn't lying?

It wasn't something easily noticed, not when half a dozen other things could explain it after all.

The shakes lingering? Well he'd used his ice powers a lot the night before fighting Skulker.

The faint feeling and lightheadedness? Well his mom had a good shot when people didn't interfere, and while he healed fast, it wasn't from nothing; he felt better after he ate anyway.

Heart racing suddenly? Probably just attempting to regulate the low beat on reflex again to seem normal but over shot it.

But the getting out of breath or spotty vision hadn't really been easily explained.

It was Mr. Lancer who asked about it after he'd gotten up from his seat in detention-happening less and less for actual reasons and more an opportunity to safely do his work and rest, after the truce with the ghosts to leave him and the town be during certain hours-only for the next thing he knew he was on the floor, head pillowed on Mr. Lancer's sweater, and a cool wet paper towel on his forehead and neck.

POTS. Post orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. Not uncommon for those who had had injuries too their hearts to get.

It made sense when the teacher asked if he could have it. Apparently a friend of his's daughter had it.

From there, it made things easier to an extent. Salt was pretty easy to add, he figured out a wrist brace that he could extend into a cane if needed to.

In ghost form he didn't need it at all, but human form had its limits.

Despite all that he'd gone through, he graduates and even gets accepted to a college near jazz, hers was in Metropolis but Gotham had the ambient ectoplasm that he needed, and it was a day trip away.

And so Gotham U became his home, especially after his parents couldn't take that he wasn't "their son" anymore when he told them-after moving everything and getting his cheap apartment set up just in case. He considered it lucky that they loved their son enough they couldn't hunt "his ghost".

Last he'd heard they were working closer with the GIW but hadn't had much luck since the portal strangely closed soon after he left and the other ghosts didn't feel much reason to visit Amity anymore without him there.

It was Gotham U where he met Dick by literally fainting into his arms after a long day where he'd forgotten to eat and the early dinner the night before plus the going down the stairs at a quick pace and leaning forward with gravity.

"sorry, couldn't help falling for you~" the cheesy pick up line was the only thing his foggy brain could comprehend before he fainted.

[natalievoncatte]

“Director Danvers, Lena Luthor is here.”

Alex stared at the speaker on her desk for a moment, feeling her anger rise. She didn’t need this now. Whatever stunt Lena was pulling, now was not the time. She had fires to put out and Supergirl was out of the fight.

Kara, a voice whispered. Kara, your sister.

Alex’s prime directive was take care of Kara. Yet here she was, again, dealing wit the aftermath of Kara being knocked down and beaten to a pulp in service of people she didn’t even know. Half of them hated and feared her now.

How had she let this happen? By small allowances. Step A led to Step B and then on to Step C. It started with looking the other way while Kara foiled robberies and rescued cats from trees and led to Kara defacto joining an organization whose mandate was, on paper, to imprison her or worse. She told herself that she was doing good, that between her and J’onn, they had become the wolves keeping the wolves from the door. Under the right leadership, an organization mandated to “control” aliens could help and protect them.

It gave her no comfort when Kara was lying in the sunroom unconscious, and the government was breathing down Alex’s neck while J’onn was off finding himself on some pacifist bullshit quest.

(Why did their fathers always leave them? Were the Danvers girls doomed to face everything alone?)

Now Lena was here. Luthor’s sister. Alex had let herself trust this woman and she wasn’t sure how that happened either.

Might have been because her kid sister, her precious dumbass kid sister, was over the moon for her Lena and didn’t even know it.

It was Luthor who did this to Kara, Luthor and his allies. Alex had enough of this. There would be no trial this time. No public spectacle. She didn’t care if it ended her career or even her freedom, she was going to kill him, because Kara couldn’t. Kara would always look for the other way, the perfect solution. She was beautiful and good, a hero who came from the heaven to set things right. A saint.

Alex was not and she never pretended she could be.

She drummed her fingers on the desk and stared at the speaker and said, “Keep her in the lobby.”

“No, Director, I mean she’s here, outside your door. We… she can be persuasive.”

Alex reached over wearily and hit the button to open the doors.

Lena marched in, and the sight of her took Alex aback. The boardroom predator with the razor sharp hairstyle, flawless makeup and fuck me pumps was gone, replaced by what Alex would think was Lena’s kid sister under other circumstances. She looked her age, for once, dressed in faded jeans and a threadbare MIT sweatshirt, carrying a battered messenger bag.

Alex had never seen Lena so bedraggled. Her hair was a chaos of unkempt curls pulled into a low ponytail and she was sans makeup, and for good reason. Her eyes were painfully red and the tracks of her tears were as livid as if they’d been left by claws. Her bottom lip was trembling and she fiddled with the strap of her bag.

“Close the door,” said Lena. “Can we talk here? Is this room secure?”

Alex pushed the button and closed the doors.

She had barely said “Yes”.

“Where’s Kara?”

“Not here. Why would she be at the-“

“Don’t fuck with me, Alex.”

Alex looked at her sharply. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to accomplish here with this, after you started working with Lex again.”

Lena stormed forward and slammed her palms on the desk, rattling Alex’s possessions. She leaned forward and glared with Alex with a furious, teeth-baring demand.

“The clone almost killed her. Where is she?”

Alex swallowed hard. “I’m not sure what-“

Lena cut her off. “I know Kara is Supergirl, Alex. I need to see her. Please.”

Alex rocked back in her chair as if struck by a physical force. The words slam into her chest like a brick into her sternum.

She knows.

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve know for months. But you have to listen to me. Lex knew. He told me her identity, tried to throw it in my face so I’d turn on her. He knew her real name, he knew about you, he knew about your mother. You have to do something now.”

“Oh my God,” Alex said, standing. Mom.

“He wasn’t going to stop, Alex!” Lena blurted, almost hysterical. “He was never going to stop. He was going to kill her, he swore to me that she was going to die. I had to do it!”

“Do what?” Alex whispered.

“I had to kill him,” Lena wailed, balling her fists impotently as if she were trying to choke her own soul. “I had to!”

The reality of it slams into Alex and before she knows it she’s rushed around the desk to throw her arms around her friend, all thoughts of Luthors and loyalty and everything else going out the window as Lena sobs into her should.

“I killed my big brother.”

Lena’s voice so so small, so broken, that Alex can’t help but sob with her.

The fucking bastard just wouldn’t stop hurting them, even in death. Alex didn’t believe in hell but she wished she did for Lex Luthor.

Lena’s sobbing ebbed but did not fade entirely. There was only one cure for that.

“Come on, let’s go see our girl.”

Alex led Lena outside. First, she flagged down Brainy and gave quick, clipped orders: Get Eliza and get her here now, and find Nia and do the same. Then make a list of anyone Lex might have targeted and find them and get them secured.

Then she took Lena to the sunroom. They stopped outside and Alex handed her a pair of silly looking goggles.

“We can’t stay long, the light is too intense even with sunscreen, and you look like you burn.”

“Like a lobster,” Lena choked, pitifully.

Alex entered the code and opened the door.

Kara lay on the padded bed in a paper gown, bathed in sunlight. She was a mass of bruises and her right arm and left leg were in casts, a collar wound her neck. She’d been unconscious for three days now, possibly in the same kind of healing hibernation she’d fallen into after her first fight with Reign.

Lena rushed to Kara’s side and cupped her cheeks with her hands, brushing back sweat-dampened hair.

“Oh God,” Lena blurted, “oh please oh God Kara wake up.”

“She’s been out for days,” said Alex. “She’s stable, just not coming around. This has happened before. We think it’s part of how her body heals serious injuries. It just takes time. She’ll wake on her own when she’s ready.”

Lena didn’t even seem to hear her. She leaned down with an intensity and intimacy that shocked Alex to the core, and then shocked her further. Lena loosed three words in a language from a dead world that she has no business knowing.

“Zhao w rrip.”

Alex was thunderstruck. Lena knew Kryptonian?

“Lex had a translation dictionary,” said Lena. “I just hope I pronounced it right.”

“We need to go,” Alex said, glumly. “You can stay at the DEO. We could use your help and it’s safer for you here anyway.”

“Just let me stay another minute. Please.”

“If I do, your face will be peeling off tomorrow. We can visit again later. Come on.”

“I can’t,” Lena choked out. “I can’t leave her.”

Alex was an about to say something else when her mother fell open. Kara’s eyes fluttered open and she immediately turned to Lena, bleary-eyed.

“Did you mean that?”

“Yes, Kara, I meant it.”

“But zhao means-“

“I know what it means,” Lena insisted, so full of joy now. “I know what it means, darling. That’s how I meant it. I love you, Kara.”

Oh.

Alex swallowed hard. She didn’t want to interrupt but Lena, and not to mention Alex herself, would get very sick very fast if they didn’t leave this room.

Lena grasped Kara’s uninjured hand.

“You have to go. It’s not safe for humans in here.”

Lena swallowed hard, her throat bobbing.

“Before I… can I…?”

“Yes,” Kara whispered.

Lena darted down and gave Kara a quick, soft kiss on her lips, lingering for just a moment. Kara smiled at her and their hands slid apart as Alex half dragged Lena out of the room and closed the door, then ripped off her sun shades and stared.

“How long?” she breathed.

“I’ve been in love with her for at least for years now,” Lena said, her voice cracking a little. “I’ve wanted to tell her for so long.”

Lips trembling, Alex was besieged. She remembered every time that she told Kara to stay away, not to trust her, not to tell her. The weight of what she has done presses her down as firmly as the knowledge that Kara will be healed soon lifts her up. There’s only one thing she can do.

She swept Lena into a bear hug.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doubting you and pushing you apart. I’m sorry I didn’t see sooner.”

Lena, at last, fully broke down in Alex’s arms. Later, when Eliza arrived, she passed off Lena-hugging duties to her mother until Kara was fully awake and can leave the sunroom.

Then, Alex went and did what you do for family.

She got rid of the body.

[writteninkat]

Special Forces | Bakugou x Villain Reader

synopsis: You've decided to turn over a new leaf and leak intel on the League of Villains, sending the government’s special forces straight to your door. One tiny hiccup—their potty-mouthed leader has his sights set on making you his next target.

w/c: 3.2k

warnings: bondage, oral (f&m receiving), pervert Bakugou, unprotected sex, overstimulation, slight exhibition, not proofread !!

a/n: you've imagined special forces bakugou before. don't u fuckin lie to me

navigation

"I smell a rat." Dabi narrows his eyes at you. "Shigaraki go take a fucking bath." You quickly deflect is assumption, making Twice and Spinner cackle out loud.

"How about you shut the fuck up." Shigaraki sneers at you, resuming whatever the fuck he's doing on the paper on his table.

You return your gaze at Dabi, glaring at him.

Okay—he definitely called you out. But no one at LoV has any reason to believe him. You've done your part in the group; terrorized innocent civilians with a grin so wide your cheeks hurt at the end of the day, tortured members of the police with a straight face, and followed Shigaraki's orders quietly with no questions. But they've been taking twice as much time these past few months.

You've been duplicating each and every document your stand-in leader has sent you, and have been sending them to the Heroes Association under an alias. Hawks has been trying to track you down, asking pressing questions about you to Dabi. But that man never talks—god bless his heart, and you're always hiding whenever you catch a glimpse of those red feathers.

All that damned association knows is that they've been getting pretty intel regarding this cursed group from a nameless and faceless informant. They should stop looking at a gift horse in the mouth, especially bird man. But his ego's hurt because someone is giving out better data than him.

"You smell like blood." Toga points out, smiling up at you with a feverish smile. The first time you met her, she was sweet and cute. That was quickly squished the moment you saw her fight. Now, she gives you the heebie jeebies.

"I'll go wash up." You mutter, unable to cut the eye contact until you had to physically force yourself to look away.

As you walk towards the stairs leading to the basement, you feel Dabi's piercing eyes on you. God, you hate it when that man stares at you like that. He never fails to send goosebumps scattering your skin. He somehow makes your blood boil with the absence of anger, and something tingles. You don't know what, but something definitely tingles.

You ignore that usual feeling when it comes to the dark-haired man and continue down the basement and into your room. Quickly turning the lock, you strip out of your boots, leggings and halter turtleneck, undoing your ponytail to quickly enter your bathroom. Doffing off your underwear, you turn the knob and let the cold water spray your body.

Fuck these villains. They bring nothing but havoc and destruction. If you're going to ruin people's lives, at least get rich too.

You look down, taking note of the pinkish liquid going down the drain. One thing about wearing black- it's difficult to spot blood. Especially when you're constantly staying at low-lit areas.

You sigh, "Guess Toga wasn't lying."

You massage your scalp with your favorite sweet-smelling shampoo, rinising it out before applying conditioner, clamping it up as you work through scrubbing your entire body.

If you were going to live with the rats, you made sure to at least clean yourself properly every time you shower. You were a villain, not a monster.

As you begin to finally rinse off everything, you feel the air growing uneasy. The con with your rooms being underground is that you can never hear what goes on upstairs and vice-versa. You hate not knowing what's going on, so you quickly but thoroughly rinse off your body, wringing your hair before wiping your arms off with a towel.

You manage to begin your shoulders when a loud bang freezes your body.

Fuck.

Your eyes are wide as you look around your small bathroom, looking for a way out. Of course you don't find anything. This is underground, for god's sake!

You drop your towel, activating your quirk. Red aura engulfs both your hands as you get into a fighting stance. Whoever was outside your bathroom door, they knew exactly how to be quiet. They were good at it.

One second passes.

Two.

The air is stuck in your throat and you feel like you might throw up.

Three.

I should just go out there and start killing the first person I see. My members be damned.

Four, five-

A loud explosion has your bathroom door flying off it's hinges and towards you. Quickly, you use your quirk to destroy it into splinters.

Your quirk- red ruins. Telekineses with a hint of disentigrating everything in your path within a hundred mile radius. Yes, it's incredibly powerful and violent. Problem? It's strength depends on your cardio. And you hate exercising.

"Whose pussy do these pretty panties belong to?" A deep voice rumbles through the cloud of smoke and dust. The scent of burnt sugar fills your nostrils before the sense of dread washes over you like a bucket of cold water.

There's only one person in the Heroes Association who is widely known for such a scent.

"These smell incredibly sweet." In front of you, a man five feet and eight inches tall stands. On his head is a mask that covers almost everything but his vermilion eyes. His hand is raised to where his mouth and nose are located, and it has something pink and lacey crumpled in it.

"Panties..." You breathe out, watching Hero Dynamight take a deep breath in, smelling your panties without shame.

He has on a fitting shit with a bulky vest, cargo pants and boots. Any other time, you'd find it incredibly hot. Especially with the way the sleeves of his shirt struggle to enclose his biceps- biceps so big they look like they take up your entire thigh. Maybe even more? [Any other time], not now, though. His palm is glowing orange and one mistake will have you burnt to crisps.

"They are. Seem familiar?" He asks, dangling the small piece of fabric in the space between the two of you. Ypur cheeks flush at the obscenity unfolding infront of you.

"Yeah, they're mine. Give 'em back." You demand, holding your hand out as he simply eyes it.

"C'mere 'nd take 'em then." He teases, hanging the strap of your underwear on his pointer finger. You frown, taking a step before stopping yourself. You use your quirk to flick it from his fingers. Right before the lace makes contact with your palm, a white steel-wire encircles itself around your wrists, pulling you forward, making you wat dirt.

"What the fuck!" You exclaim, trying to get on your hands and knees but Dynamight pushes you down by your head with his booted foot. With your head turned to the side, you strain your eyes to the corners, watching him catch the thin scrap of fabric easily.

You begin manifesting your quirk once again, but come to a dead end when nothing happens. "What the-?"

"Technology is amazing these days, isn't it?" He chuckles, playing with the lace between his gloved fingers. "It's managed to copy Aizawa's quirk. With this, those smartasses integrated the power into this scarf."

He takes his foot off of you, replacing it with his hand instead. "Whatever target this scarf is locked to, their quirks vanish like that."

You helplessly try to push him off of you, but with little to no strength training, you're a puddle of defenseless goo underneath him.

His eyes lock into yours before drifting down your naked back, piercing onto a part you know very well. Right below the middle of your back, the words "Favorite crime" is tattooed in a type writer font. It's quite small, four inches long, inked when you were seventeen after deciding maybe the good citizen life wasn't for you when the government took both your parents and labelling their quirks as something 'hazardous' to the public. They helped you escape but that left you with nothing.

It's cringey and cheesy, but you were only seventeen.

Five years later, and you don't regret it.

"Maybe you will be." Dynamight mutters, smirking as he grabs you by your hair, looking deep into your eyes. "Pretty." He grunts before flipping you around, pulling you to your feet as he wraps the scarf around your wrists.

"Let go of me!" You demand, the feeling of being pulled up by your wrists forces you to stand on your tippy toes. Barely.

Dynamight has you hanging by your wrists onto the shower curtain rod, the scarf disabling your quirk. You take note of your naked state, your cheeks flaring at how exposed you are for him.

The hero's eyes glances you from your hands to your toes, agonizingly slow, before making it back up your cunt.

"Which part of our interaction did you like?" He takes a step forward, unjustly stealing the last bit of air between the both of you. Caramel and smoke fill your senses, making you light-headed.

"Was it me stepping on you? The simple fact of being held down? Or being tied up? Huh?" He stands toe to toe in front of you, having to crane his neck down at your short stature. He slips his gloves off, showing off clean fingers.

"What's got you this wet, baby?" With that, his fingers press against your cunt, moving across and between your folds.

Your back arches at the lewd feeling, a moan threatening to escape as he finds the ball of pleasure in your center, making you bite down on your lip.

"F-fuck! Fuck!" You whine, your thighs squeezing together, wanting to stop his hand from moving but [needing] to keep it there.

Despite being villains, the group you joined in engage in everything [but] sex. For months, you've been teetering on the edge, unable to find the time or energy to get off.

Now, however...

"Such a soft cunt." Dynamight whispers, pushing a digit inside. His thick fingers surprised you, causing a loud mewl to slip from your lips. Without warning, the hero shoves your panties inside your mouth. "I've got my squad upstairs, can't have them hearing that pretty voice of yours."

His digit continues pumping inside you as his thumb traces circles on your clit, your body shaking in pleasure. "You should see how you look right now, pretty girl." Dynamight grumbles, pressing his forehead against yours. "Gonna cum for me, pretty? Gonna cum for your daddy?"

Your eyes roll back and nod your head as your legs begin to give out from under you. Just as you're about to climax, he drops to his knees, pulling his finger out. He hooks his thumb under his mask, swiftly taking it off, revealing his blond locks and hellishly beautiful features.

You look down at him, just now understanding the term "pretty like the devil".

He replaces his finger with his tongue, burying his face into your cunt as he sucks. He lifts you up by the backs of your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders, tongue-fucking you until you're seeing stars, your thighs shake as his abuse on your clit fail to falter.

"'S even sweeter from the core." He grumbles into your cunt, lapping up your juices until your muffled whines tick him off.

He pushes your legs off of him as he glares at you, standing up to his full height once again. "You just don't know how to shut up, huh?" He tilts his head to the side, undoing the scarf bounding your wrists in one swift tug. You fall heavily on your knees, unable to collect yourself when he tugs on your hair, forcing you to look up. He pulls the panties from your mouth, pocketing them.

You meet his fiery gaze, but your eyes quickly drop at the sight of him undoing his belt with one hand. The scene has your pussy pulsing once more.

I may be a slut.

He makes quick work of his belt and button, but he stops there. He bends over, tying your wrists together behind you. "Take me out." He orders, his grip on your hair tighter than before.

"I- What?" You ask, confusion distinct in your voice. He's bounded your hands behind you, how the hell does he expect you to work?

"With your mouth." He answers, as if reading your mind.

Your cheeks heat in embarassment but you quickly gather yourself once more. Raising yourself up a bit, you bite down on his zipper, pulling it down. Underneath it, you find the outline of his cock under his boxer briefs, hard, big, waiting. At the tip, you find a damp spot.

Precum?

You look up at him in question and he looks down at you with a brow raised. "Well? Keep going." He urges you by pulling you towards him, your face pressing against his cock.

You bite down on the garter of his briefs, pulling it down the best you can. You catch sight of a patch of blond hair and before you know it, you've pulled down enough for his cock to spring out, hitting you on the cheek.

Dynamight smiles maliciously, giving your head a soft tug. "Open." He whispers.

You follow his demands, parting your lips.

"Wider."

You follow once again.

"Even wider, pretty. You're gonna have to do more than that if you want me to fit."

You glare at him. Cocky motherfucker.

Instead of doing as he says, you stick your tongue out, licking him up from base to tip. Dynamight lets out a deep grumble from his chest, but you don't stop as you toy at his tip, tasting the salty precum, smearing it around your lips.

"Stop bein' a tease and wrap those pretty lips around me, darlin'."

You bite down on your lip before opening once more, taking him as best as you can without your jaw falling off. Dynamight's breaths are erratic and inconsistent as you hallow your cheeks, sucking him as hard as you can.

"Fuck!" He breathes out, his hips fitful as you take him deeper, the corners of your eyes stinging with tears at the feeling of his head touching the back of your throat.

You pull away quickly, creating a string of saliva connecting his cock with your lips as you look up at him. "C'mon pretty girl, I know you can do better than that."

You look back at his cock to see only half of it wet with saliva. Your heart poinds in your chest at your new goal—take everything Hero Dynamight has without throwing up.

Fucking gag reflex...

With new incitement, you find your lips wrapped around his cock once more, only this time, you try to push yourself down, closer to his base this time.

You swirl your tongue around him, thinking about anything else but his tip slipping down your throat an inch every moment.

His hot, must scent.

His big fingers gripping on your hair.

His cock inside your throat-

And with that, you trigger your gag reflex, the movement of your throat tightening around him has the hero moaning loudly. He pulls his hips back for a moment and you begin to thank multiple higher beings for such sweet air, but the prayer dies quickly when the blond pushes himself back in.

"Gods, this mouth was made for fucking." He cries out, looking down at you. He continues thrusting with reckless abandon, the muscles in your throat constantly tight.

God, if you exist, please don't let me get a sore throat tomorrow.

His hips snap with hasty thrusts, his moans bouncing off the four walls of your bathroom, and his fingers dig even deeper through your hair, on your scalp.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He cries, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as tears run down your cheeks, snot trickling down your lip.

With one last thrust, he buries himself down your throat to the hilt, your nose pressing against his blond patch as he comes down your throat, his chest rising and falling rapidly, jaw clenched, and eyes brimming with desire.

When he finally pulls out, you fall on your side, coughing and gasping for the dear air you've craved so badly. Your thighs clench together as you think about what you believe is to be the single most hottest thing you've ever done.

"You like that, you little slut?" The hero taunts, pulling you and dragging you through the floor by your ankle. He pushes you on your back, hands on both sides of your hips as he taps his dick on your sensitive cunt.

"Hold on a minute-"

Without wasting another moment, he pushes inside you, your walls stretching for him in welcome. His size has the air inside your lungs locked in, your lips part and you have the strongest urger to scream. But you can't.

He's just so...

"Big!" You manage whine out, making Dynamight cackle. "Fuck yeah, that's right pretty." Unlike the throat fucking, his thrusts this time are slow and languid. As if he has all the time in the world.

"You take my dick so good, pretty girl." He praises, your walls fluttering around him. You can feel every detail. Every vein, every curve, every pulse.

Slowly, you begin to notice his thrusts progress faster and faster until loud slaps fill the bathroom. Your tits bounce with every drive, making the hero slap them once, twice- before grabbing onto them forcefully, tugging and playing with your nipples.

Your breathy whines begin to join his whispered cursing, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel the impending feeling of an orgasm right at your fingers.

"Open your eyes for me baby." Dynamight whispers, "We have company."

Your eyes instantly open, the hero pulling your hips up as he fucks you, leaving your head on the floor. His eyes are trained infront of him, a cocky smirk gracing his lips. You follow his line of vision and your eyes fall upon an upside down sight of Red Riot. His eyes are wide, jaw slack, and a tent evident in his pants.

Immediately, your orgasm takes you, waves upon waves almost drowning you. The feeling of your walls clamping down on him has Dynamight chasing after his own high. Just when he reaches it, your pleasure ceases. He grits his teeth, slapping your overstimulated clit, forcing another orgasm out of you as spills inside your cunt. You scream and shake through this one, tears streaming down your face as you thrash away from the hero.

You're out of breath, sweaty, sticky with cum and your body feels like it's a heartbeat away from collapsing.

"Not gonna lie, that shit was hot but..." You hear red riot chuckle and through your blury vision, you see his red boots infront of you. He's crouching over you, the movement on your wrists a tell tale sign of the scarf being hndone. "Will she be okay?"

"My pretty girl is a strong one."

My pretty girl...?

"Don't tell anyone else about her." Dynamight orders.

"What are you-"

"I'll take her to my place, so keep your mouth shut and I might share her with you." You can [hear] that bitchass smirk in his tone.

A moment passes.

"Alright." Red Riot finally concedes, "What are you gonna do with her?"

You feel rough hands pull you up until strong arms engulf you.

Who's carrying me? Red Riot?

Sweet caramel fills your senses.

Dynamight?

"Whatever the fuck I want." The blond spits and by this time, your eyelids have fluttered shut.

"Be careful with her, Bakugou." Red Riot hastily adds.

"Bakugou..." You whisper before nothing.

[leossmoonn]

mike schmidt trying to flirt with you is a like a car crash. it’s so bad, but you’re intrigued.

he happens to be sitting next to you at abby’s yearly pediatrician check up. she’s sitting at one of the little tables in the lobby coloring while mike’s waiting for the nurse to call abby in. he can’t help but notice the absolute beauty sitting next to him. you’re flipping mindlessly through a magazine, looking up and sighing every so often as your wait time increases.

“terrible time management here, right?” mike asks. you glance over at him, his eyes nervously flickering from you to the wall. you don’t say anything, not sure if he was speaking to you or himself. mike sita up in his chair, trying to look more confident this time.

“terrible time management, right?” he asks again. “i swear every time we’re here, it takes half a day just for a little check up.”

“yeah,” you agree. “it doesn’t help that it’s always busy.”

mike hums in agreement, thinking of what to say next. god, he’s so dumb and helpless. was it really this hard to flirt, much less talk? he looks over at you, trying to catch something that he could say. perhaps maybe you’re wearing something he can compliment? or there’s something in your magazine that’s also interesting to him?

“do you have a staring problem or something?” you break him out of his thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his heart slipping a beat. “i… uh… no. i… just like looking at interesting things.” he rushes out.

you raise your brows. “i’m an interesting thing?” he wants to kick himself. “no! i mean, yes. what i meant to say was i like staring at beautiful… people.” he watches as your lips upturn, but you work to keep it in a straight line. god, now he just wants to someone to run him over with a semi. “i didn’t mean that either,” he’s quick to say.

“oh, so i’m not beautiful?” you scoff, can’t help but feeling a little amused. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him cute as well. you thought about saying something to him, but you’re glad you didn’t. if you did, you’d miss whatever this is.

his eyes widen and he wishes the nurses would call abby’s name. “yes! yes, you are very beautiful. i’m just uh… well.. i-i’m mike.”

“it’s nice to meet you, mike,” you say. you look back at your magazine, not really reading any of the words now.

“are you here with your, uh, kid?” mike asks. “yes,” you say at first. “well, she’s not mine. she’s my niece. my sister and her husband are out of town and i get to babysit her.”

you swear you hear mike say “thank god”.

“what about you? is that your little girl over there?” you point to abby who is sharing her crayons with another kid.

“yeah, but she’s my little sister,” he says. “ah, how sweet. she looks like a nice kid,” you say.

“she is. so, uh, do you live around here?” mike asks.

you stifle a giggle and nod. “i do.”

“oh, awesome!” he exclaims like he just won the lottery. you look at him again and he calms down, laughing awkwardly. “yeah, that’s cool. i mean, obviously you live here. or maybe you don’t. it would make sense. you’re babysitting, so —”

“josie hutchins?” a nurse calls out. “that’s me,” you say. you fold up the magazine and place it on the table next to you. mike looks so sad, like he just witness a puppy die. “ah, okay. nice talking to you.”

“you, too,” you smile sweetly, taking your neice by the hand. as you walk away, a little folded up piece of paper from your coat.

“h-hey! you forgot this,” mike says, but you’re already gone. he picks it up, choking on his own spit once he reads your number on the paper. you must’ve wrote it down while mike was blabbering like an idiot.

“abby schmidt?” a nurse calls out. mike shoots up from his spot, making sure to slide the piece of paper in his pocket for safe keeping.

[moonstruckme]

heyy i absolutely love your writing and i wanted to ask if you could write something for remus?? <3 I’m having a surgery soon and i’m a bit nervous about it so if you feel like it, could it maybe be about reader having surgery and remus calms her beforehand or takes care of her after? thank you so much for sharing your amazing work with us, ly!!!! <3

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!

cw: hospital, reader is a bit out of it due to anesthesia

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 907 words

Remus doesn’t think you belong in hospitals. You don’t look like yourself, all swathed in white. White sheets and a white gown and white fluorescent lights that make your skin look paler than usual and thin as paper. He’s been rubbing the back of your hand absentmindedly as he waits for you to wake up. It feels stupid, comforting you while you can’t feel it, but when your eyelids twitch he’s glad he is. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says softly. Your eyes find him, sleepy and unfocussed. “Glad to have you back with me.” 

There’s a tiny divot between your brows as you survey the room. “Did I do it?” you croak.

“Yeah.” The word leaves Remus in a laugh, and he can’t help reaching forward to brush a piece of hair away from your face. When you lean into the touch, his heart splinters. Something about seeing you like this makes him want to swaddle you in blankets and spoon-feed you soup and kisses for the rest of eternity. “Yeah, baby, you did it. You’re all done.” 

“M’glad,” you sigh. “I told them I wanted to bring you, and they wouldn’t let me.” 

“Yeah, I remember.” He grins, recalling your doped-up argument with the nurse. The cute pout that had stayed on your face throughout. “I was there.” 

“Mm.” You hum as though vaguely recollecting his presence, though Remus had been the one to finally get you to calm down and go on without him. 

Your gaze fogs over, and for a long time you stare at nothing, features relaxing. Remus is content to let it happen. He’s never minded sitting with you like this, both of you lost in your own thoughts and the love between you humming and incandescent in the air nonetheless. He’s watching the slow drooping of your eyelids, wondering if you might fall back asleep, when suddenly you perk up. 

“Rem—Remus.” You sit up, reaching for him. 

“What?” You’re pulling your IV. He stands from his chair and leans over you to grasp your forearm, pinning you as gently as he can to the bed. “What is it?” 

“You haven’t kissed me hello.”

Remus can’t be held accountable for whatever passes over his face in that moment. He’s too surprised, and you’re too cute. It’s unbelievable. 

“Well, it’s not really a hello,” he reasons. “We’ve both been here the whole time, love.” 

You scrunch your face up as though you’ve tasted something sour. “Don’t play mind games with me. I almost just died.” 

Remus is fairly sure you’d come nowhere close, but he doesn’t feel much like arguing. He bends over you carefully, pecking you on the lips. Your lips are warm and a bit chapped. He makes a mental note to dig your chapstick out of your bag a bit later.

When he pulls away, you’re frowning. It doesn’t do wonders for a man’s ego. 

“That wasn’t a real kiss,” you complain.

He chuckles. “We’ll have more kisses when we get you home, okay? There are people around.” 

You glance towards the door. “There’s no one here right now,” you say, as if there aren’t doctors and nurses passing by every five seconds. “Just a quick one. I really missed you.” 

Remus glances towards the door, too. It’s a bit public for his taste (and usually, for yours), but he can never really say no to you when you’re being all sweet and earnest like this. He sits on the bed this time, heedful of any wires or tubes, and melds his lips to yours slowly. You take his face in your hand, your mouth pushing with almost too much force. Remus pushes back, but tries to slow you down with a hand on your shoulder. Soothing. You whine. 

He pulls away quickly, thinking he’s hurt you, but you don’t let him get far. You’re clutching the material of his shirt like a lifeline. 

Your eyes are wet. 

“What is it?” Remus asks, panicking. 

Your eyebrows bunch, pulling upwards in the middle. It’s a crumpling. “I love you,” you say, “so much.” 

“Sweetheart.” Your crying makes him want to cry, but Remus does his best to laugh through it, hoping to get you out of this mood before you’re fully in it. He kisses the first tear as it falls. “I love you too. That’s nothing to get upset about.” 

You shake your head, sniffling. “It’s too much. I love you so much it hurts.” 

“I know what you mean, darling.” 

“You do?” 

“Of course I do. If I let myself think about it too much, I’d never stop crying. You’re a real burden to me, you know that?” 

To Remus’ relief, you laugh. Wetly, but still. “Especially when I almost die, I bet.” 

“You know you didn’t actually almost die, right?” He narrows his eyes at you. “I feel like it’s important that you know that.” 

You only blink at him, befuddled. 

Remus nods slowly. “I guess someone will be wanting to know you’re awake,” he says. “I’m going to go find a nurse.” 

He stands, but you hold fast to his shirt. “Wait,” you plead. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Hm?” 

“One more kiss.” 

“I think you’ve had enough.” 

“One for the road. Please.” 

Remus shakes his head, grinning. “You’d never consent to this much PDA if you weren’t so loopy right now, you know.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “Back in a minute, love.”

[s-4pphics]

click!: in frame. 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, ANGST!!, loss and unhealthy grieving, papa issues, verbally abusive parent(PLEASE TREAD LIGHTLY), depictions of therapy and counseling, light discussion of anger management, brief mention of alcohol, bullying, a lil fluff, SMUT!! YIPPEE MDNI, bondage, squirting, bathroom sex, eating out no taqueria, ellie getting sloppy from a hot milf that’s it 

You look like your mom. 

Your father’s admiring whisper yanks you out of the hazy turbulence in your mind. You shovel a handful of caramel popcorn in your mouth. You don’t dare look at him. 

Daughter things, I guess. Your dad simply hums. Silence simmers between the two of you. It’s not comforting. Not like it should be. A bomb is coming. 

Honey, I… I love you. Your father sounds like he's crying and it pauses your aggressive chewing. You finally turn to face him and your fingers twitch when you see his globby tears. They’re heavy as he releases his regrets in silence, just like he always does during this time of year. 

Me, too, dad. 

You’re not sure if you’re lying or not. Some things are impossible to forget, you suppose. 

You eat more popcorn with a permanently damaged heart. 

FOUR YEARS LATER

FIRST DAY WITH DOCTOR BROWN. 

“Some people believe that any form of assistance is… insulting. Whether it be to them as people or… specific traits that they hold that others may find unfamiliar or unsettling. I’m not here to judge or anything of that nature. Just here to help you figure out why specific aspects of your life affect you the way they do.” 

Your arms cross over your chest. Dr. Brown realizes you’re not taking the bait, so she attempts to get you more comfortable. “I think icebreakers could help ease some of the tension. So… What’s your favorit— “

“My dad died last year.” 

Your statement makes her freeze, her smile melting off her face, eyes shifting across her face. She adjusts some papers on her clipboard and clicks her pen. “Alright, hun,” Her gentle tone makes your stomach twist. “Let’s talk about it. What was the relationship with your dad like?” You simply shrug. 

Dr. Brown nods and tries again. “Were you and him close? Your notes say you and your mother were inseparable, just like me and mine.” 

Your nails sink into your cuticles and tears burn in your eyes, “I… I wanted to be. Close.” You whisper. “He wasn’t around like that, though.” 

She scribbles and solemnly nods, “Did he work often?” Your head bobs and droplets stream down your cheeks. 

“I didn’t think I’d care that he died… He was never around growing up, so… like, whatever.” You grumble lamely.

“What did losing him feel like?” 

The end of your mouth curls downward, the familiar searing you’ve grown to loathe, “Like… the world was burnin’.” 

“Elaborate.” She pries softly. 

Another bounce from your shoulders. You readjust in your seat. “I wasn’t even sad. Just…” You trail off, fingers twitching under your arm. 

“Angry. I was angry all the time.” You rush out quietly, face burning with shame. “Just like he was.” You pause when your breath shakes, “I wish I got some of my mom’s traits. My dad’n I are just alike.” You fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater. 

“… You’re not like him— “

“I am— “

“You’re not. You’re trying to put in effort to be better for the future. Could he have said the same?” She’s stern when she speaks.

You’re stumped. You wipe your tears harshly. For the first time, you're at a loss for words. 

WEEK TWO WITH DOCTOR BROWN. 

“Think about the first time you saw your dad lash out. You can elaborate on how you felt, how you reacted, how your environment changed… Anything you feel comfortable sharing.” Your eyes stay glued to your therapist’s couch as you recall the day. Every detail and foul verbiage he directed towards your mother resurfaces and falls at your sock-covered feet. 

It was the morning of your first day of second grade. Your mother spent the entire morning hot-combing your hair, bumping your ends, littering your locks that were bound to recoil in seconds in bobbles and clips. She could tell by your expression that you didn’t like it, but she completed your bright pink outfit with it’s not for you, it’s for me! Sit still!  She never failed to live vicariously through you; Every childhood moment she couldn’t live out was now yours. 

Your father wasn’t around much. He was a truck-driver, on a constant voyage to wherever he was instructed to go, hundreds to thousands of miles away from solace for months — sometimes years at a time. He missed birthdays, holidays, family reunions; There was always a missing space for him somewhere in your childhood home, whether it be his customized keychain that he forgot, shoes he didn’t pack, a hug he didn’t give. Proof of him was always scattered around somewhere, but he was a shadow. A blank memory. 

So, why were your cartoons interrupted by his booming voice in the kitchen? 

You remember turning the television down, only by a couple digits, your ears honing in on every word he screamed at your mother. You were so confused. Half of those words you’d never heard before. Why was he so mad this early in the morning? 

You knew it was serious when your mother retaliated just as loudly, the cracks and shrieks from her belts sounding alarms in your brain. Your mom’s in trouble! Help her! But how could you? You were defenseless against him. It felt like the day flew by as their aggression intensified, curses nearly shattering the glass of your backyard door before everything went quiet. 

But still, your feet carried you to peek behind the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen. Your attempts at being discreet were pointless, though. When you saw your mother pinned up against the counter by your father, tears streaming down her face as he spat with every whisper onto her cheek, you gasped. Your memory is washy after that, but you remember your mother wiping her tears and slapping that comforting grin on her face. You wish you didn’t remember how broken she sounded when she said alright, baby! Ready for school? Don’t wanna be late! 

You suffered through social studies, language arts, and math. Your mind wasn’t where it should’ve been; You couldn’t shake the fact that your mother could be hurt and she had no one to tell. You just prayed to yourself as your teacher spoke, hoping that your mom would be on time to pick you up at the end of the day. 

Your eyes travel over the teal incisions of thread on your therapist’s seat. You’re still not used to the sound of your own voice. “It’s… it’s a funny story…” You sound so weak. You retell what you can, all while following the tip of your therapist’s scribbling pen. 

Why did it have to be green? Why are the clicks deafening? 

“Ellie, holy fucking — shit, these look fucking incredible!” Yuki whispers, expression impressed as she snoops over the auburn-haired girl’s shoulder, inspecting the aerial shots she’d taken a few hours ago. Editing is a bitch. “I don’t know how you do it. You’re…” 

“A genius, I know,” Ellie says dryly, a soft grin hidden behind the hand that holds her head up. It’s almost eleven. “M’almost done— “

“Nope! Not happening!” Another voice exclaims from the black lounge chair on the opposite side of the room. “You’re not the one that has to lock up every goddamn night! I ain’t stayin’ here ‘til two again! You got two seconds to finish up before I drag you up outta here.” 

Yuki giggles at Saliyah’s scolding, and Ellie sighs. The pictures look almost perfect. Almost. They’re not there yet! All she needs is an hour… or three—

“What did I say! —“

“Alright, alright, fuck.” Ellie shakes her head before closing all her tabs, pulling her flash drive out of the PC before shutting it down. She stands from her rolling chair and snags her blazer from over the back of it, throwing it over her shoulders and grabbing her work bag, camera already securely inside. She shoves the drive in a random pocket before stretching. 

The two girls already have all of their belongings in hand, more than ready to clock the fuck out. Yuki eyes her slyly, sarcasm dripping from her tone, “Oh, wooow, she’s actually taking orders, now? Listening to instructions for the first time? —“

“Can you stop.” Ellie mutters as she follows the girls descending the stairs. “No!” They both say in unison. Ellie smiles. Does she really stay out that often? There’s no way she’s that stubborn. 

All three girls crack jokes as they vacant the building, ensuring all the lights and equipment are shut off and prepped for tomorrow. It’s an early day. 

“Alright, bitches!” Yuki screams into the darkness, bag swinging as her heels click-clack on the pavement. “I want you bright and bushy-tailed tomorrow! Busy day! No time to fuck arou— “ 

Saliyah yawns, eyes droopy, “Girl… fuck you.” Ellie cackles and rubs her tired eyes. She can’t wait to get these six hours in. And see her baby. Saliyah wraps her arms around Ellie’s neck, muttering see you tomorrow, stinker into her neck. Ellie hums and holds her before watching her get into her vehicle. 

Ellie does the same after both girls leave the parking lot, her head falling back onto the headrest, eyes shutting in exhaustion. Today was insane… Fuck, it was incredible. She's always accepted opportunities to take photos in nature. Landscapes are her prestige, but when she got the offer to take aerial shots of the ocean, she couldn’t say no. Just when she thought she’d never get on an aircraft out of fear…  

The shots were mystical, the monsoon winds carrying the waves in all directions as the foams ripple, a scene straight out of her dreams. The second she got off the helicopter, she got to editing. Staying in late to perfect her captures has become a terrible habit, but what can she say? She loves her job. Thank God her coworkers are as sweet as cherry pie and support her bad habit. Besides tonight, apparently. 

Days like this keep Ellie humbled… Most times. She deserves to boast every once in a while. She often thinks back on her college days, how out of touch chances like these seemed. The number of times she was brushed off by respected professionals because she lacked “necessary resources” was astronomical. But look at her now. She had everything she could ever want: a career she’s passionate about, healthy friendships, and the means to take care of her father. 

Well… she has most things. 

She sighs and starts her vehicle, the diamonds in her Rolex sparkling under the street lights beaming in from the window. The streets are calm. Not normally bustling like they would on a regular day. The clouds are coming in; Rain is due. She’s so excited. 

It’s a calm drive back to her small home. She pulls into the driveway and exits with all her supplies, unlocking and entering her place of peace. 

Meow! Meow! 

Ellie clicks her tongue at Pickle, “Hiii, mama. I’m home.” She drops her bag on the small couch near the front door, bending down to pick her up. “You’re heavy, fuck.” The baby purrs and nuzzles into her neck as they enter the kitchen. She sets her down on the counter and opens the fridge for water. There’s soft scuffling from behind her as she sips. 

Ellie turns to see Pickle playing with a pen, rolling it across granite. She swallows her last gulp before sighing, picking up the utensil, the one memory she kept of you. Your colorful fucking custom ballpoint pen. Pickle nibbles her fingers, trying to snatch it back to play with, but Ellie clicks it over and over. 

“Miss her? Yeah?” She whispers. Pickle licks her index. Ellie will never admit it, but she thinks about you whenever she sees her baby. Yours, too.

She hopes you’re alright.

“You said that going to his funeral was different from your mom’s. Do you mind elaborating?” 

You shrug and scoff. “Shouldn’t everybody feel sad when they parents die?” Dr. Brown mimics you, “Not at all. Every reaction to loss is different and not all reactions are symmetrical.” 

“I was angry.” Your statement is blunt and abrasive. 

“Expound.” 

“I wanted to dig him up and spit on him my damn self.” You say, sharp as razor blades. Brown hums, unfazed by your sudden aggression; What the hell do therapists write on those clipboards? “I just… Seein’ all these fuckers I didn’t know talk about how fuckin’… great he was and how missed he’ll be was fuckin’ infuriating. They don’t know shit about that man or the shit he’s done.” 

Sympathy washes over Dr. Brown’s pupils. “See, your temper is the reason you’re here. You’re not obligated to forgive anybody that wronged you, but…” She’s simultaneously stern and empathic, “You do not get to use those emotions to inflict negativity onto the people around you. You’re perpetuating the same harm you wanted to avoid in the first place.”  

You instantly know what she’s referring to and guilt radiates all the way down to your toes. Amaya… Oh, you miss her. Another good person caught in your violent crossfire. Your last conversation was vile, and you hate yourself every day for the things you said to the only person who unconditionally cared about your wellbeing. Tears brew in your ducts, but you blink them away. 

“I didn’t… know what to do…” You didn’t, so you screamed and shouted and told her to never call your fucking phone again. The last thing you berated was the final nail in the coffin for your relationship. You left me, you’d said over and over until the line went dead. You left me alone! I fucking needed you! 

“No one has the answers for these types of situations. Why we react the way that we do to traumatic events will always be a mystery.” She adjusts in her chair, leg crossing over the other. “What I do know is that… you’re fighting grief. You’re choosing not to experience it, and it’s making you lash out on people who don’t deserve it.” 

But how does one grieve the person that made their life… unlivable? Through rage. Rage in its purest form: unfiltered, erratic, sizzling. It’s unrelenting and unforgiving and holds no bounds, prepared to be released at any moment, no matter who’s present. Your father’s home has seen it all at this point: glass shattering on walls, screaming into the closet where all his clothes hang, punching the pillow he slept on every night. 

Everything was exactly where your father left it, and instead of crying, you relinquished hell on the home he left in your name. You’re still surprised it wasn’t engulfed in flames after his funeral. 

“I just…” Harsh sniffles from you, desperately wiping your tears with damp hoodie sleeves, “I don’t know what to do. Nothing feels… real anymore.” 

“You’re real, baby.” This is the most delicate Dr. Brown has ever sounded, tone hushed. “Your feelings are real, your pain is real, but so is everyone else’s. You have to remember that.” 

You’re listening so intently, “What I'd suggest…” You already know what she’s going to say, and you’re petrified. You sag into your seat. 

You owe those two girls an apology.

Flashes of green race across your memory. The meadows are back, and they’re haunting. 

“Three.” You whisper. 

“Hm?” 

“I owe…” A heavy exhale. “Three girls an apology.” 

OCTOBER, 2013 

Ellie’s officially fifteen. She’d give anything to be home right now. 

She was so happy before she left that morning. Her dad woke her up with a heaping stack of iced chocolate chip pancakes that were the size of her head and happy birthday candles. Laughter echoed through their household, following as they cascaded down the stairs to blast music. Neighbors be damned. Everything was perfect. Up until she was dressed and ready and in the car. 

Ellie’s dad held her hand the entire drive. He didn’t comment on her white knuckles as she gripped his digits when he kissed the back of her hand. It took her a second to exit the car when they arrived, so he said the usual. You got this, kiddo. The extra encouragement provided a boost, for sure. She was able to get to class on time. 

Every time a wad of paper or a sharpened pencil hits the back of her head, she regrets not begging her dad to let her stay home. She’s grown used to the snickers, the shoulder chucks in the hallway, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

English concludes and she’s silently packing when her bag gets yanked out of her hand. 

Missed you, stalker, A kid who Ellie doesn’t fucking remember snarks with a dark grin. Where’s that book you always have—

Tyler! The teacher’s voice booms, the class filling with oooh’s, That's enough. Give her stuff back now. 

C’mooon, I can’t talk to my girlfriend? The remaining students burst into laughter and Ellie’s face burns, swallowing the lump that’s forming in her throat. 

How about I call home? Tyler sucks his teeth at the threat while his friends laugh, dropping Ellie’s things on her desk with little care. She wastes no time to flee, shoving her earpods in and synching each trembling breath with the heavy percussion. 

Her dad comes to pick her up an hour later. 

-

-

A light tap on your shoulder tears your attention away from the lengthy equations on the board. Numbers and letters? Your fucking ass; Absolutely not!

You turn to Amaya, who’s smiling wide, shoving a folded note in your hand, rushing you to open it. Your brows crease as you face forward, unraveling the nest crevices and met with… hearts? Glitter? Pretty penmanship? No man wrote this, thank God. 

Hi. You’re really pretty and nice. Would you like to sit with me during lunch? 

Ceniyah 

… Ceniyah? … Thee Cece? The person you’ve been obsessed with since middle school? What the fuck is going on! 

You turn back to Amaya who’s giggling into her palm, catching glimpses of a shy Ceniyah, who keeps her head down, her beaded braids shielding her face. Your face burns and you jerk back forward. It’s not a fucking prank, what the fuck, what the fuck—

Class drags like a bitch, but the bell finally rings, and everyone hustles, shoving books in their bags, running to the cafeteria. You refuse to move, though. Your iron is low and the person you’re in love with asked you to crunch on celery sticks with her. Alone. You're bound to pass out the second you breathe wrong. 

Hi.

You nearly fly out of your seat at her soft tone. She sounds like an angel. You’re going to die. You jump out of your chair and… take in the beauty that she is. She smells like heaven and her skin is perfect, not a blemish in sight. You hope she can’t see your acne scars… and she’s shorter than you. Are minors allowed to get married? 

H-Hey, You hold up the pink piece of construction paper, I, uh, got your note… It’s beautiful. Her smile shines brighter than the sun. She shakes her head and the chains locked on her clips tinker like fairies. 

Are you kiddin’ me! That mural you helped create was crazy. That was beautiful. 

I love you. 

Your eyes go wide. Did you say that? You don’t think you said that… Her smile turns confused and you realize you said that. You almost stab yourself with your pencil. I mean, like, I love how you appreciate art! Like, not m-many people… do that, and stuff…

She smirks and your heart squeezes with delight, And stuff? She inquires with an arched brow. 

I’d appreciate it if you ladies headed to lunch so I can enjoy mine. Your teacher interrupts, And the next note that gets passed earns a detention. 

A soft, floral-scented hand closes around your wrist, over your beaded bracelets and charms. You grab your bag with your last remaining strength and follow her like a puppy, her flowy skirt brushing against the bottoms of your jean-clad legs. 

Best… day… ever. 

PRESENT 

Ellie needs to start doing finger stretches. Her hands are starting to hurt every time she clocks out. 

She’s sitting at her desk, re-editing the infant photos she took earlier today. The twin girls from earlier were absolute angels, smiling and cooing up at the camera behind their matching pink pacifiers. She's never thought about having children… ever, but it might not be so bad—

Meow! Meow, meow! MeowMEOW—

… Nevermind. Kids are not for her. She can barely get this one to act right. The pictures are cute, though. 

“What’s the matter, mama?” She coos down at a doe-eyed kit-kat. “Hungies?” Pickle jumps up and into her lap, staring at the bright screen that displays Ellie’s editing software. Ellie smirks down at her, “What, you wanna try?” 

Pickle blinks up at her. No thoughts, just kibble. 

She decides to save her progress on the photos and give her munchkin some love. The few minutes of head pats and runs are cut short when she gets a pop-up from her email. She pays it no mind at first, but she zeroes in on the subject with furrowed brows. It simply reads hi… an overdue apology. Ellie blinks a couple times before suspecting spam… But who the fuck names a spam email something that cryptic? What the fuck? 

Ellie opens it… and her body goes numb as her eyes follow each word. 

hi, ellie. i’m not sure how to start this off, but i hope it’s decent enough to sit through. i apologize in advance. 

you probably don’t remember me, but we had statistics and used to live together in college. it was only for two months (i think, kind of a blur) but… yeah. i hope it semi-kinda rings a bell. hi again.

this is a very random time to reach out, and i understand any confusion, but i just wanted to apologize for everything. i was terrible to you. i'd never thought i'd become a judgmental person, but i did. i mocked you, i spoke behind your back, and probably ruined your last year of school, and i carry that regret with me everywhere i go. i’m not sure if i'll ever be able to express my remorse properly. 

i’m trying to do better. i want to do better, but i can’t unless i express it. 

you never have to talk to me again, and i understand if you don’t, but if you ever want to have a conversation with me, i’d be more than willing to come wherever you are to do so. or we can exchange numbers if it’s less of a hassle. i see how busy you are. 

thank you if you took out any time to read this jumbled mess of thoughts. i’m very nervous. i hope you continue to live beautifully. 

sincerely, someone trying to start fresh. 

(p.s. i swear i'm not a stalker. you’re really popping on instagram. congratulations on everything.) 

Ellie wastes no time and unplugs her entire PC, the screen going black. Her heart is racing and water surfaces above her pupils. Pickle purrs in her arms as she backs her rolling chair from under the desk and scurries into her bedroom. She sets the kitty down on her bed and clutches her chest. She forgets to count, forgets to breathe as detailed images of you scatter in her head. 

You… what the fuck.

Ellie feels her hands start to shake, so she squeezes them in a fist as she paces. Her gasps are choked and she’s spiraling into panic; She can’t unsee your teary, brown eyes, how you tried to mask your sadness when she stated she was leaving. She was able to convince herself that she’d never see you again, and it took her so long to be okay with that. She’s grown to be okay without your presence.

The burnt trail she left behind has reignited again. She's sinking, drowning, just like she did years ago. 

WEEK FIVE WITH DR. BROWN

“How do you feel now? Be honest.” 

“… Still shitty… but alright, I guess.” You’re hoarse when you speak. 

“Elaborate. What does alright mean for you?” 

You pick at your fingers, “I’m not… I don’t wanna, like, kill myself… if that’s what you’re asking. The ball’s in their court now, I guess. I’m… I’m just alright.” Your shoulders bounce in a shrug. 

“Has anyone answered?” Your head shakes in denial. “Don’t let that jeopardize your progress. However they react to you contacting them is not on you anymore. They either accept it or they don’t, and they’re valid in both options.” 

Dr. Brown pauses and eyes you skeptically, “What?” You ask. 

She shrugs, “One person isn’t on your making amends list.” 

Your reply is immediate, “Probably for a reason.” 

“Do you remember what you told me during our first meeting?” 

Irritation boils under your skin. “I see where you’re taking this conversation and I’m not messin’ wit’ it… Respectfully. Next topic, please.” 

Her hands raise in surrender, “Ay’, I’m not here to make you do diddly-squat. Merely providing perspective.” 

“Right.” 

“You did beat that girl to a pulp, though. I will say— “

“It’s what she deserved.” You say flatly. “She… humiliated me, and when her bitch left, she tried to come back to me. Get me pregnant— “

“Chile, I’m not tryna hear all that— “

You scoff and fall back in your seat, cushions and pillows molding with the curve of your spine. Dina bringing her happy ass to your father’s home after his death was one of the most infuriating experiences of your entire goddamn life. The second you opened the door, you were met with wildfire and permanently scarred. The least you could do is give her a fucking black eye. 

What you did after that… you’ll never regret. Ever. She can blast you on Twitter all she wants; She’s dead to you. 

Dr. Brown sips on her black tea with a pointed stare, “Yes, ma’am?” You say sarcastically. 

“Watch that tone,” That look in her eye… she meant that. You’ll be quiet. “She was wrong for what she did, but you ain’t innocent.” 

“I’m sorry, but I disagree. That one… she can choke. I don’t care.” Dr. Brown is disappointed by your answer, but frankly, you don’t care. That ship sailed and sank like the goddamn Titanic. 

She seems disappointed in your answer, but she lets it go. “… Alright, then.” 

On the brink of a heart attack perfectly explains how Ellie’s been feeling for the past week. The number of times she’s reread your fucking email is genuinely embarrassing, but she’s weighing her options: she either blocks you or accepts your offer. She's never been so conflicted in her life. She desperately needs a fucking break. 

She never takes Saliyah and Yuki up on their offers to turn up on Friday nights, but her rampant emotions backed her into a corner… and now she’s tipsy on the dancefloor of some rinky-dink club. One night of release wouldn’t hurt. 

Ellie really wishes she had a grilled cheese. They’re quite delicious… Probably not the thoughts she should be having with a hot older woman pushing back on her to fucking T-Pain, but she’s hungry! Liquor gives her the appetite of a fucking rhinosaurous, what can she say! 

Saliyah and Yuki are handling business for her, though, giving the lady’s ass very encouraging slaps every time their hips connect. Ellie probably looks like a fucking dumbass as she pumps her fist in the air like an old man, but she can’t remember the last time she partied. Sue her! 

It’s not until the woman stands upright, her sweaty, nearly bare back pressed against Ellie’s button-up, an arm coming up to loop around her neck, slightly shifting her bow tie that Ellie freezes, her fists clenching even tighter in the air. Her core gives a sharp squeeze when she feels sticky, glossed lips imprint on her throat. Her eyes bulge as she frantically searches for guidance from her friends, but they’re no fucking help, as usual! What the hell is miming sex and eating pussy going to do for her? She can barely breathe. 

Her friends shoot her finger guns in encouragement before heading back to the bar. A tongue darts out to lap up her anxiety-induced sweat, and her body tremors, her hands untwisting to land on the girl’s jean covered hips for leverage. She feels teeth beam on her neck and her entire body flushes. 

“You’re adorable!” Ellie hears her scream over the blasting music. Her tongue jumbles as she searches for a reply, but nothing leaves. She just drops her head onto the woman’s shoulder… and nearly flat lines when she eyes the cleavage sitting taut in her halter top. Her heart’s pulses synch with the ones from her clit when the woman giggles. Ellie’s ninety-five-point six percent sure that her nipples are poking through her shirt. 

Her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek when the woman spins to face her, chest to chest, noses almost touching. The woman’s gaze drops to her neck, cunning as a fox as she undoes the first button of her shirt before unraveling the loop of her bow tie. She leans in, wafts of cinnamon flooding Ellie’s nostrils. 

“Come to the bathroom with me?” Ellie’s nodding before the lady can conclude the purr in her ear. Her hand gets snagged and she’s being dragged through the hot crowd, all the way to the back of the club and shoved into the giant restroom. She finally takes in the goddess in front of her: dark hair, plump lips, pretty lashes. The wrinkles by her eyes and laugh lines are sending dopamine alarms in her brain. 

Ellie receives one gentle kiss that makes her hips

grind forward before she hears, “You ever been tied up?” The raven-haired woman mumbles against her mouth. She whines, cheeks burning, “N-No,” she whispers. 

Her perfect teeth shine, “You wanna be?” 

Does she? “I — yeah, I guess?” 

“Put your wrists together,” she hums and Ellie does. Her own bow tie gets looped and twisted around her nimble hands. The woman drops to her knees in front of the trembling girl, massaging her thighs over her jeans, planting kisses all over them, “You gotta name, honey?” 

“Ellie… M’Ellie…” The woman’s hands creep up to unbutton her jeans, the soft hiss of the zipper, “What’s yours?” She only receives a shrug. “Whatever you want it to be.” Her jeans are yanked down seconds later, her… fucking Cartoon Network boxers drenched all the way through. The woman giggles and calls Ellie a cutie pie and her clit jumps. 

Her manicured nails hook under the band of Ellie’s boxers, slowly inching them down until her soft, sticky hairs are on display and her boxers are around her knees, “Gonna let me eat this pussy out, angel?” 

Ellie’s vision whites out. Only for a second, “Y-Yes, ma’am…”

Ellie’s sopping lips and pulled apart, her red, throbbing clit on display for the fucking witch in front of her. “You’re so fuckin’ cute. Anybody ever play with this pretty cunt?” Reality crashes down on her like a boulder as images of you touching her, kissing her flash before her eyes. Her jaw slacks as her words flurry. 

“Just — fuck, just one time.” 

“Yeah?” She coos, massaging gentle circles on her clit, “I'm your lucky second?” Ellie nods frantically. Her knees buckle when a sharp slap lands on her pussy, “Ffuck—“ The strokes on her clit are punishing, fast and non-stopping, the woman’s teeth gritted when she asks, “Steppin’ out on your girl, huh?” 

Ellie moans around her denial while her cheeks glow, “N— agh, s-shit, wasn’t m’girl—“

“Yeah? She touch you like me?” The woman snickers, and Ellie burns red. She’s already so close and she can’t fucking think, “Think m’cummin’—“ Ellie slurs, her tongue thick in her mouth as her walls squeeze down, desperately trying to pull something, anything in as deep as possible. 

“Can feel it. Tell me when.” But Ellie couldn’t. Her orgasm crashes into her like a fucking truck and her body falls forward, legs trembling as it wracks through her in harsh waves. The thighs that try to close are forced open, sharp stings radiating off her skin from the nails that pierce them. Strong suctions attack Ellie’s clit and she sobs, practically riding the woman’s face. Vibrations from satisfied hums stimulate her further, and she swears she’s going to pass out. 

The pleasure builds all over again and her eyes squeeze shut, her hips thrusting forward and into the woman’s mouth. Her optics cycle into her skull when the space right below her clit gets stimulated just right and she rides that edge all over again, but this time, it’s stronger. The woman’s groaning in her pussy like she’s starving, and Ellie can barely garble her warning of another orgasm. 

She squeaks when a gentle finger slides between her walls and she wishes it felt like yours did. Ellie’s bound hands entangle in the soft locks and pull, pushing her head any which way to guide her where she needs. She doesn’t register that she’s whining your name until the woman asks, “Tha’s your girl?” Right on her pussy, and Ellie tips.

She’s so loud when she explodes all over this stranger’s face, wetness coating her inner thighs, dripping all the way down to the bottoms locked around her ankles. You take refuge in the nasty side of her brain as she envisions you between her legs, you making her feel this good. Something about the way you touch her… She thinks it's impossible to replicate till this day. 

When Ellie comes down, she falls against the door, relishing in the steady kitten licks on her twitching bud. One last gentle kiss, and the woman separates from the mess between Ellie’s thighs, chest wet with her juices. 

“Good, honey?” 

Ellie blinks like she’s risen from the dead, short hair clinging to her forehead. She shoots the woman two thumbs up and she chuckles, untying Ellie’s hands and helping her back onto her feet. The woman helps her redress after she cleans herself up, and Ellie’s nose twitches when her own stickiness latches onto her clothes. Her arms fall back to her sides when her belt gets secured. 

She’s winded when she finally speaks, “Um… thanks…” How the fuck does Ellie say goodbye to someone who sucked her soul out?

“No problem…” The woman’s warm hands are soft as they push away damp strands from Ellie’s forehead. The freckled girl nearly purrs. Call her Pickle at this point. 

Ellie steps away from the door so that the fucking seductress can exit. The woman backs away and unlocks the door with a gentle smile. “You should text her.” 

Ellie’s stomach churns. “… What.” 

“The girl that’s not your girl.” That’s the last thing she says before stepping out. Ellie’s heart plummets when her eyes lock with Saliyah’s, then Yuki’s. Her friends gawk at her disheveled appearance, lipstick stains littered all over her button up. Ellie’s not nearly as embarrassed as she should be; All she can think about is you. 

“I think I’m in trouble.” Ellie states mindlessly.

“Doesn’t look like it.” Yuki snickers and pulls Ellie out of the bathroom. She hides her face when she’s met with the long line of people desperately needing to piss. 

WEEK SEVEN WITH DOCTOR BROWN.

“You look bright.” 

You feel brighter. Just a little bit. You’ve finally gotten your locs retwisted. 

“Amaya texted me back.” Dr. Brown seems impressed at your statement, happy for you. A small smile makes its way onto your face. 

“Yeah? What’d Ms. Producer say?” 

“She, um… She wants to have dinner.” 

“Oh? And what’d you say?” 

“I said of course and then sobbed until I got here.” Dr. Brown chuckles, “When’s the big meal?” 

“In two days. I got a hotel near where she’s at, so… Yeah. Probably won’t see me for a little.” 

“Good for you, honey.” She says proudly, “Heard from any others?” Your head shakes. It’s not surprising that Abby and Ellie haven’t reached out to you. They don’t owe you any closure, even though it took you a while to accept your karma. 

“Progress is progress, nonetheless.” Her tone reverts back to stern, “Remember… when you see that girl, don’t expect anything to come from it. She’s going out of her way to speak with you, not the other way around.” 

Your head bows shamefully. You're incredibly nervous to see your best friend… if you deserve to call her that anymore. Anxiety isn’t foreign to you, but you’re anticipating the worst for your meeting. You’d give anything to mend your relationship with Amaya, but how’re you going to be able to overcome the guilt of abandoning her?

You can’t remember the last time you went to the campus coffee shop. 

When Amaya sent you her new address in the middle of your old college city, you sobbed for half an hour. You’re not sure why considering the entirety of your graduating class is gone (hopefully in hell); It’s a mix of emotions coming back here. The baristas that used to work here have been replaced with new bushy-tailed freshmen with under eye bags. The coffee isn’t the best, but it’s oddly nostalgic. You feel fucking old just looking at their bright customer service smiles.

Your attention gets snagged away from your steaming cup when a sharp gasp echoes from behind you, nearly spilling your drink all over your flannel when someone calls your name. Anxiety spikes in your gut when you see… 

Who is that? 

“Oh my goodness! Sweetheart!” An older woman with gray hair and a cardigan places her hand on your shoulder and your eyes bulge out of your skull. “It’s so good to see you!”

What the fuck is going on? “You... You, too, uh… ma’am!” You put on the most believable smile you can. Is your memory really this fucking bad?

“Students don’t usually stick around after this long! Our major was pretty small, you know how it is.” Major… Students… Graphic design… Professor! Your memory clicks but her name doesn’t. What the fuck is this woman’s name! You feel like a cunt all over again! 

“I’d love to catch up if you’re sticking around!” 

“Um… yeah, of course.” Her smile is bright when she enters the line. Relief floods through you when she gets to the service counter and one of the baristas says good morning, Professor Meyers! 

You silently thank the Lord. 

-

-

“What brings you back to town, honey!” Professor Meyers asks excitedly. 

“Um… just missin’ school, I guess.” You lie. Fuck this school. 

She swallows her sip of tea before pausing, “Wow. First time I heard that. I didn’t see you at graduation!” 

Your chest concaves and your face burns, “I, uh. I didn’t graduate. I dropped out.” Professor Meyers' expression drops, pity written all over her face. 

“Wh— Why?” 

You shut down her interrogation, “I just… stuff happened. I couldn’t handle everything all at once.” Her eyes sadden and she places a comforting hand on top of yours. 

“I’m so sorry, honey. Whatever it was… I hope it’s okay, now.” 

“Getting through it.” You shrug, feigning nonchalance. The air is suddenly suffocating. 

“Y’know… if you’re interested…” Professor Meyers’ tone is suggesting. Your brow quirks at the woman plotting in front of you. 

“Some of the art profs are always looking for some extra help for the introductory courses. Your rough drafts were always pretty spectacular.” 

Your body burns. “Thank you.” 

She smiles and reaches into her bag in the other chair, pulling out a small card and handing it to you. “This is my contact information. I can set you an interview with Professor Ronson if you’d wanna join the little alumni support team.” 

You accept her card, “But I’m not… I didn’t graduate— “

“Oh, hush now! If you go to college, you’re an alumni! These exclusive rules are outdated!” Professor Meyers stands with her bag and tea. “I gotta run, but please consider it! It could be a great marketing opportunity for you!” 

You're left to simmer in your thoughts as she rushes out of the cafe. You didn’t even have the chance to tell her that you haven’t touched a canvas since your father’s funeral. 

You waltz into the upscale restaurant with tied lungs. Prepping an outfit for tonight was a hassle; You were forced to rummage through your father’s closet for suitable attire. You can’t remember the last time you made a purchase for yourself. 

You feel out of place standing here with the… upper class. They’re dressed to the nines and it’s incredibly intimidating. Your eyes cast downward to your wrinkly shirt and blazer; Why didn’t you bring a fucking iron? 

“How can I help you, miss?”

Your eyes bulge when they lock with the host’s and gut churns with discomfort. Your legs wobble closer to the counter, “I— there’s… reservation…”

The host stares at you with utter confusion, “Oh, sure! What’s the name?” 

“Um… Amaya— “

“Ms. Robinson?” The host’s eyes fill with glitter, “Oh my gosh, when I saw her walk in earlier, I was like, no way she’s actually here. This is crazy! But it was really her! I couldn’t believe— “

Another host interjects, “My apologies, ma’am! She’s a bit, uh, excited. Your table is right this way.” The host begins walking, and your feet move on autopilot, “Would you like a menu?” 

“No. I’m good, thanks.” You won’t be able to keep anything down anyway. 

You move through bustling walkways, ears filled with bouts of obnoxious laughter and corny jokes with each table you pass. 

Your heart stutters in your chest when you see the isolated leather and rosewood booth where Amaya sits, her back to you. There’s two glasses and a bottle of… something on the table. 

“Ms. Robinson! Your guest is here!” 

Amaya, filled glass in hand, cranes her neck and meets your flitting gaze. Her eyes are stagnant, unmoving, and your nerves wrack. She looks fucking immaculate with the slit in her black dress, smokey makeup, heeled

shoes. She’s dressed down for a fucking funeral. Yours. 

You’re actually not ready to see her. You’re not ready at all. 

-

-

“You want a glass?” 

Amaya’s tone is cold. Colder than the dripping neck of the bottle right in front of you. “N-No thank you.” 

She scoffs laughter around the rim, “Shocking.” You scramble for a reply, anything to say to the woman oozing impatience in front of you. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. She sets her glass down with an unsteady clink. 

“You said that already.” She states, brown eyes sharp. “Why are you?” 

You scratch at your ear, trying to mask the tremors in your fingertips, “Because… I — I wasn’t…” 

“I don’t hear from you for months,” She spits, “And then I get a phone call from my drunk best friend screamin’ at me, tellin’ me that I fucking left her to grieve by herself… because I’m selfish and money hungry… Right?”

Angry tears sizzle in Amaya’s eyes as she continues, “And I still come and visit you… only to get a door slammed in my fuckin’ face.” 

You’re completely frozen; You can barely look her in the eye. Your hands are clenched together under the table, nausea creeping up your throat. “I… there’s no excuse for what I did— “

Amaya’s eyes are void, “Why did you do it.” 

“I don’t know how to explain it,” you rush out, desperate. You’re losing her, “He — I was just — I couldn’t control myself and I screamed and yelled and blamed everyone for what happened. I was just so mad and I couldn’t stop— “

“Abby called me two days ago.” 

You gasp, “S-She did—?” 

“She told me she hated you.” Amaya says plainly. The remaining shards of your heart dissipate like dust, leaving your mouth when you whimper, “O-Okay.” Tears stream down your cheeks and neck, harsh sniffles filling the small corner of the restaurant. “She hasn’t, um… never mind.” That’s why she hasn’t reached out, you suppose. Well deserved. 

“I don't… hate you, you know that, right?” 

You sob, palms in your eyes, “S’okay if you do. I deserve it.” 

She shrugs, “I don’t. I’m just very disappointed in you.” You nod in agreement, in understanding. You accept that this is probably the last time you’ll ever see someone you considered a sister. 

“I’m so sorry, May— “

“M’gonna head out. I’m,” She wipes a tear and grabs her bag, throwing a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “I… I don’t hate you.” You cry as you watch Amaya gather herself, stand, and leave without another word. You heave and attempt to dry your face with the fresh napkin but they won’t stop flowing. 

It’s difficult, accepting that you’re undeserving. That you’ve dug yourself into a hole that you can’t escape. It’s dark and cold and you’re desperate for comfort but it never comes because you chased it all away. You eye the tall bottle that sweats; Very tempting, but you leave it where it stands. The blame for your downfall is yours to take; The only reward you can receive now is from your upkeep. To dig yourself out from beneath the maggot-infested dirt. To resurface and recover what you can. 

You’re unsure how long you sit here crying. Devastation sets hard in your tummy when you stand to leave the restaurant, ignoring the judgmental stares from the annoying, old fuckers that wouldn’t stop glaring at you. 

The air outside is fresh and soothing as you walk, right past your parked car. Past the young people mingling and taking pictures. Past the girl doing graffiti on the old building across the street. Something beats in your chest when you eye her spray paint cans, brushes in her hand, the bright colors all over her bare arms. Her passion is evident, even from a distance, and you miss that. That feeling that takes over when you create something that no one else can replicate. Her style is unique to her just like yours is to you. 

Color sparks in your soul for the first time in a year, and you know what you have to do tomorrow morning. 

taggiesss yasss n slayyyy @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 13

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, drinking, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to pregnancy, swearing, references to the hospital, references to an accident

South Trail, Seresin Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Now

Charlie felt a chill run down her spine as their trail group walked steadily down the beaten dirt path. Dad was in the lead, as per usual, and Abby had beaten her in a game of rock, paper, scissors in order to come second. That left Charlie third, close enough to Savannah to hear every muttered complaint and snap of her camera as she took selfies.

“Jakey!!!” Savannah cried out as they emerged from the trees onto a lookout, the ledge watching over a field full of wildflowers. “We need to stop! I need photos of this for my followers!”

Charlie stifled a giggle as she saw her dad’s head slump forwards. This was the fifth time Savannah had whined about needed a photo opportunity since they had left the ranch, approximately five hours ago.

“Savannah, I—”

“This is the last one, I promise!” she squealed, clumsily pulling her horse to a stop and sliding down her side until her suede boots touched the ground. She practically threw her phone to Jake and went to stand on the edge of the cliff.

Jake grunted as he neatly dismounted and patted Firewall on the flank. “It has to be the last one or we won’t make it to the campground before nightfall.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever,” Savannah chirped as she struck pose after pose.

Charlie and Abby both dismounted and moved off the trail to stand in the shade of the trees.

“It would be mean to scare her and hope that she falls, right?” Charlie muttered under her breath.

“Charlie!” Abby let out a scandalized gasp. “She may be awful, but we can’t wish death upon her…though I would be lying if I said that the same thought hadn’t occurred to me as well.”

Charlie slumped against the tree, watching the horses drag their reins on the ground as they stood on the trail, waiting for their riders to be done. “She’s just…the worst.”

“I know. Why would Mum insist that she come with us instead?”

“She said that she wanted Savannah to have a chance to get to know us.”

Charlie smirked. “Alright then. Let’s let her get to know us. Then maybe she’ll wish she had never met us.”

“We’re not that awful,” Abby rolled her eyes.

“I know that, and you know that, but Savannah doesn’t know that. So, let’s make her think we’re the worst. Then she won’t want to marry Dad because it would mean having to spend time with us.”

Abby grinned, her eyes trained on a spot on the ground. “I think I know exactly how to start.”

Crouching to the ground, Abby scooped up a tiny chipmunk from where it was nestled in the roots of a tree.

“Hey buddy…” she whispered. “I bet you want to see what’s in our saddlebags.”

Charlie covered her mouth to muffle the sound of her giggles as they approached Angel.

“Do it now! Savannah’s got her back to us!”

Quiet as a mouse, Abby slid open the saddlebag and slipped the chipmunk inside. “And now we wait.”

Around noon, Buttercup wandered into the kitchen from the guest bedroom. She hadn’t been lying about having to work. Her deadline was rapidly approaching, and she had been struggling quite a bit with writer’s block, so she had taken advantage of the silence of the ranch house and the beauty of the view and spent the morning writing her heart out. Twenty pages later, and her groove had been interrupted by the grumble of her stomach. So, she saved her work and, slowly as to admire the pictures and paintings on the walls of her ex-husband’s home, she wandered out of her writing cave and into the kitchen, where she was faced with a sweaty Rooster.

“Oh…hey.”

He grunted at her as he dug through the fridge. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“Technically, I’m in your way, since this is your home so…don’t worry about it.” All she received in return was another grunt, and she sighed. “I know you’re mad at me. I know you were against our divorce since the beginning, I know you hated the custody arrangement, and I know you blame me for moving to a different continent, but Rooster…” she sniffled. “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of them for me, when I wasn’t here…when I wasn’t strong enough to do it myself.”

She watched as Rooster sighed, his head hanging between his shoulders before he slammed the fridge door shut and turned towards her.

“Listen, it isn’t your fault. You were sick. I remember my mom talking about how she got sick after havin’ me, and…and shit, Buttercup, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. And it didn’t help that we kept getting deployed. You were goin’ through it and none of us could see it. I know you fought like hell, and so does he. I just—”

“You know what its like to not have a dad around, so you wish things had been different for Abby. And you know what its like to not have a mom around, so you wish things had been different for Charlie. Right?”

He blinked at her. “Get your ass outta my head.”

She chuckled before the mood settled around them, still slightly somber.

“I should’ve been able to handle it,” she whispered, and Rooster sighed, leaning back against the fridge.

“Hangman should’ve been able to handle it too,” he shrugged. “I know I was pissed off at you for putting yourself first, and it wasn’t fair. I was more worried about how the divorce would affect the team dynamic, instead of worrying about how the divorce would affect you. But he screwed up too. He should’ve put you first, not the team. That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Buttercup blinked up at him and he shrugged. “I started going to therapy after a bar fight when Charlie was like 2. Court mandated, but it helped. I let a lot of shit go.”

“Good for you,” she smiled. “I am grateful that they had you and Javy to lean on, you know. I’m not just trying to get back on your good side.”

“I know,” he shrugged and turned his back to her. “What do you want for lunch? I could hear your stomach grumbling from my room.”

She grinned and sat at the counter. “I imagine asking you for a salad wouldn’t fly?”

He scoffed without turning his back. “We eat healthy in this house, but we don’t eat rabbit food. What do you really want for lunch?”

She giggled. “What about taco salad?”

He turned and pointed at her. “Now that’s a damn good idea.”

It couldn’t have gone better if they had trained the chipmunk themselves. They had remounted and strolled along the trail for another fifteen minutes before Savannah started pawing at the saddlebag, looking for her oversized, bright pink water bottle. She was able to pry open the clasp of the bag and stick her hand inside. And then it happened…

The chipmunk launched into action, racing up her arm before Savannah could even realize what was happening and landed on her shoulder. Savannah freaked out, screaming and shaking her arm to try to dislodge it. Sweet Angel picked up on her rider’s anxious movements and started trotting down the trail, shaking her head this way and that.

Charlie and Abby watched from the rear as the chipmunk disappeared under the hem of Savannah’s designer t-shirt, Savannah screaming as the rodent searched for an escape. Angel reared up and Savannah clung to her neck. Both girls turned their heads to hide their giggles as their dad scooped the reins out of Savannah’s hands and gently pulled Angel back to the ground, soothing her in a calm voice. The chipmunk finally found an escape through the arm of her flannel, and leapt from Angel’s back to a nearby tree.

“Oh my goodness, Savannah!” Abby called, urging her horse forward. “Are you alright?”

“That was crazy!” Charlie gasped, hiding her laughter behind her hand.

She glared suspiciously at them but said, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Jake tied Angel’s reins to Firewall’s saddle and turned back to look at them. “We’re going to head to the campground now, okay, Charlie?”

Both girls gave him a thumbs up and he rolled his eyes. When he turned back to face forward, they leaned over and high-fived each other. Neither the chipmunk nor Angel had been hurt, but Savannah screams had been absolutely hilarious. Perhaps their dad suspected them (he knew enough about the great outdoors to know that a chipmunk wouldn’t just materialize inside a closed saddlebag), but perhaps their little prank had allowed their father to see a different side of Savannah.

Lunch with Rooster had been good. The taco salad he had whipped up had been absolutely delicious, the ground beef perfectly spiced, and the spinach base had been simple but brilliant. More than that though had been their conversation. He had filled her in on so much of Charlie’s life (and Jake’s life as well, since it was so tightly woven with Charlie’s). She had always known that Jake would be a brilliant father, but some of the stories that Rooster had shared with her had her torn between laughter and tears. The antics her husband and her youngest daughter had gotten up to were bittersweet to hear about. In her mind’s eye, she could see them happening. She could see Jake flying toddler Charlie over his head, could hear her phantom cries as he gathered her 8-year-old body in his arms and carried her to the car, her arm bent at a painful angle.

As she strolled along the gravel path towards the dude cabins, she could practically see the phantom figures of her family as they lived and grew here. Knowing she had missed so much of Charlie’s life here, she regretted her decision to stay behind on the trail ride, but she hoped that Savannah would be able to make a better impression on her daughters than she had made on her.

“Honestly…” she muttered as she approached Cabin 1, where her brother and Natasha were staying. “What kind of woman doesn’t want to write her own wedding vows?” She sighed and climbed up the few stairs to the porch. “And what kind of sadistic bullshit is it to ask your future husband’s ex-wife to write the vows for you?”

She shook off the question as she knocked on the door. It had obviously been some sort of territorial claim from Savannah, trying to show Buttercup that he was hers now, but Buttercup had no doubt about that. She’d hurt Jake too badly for things to ever go back to the simple, fun, and loving way it had been before.

Natasha threw open the door and groaned. “Thank god it’s you.”

She chuckled and entered the cozy, modern cabin. “Who did you think it was?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and collapsed onto the comfy leather couch. “Javy. He keeps trying to come and talk to me.” Her friend shuddered dramatically.

Buttercup considered her carefully as she lowered onto the other side of the couch. “What’s the deal with you two? I thought Jake was the one you hated.”

Nat sighed and buried the scarred side of her face in the couch. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Buttercup took the pillow from behind her and whacked her friend with it. “C’mon! You’re acting like he killed your dog or something!”

Nat snatched the pillow and tossed it back at her. “Why’re you being so pushy, bitch?”

“Because you and Javy have been at each other’s throats since we got here, and I had to kick you out of dinner last night before either of you said or did something inappropriate in front of my children. And I hated doing that.”

Natasha let out a low whine as she tried to bury herself deeper in the couch. “Sorry…I promise I won’t call him a self-important bastard in front of your children.”

Buttercup barked a laugh and cuddled down into her seat. “But why would you call him that? It’s so weird! I honestly thought you two were into each other back in the day.” Natasha shifted so that her back was towards her friend, and Buttercup read it all in the tense line of her back. “Oh my god, you were into him!”

“Shut up…” Natasha grumbled. “He was into me too.”

“Were you two hooking up?”

Natasha rolled to look at her again. “Yeah. For a couple of months. Whenever we were both at Top Gun.”

Buttercup squealed and crawled across the couch so that she was right next to Natasha. “I knew it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Natasha grumbled, pushing her off.

“So, what happened? Bad breakup? You act like you want to kill him.”

Natasha groaned. “No, it wasn’t a bad breakup. It wasn’t a real relationship.”

“Did he want it to be?”

Natasha buried her head in the pillow. “Yeah…he wanted to make it official after that last deployment. We fought about it a lot. I didn’t want to risk it because…” Natasha paused and looked guiltily over at her.

“Because?” Buttercup prompted gently, having a sneaking suspicion that she knew where this was going.

“Because I saw how messed up you were after the divorce,” Natasha admitted. “Our jobs are–were–risky enough without being in a relationship. And if our relationship fell apart the way yours and Jake’s did?” She sighed. “I told him no, but he wouldn’t let it go. Then there was the crash, and he came to visit me in the hospital and…” Natasha’s fingers clenched into fists. “He told me he would ‘take care of me’. That he felt like it was time to retire and that he would stay with me and that it would all be okay.”

“And that’s…bad?” Buttercup leaned back, confused. “He cared and wanted to help you? Why is that a bad thing?”

Natasha shuddered. “I couldn’t stand him looking at me with all that pity. And besides, why did he retire? He had the best job in the whole damn world and he willingly gave it up? Are you kidding me? They all gave it up! I mean, okay, Bob makes sense because he wanted to help you but why the hell would the rest of them give it up? Fucking idiots.”

Buttercup bit her lip. A decade of living with the other woman told her that trying to talk to Natasha when she was this fired up would be like trying to draw blood from a stone. So instead, she said, “Where is Bob, anyway?”

Natasha shrugged. “He got a phone call and went for a walk.”

“What is up with him and these phone calls?” Buttercup mused as she folded her legs beneath her.

“No clue. But what is with you deciding to stay back and let Cowgirl Barbie go on the trail ride with your girls and your man?”

Buttercup grumbled at her. “He’s not my man, and you know it.”

“Does he know that?”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “Of course he does! He’s marrying Savannah, remember?”

Nat rolled her eyes and rolled off the couch before padding into the kitchen. “Of course I remember. That’s why I’m going to get wine. We’re going to need it.”

By the time they reached the campground, Abby was half convinced that Savannah had never been on a horse before. Even though she kept telling stories about her championship barrel racer back on her own ranch, poor Angel kept tossing her head at the confusing signals that her rider kept giving her. Charlie was fully confused. She’d done barrel racing before and the way Savannah was describing it, she knew she had never done it in her life. Her stories about shopping, drinking wine, and winning Miss Texas however, Charlie completely believed. No one could sound so excited about boring adult things if they hadn’t actually done them.

Luckily, they wouldn’t have to share a tent with her. That had been a stipulation of her joining them. Her own tent. Not even shared with their father, just her. Luckily, Jake had packed a hammock that he had already strung up between two sturdy trees for himself, leaving the other tent for his daughters.

All three Seresin’s watched Savannah as she primped in front of her cellphone camera, taking selfies of herself near the lake they were camping by. Jake shook his head with a sigh as he finished setting up her tent and stretched.

“What do we think about a dip in the lake before dinner?” he asked the girls, a wild grin on his face.

Both nodded eagerly and bolted into their tent to pull their swimsuits on.

“Did you bring it?” Charlie whispered, and Abby nodded, pulling out a packet from her backpack.

“Uncle Roo gave it to me and I tucked it away for safe keeping,” Abby replied. “You distract Dad, and I’ll make sure it reaches our target.”

“Deal.”

Both girls quickly changed and headed out of the tent.

“Dad!” Charlie called. Jake turned from where he was talking to Savannah, his hands soothingly rubbing her shoulders as she scowled at him. “Can you help me put sun block on my shoulders? Mom would kill me if I came back burned.”

Jake grinned. “She’d kill me first,” he called back, turning from Savannah and strolling over to Charlie.

Jake sufficiently distracted, Abby snuck into Savannah’s tent and ripped open her packet. She sprinkled the contents everywhere. In her sleeping bag, in her clothes, on her hairbrush, in her shoes, and definitely on the inside of her hat.

With a wicked grin, Abby crumpled up the evidence and crept back to her tent to hide it in her backpack. She emerged just in time for Jake to finish lathering her sister with sun block, the two of them turning to her.

“My turn?” she smiled at him sweetly.

“Yeah, baby, c’mere.”

Charlie turned to Savannah, who was still trying to find the just right angle for her selfie. “Will you be joining us in the water, Savannah?”

The petite blond couldn’t hide her sneer. “I think I’ll pass, sugar, but thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Charlie shrugged. “You might want to get changed then. It’s going to start cooling off soon.”

Savannah smiled, the pull of her lips a touch too saccharine to be sincere, and said, “Thanks, honey. I’ll do that.”

As Savannah strutted into her tent, Jake joined his daughters and mussed their hair. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

He took off running, his long legs eating up the ground as his daughters squealed and sprinted after him.

By the time they emerged from the chilly water, the sun was hanging low in the Texan sky and the air had adopted a slight nip that spoke of the coming autumn. Charlie and Abby raced to get dressed in their flannel pyjamas and their thick socks. As they pulled on their matching PJs, they heard Savannah whine and swapped grins.

“I HATE THE OUTDOORS!” she shrieked. “Everything hurts, I have bruises everywhere, my hair is so frizzy, and I must’ve been bitten a thousand times because I can’t. Stop. ITCHING!”

The girls could practically hear the frustrated look on their father’s face as he faced her. “I thought you said you’d been camping before?” he asked, his voice cool under pressure.

Savannah scoffed. “Yeah, in a cabin like civilized human beings. You know, electricity and indoor plumbing? And we never rode to the cabin! We drove there.”

“Who took care of that prize winning mare of yours while you were gone?”

“The staff, as usual,” she replied as though she were talking to a small child. “They do everything for her.”

The twins could feel the rising tension even from inside the shelter of their tent. “Even ride her?”

“Duh,” Savannah giggled. “Daddy paid top dollar for her because I wanted to try barrel racing, but I hate riding, so now she just has babies that we sell. Daddy lets me keep the profit since she’s mine and all. Two of her babies paid for my month-long trip to Paris.”

Jake huffed a sigh. “And you didn’t tell me this because?”

“What does it matter?” she replied coyly, a branch cracking under her foot as she moved closer to him. “We have loads of other things in common, sugar.”

Charlie rolled her eyes at Abby before leaping out of their tent. “Dad! We’re starving! Can we get the fire going so we can eat?”

Jake nodded, his eyes still fixed on Savannah. “You two go collect some firewood, and I’ll get everything ready.”

“Savannah, you want to come?” Abby called sweetly.

Savannah grumbled, her hands scrabbling against her chest and stomach. “Why am I so damn itchy!” she shouted, stomping her foot.

Jake huffed and turned to her. “You’re probably having an allergic reaction to something. Go wash off in the lake while the girls are gone. Take the calamine lotion from in my bag and make sure you cover all your itchy areas. I’ll get you some of my clothes to wear.”

“An allergic reaction to what?” she seethed, glaring at the twins as though she knew it was their fault.

“I think Uncle Rooster might have changed our laundry detergent,” Charlie supplied, grinning at her. “Maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe…” Savannah snarled before stalking off, the sound of her complaining drowning out the twin’s peals of laughter.

Savannah complained that the hot dogs and smores they were eating weren’t on her diet plan for the wedding, but Jake promptly shut it all down by telling her they were her only choice. Grumpy and painted pink from the calamine lotion, she slowly munched on a hot dog, grimacing with every bite.

“Dad?”

Jake grinned at Abby and nodded. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“I know you’re supposed to tell us stories around the campfire…” Jake’s confirming nod gave her the courage to finish. “Could you tell us about your first date with Mom?”

Savannah’s eyes went wide, and she looked as if she was about to complain again, but Jake cut her a look and she quieted.

“Sure, darlin’. If that’s what you want to hear…” Jake grunted as he settled himself further into his chair, his daughters watching him from a log across the crackling fire. “Let’s see…”

The San Diego Zoo, almost 13 years ago

Jake’s palms were sweating, which was saying something. He was the only pilot of his generation who had not one, but two air to air confirmed kills under his belt. He was ice cold under pressure. Nothing made him flinch. But strolling amongst the different animal exhibits with Buttercup had his hands damp and gross, no matter how many times he wiped them on his jeans.

My god, how he had fallen for her. Her spark, her sass, that fire in her eyes that challenged him in all the right ways. She was brilliant. She was perfect. And he had to make sure she didn’t wise up and take her brother's advice. There was no denying that Bob Floyd still didn't like him very much, and who could blame him? He'd been a dick to everyone when they had all arrived at Top Gun for the Uranium Mission. Now, Jake was still a dick, but he wasn't 100% an asshole anymore. He needled his teammates, pushed them to be better, aggravated them until they were achieving their full potential. It's what he did. What he had always done, even as the captain and quarterback of the high school football team. His methods didn't earn him many friends, but they earned him a shitload of respect.

It had taken him three weeks to work up the courage to ask out Bob Floyd's little sister. Three weeks of hanging out with her at the Hard Deck, three weeks of getting his ass kicked by her at pool, three weeks of feeling like a fucking freshman again, drooling over the girl that was so out of his league.

It was Phoenix who had finally given him the push to ask her out. A gruff "She likes you too, dumbass, so don't miss your fucking chance" was all that he needed to ask her to go to the zoo of all places. He'd heard her mention it a couple of times and wanted to make their first date memorable, because he had a sneaky feeling that it was one he would be talking about for a while.

“Giraffes are this way, darlin’,” he chuckled as he gently tugged her arm down the correct path.

Buttercup squealed and swung their hands between them. “I freaking love giraffes!”

He shook his head playfully. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“What?” she pouted. “The hot aviator my brother has been bitching about for like a year takes me to the zoo to meet the giraffes and I’m not allowed to be excited about it?”

“No, you are,” he smiled, squeezing her hand. “It’s cute.”

“You just said it was weird,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but a good weird. I like your weird.”

“I like your weird too.”

He blinked. “I’m not weird.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the only person I know who can name every type of military jet. In order of the year they were made.”

“Lots of pilots can do that,” he blushed.

“No they can’t, and you know it.”

“Fine, whatever,” he teased. “The giraffes are here, you weirdo.”

She squealed again and tugged him along to the meeting area, where the tour guide was waiting for them.

The whole tour of the giraffe enclosure, Jake kept a close eye on Buttercup, who was drinking in all the information. She was incredible. The way her eyes lit up with excitement, the way she quietly squealed as the giraffes strolled over to look at her. It made a funny pit grow in his stomach. He could watch her facial expressions forever. It made him feel like a fucking superhero to know that he was the one who made her smile like that, that he had been the one to make this happen.

Finally, the tour guide led them up close to the giraffes, who were milling about the wide paddock.

“I’m going to fill their food buckets so that they’ll come closer, and you can say hi, okay?” she grinned at them and Jake pulled out his phone. He wanted to capture the smile on her face as she met her favourite animal for the first time. He wanted to be able to look down at that smile the next time he was out in the middle of the Atlantic and remember how good she had made him feel just by standing beside him.

Buttercup squealed softly as the giraffes came close, and Jake chuckled. "Excited?"

"I still can't believe you set this up," she murmured, glancing up at him with stars in her eyes. "This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me."

"You're welcome." His smile was almost shy as he watched her interact with the gentle giants. "Would you maybe want to grab dinner on the way back? I know a great place for Italian."

Her responding grin was just as bright as it was when she started feeding the giraffes, and Jake gulped. He knew in his heart that this was the start of something special.

As Charlie listened to the story, her misty eyes watched Savannah stomp away to her tent in a huff.

Morning broke, and with it, so did the silence.

Savannah shrieked and, based on the racket she was making, her tent was probably about to fall down too, if it hadn’t already.

Abby and Charlie shared a startled look and bolted from their tent. They hadn’t done anything. They figured having to listen to a romantic zoo proposal story had been enough torture for one night. But there Savannah was, screaming and shoving at her tent, which had seemingly collapsed on her.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jake shouted, his boots hitting the ground as he took in the sight. “Savannah, what is wrong with you?”

“They did this!” she screamed, a pink painted nail stabbing at Abby and Charlie. “I know they did!”

“Savannah—”

“No!” she shouted, whirling on him. “I know they put that chipmunk in my saddle bag. I know they put something itchy in my clothes. And I know that they made my tent fall down on top of me!”

Abby turned to her father. “We didn’t make the tent fall, Dad. I swear!”

“You see!” Savannah shrieked. “The little demon admits it!”

“Watch it!” Jake growled, stepping in front of Abby.

Charlie bent to look at the ground in front of Savannah’s collapsed tent. “There’s hoofprints here, Dad.” She followed the tracks over to where Angel stood, her reins dragging on the ground. A thin black fiber hung out of her mouth. The exact same colour as Savannah’s tent.

“You expect me to believe that a horse collapsed my tent?” Savannah seethed.

“It looks to be that way,” Jake replied icily. “Now, you owe my girls an apology.”

“An apology?” she laughed coldly. “You heard the little brat. She only denied collapsing my tent, which means she did the other things!” Savannah sneered at her. “I know you’re the British one. I can tell a fake accent a mile away. And let me tell you this. You showing up here was the worst day of my life. I never wanted to be a stepmother! I thought maybe I could handle one kid until I could convince you to send her to boarding school, but two? No one in their right mind would want to be a stepmother to two little brats!”

Jake stepped smoothly in between them, both Abby and Charlie huddled behind him as he faced his fiancée. “Who says I would’ve sent them to boarding school? They’re my girls.”

“I am your girl!” she shrieked. “ME! M.E.! And if you want to marry me, then you have to choose! Because I’m not playing second fiddle to two little she devils anymore! Got it?”

“Then…” Jake chuckled. “I choose them.”

“Excuse me?”

“T.H.E.M? Them. I choose my girls. Got it?”

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[starlightdreaming]

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader! Ch. 5!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel!

Content Warning: nothing really (just heed with previous warnings), implications of Season 1: Episode 2 though. (yay) (not proofread)

Synopsis: You spend time at the hotel, helping Charlie. :D

Further note: sorry it took so long, writers block was gnawing at me.

Chapters!: Chapter 1 ✧ Chapter 2 ✧ Chapter 3 ✧ Chapter 4 ✧ Chapter 5 (you are here) •<•)b

this chapters song is:

(optional but only recommended for the first bit of the story lol)

｡･:*:･ﾟLululuna･ﾟ:｡*:･｡

After losing you a few days ago, Heaven was fine, no one knew what happened between you and Sera- except Adam but he kept quiet, He didn’t like you after what you did to Lute, he felt rather humbled from when you stopped and dragged him back to Heaven and it pissed him off entirely.

Sera was at her desk, finishing her work in the same room that had been covered by your blood days before but she cleaned that up before anyone would discover the incident. It was all fine until-

knock, knock, knock.

“Come in.” Sera says as she put her attention away from the papers she was focusing on, she sat up straight before Emily came in, panting and disheveled, a worried look on her face, “Emily?” Sera’s body relaxed into her seat, seeing as it was only her sister and not some official business, “What is the matter dear?” Sera asked with concern as Emily ran up to her desk tossed down whatever she had in her hands, “Where’s Y/n?” Emily asked, “The stars she made around the city are hurting, I can feel their pain.”

Sera looked down at her desk to see stars Emily gathered, they chimed weakly in sorrow, Sera didn’t know what to do but she did know what to say, “Y/n is…” she pauses, trying to remember the cover up story she made for your absence, “Y/n became fallen.” Sera says, Emily shocked and surprised, “but how? she says, trying to find any reason why you would, “A few days ago, she hurt many of our people, our people,” she half lied, “so she had to go.”

Emily looked down at the weakened stars on the desk, the stars seemed to have sensed your absence in Heaven and that’s when they began to grow bleak, “I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Emily saddened, holding up one of the stars that squeaked to her, trying to tell them it’s woes, “how come no one told me about her becoming fallen?” she asks her sister, feeling a bit hurt from being left out in the blue, “she’s was hostile and dangerous,” Sera stated, lying behind your back to keep Emily at bay, “She had to dealt with quickly and she was.” She spoke, Emily softly poking the star with a boop to comfort it, “A week ago, I started sensing their dismay and before you know it, they are slowly becoming weaker,” Emily says as she walked around the desk to get close to her sister, she gave the star to Sera to hold, to see if Sera could feel their pain.

Sera held it with both hands, observing the star, the star sensed Sera’s presence and touch, it squeaked in sorrow before it crumbled in Sera’s hands, making both the Seraphim’s wide eye in shock, “oh no, what happened?” Emily says confused, taking the dust out of Sera’s hands rather quickly, no longer feeling any consciousness of the crumbled star, “why did it just..?” Emily tries to ask, not wanting to accept its loss, she took the other stars off the desk, scared they might fall apart as well.

Sera tried to think, it was one problem after another to her, she got rid of you for her own sake, realizing now she might have just jeopardized the balance of Heaven for all her people thanks to losing you because of her own selfishness, Sera sighed before standing up out of her seat, “I don’t know, Emily,” She said, honestly for once during their entire conversation, “but what I do know is that without someone with the ability to make the stars, all the stars might fade away too, especially the ones that work and help our people on a daily basis.” She states, walking to her younger sister, holding her hands in hers, “I’ll try and figure something out for our people, okay?” She comforts her, kissing her head before going back to sit at her desk to continue to work.

Emily quietly left the office without another word, she looked at her hands, after Sera had contact with your stars, the others crumbled to nothing but dust as well. Emily couldn’t help but wonder, where are you now? and are you okay? She would never know the answers but all she can do is hope that you are.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

You stared blankly in surprise after watching Alastor fight off Sir Pentious and launch him away in the air to who knows where, “well, it looks as though I need a visit to the tailor, best of luck, chums.” He waves off, “wait, you’re leaving?” You asked before Vaggie stepped in, “Alastor, we need your help, we need you to do your job.” She spoke before Angel added in, “we need a wall.” deadpanning.

“of course!” Alastor replied before he turned back, can’t let my project fall into disrepair already, what would the papers say?” he asked, snapping his fingers before walking away again, Angel shoving Vaggie away as he giggles, you caught Vaggie as she landed in your arms, giving you a quiet “thanks.” making Charlie smile at you both.

“Maybe we should head to the city? how about we find some new recruits? just us three!” Charlie offers, wrapping her arm around you and Vaggie, reeling you in for a hug side hug, “Sure, I’d love to help! after all, you did help me out a lot.” You smile as you stepped away from her hug, standing next to her before you three began to walk together towards the city.

“So I was thinking,” You say as you began a conversation with Charlie, “Since i’m staying at the Hotel and I can actually stop the extermination, what if we advertised protection from it?” You offered, thinking maybe it could be a good idea that would convince the public, “that’s actually quite smart.” Vaggie praised, making your heart swell in joy that she liked the idea, “really?” you ask, seeing if she meant it, “really!” Charlie exclaimed, bumping her arm into yours lightly with a smile on his face.

Upon walking into the city, you finally saw sinners and demons walking around the streets, since the last time you were here- everyone evacuated when you first arrived- you were rather excited to see so many people.

“So how are we gonna do this?” You chimed eagerly, walking backwards in front of Vaggie and Charlie, “do we go door to door or do we make an assembly?” You asked, tilting your head slightly, not noticing that some of the demons had already noticed you and began to hide.

Charlie smiled as she summoned paper with her ability, “here,” she says, handing you a flyer, “we walk up to sinners, person to person to advert their full attention! So it has everything you need to say to talk about the hotel.” She explains. You took the paper, skimming through the words to understand what you had to say or promote, “okay! I’ll go do just that!” You smiled.

“We’ll meet back up here at this spot and bring anyone we find.” Charlie says, giving Vaggie a flyer too, “Okay, I’ll be on my way then!” You say as you waved at them both before walking in your own direction, exploring the city.

You took turns and corners down the city, walking up to sinners of all sorts, tall or small, “Hi! Would you be interested to join us at the Hazbin Hotel?” You’d offer, only for them to back away or run off in fear or a hurry. It wasn’t long until people began to avoid you as a whole, feeling the same feeling you did when you first walked down these streets, “hello?” You’d call out into the empty streets once again, it wasn’t exactly the same as last time though, the people were just hiding this time.

“I mean no harm!” You shouted, slightly desperate for anyone to acknowledge your statement but no one seemed to do so, “I’m an angel- yes, but I can protect you from extermination like I have last time!” You tried to reason, only to hear a voice in the distance shout, “you made the extermination deadline shorter!” Making you falter at their claim, understanding now that they avoid and blame you for the new deadline than rather praise you for stopping the last extermination.

You sighed in defeat as you began to walk again, heading back to the regrouping spot, holding up the flyer to look at. You stared at handmade drawing on it with the big red hotel and a little Charlie on it making a small smile form on your face , ‘maybe they had luck trying to find recruits?’ You thought, trying to comfort yourself as you continued to walk.

As you walked down the empty streets, demons and sinners that were hiding around in corners and alleys were holding up their phones, taking photos and recordings of you as you walked, making you feel uneasy by yourself, you were wishing you could just fly away but your wings were still healing, perhaps you should help heal them quicker using some of your mana tonight, you thought as you hugged yourself.

You picked up your pace slightly, feeling more paranoid by yourself from the inaudible whispers, when you turned the corner, you smiled as you shouted to Charlie and waved, relieved to see the two familiar faces again, “Charlie! I’m back.” You called, stopping in front of her with a smile, “Y/n! How’d it go?” She asks, making your smile falter, “oh, uhm,” you began, looking away, “I couldn’t get anyone.” You confessed, disappointed in yourself, “Oh,” she says a little upset before brushing it off with a smile again, “well that’s alright!” She comforted, “the day has just begun so we have all day to look around the city!” she chimed, raising her hand in the air, only for the city lights to flicker and shut down, “or not…” she says, raising her arm down, the only light source being their eyes, except you, “wow you glow so pretty.” Charlie says to you, making Vaggie look at you as well, “Yeah, you light up like a star, even your eyes glow- wait are your pupils like shooting stars?” She says as she smiles, you wave off their compliments shyly, getting embarrassed from their sudden flattery remarks, “heh, yeah, it’s mostly my wings that glow though but right now they’re… ehhh..” you trailed off, looking at your bandaged wings and shrugging.

It wasn’t long until you started hearing screaming, the city power going out was now making the city panic in a frenzy, “wait, what’s going on?” You asked, now seeing demons were running rampant and started getting hostile, “well- you see-“ Charlie tries to explain before a car flipped over next to her, making her jump in fright, “when the power of the city goes out- so does the internet…” Charlie explains, taking your hand, “which is why I think it’s best if we just head back to the hotel for the day.” She says, dragging you slightly as you ran from the city, Vaggie using an angelic spear to protect you both as you followed back to the hotel.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

Unbeknownst to you, Alastor and his rival were arguing through radio and video, making the power in hell go out. In a small meeting room of the Vee’s Tower, they talked about the radio demon and Charlie Morningstar, not to mention ‘miss shooting star,’ and how she would become a great use to them, specifically you.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

You groaned, completely exhausted from the running and walking for half an hour, you three walked back in the Hotel, you hadn’t run in so long, you were completely out of it as you ‘plomped’ into the ground, in the same place as you did when you first arrived, Charlie plopping onto the sofa, tired as well. “So how’d it go?” Angel smirked, scrolling through his phone, “Not a single new recruit.” Vaggie said as she leans against the sofas arm rest, sighing.

You lift your head up from the ground, looking up to see the black kitty cleaning herself next to you, “Hey what’s her name?” You ask, hoping someone would answer, “her names Keekee, she’s the embodiment of the hotel.” Vaggie says, turning to you before hearing a knock at the door, “Keekeeee..” you called for her, scooting closer to her as her tiny paws lifted her up to walk closer to you. She rubbed her face against yours, purring, making your pupils dilate in pure joy, eyes sparkling.

You made a star and waved it around keekee, making her chase it like a red laser light. You giggled as you played with her, meanwhile Charlie got up to follow Vaggie to the door, passing by you and smiling at how comfortable you were beginning to feel in her hotel.

You sat up as you moved the star around with a swing of your finger, Keekee spinning in circles and chasing the star, you let her catch it eventually, she picked it up, jumping into your arms and purring, you stood up with Keekee in arms and turned to see the snake serpent from earlier with Charlie, you decided to talk to them to find out what’s going on, “hey Charlie, who’s the new guy?” You asked, the snake slithered behind Charlie after seeing you, “oh, he’s our new resident, Sir Pentious!” She exclaims excited before moving to the side to introduce the serpent to you, “Pentious, this is Y/n, she is also one of our staff members!” Charlie smiles as you stepped closer to Sir Pentious, “it’s nice to meet you,” you smile at him, with Keekee still in arms, “oh- and this is Keekee!” You say, lifting her up to show her to him as he waved nervously at you both, Keekee hissed at Sir Pentious and jumped out of your arms, making you frown with an “aww.”

“Okay, today, how about we start with some exercises?” Charlie asks, walking to the parlor, gathering a few of your attention, “Now! With a new resident, I think it’s important we all get to know each other, so we are going to play a little game.” Charlie says as you sat in a circle, sitting between Sir Pentious and Angel Dust, “everyone, follow me,” she says as she smiled, “my name is Charlie,” she clapped twice before kneeling down next to Vaggie, “I like to sing,” clap, clap, “and when we get to know each other, it’s the greatest thing!” She chimes, clapping twice again before gesturing her hand toward Sir Pentious, signaling it was his turn.

“My name’s Sir Pentious,” he clapped twice, nervously, “I like to build,” clap, clap, “and despite my stupid Egg Bois, I think i’m very skilled,” he clapped twice, happy about how smoothly he manages to play his part before gesturing his hand to you, signaling it was your turn now, you nervously sat up as you began, “uhh, my name is Y/n,” you clapped, slightly off beat, “I’m a former seraphim,” you clapped twice, on beat this time, “and if you can’t tell, I’m not good with rhythm.” You clapped, wanting the attention off of you from your silly act. You gestured your arm quickly to Angel who was on his phone, “this is stupid.” He deadpanned, looking up from his device, “this is not stupid,” Charlie clapped twice, walking toward Angel, “it’s just the game,” she smiled clapping again, “these two did it well so please try to do the same!” She sung, clapping twice as she leaned toward Angel.

“I am too sober for this.” He says, as he rubbed his temples, looking down, “Well, get used to it and learn how to play, this is gonna be your whole day.” Vaggie says before clapping twice, making you snicker a laugh. “Well how about we try something else?” Charlie says as she stepped back in the circle, “oh, I have an idea!!” You chimed, raising and waving your hand rather excitedly, “alright, what do you have in mind?” Charlie asks, you stand up before bringing Charlie’s hand together with your own, oblivious to Vaggie who immediately stood up for what ever reason, you used your ability to make a portion of cosmic dust into her hands, walking to do the same with the others, “what’s this for?” Charlie asked, looking at the glowing and sparkling dust in her hands, “It’s cosmic dust! I’m going to show you how to make stars.” You smiled, giving some to Sir Pentious and going to Angel, “ooh, this sounds rather interesting.” Charlie smiles, sitting down next to Vaggie, who also sat down next to her.

After giving everyone a portion of cosmic dust you were now in the lead to direct everyone, “okay so first, you want to try and shape out the dust into the form of a star as best you can.” you explained as you gave them a visual guidance with your own hands. “Next, you want to crush it together until it hardens and molds, easy right?” You smiled as you showed them the steps again, a star forming in your hands.

You giggled as you watched Sir Pentious try, only for it to explode in his face like he popped a balloon with glitter, “here, let’s try again,” you say as you summoned more dust for him, “first you shape it, then crush it like this!” You say as you guided him, thoroughly, the star wasn’t shaped perfectly but it was in his eyes as they sparkled from the new creation he had made. You walked off to help Charlie and Vaggie but you saw Charlie make it almost perfectly, “woah that’s amazing, not everyone can get it this well on their first try!” You complimented her, looking at the perfect curves on the star, “Oh, it’s not my first time, my dad used to teach me how to make them when I was younger!” She informs, making your heart stop for a moment, “oh, your dad, huh?” You pondered, “yeah, he used to always make them for some reason, he showed me how but it’s been a while since I have made one.” She said, raising the star close to her again, “that’s lovely…” you say as you stepped back, “I’m gonna go check on Angel since you got it, how about helping Vaggie?” You smiled, seeing as the dust had covered her face too.

You walked to Angel and kneeled down, “so how’s it going?” You asked. He looked up at you, seeing as he didn’t even bother to try, the dust still in his hands, “what do you think?” He says sarcastically, “well, I think you just need a little push!” You say, taking his hands toward you, shaping the star and helping him hold his hands together to mold it, “okay, now what?” He asked, not really interested, you laughed lightly, taking the star from his hands and clasping it into your own before opening your hands and giving the star back to Angel.

He looked at the star, seeing it was as the same until the star chimed, it blinked open its eyes, making Angel Dust blink in surprise, the star was now alive as it floated in Angels hand “now you get to keep it!” You say, going back to Pentious to make his star sentient as well.

You walked to Sir Pentious, who was still admiring how it glowed, you took it from him quickly, drawing his attention with a frown, giving it back to him quickly than he could say anything, his smile grew twice as much when the star squeaked in his hands, “this is such the sweetest thing.” Sir Pentious spoke before asking you, “Can it do labor?” With a serious tone, you nodded before walking away to Charlie and Vaggie, “perfect.” He said with a mischievous grin.

“So, how’s it going here?” You asked, as you kneeled down to the ground, “it’s actually going pretty well right now,” Charlie said, showing you both their stars, you smiled as you took them in your hands and admired their details, for some reason, you began to feel sentimental, you looked up at Charlie and for a second- you saw Lucifer. You blinked in surprise, shocked from your own delusions, you leaned away from them for a moment, just to see it was Charlie again, “are you alright?” Charlie asked, you recompose yourself with a quick, “yeah, yeah, sorry,” you sat up again, giving them both their stars, “I wanna try something with you, Charlie.” You requested, putting the star in her hand, “what is it?” She asked, “the star,” you pointed at it, “make it sentient.” You demanded, softly.

“How do I do that?” She asked, slightly confused at your request, “if you have powers like your father, there’s a chance you can make it come alive, just focus.” You smiled, sitting patiently as she looked at the star before closing her eyes and channeling her power through into it. The star began to emit a soft golden glow making your eyes widen in awe, that nostalgic feeling gnawing at you now and before you know it, the star chimed, shocking you completely, “oh my stars, you did it!” You squealed, leaning toward the star in her hand giggling in excitement, “I did?” She asked, surprised that you were fawning over her sentient creation, “yes! No Angel in Heaven were able to make sentient stars like me,” you say as you sat up again, “but you can!” You beamed, happy to find someone who could, “I’m just so happy a long life dream of mine became reality.” You smiled, feeling less alone in your unique abilities, “My father also taught me how do this, you know.” She smiled making you pause in surprise, “he did??” You say, surprised, “yeah, he said while Luna- uhm- you were making stars, he’d always watch you and eventually, he learned in your steps.” She smiled, making you feel mixed emotions of longing and disgust, one set of your mind feeling happy that he was strongly interested in your passions but the other felt rather insulted, like he took you own skills as his own, you didn’t know how to respond without feeling rather emotional to Charlie so you decided to avoid the subject of topic.

“That’s really nice and all,” you waved off the topic of Lucifer, “but how about we go to the next exercise of the day?” You asked, Charlie smiled and stood up, “for the next thing I want us to do is put on a little play,” she said, helping Vaggie up, “you guys wait here, I’ll go and get the others.” She smiled as she walked away from the parlor and into the lobby, leaving you four alone together. Sir Pentious was distracted, playing with the star he had made and Angel was on his phone, the star tucked in his chest fluff, leaving you and Vaggie staring at each other awkwardly, “so..” you began, “that weapon you carry around,” you pointed at Vaggie, “where’d you get it?” You asked, a little of hostility in your voice, knowing that exorcists bring harm to sinners, “Oh- I uh…” she stuttered, looking away from you, “I found it after one of the exterminations a few years back?” She shrugged, smiling nervously, making you stand up unconvinced, “I don’t wanna invade your privacy or anything but what happened to your eye?” You asked, pointing at your own, making her step back, you realized you were making her uncomfortable so you sighed, realizing your own anger, “sorry,” you apologized, “seeing you hold that weapon, really set me on edge earlier,” you explained, “I trust that you are using it to keep others safe?” You smiled, trying to sound comforting in way for her to understand, she nodded as well, “yeah, I use it to keep the others safe.” She smiled, turning to you, Charlie came back with Husk, Niffty and Alastor, stopping you from continuing your conversation, “perhaps you could explain another time?” You asked, Vaggie nodded in agreement, making you turn and walk away towards the sofa.

You sat next to Sir Pentious on the sofa as the others came along to join, Husk sat in the chair as Niffty squabbled around behind the sofa, staring deeply at Sir Pentious much to your disliking, it was rather uncomfortable, Vaggie sat next to Pentious on the other end and Alastor stood next to you. “Okay so between our two residents, i’d like them to act out this script,” Charlie said, walking towards Pentious, “You are going to play the innocent young boy and Angel,” she turned to him, “You are going to play the creepy old man.” she smiled, giving him his script, “wait, seriously?” he deadpanned, looking away from his phone to look at the paper.

“Now what you need are some outfits!” she chimed, giving Sir Pentious and Angel outfits for the little play, “just put these on and we can begin.” she said, sitting next to you after Pentious got up to put the clothes over his own.

After a while, Sir Pentious somehow had a comically large lollipop, licking the sugary treat, as Angel sighed, unenthusiastically, “oh, i’m a bad man on the streets, who never got enough hugs,” Angel began, looking at his script, “now, where’s an innocent kid I could sell crack too?” he asks, while you leaned forward in your seat, “wow, who wrote this?” Angel asks, baffled, “it’s great right?” Charlie smiled, making you look at her and Angel, “keep going!” she waved her hand downwards at him. “Hey, you,” Angel began again, pointing at Pentious before he looked back at his paper, “who, me?” Sir Pentious chimed, sparkling his eyes, “yeah, you look like a kid who could use some.. devil’s dandruff??” he questioned at the name, “oh, for fuck’s sake.” he said, rubbing a hand through his hair, “not me,” Sir Pentious said, shaking his head, “I have to go home and study!” he smiled, looking at Angel, “come on kid, it’ll make you cool like me..” Angel paused before looking up unimpressed, “the crack head.” “the only cool thing here is to say no to drugs,” Sir Pentious played on, shaking his head again, “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m off to not have sexual intercourse before marriage!” he ginned, a hand to his chest with pride, proud of his act, Charlie stood up and clapped in amusement, “oh, bravo! bravo,” she smiled, walking to Pentious, “wow, Pentious, at this rate you’ll be redeemed in no time.” she complimented, you got up as well to join the conversation only to gaze at Angel as he spoke, “I.. I’m going to bed.” He said as he walked to the stairs with a frown, sensing that something was off, you watched him, concerned.

No one seemed to notice his mood as Charlie kept praising Sir Pentious for his wonderful acting, you decided to follow Angel, worried for him, sensing you could possibly relate to his troubles and through personal experience, you always wanted a shoulder to lean on so maybe that’s what he wanted as well? At least that’s what you think, “Angel, wait,” you called for him as you ran up the stairs. He stopped to turn to you, “what is it?” He asked bluntly, making you second guess yourself, “oh- uh- I noticed you might not be too happy” you stuttered, “so I just came to ask if you’re alright.” You say, a small smile wrying on your face, he sighed, “I’m fine.” He said, crossing his arms, avoiding your gaze, “okay, okay, well- if you need anything, I’m always here to help,” you offered, hugging your arm awkwardly, “if you need any at any time of course.” you say before turning away and going back to the others, “goodnight, Angel.” You waved at him, heading back downstairs with everyone else.

“And what do you think about my performance?” Sir Pentious asked, a little way too basked in with compliments, “oh- it was good,” you smiled at him, trying to go to Charlie to ask her something, “Hey Charlie, can I have some snacks?” You ask her, wanting to head to your room for the night, “Oh, sure! they’re in the kitchen down that hallway to the left.” She smiled, pointing to the direction, “thanks, i’m gonna head to my room for the night, so goodnight.” You waved at her, walking to the kitchen, hearing her telling you goodnight as well, not even acknowledging Sir Pentious was trying to talk to you.

After gathering yourself some snacks that might interest you, you waddled up to your room and laid in your bed, playing around with the sentient stars in your room that were raining star dust on the floor, they were making a mess but you didn’t mind as you just kept making more, munching away from your snacks. Your room was eventually covered in star and cosmic dust but to you, it was just a touch of your own decor, making feel more like you were at home.

It wasn’t long until you heard a thud through the walls, you sat up curiously until you heard shouting and fighting in the distance, you got out of your bed and walked out your room, seeing Charlie and Vaggie were also out of their rooms from the noise, Vaggie held that spear again, walking to the nearby room with muffled shouting, “What’s going on?” Charlie yawned, Vaggie standing next to her as you leaned to peek in the room, seeing it was Angel Dust and Sir Pentious, “this little bitch is a traitor!” Angel shouted, holding Pentious’ arm, “preposterous! I would never betray you…” Pentious exclaimed, slithering toward you and Charlie, “you… are my best friends!” he says hugging you both, making you smile that he sees you that way.

Angel was unimpressed from the facade he put on display for you three, “uh-huh, then explain this.” he said, pushing a book away from a hidden camera, making you drop your happy demeanor to hurt and surprise, it didn’t help when Pentious began to panic and started running towards the window, yelling at the watch in his wrist, demanding an evacuation. You were somewhat upset, you spent the entire day getting to know each other and it turned out to be he only did so because he was a spy? You wanted to just throw him out but you stopped yourself from getting close when you overheard the voice on his watch, “Pentious? Wait… you were caught?!” The voice questioned, “it hasn’t even been a day!” The voice laughed, you walked up to Pentious, looming over his conversation curiously, seeing who he was talking to, “please, you’ve got to get me out of here!” Pentious pleaded as you saw the unfamiliar voice had a head shaped like a T.V. with blue toned colors, you were at a loss for words, for some reason, this situation felt horribly nostalgic, it made you feel unforgiving and aggravated.

“I can’t believe we thought you could handle even something this simple,” the voice continued, rather disappointed, “do us a favor, if they don’t kill you,” he turned to Pentious, glaring at him, blue static emitting around it the watch, “go ahead and do it yourself, you miserable failure.” It finished, turning off, you looked at Pentious who was tearing up in disbelief, “I… I,” he paused before turning to the other three, “just make it quick, I guess..” he said, throwing his watch away and laying on the ground, you kicked the watch away in spite of the person that said cruel words, stepping toward Pentious “gladly.” Vaggie said as she held up her spear, seemingly more upset than you, you wanted to stop her but Charlie lowered her weapon, making you halt and step back, all you wanted to do was throw him out. “Wait,” Charlie said, walking to the crying serpent, “Pentious?” Charlie called to him, holding out a hand for him, He looked up at her confused before she began, “it starts with sorry.” She smiled at him, he blinked twice before taking her hands and she lifted him up as you were caught off guard from how seemingly forgiving Charlie was. “The path to forgiveness is a twisting trail of hearts but sorry is where it starts.” She began, trying to continue Pentious’ path to redemption, “it’s just a rough start but it’s just the beginning.” Charlie comforted Pentious, you were puzzled from the situation, he had betrayed everyone’s trust and yet, Charlie was stepping first, forgiving him.

“Who could forgive a dirt bag like me?” Pentious began to cry, making you step out the room to collect your own thoughts, “I don’t deserve your amnesty.” He said, lying on the ground again, Vaggie and Angel walked in unenthusiastically and indifferent, holding out weapons, “can’t we just kill him? Shoot him and spill his blood?” They asked, cornering him with their weapons, you didn’t bother with the conversation anymore as you were lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t even notice Niffty came along and stood next to you, watching.

While you leaned on the door, lost in thought, you didn’t notice Pentious came up to you and took your hand in his, “I just wanted to apologize for how I may have hurt you.” He said, looking at you with sincerity, “and?” You asked, unconvinced of his apology, “I genuinely did enjoy making stars with you today and was hoping we could make some more some other time?” He smiled at you, making your cold attitude change, you looked away from him to think, his expression displayed of genuine and promise, making you smile somewhat, you turn back to him, moving your hands away from his and gave him a simple answer, “sure,” you say with a soft smile, “but if you pull something like this again, you can see yourself against Vaggie spear.” You threatened, putting up a cold facade, half joking. You didn’t want anyone hurt but you also didn’t want yourself to hurt either.

Charlie sighed, satisfied with Pentious and his apologies full of sincerity, “good first day,” she said, putting a hand around Vaggie’s waist, smiling, “let’s get some rest,” She says, dismissing everyone for the night, “goodnight guys.” Charlie waved at everyone who left to their rooms.

You closed the door behind you as you entered your room, your stars were floating around as they chimed in your room. You walked to your bed and jumped into it, sighing in relief to finally be in bed again, you laid there for a moment before sitting up, thinking again, Sir Pentious wasn’t the first to betray you and seeing Charlie being so forgiving made you feel some sort of spark.. and you pondered as to why. Her guidance to forgiveness made you give Sir Pentious a second chance…

So if on that fateful night..

If you had listened to Lucifer, if you had gave a second chance…

Would things be different with the two of you? Or was it him just trying to use you like your mind has told you all these years?

You didn’t have any answers to your questions as you sighed, you grabbed the snacks you had left on the other side of your bed and began to munch on them again, sort of just eating to get your mind off things. You then tried to grab one of your wings carefully, guiding the stars that floated in your room to your injured feathers and used their stardust to heal the wounds you began to unwrap, they still looked awful but the blood has dried up long ago at least, you then carefully groomed your wings one at a time, letting dust gently lay on your cuts, healing them after a bit. You spent hours of the night healing the tiniest wounds you possibly had, practicing on yourself to learn how to heal better over time as the whole process for all your wings made you stay up through the whole night, you eventually fell asleep without even knowing.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

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[jimblejamblewritings]

starlight moonlight sunlight — blurb three

Blurb Title: Bakeries and School Musicals and Book Club

Pairing: ex!Remus x reader, Remus x Sirius, eventual poly!Wolfstar x reader

Warnings: none

blurb series navigation here | previous blurb here

The heads of each House were passing out the schedules as each student entered the Great Hall. Over a bowl of cereal and a plate of bacon and buttered crumpets, you looked at yours. You laughed. Clearly Remus had gotten to your schedule before you did even if he wasn’t in the Great Hall at the moment. He marked all the classes you shared along with tips for how to deal with each teacher. Pandora sat down in front of you, waving a notebook around. Evan just shook head as you two ignored everyone to flip through the book and make firm decisions on bakery aesthetics and menu. 

“She’s finally met someone on the same wand core as her.” 

“I told you I met a nymph before,” Pandora whispered so only the group could hear. “You didn’t believe me. That’s how I knew Y/N was one.” 

“You were eight and said they took you to a tea party and returned you.” 

“They did!” 

“Why would they return you?” 

You backed Dora up. “Nymphs don’t capture people. Most fae don’t…well sirens do but not at a tea party.” 

“See.” 

You and Pandora looked up to see McGonagall had already left. Pecking Remus on the cheek and then the lips, you told him that you’d see him in Transfiguration. Pandora linked elbows with you and you both skipped away to go find McGonagall and ask her about your bakery. 

“I love her being a nymph,” Sirius said before squeezing Remus’ thigh and leaning his head on his shoulder. “Whatever little garden she needs, I’ll pay for it. Swear to Merlin. Isn’t she cute when she’s too busy for you, Moons?” 

Sirius’ good morning just kept going as they got to the Transfiguration classroom. You were sitting with Pandora. You looked down at a paper plane that landed on your desk halfway through class. It was a note from Sirius telling you exactly what he had decided earlier. The owls came by a little after. There was a flyer announcing auditions for the school musica. Now that sounded interesting. Maybe that was something you could be known for. A major actress… maybe you were getting ahead of yourself. But you would audition. You told Remus that much when class ended. 

“You should, dovey. It could be fun.” 

“Yeah. You know what, I will.” 

“That’s my girl!” 

“Will you come watch auditions?” 

“When is it?” 

“Saturday in two weeks. In the morning after breakfast.” 

Remus grimaced. “I’m sorry, dove, but that’s James and Sirius’ quidditch tryouts. I said I’d help.” 

“It’s fine. Just promise to come to opening night if I make it and to take me to Hogsmeade after tryouts.” 

“I will.” 

Remus looked down, stifling a laugh, when you stuck your pinky out and underneath his chin. He pinky promised with the utmost seriousness. Breathing out a sigh of relief when you walked off to go to your next class, Remus headed back to his dorm. He flopped onto his boyfriend’s bed. Sirius laughed at the kisses being pressed against his torso and up his neck until Remus’ lips were on his. 

Sirius ran his hands through his boyfriend’s hair. “Your little nymph bothered you too much this morning?” 

“No, I just… she’s a good friend, really. I hate lying to her. She’s auditioning for the musical, though, so we’ll have plenty of time alone.” 

“Moons, think about it this way, she gets her little bakery and the musical then you can stop. She’ll be well adjusted to her new life.” 

Remus rubbed circles on Sirius’ hip. “You’re taking this fantastically. I love you.” 

~~

You didn’t seem the least bit phased by Remus’ lack of support for you when you entered his dorm early on the morning of auditions. All you wanted was a quick good luck cuddle that he was happy to give you. Sirius rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the bathroom. Your face was buried in your boyfriend’s chest and Remus was rubbing circles on your back. It felt nice. You were glad to have this happen whenever you wanted now. Long distance hadn’t bothered you before but now you always wanted to be this close to your boyfriend. He was warm and smelled nice. Remus frowned as he stared at his boyfriend pouting. He kissed the top of your head. 

“You don’t want to be late for your auditions.” 

“You’re right,” you groaned. 

Reluctantly, you peeled away from him and left the dorm. Feeling upset and bratty, Sirius immediately locked the door after you and jumped under the covers with his boyfriend. He cuddled up the exact same way you did. There was thirty minutes before quidditch started. He was going to make the most of those precious thirty minutes. 

“How was the audition?” Marlene asked when you met them all at the Three Broomsticks. 

You excitedly told them about your audition and how you were sure it went well. The dancing was a bit new to you but the monologue and singing portions went as well as you could have hoped for. 

“Nice. We’ll all come see you if you make it in. Oh, what did McGonagall say about the bakery?” 

“She loved it. Dora and I are going to use one of the classrooms on the fourth floor that no one uses. Sirius, can we talk later about funding?” 

“Of course.” 

You dropped your head on Remus’ shoulder. “I’m gonna be a little busy at least in the beginning.” 

Sirius had to stop himself from smiling. The plan was working swimmingly. Obviously, Remus still had to see you but that could be arranged in a way that Sirius got more time with his boyfriend more than just a few minutes before bed. Pandora was such a nice distraction.

You pulled out a book to exchange with your new best friend. It was a muggle one. Pandora was very interested in those things. Regulus, Lily, and Remus perked up at the sight of the cover. For a moment they just stared at the rather plain cover with the fancy lettering on. It was a fairly new book but recognizable nonetheless. 

“You’re reading Interview with the Vampire?” Regulus asked. 

You looked over at him. “Well, we just started. I’m only on the third chapter but Dora wanted to read it so I offered to work the no-maj post for her.” 

“We’re reading that in our book club.” 

“Book club?” 

Everyone but Remus, Lily, and Regulus groaned. They loved reading but not to the point that they wanted to hear about book club all the time. Naturally, Regulus and Lily were more than excited to talk your ear off about their book club. It was just Remus and Lily from second year to fourth year. Regulus joined the summer before their fifth year and Peter started coming around on occasion around third year. It sounded nice. You and Pandora looked at each other before shrugging. You’d join. 

“We could meet at the bakery!” Pandora offered. 

For the first time since being at Hogsmeade, Remus actually participated in your conversation. If you guys hosted your book club at the bakery then that could be a sort of designated time to see you. He had a sort of pep in his step that didn’t go unnoticed by you as you walked hand in hand through Hogsmeade. 

“Where do you want to go next?” he asked you. 

“Honeydukes.”

| next blurb here |

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PERMANENT TAGLIST:

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[sage-green-matcha]

GIRLS NIGHT - ETHAN LANDRY 🧖‍♀️

pampering Ethan will all your friends!

Content includes: fluff!

<3

<3

<3

"Okay Tara, truth...or dare?" Anika smirked. You all sat in a circle in your room, candles, and flashlights on. The power had gone out, the storm outside only getting louder.

"Truth" she smiled, already knowing the response of everyone. "Okay, boring" Mindy smiled. "Is it true...that you like Chad?" Anika knew what she was doing when she asked, Tara's face turning red. "No, no!" she shook her head, an awkward laugh falling from her lips. "That is the biggest lie! I see how you look at him" you teased.

"That's disgusting" Mindy made a throw-up noise. "Tara, you're lying" Anika rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay I might..." "See!" You laughed, the question moving now to you.

"Okay Y/n, since you wanna play like that. Truth or dare?" You already knew what you were gonna pick. "Truth, duh" Tara smiled. "Who really gave you that hickey last week?" You paused, all the girls staring at you. "I don't like this game" you shook your head. You knew you couldn't tell them, they would tease you till your death.

"You have to answer! You made me answer" Mindy laughed at Tara's comment. "No, I can't say, I can't" Anika glared at you, Tara with a stupid smile on her lips. "Do we know them?" You nodded. "Is it a guy?" "Yea..." "Ugh, well okay the Tara and Y/n rumors are flunked" your mouth dropped. "She just said she likes Chad!!"

"Whatever! Who is it?" "I'll do a dare, I'll do a dare" you shook your head. "Okay fine. We dare you to tell us who you hooked up with" You furrowed your eyebrows. "That's not fair"

They wouldn’t leave you alone, bickering and teasing you about it till you were tired. "Okay! Fine" Before you could say anything you heard knocking on your window. You all jumped, scared at the sound. "What the fuck was that?” You shrugged. "Sounded like knocking" Tara added. The window was drenched in rain, but you could still see the light figure of Ethan, who had once again climbed up to your window. "Is that Ethan?" Mindy's eyebrows furrowed.

You sighed, walking over to the window and clicking it open. "Oh..." Mindy gasped, laughing. "The cats out of the bag guys! It was Ethan Landry...well well well. That was unexpected" she joked. "We all already knew, don't be mean Mindy. We just wanted her to admit" Tara joked and you rolled your eyes.

"Oh...hi guys" he smiled. "Okay, enough" You dragged him to the bathroom. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you had people over! You weren't answering your phone and...I got worried" You hid your smile. "Sorry, as you can see the power went out and my phone died" he placed a kiss on your lips, melting Into it.

"Sorry about Mindy, by the way" he shrugged. WYou helped him dry off, putting his sweats into the dryer and giving him one of the shirts he has left in the past.

His hair dried weirdly, and all the product washed out. It was still curly, and a bit more fluffy. "Ethan, your hair looks dumb" Mindy added. "It's so much softer, leave it like this" You ran your hands through his hair. "This was supposed to be a girl's night" Tara grumbled. "He looks like a girl" Mindy laughed.

"You guys are so mean" Ethan just rolled his eyes, shaking it off. Mindy decided she was bored, pulling out all her face masks. "Ethan, wear this one" The packaging was pink with a Hello Kitty on it. "Okay..?" He tore it open, Holding up the slimy paper.

"Ew...this goes on my face?" "mhm," you helped him unravel the slimy paper, placing it on his face.

"You look so dumb!" Mindy laughed, the mask with Hello Kitty's face on it. He did look like stupid, but he was clueless so it was kinda adorable. "Okay Mindy, enough" you rolled your eyes with a smile.

Next thing you knew the girls were giving him a "makeover" Tara held his hand, adding the pink glitter nail polish to his nails. Anika redid his hair, adding products while Mindy used a face roller on him. You found it adorable how they were pampering him, taking pictures as they focused.

“Guys, am I pretty yet?” He mumbled, frozen while they worked. “No” Mindy mumbled, Tara letting out a giggle. “You’ve always been pretty E” you couldn’t tell because of the mask on his face, but he was blushing, hard.

[watchmegetobsessed]

PUPPY LOVE

A/N: this fic practically wrote itself, it's all fluff and sweetness, perfect for sunday evening!

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

SUMMARY: Harry has been on his well deserved break, but has run out of activities faster than he expected. Killing time he's been going to the same café and park for a walk pretty often, but it might have something to do with the pretty woman with the cute dog he's been seeing on these walks.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

For the past couple of months Harry has been nonstop thinking about what he will do once tour is over and he’ll have free time finally, when he won’t have to be anywhere, no meetings, no work, just him and his freedom.

Of course, he knew he would visit his family. Though he saw his mum and sister when he was performing at Wembley, he wanted to spend some more quality time with them for sure.

He’s been collecting book titles in his phone’s notes for a long time and he planned to devour all of them, enjoying the warm late summer weather.

Meeting friends.

Buying new art for his home.

Cooking.

Doing lots of pilates.

Dinner parties.

Pool days.

He thought of these all while being on the road.

Now he is 7 weeks into his break and he has done all of these. He envisioned it would take a lot longer to cross everything off his imaginary list, but he’s been using his time so efficiently that something he never thought would be possible happened.

He got bored.

It’s another day of his break when he has absolutely no plans. It starts off as usual, very early in the morning. He goes for a run, he picks up breakfast on his way back home, he showers, he eats his breakfast, he busies himself with whatever he came up with randomly, but he runs out of activities before the afternoon starts, so he opts for the only thing he’s been religiously doing.

Going for a walk to get coffee.

With a baseball cap covering his curls and shades hiding his sparkling green eyes he heads out to the same café he has visited a million times since he has moved into his current home. He loves it because it’s secluded, the people that go there always mind their own business and even if he gets recognized, the encounters have been quite respectful and quiet, no one has posted the location so fans are yet to figure out he’s been a regular around here.

He orders his usual and the barista hands the paper cup over to him with a bright smile before he walks out and heads to the small park nearby. The familiarity of this route brings him an odd sense of peace. He feels a bit old when he thinks about how obsessively he sticks to this same track every time he goes for a walk, but it’s not bothering him enough to switch it up yet.

And maybe, just maybe, he is justifying his repetitive itinerary because this is what has made him cross paths with her.

The woman with the Hungarian vizsla puppy.

He would be lying if he said he hasn’t been counting the times he saw her. The first time was way back when he was still touring, but returned home for just a handful of days. She was wandering through the greenery of the park that’s squeezed between the lines of townhouses, the puppy jumping and trotting wildly everywhere, clearly too young to be tamed just yet, but absolutely adorable. Harry fought the urge to run over and ask if he could pet the dog, but changed his mind upon seeing her.

It’s like he developed a high school crush in an instant, he could feel his heart pitter-patter in his chest even just at the thought of talking to her. Usually he didn’t struggle with a bit of flirt, chatting up someone he just met, but for some reason, this felt different.

Now that he’s been back home, as obsessive as it sounds, he has mapped out the times when it’s most likely he’d run into her and he’s been planning his days accordingly.

These past few weeks it seems like the woman has trained the puppy and it’s been getting more and more obedient lately, she’s been letting it roam around freely for some time whenever they are out.

That’s how Harry had the chance to make friends with the dog whose name is Rubik, according to the nametag dangling from around his neck. The woman was on the phone the first time Rubik ran up to him and so he didn’t have the chance to start up a conversation. Instead, made sure to make a good first impression on her four legged friend.

Rubik hasn’t failed to greet Harry every time he sees him since then, but somehow Harry hasn’t had the chance to talk to his owner just yet, but they acknowledge each other in a friendly, but distant way whenever the dog runs up to Harry for his usual scratches.

They smile at each other and she calls out to Rubik who whines, but obeys and returns to her side, sniffling through the grass as if he was searching for treasures.

Today, as Harry walks down the graveled path of the park he spots the duo pretty fast. She is perched up on a bench with a book while Rubik is running around from one tree to the other, rolling around in the grass, having a blast. He spots Harry soon and jolts over to him, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pants from all the running.

“Hey buddy,” Harry greets him as he leans down and pats him on the head. The dog barks at him as an answer and Harry can’t help but laugh.

Glancing up Harry looks at the woman, but she’s too engaged in the book she’s reading to notice him. He’s been wondering if she has recognized him, or she thinks of him as just a friendly stranger from the park.

Rubik seems to be extremely high on energy today, he jumps around Harry, nudging his feet as if he was trying to get him to go somewhere.

“Woah, okay, alright. Did you miss me?” Harry chuckles, walking further along the path as the dog bounces at his feet. Rubik barks and that’s what gets his owner’s attention.

“Rubik! Stop!”

Harry sees her stand from the bench, looking worried that her dog might be causing trouble, but Harry waves at her with a smile.

“It’s fine! He’s just playing!”

She stands there for a moment, watching her dog go crazy around Harry, but when he jumps up at him, almost whipping his coffee out of his hand she decides to put an end to it. And as she is approaching with fast steps, Harry wonders if today will be the day he finally gets to meet her and go beyond than just a friendly nod.

“Rubik, behave! You know not everyone likes it when you jump on them!” she scolds the dog and grabbing his collar she gently tugs him away. The dog seems ashamed just for a split second, then he sees a butterfly and runs after it, forgetting about Harry and his owner.

“I’m sorry, he is still learning what personal boundaries are,” she apologizes profoundly.

“It’s okay, I’m taking it as a sign that he likes me,” Harry chuckles.

“Oh, he surely does,” she agrees with a laugh. “It’s not showing now, but he can be very skeptical about new people, he has this look where he tilts his head to the side and it’s like as if he was arching an eyebrow, I swear!”

“Must be very intimidating,” Harry smiles.

There’s a pause where she is looking at her dog while Harry is looking at her. It’s the first time he is seeing her up this close and she looks even more beautiful. He knows this is his chance. He needs to introduce himself and strike up a conversation so next time they would meet as acquaintances rather than strangers. He is already opening his mouth, the words “I’m Harry, by the way,” are about to roll off his tongue when her phone goes off in her pocket.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realize it was this late,” she hisses as she checks the screen. “Rubik! Come on!”

Harry watches as the dog runs back to her and she puts his leash back on before heading the way Harry came from. A few steps into their way she turns back around for one last time.

“Sorry again! Have a nice day!” She waves in a hurry and they disappear out of Harry’s sight before he could get a word out.

Three days after their almost introduction, a mean storm hits the city. It rains cats and dogs for hours, drenching the streets after the heat they’ve been enduring the past weeks. It’s like a reset Mother Nature sent, washing away the heat of summer even if it’s just for a day. By late afternoon it finally stops, but everything is wet and cold, so people stay sheltered for the rest of the day.

Well, not Harry though.

He couldn’t put some errands off, so once the rain has quieted down a bit he left the house in a hurry before the threatening looking dark clouds could open up again and drench him. Once he got everything done he decided to grab some pastries from the café, so he made one last stop before heading home, hoping he could snatch up some croissants before the place closed.

Just as he is walking over to the entrance from his car he spots a familiar figure running towards him. Rubik barks happily upon seeing Harry and as he gets closer he realizes that the poor dog is soaking wet.

“Hey buddy, did you go swimming?” he chuckles, still scratching his favorite spot. Harry looks up, expecting to see her somewhere close, but he is surprised to see an empty street. “Where did you leave her?” he asks the dog, but he just replies with another bark. Then slowly, he realizes that he is not wet because he went swimming, but because he’s been probably out in the rain, which means he’s been on the streets for hours.

Without her.

“Did you run off?” Harry squats down, one hand scratching behind Rubik’s ear, the other one looking for the tag on his collar to check if there’s any information about his owner. Luckily, as he turns the tag he is met with an address and a phone number. Harry is already reaching for his phone when he decides against calling, he forgets about his plans to get croissants and returns to his car with Rubik by his side. He opens the passenger side for the dog and he climbs in as if he has done it a million times before.

“Well, buddy, she won’t be happy you ran off, but at least I’ll get to talk to her. So I guess thanks for being naughty,” he chuckles, glancing over at the dog as he starts the car. Rubik just barks and Harry translates it as you’re welcome.

He is not surprised to find the address near the park. The white townhouse is about a two minutes ride from the café, so at worst it’s a ten minute walk. Harry parks down in front of the stairs leading up to the front door and lets Rubik out before the two of them climb the stairs. He rings the bell and Rubik barks at the sound, his tail happily waggling as he is excitedly waits for his owner to answer the door.

The lock rattles and a moment later the door flies open, revealing the woman, but her features are soaked with stress at first sight. Her eyes land on Harry first, then the dog next to him and her features soften from relief.

“Oh my God, Rubik! You had me worried to death!” She kneels down and lets the dog jump at her, lick her face and neck as she rubs his sides. “Where did you find him?” she asks, looking up at Harry who feels lucky to be witnessing their reunion.

“Ran into him at the café by the park.”

“Of course that’s where you end up! You little rascal! Now go inside and don’t you dare scare me like this again!” She stands up and pushes the dog inside, Rubik trots down the hallway as if he just got home from his usual walk, disappearing down the corner. “Thank you so much for bringing him back!” The woman holds the door open and gestures for Harry to go inside. He hesitates for a moment, but his feet move before his mind could decide against it. “He was going crazy because of the storm and my brother was over here, he was leaving when it was still like a tropical thunderstorm outside and when he opened the door to run to his car, Rubik just bolted right past him and out into the storm,” she explains, walking down the hallway and Harry follows her, ending up in her kitchen. Rubik is there, nose deep in his bowl full of food, probably hungry after his little solo adventure.

“We ran after him of course, but this dog could probably outrun an Olympic runner, so we lost track of him. I’ve been calling shelters these past hours and I was just about to go out to search for him, but thank God you found him!”

“Well, actually he found me, I guess I was just at the right time and place,” Harry chuckles, watching her start the kettle, already grabbing two cups. “Um, I’m Harry, by the way. The other day I couldn’t introduce myself.”

He holds out a hand and she takes it with a shy smile.

“I know that. I recognized you a while ago, just didn’t think you wanted to be bothered,” she admits. “I’m Y/N.”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while.”

“Oh!” Her eyebrows arch at his confession and suddenly, the butterflies in Harry’s stomach are going crazy.

“Uh, I-I just think your dog is cute, that’s why and I’ve been seeing you at the park all the time… I mean… yeah.”

Good job, Styles. You fucking creep.

She looks startled by his answer and Harry wishes he thought through his words before talking, because it looks like he is blowing his chances at her pretty fast.

The kettle’s whistling breaks the awkward silence and he quickly turns around, pouring the water into the cups, letting the teabags soak in them.

“So, how can I thank you for returning Rubik to me?” she asks, clearing her throat.

“No need to thank me,” he shrugs.

“But I think I really should. You spared me quite some time, returning him before I hit the streets, screaming his name,” she chuckles, handing one of the cups over to Harry.

“It was pure luck that we ran into each other and I would have never left him wandering off alone.”

Come on, Harry. This is your chance. She might think that you’re a creep, but if you don’t ask her out now, you probably won’t have another chance.

“Still, if there was anything I could do…” she pushes one more time.

“Well, there’s one thing, if you really insist.” He sees her eyes light up.

“Yes! Whatever it is, the answer is yes.”

“I haven’t even said what it is,” he chuckles.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs with a smile. “I owe you, big time.”

“Alright. But I’ll need you to confirm the answer even after hearing the request.”

“Okay,” she nods. Harry swallows, takes a deep breath and then just blurts it out before he could change his mind.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

He feels like he is fourteen again, asking a girl out to the school dance. He probably sounded like that too, but there’s nothing he can do about it, the words are out there. Holding his breath, he waits for her answer, that doesn’t come straight away, which sets some panic in his guts at first.

She puts her cup down and Harry finally catches a smile tugging on her lips.

“You didn’t have to rescue my dog and be the hero of the day to ask me out.”

Harry fears she could hear his heart pounding in his chest as her words sink in.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, just to make sure, but he can’t hold back his growing smirk.

“Of course.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[lillaluna]

what was between us in your fantasy?

Pairing: Childe, Wriothesley, x f!Reader

CHILDE

You should have remembered halfway to work that you left your personal diary lying on the bed. And that was all right, but the danger was that you were living with Childe, and there was no guarantee that he would not enter your bedroom without your knowledge.

And now you were rushing back home to hide the diary, away from the prying eyes of Ajax, about whom it said… a couple of lines. How relieved you were when you entered the house without hearing a sound that said there was anyone there but you. And with a relieved exhale, you walked towards your room.

"What the hell!" You reprimanded, and crossed the room with a quick stride. Finding yourself by the bed, on which Childe was unceremoniously sprawled with his foot on the leg, you snatched your diary out of his hands, praying to all the archons that the guy hadn't read too much.

"Hey, on the bright side," the red-haired harbinger objected, trying to grab the notebook by the edge of the cover, but you clutched it to your chest in one fell swoop.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that taking other people's stuff is not allowed?" You glared angrily at the smirking guy who had changed his posture and was now sitting with his legs hanging off your bed.

"It says it about me, I had every right," Childe mouthed cheerfully tilting his head to the side.

Almost groaning at the realisation that the guy had read exactly what you feared, you bit the inside of your cheek and covered your eyes to calm the panic that was about to overwhelm you.

There was a creak of bed springs, followed by a couple of quiet footsteps. You opened your eyes and your gaze rested on Childe's chest, who was a head taller than you. Lifting your gaze, you swallowed the nervous lump that lodged in your throat. Ajax was looking down at you with a slight smirk on his face.

"I…" You started, but realised your voice was hoarse. Coughing and clutching the diary more tightly to you, you boldly met your eyes with Childe's blue eyes, "… whatever you read in there, just forget it."

"Well…" the red-haired man stretched out, after which he shook his head, clicking his tongue, "I might have done that if…" the guy stretched out his hand to you, from which you took a step back avoiding his touch. No, you weren't afraid, on the contrary, you couldn't be sure you could, then walk away and move on without that touch. "I have a question for you," with those words Childe took a step towards you and the distance between you, became even more negligible than it was before you had distanced yourself. The boy placed his hands on either side of your head, resting them on the wardrobe door behind you, blocking your escape route. Ajax leaned in so that his face was level with yours, and the gesture made your breath catch and your heart do a somersault in your chest. You'd never, in the years of your friendship, been this close to Childe.

"What are you…" you whispered, but you couldn't squeeze out any more words as Ajax's playful but deep gaze travelled deep into your mind.

You clutched the diary even more, as if it could save you from this obsession, while the harbinger opposite you hesitated, clearly enjoying your excitement.

"I have not had time to read just one thing," Childe whispered softly looking at your lips and then returning his gaze to your eyes, "what was in your fantasy between us next?"

WRIOTHESLEY

Blinking sleepily you tried to focus on where you were and who was standing in front of you. Shifting in your chair, you looked down at the papers on the table in front of you and saw a wet stain resting on the letters, causing the fresh ink to smudge. Blinking sleepily once more you yawned sweetly. The click that the ghastly realisation made in your head sent a chill down your spine.

Of course you were at work, sitting at the desk Sigewinne had given you since you were interning under her supervision, and in front of you, with his arms crossed over his chest, the Duke of Meropide himself was watching intently as you recovered from your nap. Sleep… You fell asleep on the job.

"Your Grace," you spoke softly, nodding your head lightly. It was impossible to tell what the guy in front of you was thinking right now, his face was impenetrable and his gaze was just focused. You didn't really want to look at the duke closely, not to embarrass yourself more, because his presence in the room made you nervous. And yes… You fell asleep on the job.

"You've got one here," the guy was pointing somewhere at the corner of his lips when you looked up at him. Your hand darted to your mouth, and you were horrified to find a wet mark there. Shamefully covering your eyes, you tried to keep the picture out of your head of saliva dripping from your mouth as the Duke, the guy of your dreams, came over to wake you up.

"Thank you," you quickly mouthed, hoping your cheeks weren't too red. "Were you looking for Sigewinne, Duke?"

"Actually, yes," the guy said, "but…"

"I'm sorry, I went to bed late last night…" You started to justify yourself, causing Wriothesley to smile slightly.

"Do you know what you say in your sleep?" Interrupted the Duke interrupting you shoving his hands in his pockets.

"What?"

The guy took a few steps towards your desk before resting his palms on the wooden surface, looking up at you.

"I haven't had much of a chat with you while you were asleep, and I just want to ask one thing. What was between us in your fantasy?"

[mindtrcks]

for tyler - maybe something about reader helping rescue him from thornhill & being the hyde’s master instead of her? love your writing style!

this is hungry work

Pairing: Tyler Galpin/Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: vague mentions of grooming/violence, smut, quite a bit of plot oops, unrealistically happy ending

Summary: You may not have a master plan or a decades long vendetta, but you do have Nathaniel Faulkner's diary, and a recurring penchant for taking wild leaps of faith.

Nathaniel Faulkner says that the Hyde is a beast lying dormant in an innocent man. Something waiting to be awakened. A creature loyally dependent on its master, subservient to its core.

Wednesday says that it’s Tyler. 

She says he’s a monster, that he killed enough people to get a taste for it, and now he’s killed his master, too. That he’s out of control and it’s only a matter of time before he does something big, before more people get hurt. She says anything he’s done before now has been a lie; he doesn’t care about you, and he never did. You were a pawn in he and Kinbott’s game, and he would've tossed you away the second you’d served your purpose. She says that he isn't the boy you thought, and he isn't to be trusted. 

But he's sitting right in front of you, with the same puppy dog frown and furrowed brows as always. He's looking up at you with something like desperation in his eyes, and for the first time since you’ve met her, you doubt Wednesday. How could this boy—quiet and sweet and scared—be the monster she claims? How could Tyler from the coffee shop—Tyler who’s soft spoken and friends with outcasts and isn’t even screaming at Wednesday for kidnapping him—be anything but good?

You don’t doubt he’s the Hyde. If Wednesday had a vision, you’re not going to question that. But you do question whether or not she knows the whole story. 

—

You’re at Nevermore when Wednesday finally pieces it all together. She’s been expelled, taking the fall for you and anybody else who’d been in that shed with her. Weems had taken it upon herself to personally escort Wednesday to the station, but evidently, even expulsion can’t stop somebody as stubborn as her.

She texts you from Eugene’s phone, the message just a single word. Thornhill.

It’s all you need to bolt up in bed, to shove your shoes on and search blindly for your jacket. You’re not sure whether it’s wishful thinking or just plain hubris, but some part of you—the outcast that wants nothing more than to fit in, to be a part of something—thinks that if you can stop Thornhill, you can stop it all. You can keep anybody else from being killed and thwart whatever Thornhill’s plan is, and best of all, you can help Tyler in the process. 

It’s either that, or die trying. 

—

Breaking into Thornhill’s classroom is easier than expected. She doesn't leave Ophelia Hall after eight anymore; the lockdown has grown too serious, the dark too dangerous. It allieves your fear, as you creep through Nevermore’s halls, to know that her classroom will be empty when you arrive. To not be afraid of Thornhill would be stupid; if Wednesday’s right, and Thornhill’s responsible for everything, you don’t doubt she’d be willing to kill you for snooping. 

The door is locked when you reach your destination, but you waste no time in picking it. You aren’t sure how urgent this is, aren’t sure where Wednesday is or where Thornhill is or where Tyler is, and you aren’t sure what she could possibly be making him do. 

You choose not to think about it as your eyes scan the room. You head to her desk first, frantically flipping through sheets of paper, turning over folders and ransacking drawers. You move to the bookshelf when the desk proves fruitless, scanning the dust on the spines of books. Nothing sticks out; the last thing you deem to try is the filing cabinet, looming in the corner of the room. There’s only one drawer that’s open, the metal dented and bent like it’d been slammed in a rush. Your feet take you to it before your brain even has time to consciously make a decision; your hands pulling it open before you know what you’re doing. 

It’s empty, save for one thing: a leatherbound journal with the name Nathaniel Faulkner engraved on the spine. 

—

Nathaniel Faulkner says that the Hyde is a beast lying dormant in an innocent man, a creature loyally dependent on its master. 

He also says that this loyalty does not run as thick as one might think.

—

The thing is, you don’t know Tyler as well as you wish you did. You don’t get to talk as much as you’d like, or to hang out without the murders hanging over your heads. But it’s not like you’re a stranger, certainly not like Thornhill was. No, you’d go as far as to say you’re his friend, maybe among his only ones. He trusts you, and despite yourself—despite everything that he’s done—you trust him.

A Hyde’s relationship to its master is built on trust, says Faulkner.

And maybe you don’t have a master plan, or a decades long vendetta, but you do have Nathaniel Faulkner’s diary, and a recurring penchant for taking wild leaps of faith.

—

He’s in the woods outside of Nevermore when you find him, looking antsy and wrong. 

You don’t want to think about what he’s doing there, about why his fingers are curled up into fists at his side. What he’s done doesn’t matter to you; all you care about is what he will do, what choice he’ll make. You approach him carefully, not wanting to set him off, or scare him away. You can’t imagine what kind of headspace he’s in, or the things going through his mind.

It’s only been hours since you’ve last seen him, but he already looks changed. Whatever act he’d been keeping up in Xavier’s shed, in the police station, he’s dropped now. His eyes are dark and his shoulders tense, mouth curled into something cruel. You hear Wednesday’s words echo in your head—he isn’t the boy you thought, he’s a monster, he’s using you—but you try to drown them out. You know Tyler. You know the good he’s capable of. So what if he’s capable of bad, too? 

“Tyler,” you say, keeping your voice steady as you step forward. He doesn’t back up, but he does narrow his eyes, leveling you with a gaze that has you on edge, shifting on your feet, your body screaming at you to back down, turn away. 

He smiles at you; not the small, shy thing you’ve seen from across the Weathervane so many times, but something sharp around the edges, showing a few too many teeth. Have his canines always been that big? Sharp enough to pierce skin? You feel something run up your spine; a shiver or a thrill, you aren’t sure, and you don’t care enough to try and discern it. Tyler’s walking towards you, and it’s hard to care about much of anything besides him in front of you and the diary weighing heavy in your bag. “You're the one they sent to fight the big, bad wolf?” he asks, looming over you. He expects you to be scared, to run away.

But scared isn’t exactly the word you would use. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

You can see his face flicker for a moment, quick enough that it would've gone unnoticed if you hadn't been looking for it. “And why is that?” he asks, nostrils flaring as he steps impossibly closer.

You refuse to let the proximity affect you, no matter how much it's trying to.  “Because it’s pointless,” you say, chin lifting up in defiance. “You know Wednesday. She won’t let you win.”

“So I should surrender, then?” he scoffs, because he thinks those are his only two options. He thinks this is kill or be killed; keep fighting or get arrested, sent away for life. But you have another option.

“Not necessarily,” you say, as your hand snakes down to your satchel and pulls out the diary. Tyler’s eyes zero in on it instantly, lighting up with recognition, with want. “How would you like to put this whole mess behind you, Thornhill included?”

He blinks a few times before glancing back up at you, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t,” he says, baring his teeth around the words, like it physically pains him to say them.

You raise an eyebrow in challenge. “Why?”

He looks mad, now. Not the simmering anger that’s been in the air the whole time, but a lighter kind of rage that’s more akin to simple frustration. More akin to something you’ve seen on Tyler before. You never thought you’d be relieved for somebody to be mad at you. “That's not how it works.

“Because she’s taught you so much about how it works.”

“More than you possibly could,” he spits out, and it’s supposed to be an insult, but instead it’s just plain wrong. Because you have the exact same diary that she did, the exact same knowledge at your fingertips. Only, you’re willing to share your toys. 

He watches as you lift up the diary, flipping to your bookmarked page. It’s power in your palms; power over Thornhill, over Tyler. It makes you sick, a little, knowing his fate is literally in your hands. How did Thornhill ever take it? “‘I have heard of Hyde’s gaining new masters only through means of battle spoils or dark magic, but I imagine there must be one other way,’” you recite, reading off of page three of Faulkner’s section on masters, the chapter you had found the most helpful in your frantic skim-through. Tyler stares down at you with something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You’ll unpack it later. “‘Seeing as the decision is always ultimately the Hyde’s—whether consciously or not—if a prospective master was ready and willing, a Hyde might simply choose them.’”

“You want…” he starts, incredulous, but doesn’t finish. He just looks at you, conflicted, confused, and maybe a little bit of something else. You understand that what you’re offering is bigger than anything you’ve done with him before now. Going from sitting across from each other at the Weathervane or being present in the same car—Wednesday or Enid or even Fester always a buffer—to offering yourself up as his master is quite the leap. Still, for whatever reason, you’re hopeful. 

“Yes,” you answer, even if he technically never finished asking his question. Yes, you want to do this, yes, you’re willing to take the leap, yes to everything. 

Tyler shifts on his feet, suddenly seeming wildly uncomfortable as his eyes skirt around the treeline. He’s looking for her, you realize. He’s scared she’s there, scared she’s watching. Scared he’s in trouble. 

A gnawing pit forms in your stomach. “Tyler,” you say, and your voice draws his eyes away from the woods. “I’m offering. All you have to do is make the choice, and all this goes away.”

It sounds simpler than it is. There will be things to do, after. Strings to tie, messes to clean. But right now, all you need is to get Tyler away from Thornhill. Permanently. 

Tyler stays silent for a moment, regarding you with something on his face that you don't recognize. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, unreadable. But you refuse to falter.

“Because you don't deserve…her,” you say.  “The things she did to you. It doesn't have to be like that.”

He seems to consider this, for a moment, eyeing you up and down. He has no reason to refuse, not really. Not unless he actually does enjoy it, like Wednesday claims. If he likes killing, gets off on the taste of blood in his mouth. You know he doesn't, though. That's Thornhill. Right? 

“So what do I do?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders up. “Since you're the expert here. What do I do?”

You close the diary, dropping it down to your side. There aren't step by step instructions, no ancient ritual for you to follow in the dead of night. All Nathaniel Faulkner had to say on the matter is that the choice is always the Hyde’s. 

You roll with it.

“The choice is yours, Tyler. Make it.”

He furrows his brows, looks like he wants to protest, but doesn't. He keeps his mouth tightly shut, ducking his head down and focusing hard on the ground. You don't know what it's like, on his side. Aren’t sure how hard it could possibly be to make a decision, but won’t comment on it. You’ll give him however long he needs. 

After what feels like an eternity but must’ve only been a few moments, he looks back up at you, and you know instinctively that it’s done. 

“Did it work?” you ask, peering up at him. He seems unchanged. The same Tyler you’ve been talking to this whole time. The same Tyler that killed all those people and put Eugene in the hospital.

He shrugs. “Tell me to do something.”

You consider it; there's a million things you could tell him to do, endless ways this could go. In the end, you land on something simple. Something with no strings. “Come here,” you request, plainly.

And he does. 

—

So you’re Tyler’s master, now. 

It’s weird to think about. Weird to think that you’re the one who figured it out, that this victory belongs to you. You expected it might go to Wednesday, that she’d be the one to help Tyler. Either that, or kill him. You thought his fate would end up in her hands, for better or for worse. 

Evidently, it did not. 

—

There are many things you come to realize about Tyler in the following months that you never thought you’d get to know. 

You know he doesn’t really drink coffee, despite his choice in occupation. He wears socks for as many hours of the day as possible, and he sleeps with three blankets instead of a comforter. You know he keeps a secret stash of twizzlers in the cabinet above the microwave, because if his dad sees them they’ll be gone before the day is over. You know what shampoo he uses, how he prefers Spotify over Apple Music, and which drawer is the sock drawer. You know his favorite TV show is Friends, and that he’s embarrassed to tell people about it. 

You’re watching it right now, curled up on his couch in pajamas, empty bowl of popcorn abandoned at your side. Moments like this feel equal parts right and bizarre. Tyler’s a killer, and yet you’re spending your Friday night watching Friends together in his living room. It’s strange, but everything about your life is strange. You barely even notice it anymore. 

Tyler shifts beside you; you’re so close on the couch that it seems less like two bodies and more like a wild conglomeration of limbs; a leg here, an arm twisting there, the brush of fingers on the back of your neck. His hipbone is digging into your thigh, but you don’t mind. You wouldn’t move if every one of your extremities had fallen asleep. If the couch had set fire.

“You should…maybe move your leg,” Tyler says, breaking you out of your haze. You don’t have to do anything but tilt your head to look at him; when you do, he’s staring back up at you with furrowed brows and flushed cheeks, working his lips together. 

It takes you a moment to realize what he means, to feel that familiar weight pressing into the skin of your thigh. When you do, it’s with a start. Yes, you’ve done this a few times. But not enough for it to be a common occurrence. It may be rare, but it’s certainly not the first time. Once you get your bearings, you find that you’re confident enough to smile down at him, to raise an eyebrow and ask, “Should I?”

He makes a little sound in the back of his throat, and you can feel his hips arch up, ever so slightly. “I mean,” he starts, breathy and quiet. “Or you could keep it there. If you want.”

“What do you want?” you ask, sneaking a hand down to the sliver of skin exposed between Tyler’s shirt and his flannel pants. He shivers, but doesn’t answer. “Tyler,” you urge, trailing your fingers over his stomach. 

“Touch me?” he asks, squeezing his eyes shut, tilting his head away. 

And you’re not really in the business of denying him. It takes some adjusting—you do have to move your leg—in order to find the right angle, but Tyler waits patiently as you shimmy your way down the couch, until you can look at him and touch him all at once. You aren’t sure how long he’s been hard, but when you trail your hand down and underneath the waistband of his pants, he gasps too loud for it to have been a short while. 

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, already a little wet, too. As you grasp him, he shoves his face into your shoulder, exhaling long and slow into your skin. “This what you mean?” you ask, maybe a little mean.

He nods. You won’t make him say it—you’re not that mean—but you could. If you asked, he’d answer. You’ve found that’s true in a lot of aspects of your life. It’s a power you’re still scared to wield, no matter how many times Tyler reassures you. You prefer subtlety, to guide him in this way, rather than by giving outright orders. You think he likes it better like this, too, if the way he’s squirming under your touch is anything to go by. 

Friends is still playing in the background, but you’re too distracted to find the remote and mute it. Instead, you tilt your head to press a kiss to Tyler’s hairline, as you start to stroke him in earnest. You try to set a slow pace, but Tyler’s hips chase the contact until it’s fast and hard, just like always. One of these days, you’ll make him sit still, but today is not that day. You let him set the pace, pumping his cock for all it’s worth as he thrusts up into your first. He’s embarrassed, you know, but he barely shows it, apart from the way he hides his face. He’s as enthusiastic as you think he can be, not shy in showing you how much he’s enjoying himself, through little punched-out moans that have the tips of your ears turning red. 

You’re not sure how much time passes like that. All you know is that your wrist is cramping and your bicep is aching, but you still feel like you could do this forever. The sight of Tyler underneath you, panting and sighing and practically shaking, is enough fuel for you for as long as he needs. Him falling apart for you has got to be one of your favorites sights; the sounds pouring out of him are music to your ears. At a particularly loud moan, you glance up, take in his state.

His shoulders are tense, his hands clenched into his fists and his hips staying shock-still. You let yourself smirk; one of the many things you know about Tyler is that he’s not always the best at lasting. “It’s okay, Ty,” you say, whispered into his jaw as you pick up the pace, moving impossibly faster.

He exhales in a gust of air, deflating almost instantaneously; now that he knows he doesn’t have to wait, he lets himself relax, sink into the couch. It’s not long after that that his hips jerk, and he jams his face into your shoulder once more, and you know.

You guide him gently back by the curls on the nape of his neck. There are many things you’ve gotten to know about Tyler, but the face he makes when he comes has got to be one of your favorites.