#drops one million anvils on him

[logaenhowlett]

THIS NIGHT HAS OPENED MY EYES - L.H.

Summary: Fate isn’t something Logan believes in. So what happens when he crosses paths with someone who has haunted his mind for nearly 50 years?

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, A desperate need to hug Logan

A/N: After weeks of pushing this fic aside, it's finally done. I'm happy with how it turned out, hope you enjoy! Title creds to The Smiths.

MASTERLIST

1983 - Alberta, Canada

Logan doesn’t stop running. Even after the soles of his feet turn an alarming shade of purple and blue, marring the once-soft skin with bruises and scars which will eventually fade away. Adrenaline carries him through the dense forest and its unforgiving terrain, but it’s fury - along with sheer horror - that courses through his veins. 

Red is all he sees. His heart thumps in his chest, feeling like an anvil dragging him into the earth. His breathing comes out ragged - the cold air, the newly metal-infused claws burning through skin - it all just becomes too much for him. The constant beat of dog tags hitting his chest echoes as he slices his way through the woods.

A million thoughts rush across his mind, none remaining in place long enough for him to grasp. Logan was never one to dwell on fantasies, always quick to shut down whatever illusions that little flicker of hope within him conjures. But now, he dreams of a world that isn't cruel, a world that doesn't wreck, shatter and destroy this innate sense of good he carries. A world that could never exist.

Glimpses of his childhood fight against the agonizing pain shooting through his body. For a brief second, Logan breaks free from the mental shackles of his survival instincts, enough for his mind to flood with memories he'd believed were lost to the disease of time. His knees falter as flashes of his mother, his father and even his brother momentarily hush the undying streams of insecurity and worthlessness that flow so deeply within him.

It's when he sees himself - that young child who dared to dream of a life worth living, a life he'd be proud to reminisce as he takes his last breath - he thinks it's the end. How would that little boy feel knowing this is what he'd become? A pawn in a game he'd never have a choice to deny.

His vision blurs, stinging in sorrow and heartbreak for his younger self. A tremble runs through his body and Logan wants nothing but to sink beneath the ground under his feet. To scream as exhaustion rips into his muscles, crumbling whatever resolve searing within. He'd give anything for it all to stop. The voices in his head to lull into a silence he desperately craves, even just for a second.

Fear was never something that infected him. Yet, at this moment, he truly is frightened. Terrified that he'd unknowingly sacrificed the only lingering shred of belief he held for himself and all that remains now is but a monster - a machine wired to do the very thing he refuses.

Logan thinks he's on the verge of crashing, to surrender to the plague poisoning his mind, body and heart. Just as he aches to cross that line, a soft gasp from someone nearby startles him. His eyes dart around, strides slowing down so abruptly that the sudden movement leaves his knees shaking. He can't even pull himself together long enough to properly focus on his surroundings, to absorb all the minute details he could once subconsciously catch.

His breath hitches as you reveal yourself, quickly studying you to determine whether you’re a threat. Even as the alarm in his head doesn’t ring, he’s still on edge when you approach warily. There’s just something about you he can’t quite detect.

“It’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you.” You whisper, hands raised.

Logan stares at you, tense and on high alert. Your gaze keeps dropping to the bloody claws between his knuckles, your expression twisting to one of shock and concern. His mind becomes a little hazy, the lucid part of him wants to run away, yet he's rendered frozen.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He hears you murmur once again, your hand slowly reaching towards him. The tone of distress in your words leaves Logan anxious, chest heaving in suspicion. A shiver rolls down his spine as your fingertips brush against his skin, goosebumps rising at the contact. Your eyes find his again, searching for any hint of resistance and when he gives no sign of hostility, you gently rest your palm against his shoulder.

The initial touch sends a current of sensations through his body. Immediately, a wave of calm washes over him and everything around him stills. Logan wills his mind to concentrate on the little bubble you seem to have created. And after what feels like forever, silence diffuses the noise in his head. A sob threatens to escape him as he grabs your wrist, he wants to say something, to question this strength you have over him, but he remains speechless.

He expects to recognise the unmistakable cast of terror across your features, staggering a little when he finds none. Not even the intimidating glare of the adamantium wavers your faith in him. And that realisation overpowers the gentle and soothing aura you seem to radiate. A broken hum cracks through the quietness, Logan drops your hand in an inexplicable panic. He shares one last look with you before sprinting off.

2029 - Eden, North Dakota

As the soft glow of light caresses his face, Logan shifts amongst the heap of blankets delicately wrapped around him. His muscles loosen in relief, finally content to rest after years and years of forcing him into overdrive.

There's a kind of weariness to him now, his movements slow, his healing even slower. He can't recall a time when his body wasn't fighting against him - against the adamantium. Pain becomes such an unceasing feeling that sometimes he doesn't register when one of his stitches pops open, blood staining his clothes with the reminder of his deteriorating state.

He sighs quietly, the conversation with Laura left a heaviness in his heart. Logan couldn't blame her, she’s a little kid after all, one presented with the chance of belonging to a makeshift family. But, he can't be the father she needs. The one she deserves. At least, that's what he tells himself. It's better that way, for her and for everyone who might get involved, to give them a fair shot at life untainted by his cursed touch.

Logan stops resisting his need for sleep, comforted by the fact that Laura's amongst her friends and away from danger for the time being. He drifts off almost instantly, the presence of someone in the room going unnoticed.

Leaning against the doorframe, you watch as his chest rises and falls, his soft breaths filling the air. He looks a lot older since the last time you saw him. Eyes a little sunken, wrinkles decorating skin, streaks of grey twisting into dark hair. Despite the physical changes, you can sense a weight that seeps so far into his soul, this aura of fatigue and defeat he exudes. God, he's so tired.

Feet moving at their own will, you slide onto the edge of the bed, tenderly running your hand along Logan’s arm. The slight shift of his expression as he subconsciously relaxes draws a small smile from you. Nightmares spare him this time.

Logan stirs awake a while later. As reality begins to settle once again, he stares at the ceiling, feeling a sort of peace and tranquillity that sparks only one memory. A brief encounter with a stranger who approached him with nothing but kindness.

The kids rush into the room, eager to see the hero they'd only read about in their comics. When has anyone ever been happy to see him? He wonders, uneasiness creeping into his thoughts.

"C'mon, let him rest."

It's the gentle tone yet one that carries a sway of authority that snaps his attention. The children hurry to leave, brushing past you in a fit of giggles as if they'd been caught doing something naughty.

Logan's eyes lock onto yours. His jaw twitches, chest caving as the realisation sets in. Of course, it's you. The reason why he'd felt such a lightness being here, his mind simmering in a state of serenity. The memory comes back in a sudden, the visions he's had of you throughout the years, ones that provided a fragment of bliss at times when he couldn't bear the misery - all of it comes back, overwhelming him.

Over decades, Logan convinced himself that you were but a figment of his imagination, concocted by his troubled mind as a last attempt at defence. As time went on, the mirage of you slowly dissolved. And now, here you are, standing in front of him - as real as he is. He sits, gradually lifting himself off the pillow, gazing at you in awe. You haven't changed at all.

"I can heal... like you." You offer, foreseeing the question that's lingering behind his lips.

He feels like the wind has been knocked out of him, all the dots in his head finally connecting. "You're one of us too." Logan says to himself, astonished, "That day - you did something to me."

Moving closer, you sink next to him on the bed, hand resting on his. A swell of tiredness spreads within him, he gasps under his breath at the sensation. It fades rather quickly, replaced by the inviting embrace of relief. Logan exhales softly, his expression riddled with wonder.

"I can't make you feel anything you don't already feel." Your whisper reaches him, "I can just... amplify it."

The fact sends jolts of shock through his body. Meaning, that day, you had found what little tendril of good he had so desperately clung onto. You saw it. You saw the good in him.

"I thought you weren't real."

Logan doesn't know why he's drawn to you. It just feels so natural to have you this close again - as if he'd found the missing part of himself he didn't know was tied to your soul. The voice in his head crawls to the forefront of his mind, polluting his desire to want you, to have you. He shouldn't be entertaining these wishes, everything he so hopelessly craves would just hurt you in the end.

"I wanted to find you," You tell him, sensing his internal battles, "But... I couldn't risk getting caught."

"Transigen?" He asks, despair slipping into his question.

The sound of laughter outside pulls your attention, "Gabriela. She told me about these kids. What happened... what those monsters did to them? I just - I couldn't let them fight this on their own." You see Laura in the distance, playing along with her friends. "She looks happy."

Logan follows your gaze, "I didn't... I didn't believe her. About this place." His voice wavers, the feeling of guilt clawing at him. He moves his hand away from yours, avoiding the flash of hurt across your face.

"You brought her here anyway. Some part of you hoped she'd be right." There you go again, managing to see the good in him. He shakes his head lightly, ignoring the choking weight in his throat. "You're not coming with us... I heard what you told her."

"Then you know why." He murmurs, eyes turning glassy.

"Logan - " You bring your hand to rest on his cheek, slowly turning his head, "I know you're not healing as fast... I can feel it." His eyes flick down to yours, a tangle of hesitation and longing behind them. "You don't have to give up - you don't have to be alone anymore."

Oh, how easy it would be to give in to you and the future you're promising. Yet, the shadow of agony looms over him. "I'm not meant for this - everyone around me dies." He spits out, angry at whatever higher being molded him this way - a man forever deprived of the simple pleasures of life. "I won’t let anyone else suffer because of me. The kids, Laura, you... you're better off on your own."

He shifts to lie down, too drained to continue this back and forth. The bed dips when you stand, a defeated sigh escaping you. As you’re about to leave, Logan's whisper makes you freeze.

"I'm not... whatever it is you think I am."

Sunlight beams through the windows, Logan scrunches his face as he rouses. It's oddly quiet, he notes, pushing himself off the bed. He takes a moment to focus his hearing on his surroundings - not a single soul around. A fit of coughs leaves him groaning, he stumbles his way outside, the raw intensity of the sun hitting him.

Empty is all he feels. A gaping crater in his heart as he understands what he'd given up by letting you slip away. Even Laura's absence strikes a chord, a small part of him had grown fond of the girl. He lets out a shuddering breath, this is what he intended. So why is every cell in his body yearning for your touch?

A swarm of drones fly overhead. Logan jerks his head at the noise, dread filling him once he sees the logo. He bursts into the room, searching for any medication to numb the pain burning through his organs. A green vial tucked away on the shelf gleams at him, he wastes no time, grabbing both the liquid and a needle before charging through the woods.

Everything within him seems to be on fire as he storms up and down the hills. He's out of breath in mere minutes, gasping for air while his lungs constrict. When the oxygen in his brain starts to diminish, Logan falls to the ground, coughing as his wounds reopen. His consciousness dances around the line between reality and illusion. Reaching into his pocket, he fumbles with the syringe, drawing the entirety of the vial - Rictor's warning rings in his head - and injecting the fluid.

It's almost rapid. The way the drug shoots through his bloodstream. Pupils blown wide, he roars, energy rushing into his veins. His legs carry him across miles towards the panicked screams of children and gunfire. Once the Reavers spot him, they direct their weapons at the bigger threat. Logan rips through them, unfazed by the bullets spraying everywhere.

Amongst the chaos and carnage, he spots you struggling against the soldiers' grasp. That momentary distraction sends him flying backwards as the impact of the railgun pierces his body. A primal rage erupts within him, his muscles throb violently, knuckles turning white. The effects of the drug wear off, knees buckling when he tries to stand, he collapses to the ground instead. His eyes glaze over, the wrath that had consumed him earlier now waning into hopelessness.

Laura stills in her tracks, her friends sprinting past her. "No! Run!" He yells, grunting. "Go to your friends, Laura." Logan stammers, knowing she can hear him.

He shuts his eyes for a second, every fiber of his being honing in you. With immense effort, he slowly rises, hand stained crimson while he clutches his stomach. He only moves a couple feet before he's knocked in the head.

X-24 glares at him ruthlessly, drawing his clawed-fist back to strike him again. Logan blinks wearily, catching the terror on your face as you attempt to escape from the soldiers' hold. An angry growl comes from somewhere behind him. Laura launches herself at X-24, slashing at him with all her strength. The clone staggers a little before grabbing her shirt and hurling her towards a tree.

The act makes Logan writhe in anger, but before he can attack him, X-24 lunges forward, extending his claws into Logan's side. Blood gushes out of him and your deafening scream is all he can hear. He doesn't know what's more excruciating - the pain or the look of sheer anguish on your face.

A bang echoes in his head. X-24 drops to the ground next to him, the remnants of a smirk on his half-exploded skull. Laura stands, a couple feet away, pistol in her hands. It's thrown away immediately as she runs to him.

The kids swarm around you, their collective powers thrusting the soldiers far away. In the corner of his eye, Logan sees you racing towards him. Weakly, he convinces Laura to go, to save herself. His words barely louder than a whisper as he gazes at her, pleading. She looks at you tearfully, torn between what to do. Muffled sounds of her friends calling her name reach her ears and with a heavy heart, she goes after them.

"Logan!"

You fall next to him, bringing his body to rest against yours. Your touch provides a sense of solace, a comforting warmth enveloping him. Logan knows you're willing your powers to take his pain away, to distract his mind from the agony tearing through him. All this time, even your indirect presence in his life was a beacon of hope amongst the shadows - a reminder that he was never alone. He whispers your name, faintly.

"No. No." You insist, shaking your head. "You are not dying. I won't let you."

Logan feels your hands press against his wound, your sobs breaking his heart. The emotion in your voice is a dagger to his spirit. He wishes to reach up and brush those tears away, to extend the same sympathy you do to him. Desperation fills your mind, your fingers fumbling with his clothes before your eyes shut, trying to channel your healing powers into him.

"Sweetheart..." A soft smile tugs his lips and his hand finds yours, gently intertwining them. "It's okay."

As his mind begins to finally relax, a vision spreads a surge of content through his body. You and him - on the Sunseeker. Tucked away in your own pocket of time, drifting across the seas without a care in the world. Perhaps he'd let you steer if you asked. He'd do just about anything you ask.

"No - Logan."

"It's all quiet now."

Despite only having one memory of you, he'd always cherished the compassion and tenderness you showed him. He realises now that, over the last fifty years, he'd fallen in love with you. In his own way.

"No... please..."

Darkness engulfs him as he takes his last breath. "I love you."

The world shrinks. A broken whimper leaves you, lost amongst the ringing silence. You don't let go of him, even as he goes limp against you. Your uncontrollable tears stain his clothes, everything loses its meaning. It feels like eternity stretches out before you, fuelled by the weight of your grief.

Then, Logan's finger twitches in your hand. You gasp, heart pounding as life returns to his body, a gentle tide washing away old wounds. The soft thumping in his chest makes your eyes widen in disbelief. You hold your breath as his eyelids flutter open, he lets out a ragged groan, matching your stunned look.

"You saved me..."

Hearing his voice again sends trembles down your spine, without sparing another second, you wrap your arms around him. Logan flexes his muscles, bringing you into his embrace, a mixture of emotions consuming his mind. As you whisper his name over and over again, doubting the reality of this moment, he pulls back slightly - nothing but decades of pure longing in his eyes.

His lips brush against yours, pouring every morsel of affection he can muster. Logan kisses you like a man starved, everything he'd bottled up rushing towards freedom. Tears ache to escape when the feeling of love grows within him and he smiles - that little boy would be happy.

"You saved me, sweetheart."

Don't worry, I'm not letting the story end here. Part two is in the works!

[e-dubbc11]

To Love You More

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: mentions of Billy’s abandonment, love confessions, maybe a swear word or two, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 2.3K-ish

Summary: Billy shows up at your apartment drunk. You’re surprised at what he has to tell you.

A/N: Based off of the song To Love You More by Celine Dion (don’t you judge me 🤣, the violin in it is really pretty) Sunday mornings are my alone time so I was food prepping and serenading my dog when the song came on so I continued to sing to her and this idea popped in my head. I hope you like it ♥️

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The three loud raps against your door startled you.

The noise scared you bad enough to cause you to toss some of your popcorn onto the floor. You managed to regain control of your wine glass before you dropped that onto the floor too. Pausing the movie, you placed the bowl and wine glass onto the coffee table and cautiously walked over to the door.

The clock on the microwave read 1:25 AM.

The three knocks came again along with a voice you recognized. “B-baby you awake?” He boomed from the other side of the door.

“Billy? Is that you?” You asked, relaxing a little when you heard your boyfriend’s voice.

“C-can y-you lemme in s-sweet girl? P-please? I-I f-feel like I’m gonna f-fall over.” He slurred.

Oh boy…

Billy had an event for his company, Anvil, tonight. As CEO, he had to make an appearance but by the sounds of it, he stayed a little longer than he probably should have.

Your relationship with Billy was still somewhat new; he hadn’t asked you to accompany him to one of these events yet and you were using the term “boyfriend” loosely.

The two of you spent a lot of time together but you just assumed he didn’t want to put a label on it and you couldn’t shake the feeling you were just setting yourself up for a heartbreak because you knew a lot of men like Billy…and dated them. They didn’t have relationships or want them; they just played with you until they were ready to move on.

But unless Billy was an exceptionally good actor, he really seemed like he was having a lot of fun with you and in turn, you were having a lot of fun with him. More than anything, you wanted this relationship to work because he made you feel loved even if he hadn’t said it out loud.

You opened the door. Billy stood leaning against the doorframe; his tie was loose around his neck. Normally perfectly styled, his ebony colored hair was slightly tousled and grazed the top of his eyebrows, and the top buttons on his crisp white dress shirt were undone. He still looked incredibly handsome.

Billy’s cheeks were flushed from the chilly winter air as he greeted you with that familiar million-dollar smile. His eyes were halfway open and you could still smell the bourbon on his breath as he pinched your chin and gave you a slightly sloppy kiss.

“W-well don’t you look a-adorable!” He exclaimed.

You chuckled a little and bit back a smile because you were just wearing pajama pants and a ribbed tank top. It wasn’t anything special.

“I-I had that work th-thing tonight.” He said, gliding into your apartment and trying not to lose his balance. “I-I might ha-have had a little tooooooo much to drink.”

“Yes, it does seem like you had one too many.” You said, biting back a slight smile. “Come on, lieutenant. Can you make it over to the couch?”

Billy started to carefully walk over to the couch when he looked down and noticed your spilled popcorn.

“Y-you sp-spilled some, baby. Oh shit…d-did I sc-scare you when I knocked on the d-door?” He asked, trying his best to not slur his words.

“A little.” You replied. “But it’s ok. What are you doin’ here, Billy?”

After removing his jacket, you helped Billy sit down. His long, slender fingers grazed the skin of your lower back when he lifted the hem of your tank top as he planted himself on your couch. Shivers danced up and down your spine while goosebumps sprinkled across your exposed skin. His touches always burned your skin in the most delightful way, every time.

“I-I just missed youuuuu. Y-you shoulda come w-with me tonight. Oh, I-I probably should have asked you to come with m-me.” He said, nervously.

It had to be the alcohol making him say all this but it made your heart swell to hear that he missed you.

Making sure he was seated firmly on the couch, you tried to let go of his hand to walk away. “I’m gonna get you some water and ibuprofen, I’ll be right back.”

Billy didn’t let go of your hand.

“I scared y-you tonight, huh. I g-guess I just scare everyone. Anyone that tries to get close, I p-push them away. I p-pushed my mother away too, ya know. Sh-she didn’t want me either.” He said, his voice a little steadier.

Billy didn’t talk much about his childhood. You knew he was a product of the system but he didn’t elaborate on that after he told you. That was the first time he had ever mentioned his mother to you.

Crouching down in front of him, you looked into his eyes, brushed the bristles of his beard with your thumbs and replied, “You haven’t pushed ME away, baby. I’ll always want you.”

With his other hand, he pushed back the hair that had fallen into his eyes so he could get a better look at you. His mouth split into a shy smile as he leaned in to touch his forehead to yours. The scent of bourbon was on his lips as he softly pressed them against your freshly cleansed skin and you inhaled the aroma of his spicy cologne.

“I-I don’t want to push you away, my love. I’ve waited a long time for you.” Whispered Billy. “Y-you let me be…me. I love you, y/n.”

Billy didn’t know what he was saying; he couldn’t have meant that. The alcohol flowing through his veins clearly allowed him to talk freely and tell you things that he never told anyone else. You thought maybe he would later regret doing that but it was too late now.

“Ok, you’ve had a lot more to drink than I thought and I know you don’t mean that but I’ve told you before, you can always be yourself with me, Billy. I will never judge you.” You said in barely more than a whisper as his eyelids became heavy and you coaxed him to swing his legs up onto the couch. “Lie back for me, baby. Thaaaaat’s it…”

“No, I really do mean it y/n!” Said Billy, in a slightly elevated tone.

“Oooooook, time to get some sleep, soldier.” You replied, playfully.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. His lean body was fully stretched out with one hand resting on his chest, the other was draped off the side with his knuckles barely skimming the floor as you gingerly covered him with a blanket.

Before turning off the living room lamp, you watched Billy sleep for a few minutes, stroking his handsome face with your knuckles and you warmed his skin as you lightly pressed your lips to his cheek and then to his lips.

He didn’t move.

In the gathering darkness, before going to your bedroom, you whispered in Billy’s ear, “I’m always here for you, Billy. I love you too…goodnight my love.”

Your pillow cradled your head as you stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Billy’s confessions to you that left you wondering if he meant any of what he had said and would he remember any of it? If you were to put any money on it, you would have said he wouldn’t remember any of it, deny that he even said anything, or blame the alcohol and he didn’t mean a word of it.

Before drifting off to sleep, a slight smile stretched across your lips. He came to you wanting nothing more than to tell you that he missed you, that he wanted you by his side tonight and upset with himself that he didn’t ask. With zero hesitation, you would have said yes.

Well…there was always next time.

**********

Your eyes lightly fluttered opened and closed again as the mattress dipped underneath you. A warm body spooned up behind you and Billy kissed your bare shoulder. A handful of hours must have passed as the early morning sky was just starting to lighten. He must have stripped down to his boxer briefs because you felt his skin touch yours as his long arms wrapped around your waist.

Humming into your ear, he kissed the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You loved when he did that and a soft moan of his name escaped your lips as a reflex.

“Mmmmm…Billy.” You said.

Billy buried his head into your neck like a cat, desperately wanting to be as close as he possibly could to you. He gripped you tightly, possessively like he was afraid to let you go as he purred into your ear, “You meant it, right baby? That you’ll always be there for me?”

In the liquid darkness, you turned to face him. You couldn’t see him with the exception of some of his features. His lips were close to yours as he repeated, “I heard you. You said you’d always be there. I’m not making that up, right?”

Slowly, you extended your hand, reached for him, and started to gently rake your nails against his scalp as you replied, “Of course, Billy. As long as you want me, I’m here baby.”

“As long as I want you?” He questioned. “As long as YOU want ME!” He said.

Billy’s lips crashed against yours, his hands tightly gripped your waist, your lips parted as his tongue slipped into your mouth, wanting to tangle with yours. His raven colored hair glided in between your fingers and you could feel a trace of his smile against your lips as he continued to kiss you in the softly filtered glow of your bedroom.

After and holding you in a firm embrace, he told you about his mother and it wasn’t a mystery anymore of why he didn’t trust people, or why he didn’t let anyone get too close. He was afraid of being abandoned again.

Billy never wanted to feel the way he did standing outside that fire station, a scared little boy wondering what he did wrong for his mother to leave him and never come back. It wasn’t his fault and you made sure to tell him that he did not push her away. That was all her doing.

As he spoke, you wondered if Billy could ever completely forgive his mother for what she did. And if he could, he’s a much better person than you are because you could never forgive her for that. The dull ache in your chest persisted as you felt your heart break for him.

Billy was a child, he didn’t deserve to be treated that way, but she earned everything she got in return. She didn’t deserve a second chance, not after abandoning her own child like she did.

The stars slowly disappeared as the sky started to brighten. And in that early morning light, you could finally see Billy’s dark eyes fixed on yours, like he was waiting until he could actually see you to say what he wanted to say next.

“I know you thought I was too drunk or that I didn’t mean it but I do mean it, sweet girl. I love you. I’ve never told anyone about her except you because I feel like—“ Billy said then paused.

It was a struggle for him to tell you how he really felt but he was trying and you could never fault him for wanting to be better.

He continued.

“I feel like I can…trust you.”

Love and trust…those were two things Billy never thought he’d ever experience. You’ve never given him a reason not to trust you. He said it earlier…”You let me be…me.” If he wanted to talk, you would let him and no matter how much or how little he wanted to say, that was enough for you.

Even though he had trouble verbalizing how he was feeling, he would show you how much he cares with a surprise cup of coffee at work in the middle of the day, or a donut from the place down the street because you “like their sprinkles,” a walk in the park on a warm sunny day, or reading to you because he knows you love listening to his voice.

Those were just a few of the ways Billy Russo expressed his feelings for you. Deep down in the pit of your stomach, you knew he meant what he said. Those three little words he never expressed until tonight…to anyone.

Feeling the warmth of his skin, you inched closer to him and his gentle exhale brushed against your lashes; you gave him a warm smile and gently pressed your lips to his.

“I love you too, baby. And you can trust me that no one will ever love you more than I do.” You said softly against his lips.

The night blackened window of your bedroom had started to brighten with the sun attempting to break through the small space in between your curtains as you held each other in silence.

Sometimes words weren’t always necessary. Actions speak volumes and really attest to someone’s feelings and intentions toward you. Putting his trust in you helped to pick up the pieces of Billy’s broken heart and carefully put it back together again.

Billy didn’t say anything else and he didn’t have to. The way his lips crushed against yours, how he lovingly kissed every inch of you, his fingers tracing all the curves and hollows of your body, and how gentle he was when he caressed your face…there wasn’t any doubt in your mind now that Billy Russo adored you, that he only wanted to be with you, and more than anything, that he loved you.

I’ll be waiting for you

Here inside my heart

I’m the one who wants to love you more

You will see I can give you

Everything you need

Let me be the one to love you more

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @ittybxttykxttytxtty @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 7) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): fluff, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, hangovers, sexual themes, self-pleasure, references to sexual activities, NSFW

Word Count: 5,209

A/N: Thank you for your patience while I took a bit of a break. Hopefully it won’t be as long while I finish up *the last part (*hopefully but no promises - iykyk). I hope you enjoy, please don’t be a ghost reader! Constructive criticism is always welcome <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

Daniel woke up the next morning feeling like an anvil dropped on his head. He cursed the alarm but was thankful he had the foresight to set one. It was a tall order trying to sort through the details of the night before. He had his phone, keys, and wallet, so that was a win at least. What time had he gotten back to the hotel? He recounted the most peculiar dream that you had been in his room at one point – he reminded himself to lay off the melatonin, it always made his subconscious mind run wild. It took every ounce of energy to push himself upright, swinging his legs to the side of the bed at a glacial pace. Fighting the throbbing in his head, he almost missed the pills and water on the nightstand and a trash bin next to him on the floor. Drunk Daniel had never been so thoughtful or organized. Maybe it wasn’t melatonin after all. Those familiar butterflies he felt every time he thought of you fluttered away.

On second thought, definitely not butterflies.

After unceremoniously emptying the contents of his stomach, he gladly consumed the gifts you had left for him. He took a much longer shower than usual, doing his best to wash away the anxiety brought on by his hangover. He was going into the last race weekend of the year (maybe two) feeling like absolute shit. The thought of you putting him to bed initially made him giddy but it was overshadowed by fear of the unknown. His memory of the night before was fuzzy at best and but for the physical evidence you left behind, he would have gone on believing the kiss in Brazil was the last time the two of you interacted. Fuck, he had made such a fool of himself. What else had he inadvertently said or done last night? If you had walls up before, you probably now also had a moat, barbed wire, and trained militia on guard. In his efforts to get closer to you, you ended up pushing him away. You were the sun and he was Icarus.

But clearly all was not lost if you had helped him in his hour of need. If he could trust his “dream,” you had called him your friend. You had worn his clothes. You insinuated there would be a world where the two of you would be alone in a bedroom again. If all true, the culmination of those things did not add up to a person who wanted to completely shut him out. Then again, maybe that was you simply being you – that is, a good person who would show the same compassion to anyone whether they were your lover, friend, or stranger on the street.

He hadn’t had this lack of confidence picking up girls since he was an awkward teenager. From the beginning you had been a puzzle. You did not immediately fawn over him and fall victim to his charms. He sensed you may have even disliked him upon your first meeting, though he couldn’t blame you – he had severely underestimated you. Thereafter, every one of your laughs was hard earned which made them all the more sweet. You were accomplished in your own right and impressing you was a tall order, but when he succeeded it felt as though he had won Monaco a million times over.  

He thought back to Austin. So much had gone wrong, but so much had gone oh so right. There was an ease about you that weekend that he had only previously been privy to in staccato bursts. Whatever internal struggle you had been fighting seemingly slowed, allowing him to peel back all your layers. Even in that sad corridor, he could’ve sat next to you in silence for all of eternity and he would have been happy.

Then there was that pesky elephant in the room. In just a few days, he technically wouldn’t be your client anymore. He could get lost in all the tempting possibilities, but he had to stay focused. He’d cross that bridge later. Until then, all he had to do was stay in your good graces.

-

When the day came for your first client meeting in Abu Dhabi, you weren’t sure what version of Daniel you were going to get. You wouldn’t be surprised if he froze you out again like he did after Austin. It would be disappointing but understandable. You had explained yourself more than enough at this point though, and the position you found yourselves in wasn’t your fault. Nobody could have predicted that your client would fall for you when you were selected as counsel for the driver.  You couldn’t control his response, and if you reasserting your boundaries made him that upset then so be it.

No, there were no nerves this time but there was still an underlying anxiety that caused your heart to race. The partner was waiting at the offsite dinner location when you arrived. It was an elegant restaurant, so you had selected a pretty but conservative wrap dress for the occasion.

“Y/n, so glad you could make it,” he said as he extended his arms for a small hug.

“Me? I’ve been at every race weekend, not sure where you’ve been,” you teased.

“I know, I know, it’s been busy. I appreciate all your hard work through this. I’ve told the managing partner about your efforts, we’re all very impressed.” You couldn’t help the growing smile on your face, but you did your best to hide the absolute giddiness swelling in you. That bonus was yours to lose at this point and if this trajectory continued, you could make partner by the time you were 35.

“Thank you for the recognition, but I’m just doing my job,” you feigned in modesty. You knew how many hours of sleep you’d lost over the course of the last few months between the work itself and the constant travel. You knew how much you missed your friends and family during this time, and the other countless sacrifices you’d made along the way. But you would do it all over again for the once in a lifetime opportunity. And you never would have met Daniel - that certainly counted for something. Maybe after last week your relationship wouldn’t be the same going forward, but his companionship until now had offered you an unexpected fulfillment that felt foreign.  

Then, as if someone had read your mind:

“She’s being modest,” you heard behind you, a hand resting on your shoulder. You turned to see him in nice slacks, a crisp white t-shirt, and sport coat. For someone that was probably fighting for their life this morning and suffered through a long media day, he cleaned up very nicely. You did your best not to openly ogle, though he caught the quickened rise and fall of your chest. You couldn’t help but smile back when he gave you his signature grin.

“Daniel, great to see you,” Joe said as he extended his arm past you to shake his hand.

“Likewise, nice of you to finally show up.” His tone and features were so pleasant that he could pass off the genuine dig as jest. Either way, the partner was unphased.

“Well, that’s why I brought in my very best associate to help me out as back up.”

“I suppose I should consider myself lucky then,” he said, smiling back at you. “Though, I don’t think I would call her ‘back up’by any means.”

The familiar heat rose to your cheeks as you bit your lip to unsuccessfully suppress your bashful smile. You gently elbowed him to convey your thanks. Both for defending you but also for the normalcy of the interaction.

You anticipated a level of awkwardness after your nondescript rejection in Brazil, thinking he would try to distance himself as he had after Austin. You wouldn’t fault him if he sat next to Joe, but he plopped down right next to you as though nothing had happened. An unexpected wave of relief washed over you. It seemed clear that you were “good”, whatever that meant. Sure, it helped to have Joe there as a buffer, but the two of you would have probably been fine on your own. The thought gave you solace.

The uneventful meal concluded with a plan of action in place for the rest of the weekend. The three of you made your way out of the restaurant towards the valet.

“I hope the two of you will enjoy the weekend at least until we complete the signing on Monday? Consider it a thank you.” It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that line before, but it felt different this time.

“I’ll have to take some calls here and there, but sure, why not,” Joe responded, oblivious to the fact that the message was hardly meant for him.

“Good, I’ll make sure you guys have your paddock passes for the next few days.”

Of course as if on cue the partner’s phone went off as you exited the restaurant.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this. But hey, great dinner. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Yep, have a good night,” you trailed off as he walked away, smiling through gritted teeth. You watched as he got into the corporate car by himself already focused on something else entirely, even though you were all going back to the same place.

“Typical.” You turned to Daniel, surprised at his observation.

“Could you tell?”

“Seems like we both have bosses who abandon us.” You smiled.

“What an unfortunate bonding experience.”

It was a heavy conversation, but the air was light. You both giggled at your misfortunes. When it died down, he broke the silence.

“Uh, thanks for making sure I was… accounted for last night.”

“Oh,” your cheeks dusted pink. You had such high hopes he wouldn’t remember. Maybe there was still a chance, perhaps Lando had simply filled him in. “Sure, no biggie. It happens to the best of us.”

“I didn’t do or say anything embarrassing, right?” Daniel tested the waters, partially playing dumb. His memory may be fuzzy, but he knew enough. You pursed your lips together.

“Nothing more than usual,” you said with a smile, playing it off. He felt slightly disappointed. He wished you would admit to the kiss along with the hopes you’d bestowed upon him – but maybe it was just in his head after all. Either way, you didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the conversation and that was a clear enough message to him. He knew what he needed to do.

“Can I just say,” he paused. He might need to go back inside for another drink. “- that I’m sorry. For everything. You’re just here trying to do your job, and I’m not making it easier for you. You’ve said no, and I keep trying dumb shit. I should have stopped.”

Your chest tightened. The apology was somehow welcome, appreciated, and warranted. But you also found it endearing which made you like him even more. And it also probably meant that he had lost interest and that last part didn’t make you feel great either. You wanted to tell him everything but doing so would only complicate things. Instead you bit your tongue and gave a polite smile.

“Thank you. Apology accepted.”

“No, thank you. I’ve made an ass of myself over and over again and you put up with it.”

“Well. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from my first celebrity client, but ‘ass’ was certainly in the realm of possibility,” you said cheekily. “Nothing I wasn’t prepared for.” The lie slipped easily through your teeth.

“So you assumed I was going to be an ass?” he asked with a laugh.

“What did Drive to Survive call you guys? ‘Talented, rich, and cocky’?” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, but his face was still warm and welcoming.

“Don’t tell me you watch that garbage.”

“For research purposes, obviously,” you said sarcastically.

He watched your eyes twinkle and the sly grin that graced your features as the desert wind gently blew your hair around your face, framing it perfectly. You fixed the strand he so badly wanted to tuck behind your ear yourself. Your wrap dress fluttered just so, allowing him to catch a quick glimpse of your upper thigh, contrasting the otherwise modest outfit. He wondered what it would be like to tug at the delicate bow at the side of your waist that kept the whole ensemble together. He caught himself in the middle of his thoughts.

“Since your boss left you stranded, can I give you a ride back?” You looked around, a serious look on your face. You whispered in a low voice.

“Is that… appropriate? I know men and women aren’t supposed to be alone together here.” He wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make you feel bad. Of course the lawyer wanted to follow everything to a T. He knew from experience that the morality laws were loosely enforced at best, but he wasn’t sure how much of that was attributed to his own privilege.

“If it makes you feel any better, I could pretend to be your chauffeur.” The line earned him a laugh.

“An F1 driver as a chauffeur. That’s rich.” He smiled, satisfied with his efforts to put you at ease.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yeah, but the expectations are pretty high.”

“You’ll have to let me know if I have a backup career as a personal driver if this whole F1 thing doesn’t work out.”

The valet pulled around an unassuming black SUV with tinted windows. Without skipping a beat, he opened the back passenger’s seat door waiting for you with an extended hand dipping into an exaggerated bow.

“Your chariot, m’lady.”

“Oh my, what service,” you contrived dramatics with a hand over your heart. Your other hand graciously accepted his while getting into the car. The familiar pulsating electricity coursed through the touch and lingered as you watched him close the door.

“Home Jeffrey,” you said, donning the worst British accent you could muster when he settled in the drivers seat. He peered at you in the reflection of the rearview mirror. You looked relaxed and happy, and that was enough for him. Your eyes locked, and you caught a glimpse of those dimples that could melt polar ice caps.

It was a comfortable ride back to the hotel, a little small talk here and there. He tossed the keys to the valet and helped you out of the car, again trying to memorize the feeling of your palm in his before reluctantly letting go.

He pressed for his floor in the elevator. He looked at you when you didn’t follow suit, wondering for a moment whether he forgot his manners.

“Uh, what floor are you?” he asked politely, hovering over the buttons.

“Oh… I actually ended up down the hall from you.”

“Oh.” A loud silence fell. It was unclear whether the arrangement was fortuitous or simply torture for both parties, the other so close but just out of reach.

The doors opened and you tried to hide a sheepish look as you started walking in the same direction.

“Are you following me now?” he joked. “I don’t need help getting into bed this time, promise.”

You stammered a bit, trying to find the right words but decided to keep your mouth shut. You had begged the concierge to find you any other room but she insisted the hotel was fully booked and there were no other options. But you realized in that moment it would only be weird if you made it weird. Humor was always the best deflection so you decided to lean into it. Your ability to hide your growing smile began to falter. Looking like the cat that swallowed the canary, you didn’t say a word as you walked past him when he finally stopped in front of his door. Only looking back in his direction to wave when you stopped in front of yours which happened to be the room over. You both snorted before dissolving into laughter over the absurdity of it all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try not to throw any ragers,” you said between fits of giggles.

“You mean I wouldn’t be invited?” he asked in faux disbelief.

“You know you’re always welcome, what’s a party without thee Daniel Ricciardo? I just wouldn’t want to disrupt your ‘high performance athlete’ routine before race day.” He cocked an eyebrow.

“If you threw a ‘rager’, everyone would be sitting in a circle doing face masks with Celine Dion playing in the background like some kind of selfcare séance. And it would be over by 10pm.” The laughter that had finally started to slow picked up again. His heart skipped a beat seeing your nose scrunch.

“Hey now, you forgot the scented candles. That open flame is a safety hazard.”

“You are just too wild and crazy.”

“You know me so well. I’ll do my best to keep it down, no promises though.” The laughter slowed again, but the wide grins remained.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow… neighbor.” You smiled, liking the way it sounded coming from him.

“I guess so, good night neighbor.”

You closed your respective doors, each acutely aware of the one wall that separated you.

-

Daniel rubbed the sleep out of his eyes the next morning, aimlessly palming his nightstand to turn off his alarm. He made his way to the bathroom, slowly shaking away his slumber. He was washing his hands when he realized there was more noise than what was coming from the faucet. He turned the water off and listened. He picked out the sound of running water. There may have been music playing from a phone, but it was drowned out by a muffled, unmistakable, offkey voice he could pick out anywhere.

Cuz when the night faaaaallls

My loneliness calls

Boo doo boo DOOP

Ohhhhh I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the HEAT with somebody

yeaAHH I wanna dance with somebody

With somebody who loves me

He smiled to himself listening to you try to do lead, backup vocals, and instrumentals of the Whitney Houston classic, reminiscing back to your performance with Lando in Japan. The warmth that spread from his chest to his toes woke him up, suddenly feeling a renewed sense of optimism for the practice sessions ahead.

As he left to head to the paddock, he heard another door close. His timing was meticulous and he counted his blessings that he should be so fortunate to share more time with you. He couldn’t help the giant smile that grew on his face at the sight of you, immediately imagining you singing in the shower. You double checked for something in your bag before you looked up to meet his gaze. You looked behind you to make sure his dimples weren’t reserved for someone else.

“Hi?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Hi.” He knew he looked dumb, but he didn’t care. He was allowed to smile at you, right?

“You’re awfully happy to see me this morning.” The corners of your mouth turned upward, marked with a cautious skepticism.

“Yeah, h-” He stopped himself. How was your sold out stadium tour in the shower? But if this was a ritual of yours, he didn’t want to miss out on future performances – he did still have three more days with you. “I’m just excited for the practice session.”

Your smile relaxed somewhat. “I’m glad you’re feeling confident. Do you wanna walk over together?”

“Oh, you’re going there too?” He mentally smacked himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Where else would you be going?

“Well yeah. You invited Joe and I, remember?”

“Right. Wasn’t sure if you were off to do lawyer things.”

“I mean I am, but the track is a lot more fun than the hotel lobby. Y’know?”

He did. And the walk there was much nicer with your company. He enjoyed this new morning routine and would be sure to make it happen the rest of the weekend. On his own he may have felt the gravity of the situation more, may have simply gone through the motions to get it all over with, the weight on his shoulders too much to bear. But your presence invigorated him. Helped him believe that there were better things on the horizon. He just needed to clear this one last hurdle and he had the strength to do it. He was consistent in the Friday practice sessions, and your shower version of “Pocketful of Sunshine” the next morning helped him place P10 for qualifying.

You too found this morning pattern soothing. You were pleasantly surprise that you enjoyed your new neighbor more than you thought you would, and happy that what you thought would be a source of stress and awkwardness brought you peace and comfort. When race day rolled around, you had no reason to believe it would be any different than practice or qualifying, other than the fact it was a night race. So you caught up on work in the morning before you got yourself ready as usual. You decided it was a Celine Dion day, happily belting “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now,” unbeknownst to you that you had an audience. In another pleasant turn of events, Joe had given you the ok to leave the work at home, granting full permission to enjoy the race. You initially went for your yellow midi dress, but it triggered flashbacks to Austin. It was best to put it away, no need to risk the bad juju. You struggled to pick something else, changing no less than five times. Somehow you needed to be modest, but in something where you wouldn’t overheat, but it would cool down once the sun set, but it also had to be stylish because you were again going to be surrounded by A-listers across an array of disciplines who looked like they just walked off the runway in Milan. For once you wished you had the ease of just throwing on a suit and being done with the whole ordeal. But the thought got your creative juices flowing, and you settled on a sleek black blazer dress. You threw on the Louboutins you bought with your first Big Law pay check that only came out on special occasions, and topped off the outfit with some big gold hoops for good measure. You could always fake confidence with red bottoms, red lips, and gold hoops.

Even though you had no work with you this time, you had grown accustomed to arriving fashionably early to these events to coincide with Daniel. You gave a friendly knock on his door, expecting him to be ready at the same time as you as he had the last two days. But nothing could have prepared you for coming face to face with the Australian and his Adonis-like figure on full display. Of course he would have no shame answering the door in just a smile and a towel, though with a body like that it was amazing he wore clothes ever.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I. Uh. Um. I-” You continued to stutter as you tried to figure out where to look. You feebly tried to avert your gaze but his beautifully tan muscles demanded attention, from his shoulders, to his pecs, to his abs. You wanted to study and write a dissertation on the tattoos on his arms. You definitely wanted to memorize the line of the towel that hung just so on his hips. But you also didn’t want to make it obvious that you were staring. So your eyes darted from the ceiling, to his body, to the floor, then back to his body, in a chaotic loop.

“My eyes are up here.” His voice dripped with smugness. You definitely couldn’t look there. But you obliged, only to be met with the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen in your life. Your entire body was on fire, and the arrogant twinkle in his eye only stoked it. You knew he was hot. God knew he was hot. Everyone knew he was hot. And he knew it too. And he was having the best time seeing you flustered.

“When you’re done having a stroke, care to tell me why you’re here?”

“You have to be there in less than an hour, I thought you’d be ready to go and we could head down together!” Your tone came off as frustrated. And you were, for more reasons than one. He rolled his eyes.

“We aren’t that far and I don’t take that long to get ready. Give me a few minutes, I’ll be right out.”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be in my room,” you said curtly, and spared no time practically running back.

Daniel laughed to himself as he closed the door to continue getting ready. Seeing you lose any measure of control had become one of his favorite things, a stark contrast to your usual moda operendi. He paused though when an unfamiliar sound came from the wall you shared. He stood in front of it for a moment trying to decipher what it was. It sounded like an electric shaver, but why would you need one of those? His eyes widened and the blood rushed to his cheeks and crotch as it dawned on him.

Your hands were almost shaking as you got the door open. You rummaged through your bag to find your vibrator, practically ransacking your room in the process. You definitely had time to rub one out before he would be ready. The picture of his muscly tattooed thighs pressing on the back of yours flooded your brain, back bowed for him with his name falling off your tongue. Your body ached for it to be a reality, one that was so close yet so far. You fell on the bed and pressed the toy where you needed it, eyes squeezed shut, desperately wishing it was the appendage of your friendly neighbor.

Daniel had never gotten ready so fast in his entire life. No doubt, what he just witnessed was the epitome of sexual frustration. Knowing you, you would be quick and efficient about it – he could imagine you splayed on the bed with the hem of your dress bunched up. You probably didn’t even take off your underwear. An internal battle waged within him – whether to rub one out himself or rush to catch you in your immediate post orgasm bliss, the latter ultimately winning. He would have plenty of time later to take care of himself.  

You were so close, when your phone went off.

DR: I’m outside your door.

The disturbance in your momentum should have thrown you off. But the idea that he was basically right there while you touched yourself pushed you right to the edge. Another fantasy intruded your thoughts, imagining what it might be like if he were to come inside and watch you. Your phone dinged again a second later.

DR: Come.

And you did.

You barely had time to come down from your orgasm as you smoothed out your skirt and grabbed your bag again.

“Hi sorry I’m ready,” you said breathlessly as you strode past him.

Daniel chewed the inside of his cheek. He didn’t miss the bright pink flush or the light sheen that graced your features. Your obvious glow matched the flyaways that now stuck out from your otherwise perfectly coiffed hair that made him want to drag you into his room and put that silly little imagination of yours to shame. Demand to know whether your dreams were as good as the real thing with a fistful of your hair in his hand as he buried himself deep inside you. Demand to know whether that stupid toy made you feel like half the woman he did. And that dress. That beautiful dress that hugged your body in all the right places, that showed off its peaks and valleys, that teased just the tip of your cleavage before sealing your tits away like a cruel riddle. He would ruin it. The stiffness in his pants pestered him, and he pushed the impossible thoughts away. He settled on tucking one of the out-of-place strands behind your ear, not missing the opportunity to tease you even if only a little.

“Everything ok? You’re all flushed.”

You bit back a whimper as the tip of your ear fired signals to your core and you suddenly wished your hair follicles had tactile sensors. You would’ve been blushing if your face wasn’t already red.

“Yeah… I, uh, realized I lost an earring. So I had to find it.”

“Did you?” The way his warm brown eyes bore into yours made your stomach do cartwheels.

“Yeah.” Why were you suddenly panting?

“Good. I’m glad you, uh… found your earring.” If you blinked you would’ve missed it, but you could’ve sworn you saw the flash of a smirk cross his face before it was gone. Were you still talking about earrings?

You continued to make your way to the paddock together, you stayed just a pace ahead still hesitant to make eye contact with the driver. You whipped around though when you heard a distinct *click* only to find him with his camera still aimed at you. Another *click*, the flash blinding you momentarily.

“Daniel!” The blush that had finally started to fade came back with a vengeance. He had tried to take pictures of you before, eager to practice his new hobby, and you had politely reminded him that it would pose a risk to your attorney-client privilege (it was mostly a lie, but he didn’t need to know that). But now he lowered the camera, revealing a ghost of a smirk.

“I figured it’s ok since you’re not working. Just want to remember everything from my last race day.”

“We’re in the hallway of a hotel,” you deadpanned.

“You’re right, I’ll take better pictures when we’re outside.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Natural lighting is so much better anyways.” You sighed, reluctantly granting your approval and he internally cheered. You didn’t need to know there was no way in the world he would delete the ones he already took though, that perfectly captured the curve of your backside and your beautiful, bambi eyes looking over your shoulder.

He could’ve gotten lost in his thoughts of you and he would do so happily, but he needed to get in the zone. He tried, but surprisingly the feeling never came. He found he wasn’t really nervous either. After basically processing the five stages of grief over the last few months over his career, there was nothing left for him to prove or fight for. That thought once brought him deep shame, but now it was freeing. Maybe the weight of everything would hit him later, but for now he simply wanted to be in the moment wherever the day led him. At this particular moment, that meant walking to the paddock with you at his side.

-

Tags: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233 @thatchickwiththecamera

[caruliaa]

oh hes so little

[cosmik-homo]

i lovee twissy and i like what twelve is going for and its VERY In character but like. the more i dig into it the more im like this is such a bad plan. Like yes they suck ass they have been engaging in atrocious violence for Fun and Profit for centuries but i wouldnt rate them amongst the top 5 worst people to ever live in the whoniverse? they dont Have an ideology other than im special and deserve everything i want even if its murder. why are you trying to teach them selfless charity before you teach em doing less violence. I KNOW why the doctor wants the master to be Like Him its the same gaypeople brainworms that motivate the master into one million weird plans but. i simply think. the universe is FULL of people that kind of totally suck, all kinds selfish mean bitches out for themselves which can get along w u and w each other and w normal people. MY goal is to bring the master back into That fold. they should be your pet karen. redirect their energy towards more based crimes. engage in their interests and topple a few regimes together but only as long as they dont cross the line and then go see isnt this more fun than when u make me have to kill you . being niceys pays. get them addicted to like. sushi or telenovellas or fancy skincare products or something.

that is NOT the beast of darkness who knows nothing but death thats a fucked up little yuppie that feels they are never safe unless they destroy anything that even remotely threatens their fragile ego and simply doesnt care about any living being enough that they dont think the laugh they get from dropping an anvil on it is worth it

"I am testing her by seeing how she responds to a distress signal" you should be testing her by making her do the mother an egg thing. why would she be a hero. most people arent heros but a decent chunk are Non serial-killers. basically what i want is - we NEED to do a Spike style chip on him and all our issues will Immeadiately be solved

[mysticdragon3art]

💛🖤...👰🤵🏃💍

Ballister outstretched his hand. His other, metallic arm, held tightly onto Nimona's dragon form as she kept hovering at Ambrosius's balcony.

"Ambrosius, please."

Ambrosius smiled instantly, tearing off the constraining collar of his groomswear and stepped forward. "Wait." He ran back into the wedding preparation chambers. Nimona whispered, "He's not ditching us, is he?" For a moment, Ballister's heart sank. Then Ambrosius emerged with the Princess in hand. The woman he had been arranged to marry, cautiously approached Ballister atop the dragon. "Ambrosius said you can get us out of here? Please---please!---I can't stay here!" "Your Highness…" In the back of his mind, Ballister remembered the little girl sitting in a tree, who had helped him over a wall into the Institute when he was young. She was fearless then. Now, SHE needed HIS hand. Ambrosius gave an ironic laugh. "She didn't want to get married either," he shrugged. Ballister offered his hand and she quickly took it, followed by Ambrosius. "Are we all on board now?" Nimona flapped her wings impatiently. "Yeah." Ballister urged the others to hold on tight. "Let's go." Nimona sped through the air, high above the castle. It would be some time before the guards would be looking for them. And less, but still time before the rest of the castle noticed the prize pieces of the wedding ceremony had escaped. She did spirals through the clouds, hollering with glee. The Princess, to both Ballister's and her former-groom's surprise, joined Nimona's hoots. As they hovered over the castle again, the Princess grabbed off her heeled shoes and threw them at the castle. "I never liked your parties! Your pretentiousness! And your fake smiles! It's MY life!" She threw her last shoe in the general direction of one of the towers. She almost stood up on Nimona's back and probably would have jumped up and down, if Ambrosius hadn't held onto her. So instead, she spit raspberries at the castle and gave one last holler of liberation as they flew away.

~ ~ ~

Nimona landed outside their little hidden tower. As she lead the way inside, asking the Princess about her next move, the runaway royalty picked up her skirts and eagerly rattled off a million possibilities. Ballister felt Ambrosius hold his wrist back. They stopped amid the grassy clearing, Ambrosius carefully turning over Ballister's left hand. "You're wearing it." A small gold band with diamonds was on Ballister's finger. The same one Ambrosius had carefully picked out months ago, had engraved with their names, and had planned to propose with, until this whole arranged marriage fiasco started. It was the ring he had left on the table, when he conceded Ballister deserved someone better, who could chose him instead of his family. "Is the offer still good?" Ambrosius kissed the ring on Ballister's finger gently. "I swear, I'll make you happy." "You already do that. Just don't make me cry." Ambrosius's mind snapped to a half dozen times he had failed Ballister at the worst moments of their lives. "I swear, I won't make the same mistakes again." "Ok, then you can have this." A small drawstring pouch dropped into Ambrosius's hand. Inside was a ring made of steel and carefully engraved with their names. "It's your handwriting." Ambrosius choked back happy tears. The ring had to have been hand-crafted by Bal himself. It had the same precise soldering and dark metal that Ballister had around his shop. He could imagine Ballister buffing out the small indentations from the very tip of his workshop anvil, for hours. Well, Ambrosius admitted, Ballister was too skilled for such a little thing to take him that long. It wasn't polished gold or diamonds, but it had all of Bal's care. Ambrosius put the engagement ring on his finger immediately. "I love it!" He started covering Bal's face with smooches, as the other man laughed. "But, Ambrosius---Ambrosius, wait!" "Hm?" "Does this mean, you're really ok leaving everything? Nimona and I were planning on going past the wall, if we couldn't think of a plan to make them accept this." "I never even wanted to be a knight, let alone marry the princess." Their minds flashed back to a young Ambrosius, scared of his last day of freedom before starting knight school at the Institute. The only thing that made him smile again, was their naieve plan to attend the school together. Nevermind that Ballister wasn't nobility. "I didn't want to be a knight; I wanted to be with you." Ballister would be lying if he said the deep gaze Ambrosius directed towards him, didn't take his breath away. Still, he had to be sure. "Even your mother? Your father?" Ballister watched Ambrosius slowly exhale and look away towards the grass. "I want you to be my family now. Nothing good came from my parents bowing to whatever the rest of the Goldenloins wanted, just to gain acceptance into that family. My parents compromised so much, made ME compromise so much, and still, the Goldenloins only pretended to accept us. They're still trying to split my parents up, hoping my father will find a 'better partner' to continue the bloodline. I don't want anything to do with that family anymore. Gloreth's legacy can end with me." Ballister's metallic fingers softly curled around Ambrosius's arm. Ambrosius met his eyes. "Thank you for rescuing me."

Author notes: This was supposed to be a quick vignette, but I ended up padding it with all the little headcanons I've accumulated so far. Just in case I never end up writing any other Goldenheart fics.

11:58 PM 9/15/2023

[phantompoguefangirl]

NEW STORY UPDATE:

☆WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER☆

[CHAPTER 2: Side Effects]

You throw me around like a rag doll

And throw me away like your cigarettes

Then pick up the pieces of whatever's left of me

They're yours to keep

A million and one ways that I've tried

To turn it around, leave it all behind

But every time you turn out to be one step ahead of me

Lost in reality

I can feel you in the dark when I fall asleep

All that's in my head are pictures of memories, words that you said to me

Hey, hey, Hailey, won't you save me?

Bittersweet chemistry

I can't escape you anywhere even in my dreams

All that's in my head are pictures of memories, words that you said to me

Lost in Reality-5SOS

A/N: Can we just take a moment to appreciate this photo of Michael in the header? 👆 I literally just keep staring at it because HOW IS IT POSSIBLE FOR ONE PERSON TO BE SO PERFECT? 🥺😍😫

Anyway on to chapter 2. ☆Trigger Warning☆: Abuse is talked about in this one and it might be a little intense. Also there is a kind of intimate scene but it's not sexual. If it makes you uncomfy just skip it.

*************************************

I didn't hear the front door open over the sound of four spazzy boys trying to talk to me on the phone at once. We were discussing our plan for me to finally leave Jesse. 5 Seconds of Summer's management and lawyers had figured out a way to free me from Jesse on the business end. Now we were just figuring out how I would get out this house quickly and safely. I had already secretly packed most everything I owned and I was planning to try and leave before Jesse got home from work. He was supposed to be stuck in meetings till late tonight so now was my chance.

I rolled my eyes and turned to grab more of my clothes out of the clean laundry pile to put in my bag while I listened to three of them bicker about who was driving the getaway car or something and Michael hissing at them to shut the fuck up and let him talk to me.

Suddenly, I was shoved to the ground by the back of my neck and my phone was launched a few feet away. I tried to stand but a fist connected with the side of my head and I yelped in pain as I hit the floor again. I could hear the boys' confused voices coming from my phone as I shakily looked up to see Jesse towering over me, oblivious to them as rage burned in his eyes. He stomped toward me and I scrambled backward to try to get away from him, terrified.

"Jesse wait-" I was cut off by him yanking me to my feet and punching me again.

"You sneaky little bitch," He growled as he hit me again, repeatedly,"Finding a loophole to get you out of your contracts, like that really means anything. I guess I need to remind you who you fucking belong to."

Suddenly, I jolted upward, gasping for air as I opened my eyes. I looked around, confused and disoriented.

Michael and Tessa were sitting on either side of me, looking really worried. It was then that I realized I had been dreaming, but I also realized I was struggling to breathe and my chest felt like an anvil had been dropped on it. Because it wasn't a dream. It was a memory...

"Hey shhhh it's okay. You're okay, baby," Michael reassured me, pulling me into his arms and stroking my hair softly. "It was just a dream. You're safe now."

"B-but it was r-real. It w-was J-Jesse," I stuttered into his shoulder, still fighting for oxygen.

"It was just a dream, love. He's gone. He can't hurt you anymore," Michael said, rubbing my back. "You're okay. I've got you."

"Yeah and we won't let anything else happen to you. Ever," Tessa added in a gentle voice.

Michael started quietly singing to me like he had the night before, while they both hugged me and soothed me until my panic attack subsided. Which then allowed me to focus enough to remember the pain in my hand. I winced so Michael got me my pain meds and I took them with some water.

"Oh, yeah I didn't get a chance to ask last night. What the hell happened to your hand?" Tessa asked, watching me take my medicine.

We explained and she muttered angrily at what my grandma said but then laughed at the situation with my brothers and Michael. She gave Michael shit for not catching me and he threw sarcastic comments right back. It was pretty entertaining to watch them banter and I loved that they were getting along. I loved that they were always here for me, too.

I was mostly okay after everything with Jesse, but every now and then I still had nightmares about that night and woke up having a panic attack. Trauma is fun like that. I was very lucky to have the 5sos boys and Tessa to help me through it, though.

Those first few months had been the worst because the panic attacks came at all hours of the day or night, but Ash, Luke, Cal and Michael were always by my side in a second to help. Especially since I tended to wake up screaming from these nightmares, which must have been why Tessa was in here. Tessa had called me to check on me a lot and talked me through it over the phone when she could. Now the dreams and attacks came rarely so I usually forgot about them till they happened.

"Thanks, guys," I sighed, pulling my knees up to my chest and resting my arm and chin on them.

"Of course. We love you and we're always here for you," Tessa said, leaning on my shoulder.

"What she said," Michael said, nodding toward Tessa as he placed his head on my other shoulder.

"I love you guys too," I replied, smiling and closing my eyes.

Tessa got up off the bed after awhile and I looked up at her in confusion.

"It's super early so I'll leave you alone so you can try and sleep some more," she explained. "Let me know if you need anything, though."

We nodded and Michael pulled me into his arms again after she left.

He leaned back while holding me so I ended up lying partially on top of him with my head on his chest. I was still tense and unable to fully relax, which he must have noticed because he rubbed my back absentmindedly and I raised myself up on my good arm to look at him. I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, extra unruly since he'd just woken up. I trailed my fingers down past his mesmerizing green eyes, over his cheek and down next to his dark pink lips, which turned up into a wide smile as I did this.

"What are you doing?" He asked, letting out a small chuckle.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Michael. You know that?" I murmured, gazing at him.

"No, I'm not," He snorted, rolling his eyes and blushing a tiny bit. "I think your pain meds are kicking in or something."

"Stop that," I replied,"I'm serious. You really are the most beautiful person, inside and out, that I have ever met. You have the cutest hair, the prettiest eyes, the kindest heart and most intelligent brain I've ever known."

His face softened and his face turned a deeper red. "Really?"

"Yes, really," I told him, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips. "Though I have to say, that last one is sometimes questionable when you're with Luke, Ash and Cal, but I digress."

"Hey!" He fake gasped, pretending to be offended but unable to help laughing as he tried to work around my injury to tickle me.

"You love me!" I giggled as I sqirmed around and tried to block his hands.

"Oh do I?" He laughed sarcastically as he carefully wrestled me till he was on top of me with his knees on either side of mine and his hands gently holding my arms above my head.

I looked up into his eyes again. "Yes, you do."

"Yeah, you're right, I do," he agreed with a sigh as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine tenderly

Michael's mouth didn't leave mine as he slid one hand up my arm and intertwined our fingers. After a moment, he released my hand and brought his to my face and then down to my side as he smiled against my lips. He let go of my other arm in order to balance himself and I draped it across his shoulder. I brought my good hand up to the back of his neck, tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer to me, deepening the kiss. We were still tired though, so it wasn't long before it dissipated into tiny soft kisses followed by Michael resting his head on my chest as we finally relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

That is, until the smoke alarm went off downstairs and startled us so much that Michael actually tumbled off the bed with a loud "WHAT THE FUCK?"

"SORRY!" Nate shouted from downstairs.

I helped Michael up and then openeed the door right as Tessa was about to knock on it.

"Oh hey," she said,"Sorry if that woke you up. Nate is cooking breakfast and our smoke alarm gets set off very easily for some dumb ass reason."

"You could have warned us," Michael groaned, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Yeahhhh sorry about that. I forgot about it, honestly," Tessa said.

"Michael got startled and fell off the bed," I told her, stifling a yawn and giggling.

"Oh way to go, dingus," she said to him sarcastically, laughing.

"Yeah 'cause I totally did it on purpose," he countered, cracking a smile. "And for the record, Mia got scared too."

I giggled at them as I gravitated toward the smell of pancakes, eggs and bacon wafting up from the kitchen. "Yeah, but I didn't jump so far out of my skin that I landed on the floor, now did I?"

"Do I need to tickle you again?" Michael raised his pierced eyebrow at me.

I just rolled my eyes and took his hand as I made my way toward the stairs. He suddenly seemed to smell the food too and eagerly followed me down to the living room.

"Sorry again about the smoke alarm," Nate said as he offered us plates,"Help yourself to breakfast. There's plenty of food and coffee for everyone."

"Thanks," Michael and I said at the same time. Michael gestured for me to sit at the table, then took the plates from Nate. After a moment, he set our plates down on the table and then went back into the kitchen. He came back with two mugs and placed one in front of me. I took a sip and smiled. He was the only person to ever make my coffee just right that didn't work in a coffee shop. On top of that, I noticed that he had cut my pancakes for me so that I could eat them more easily.

"Awe, thanks love. You're the best," I told him happily as he sat down.

He grinned and nodded, kissing my cheek before he started stuffing his face with pancakes.

I giggled and eagerly dug into my own breakfast.

After we were finished, we went to get ready to go get the rental car from my sister's house and go to the airport. I started to gather my shower things before realizing that I didn't have anything to cover my cast and I also didn't how how my uncoordinated ass was gonna shower one handed. I groaned in frustration.

"Hey what's wrong?" Michael asked, coming over to me.

"I need to shower but, uh,"I held up my broken hand.

"Oh I can fix that problem," he shrugged, smirking.

He went downstairs and returned with a huge ziploc bag and duct tape. He helped me bring everything I needed into the bathroom, locked the door and then helped me take my clothes off. He pulled the bag over my cast and duct taped it on me so it would be sealed. He undressed too and pulled me into the shower with him once the water was on and set to the right temperature.

He turned me around so I faced away him and tipped my head back a little so it was under the water. I closed my eyes and let out soft moans as his fingers gently massaged the shampoo and then conditioner into my curls.

He finished with that and then grabbed my body wash and helped me clean the rest of my body. He was so careful and loving about it and when he was done and also clean, he pulled me close and just held me while we stood under the water for a little while, just basking in each other's presence.

After we got out, removed the bag from my hand and got dressed, Michael sat me on the bed with him. He dried and brushed my hair for me, even going as far as braiding it and putting one of his beanies on my head.

God, he's amazing. How did I get so damn lucky? I thought as I watched him dry his own hair and also put a beanie on.

He caught me staring and winked at me flirtaciously. I just giggled and rolled my eyes.

Not long later, we were all in Nate's car and on our way to my sister's house. we retrieved the rental car and Nate drove it to the rental place. We picked him up there and continued to the airport, jamming to the music playing on Nate's stereo.

In the End by Linkin Park faded into Face Down by the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus and the dream from earlier came back to me. A million emotions flooded through me as I sang along loudly. Michael must have noticed because he grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze as we belted out the lyrics.

The song ended right as we parked at the airport and it took me a minute to compose myself before we got out of the car.

Nate and Tessa hung out with us for like an hour until our flight boarded and then hugged us goodbye before leaving.

"Hey, I just realized you can't play guitar for the tour with your hand like that and I was thinking that I could play for you," Michael suggested as we took our seats on the plane. "I mean, I already know all your songs, since I've rehearsed them with you, so I'm really the only choice you have on such short notice anyway."

"Oh! I didn't even think of that," I answered, as I suddenly realized he was right. "Um, I'd love it if you played for me, but I mean, are you sure? I don't want you to overwork yourself."

"I'll be fine," he shrugged,"It's just a few more songs and I'll have a bit of a break between your set and mine, anyway. Besides, we'd rock the stage together and you know it, babe."

"You're right, we totally would. It's settled then." I agreed, smiling enthusiastically, though my mind was only half present for the conversation. I was still replaying Face Down in my head. I had forgotten how much I loved that song and right now it really hit home for me. I wanted to scream the lyrics from the rooftops so everyone could hear it, honestly.

Wait.

Maybe I could.

"Hey, Michael?" I turned toward my boyfriend as I spoke.

"Yeah, babe?" he replied, looking at me.

"How would you feel about adding one more song to my setlist?"

**********************

[robo-writing]

auuuuugh bladesmith for barnabas pre conquest yes….

but teen clive w/ his first sword being forged by THE bladesmith apprentice of rosalith when he’s titled first shield,.. a good old friend who he bonded with over expectations and genuine love of sword practice

at the night of flames and being branded he thinks he looses The first sword of the first shield… but torgal takes it like all of clive’s other belongings and he gets it back at the island,…

childhood blade couple where maybe he finds them whilst he’s with cid and still branded as a friend of sir wade and the guardians of the flame. they would always fashion proper swords and weapons of rosarian make for the remaining shields. it’s strange how sir wade’s axe has a familiar brand on it,��� despite looking new

When he first fights the shields still believing they are bandits he knocks one of their weapons away as they flee, his blood nearly boiling when he finds your brand on the weapon. At first he thinks they just stole it, but it’s too new, practically untarnished. He fights them again and it is here where he meets Sir Wade again, and where he finds you.

You look nearly the same, perhaps a bit more muscled from years of practice. Still working away at your anvil, a sight he had long since grown fond of, you bring your head up and do something he never thought he’d see—you actually drop your nearly finished sword in shock, ruining days of work.

A million questions run through your mind, you thought he was dead, but here he is, much taller than you remember but just as fond of you as he was all those years ago based on how quickly he pulls you into his arms.

When you reunite you’re shocked that Clive has that old thing, almost embarrassed of the craftsmanship now that you’ve become a fully fledged bladesmith. In celebration you make a new one for Clive in secret, presenting it to him before he leaves to sanbreque as a present.

[clockworkcourier]

band AU snippet thing

---

On Saturday afternoon, Dancer gets a text from Chef and reads it while approximately three-and-a-half pints deep and not at least a little bit stoned. It swims in his head, little hieroglyphs doing backstrokes through lager before they perform some Busby Berkeley swim routine and form the words: You up for a gig tonight?

Well, no. Not exactly. He's certainly not good to drive, and the train station is, like, five million kilometers away. On the other hand, he hasn't been paid in a hot minute for a gig, and eventually his brain cells are all going to die before he picks up a bass again.

So, as Dancer is wont to do, he runs the decision by his council, being Ghost and Nomi. It takes him a few attempts to type correctly, and he first sends Ghost an emoji of a squid, but he eventually manages.

Gig???? Can I?

Nomi calls him immediately, which is just one of the reasons why Dancer loves her so much; she's his impulse control.

"Are you drunk?"

"And then some," he answers sagely, attempting to balance a pen across his nose as he leans back on the bean bag he's catnapped on all day.

"Then no," Nomi says in a tone that doesn't bode well for swaying her. "You make fucking awful decisions when you're like this."

"Name one time."

She's silent, but in a way that suggests she's building up an alphabetical, categorical, and chronological list of every bad decision he's ever made. He feels the weight of it like a Looney Toons anvil dropped directly on his head.

"Y'know what? Forget that. Scratch it off the record," he amends, dropping the pen and flailing his free hand in the air.

[nothingunrealistic]

“Billions” features a total of 11 primary cast members, and it’s a tribute to the deep bench of this financial drama that at least a half-dozen other members have their moments to shine. Based on the six episodes I’ve seen of a 12-chapter final run, it’s evident showrunners Brian Koppelman, David Levien and Andrew Ross Sorkin are poised to close things on a high-stakes note — although there reportedly are plans for a number of spinoffs, including “Millions” and “Trillions.” (I’m in!)

Featuring some of the most impressive production values, needle drops and ensemble acting of any series of the last 10 years, “Billions” has been a signature title in the Showtime arsenal since 2016 — and the complex and intertwining storylines are further boosted in the home stretch with the return of the screen-commanding Damian Lewis as the billionaire hedge fund legend and schemer extraordinaire Bobby Axelrod, who remains in exile overseas but might be poised to get back in the game.

With Paul Giamatti, Maggie Siff, David Costabile, Condola Rashad, Asia Kate Dillon and Corey Stoll leading the talented cast of main players, and some high-profile recurring roles and guest cameos we won’t spoil here, there’s never a scene in “Billions” that doesn’t feature at least one brilliant actor delivering razor-sharp lines. Even when “Billions” is delving into pure prime-time soap melodrama with some plausibility-bending plot twists, it’s never not entertaining as hell.

Season 6 of “Billions” ended with Corey Stoll’s crusading, self-righteous zillionaire Mike Prince sacrificing some $3.5 billion of his personal fortune just to gain the upper hand on Paul Giamatti’s Chuck Rhoades, who is briefly jailed but then sprung by the opportunistic New York State Attorney General Dave Mahar (Sakina Jaffrey), so that Chuck can help her bring down Prince. Season 7 starts in media res, with a huge confrontation between two major players — and then we roll it back to “5 MONTHS EARLIER,” and let the gamesmanship begin. We pick up the action as Prince is not only running the former Axe Capital, which now bears his name, but gearing up for a run at the presidency in 2024. (Cast newcomer Babak Tafti lends an electric presence as one Bradford Luke, a high-priced political consultant who tells Prince it’s a whole new ballgame now, and his every move will be scrutinized by the press, the public — and the newly free Chuck Rhoades.)

The difference between Michael Prince and virtually every other character in “Billions” is that while Bobby, Chuck, et al., readily admit they’ll bend laws and basic rules of fair play to get what they want, Prince believes he’s not only changing the world for the better, but he knows what’s best for the masses.

After Prince makes a “hammer or the anvil” reference that echoes a 1929 speech by Hitler, Wendy (Maggie Siff) meets up with Wags (David Costabile), tells him Prince has a textbook God complex and adds: “I’ve decided he’s dangerous.” This puts Wendy at an ethical crossroads, given she’s the psychiatrist and motivational coach for Prince’s company, as well as an inner circle confidant. Meanwhile, Chuck is experiencing a case of the “yips” in that he’s hesitating to make any bold moves, while Wags finds himself wondering if he’s still an alpha lion after he attends a 35th anniversary celebration for Michael Lewis’ “Liar’s Poker” book and is treated like a retiree on his way out. (Lewis plays himself, in keeping with the “Billions” tradition of “as himself” and “as herself” cameos. We won’t give away some of the other celebrity pop-ins.)

As usual, the pop culture drops are fast and furious and sometimes bordering on overkill. In the first episode alone, we get references to Nirvana, “Turner & Hooch,” Michael Bay, Stanley Kubrick, “Raising Arizona,” B.B. King, the 1970s New York Knicks backcourt duo of Walt Frazier and Earl “The Pearl” Monroe, “Star Wars” and hey, there’s Styx’s “Renegade” blasting in the home office of a character who is, well, a renegade. (In a later episode, a new character notes that so many of Prince’s star employees make references to films and actors, she’s been catching up on her movie watching.) It’s not really the way people talk, but it’s the way “Billions” people talk, and we’ve come to embrace it, even when we wonder how these people found the time to attend all the best schools and make millions of dollars when they all seemed to have watched practically every TV show and movie of the last many decades. It is, as they say, what it is.

It appears that much of the final season of “Billions” will focus on characters who will either rise to permanent exalted status or come crashing to the ground with a brutal thud. It’s a tribute to the writing and the performances that in most cases and with most of the main players, they’re equally deserving of triumph and tragedy.

[sicc-nasti]

WAURGHRUGHGH THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS IS SO INCREDIBLY SWEET OH MAN ; _ ; oh my god ur style is so perfect for him HIS CUTE GRIN HIS POSE THE BACKGROUND AUGHH,,this is rly rly everything to me...i love it sm im so excited to drop one MILLION anvils on his head <3

THE GUY!!!! Brodie! Ain't he just so cute x3 im in love with his design and swagger vibes fr x3 OC belongs to @sicc-nasti , go vote for Brodie HERE at the @originalcharactersexyman tournament, cus believe it or not, one vote = one anvil dropped on his head accompanied by a cartoony sound effect!!!

Please click image for better quality, image description in ALT text!!

[corellianrose]

How Can I Explain? Ch. 2

Pairing: Eddie Munson | Reader Summary: Definitely not the response you expected from Eddie Word Count: 3,536 Warning: vomiting, underaged drinking A/N: Here is chapter 2. Enjoy our sweet, sweet Eddie boy. =)

Chapter 1

Little Broken Parts

The Monday after finally rolled around with a great fizzle. You hadn’t heard from Eddie since before the battle of the bands. After your performance, you were so convinced that Eddie’s disappearance was him coming to see you backstage to slap a big, wet, sloppy kiss on ya. But when he never arrived, your heart dropped like an anvil in a Wile E. Coyote cartoon. 

You slumped at your desk trying to pay attention to the homeroom teacher. You couldn’t. This weekend you just replayed Friday night over and over in your mind. You remembered how Eddie looked at you in admiration. How he moshed in the back of the auditorium with your little brother. Or at least you thought. For all you knew, it was all in your imagination. Because it’s not like you could see really see anything properly beyond the stage lights. 

You had locked yourself away, in your room, all weekend. Only coming out to grab food and to use the bathroom. You avoided phone calls from Robin, Ellie, and anyone else trying to congratulate you on your performance. Dustin frequently tried coming to your room to check in on you, only to ignore him as well. Knowing he was that one separation degree between you and Eddie made your chest hurt. You absolutely hated it. But you only had yourself to blame.

“Late. Again. Mr. Munson” Ms. O’Connell announced. Her voice jolted you from your daydream. You could hear some kids in the class giggle. This is where Eddie would usually speak back to the teacher and make a big scene when entering the class late. Not today though.

You lifted your head to see Eddie seamlessly bobbing and weaving himself through the desks. His wild hair hid his face. Your heart pounded as your hands began to feel clammy against your bouncing knee. With a loud screech, Eddie pulled up in the chair next to you. You couldn’t help looking at him. The way he crossed his arms when he sat down made him seem small.  It was as if he didn't want to be noticed. Your mind went to a million places at once. You barely even notice the piece of paper he was dropping on your desk. Eddie gave you a nod when you placed your hand on top of it. You unfolded the note to see his messy scribble that read Hellfire table. Lunch. Signed with a couple of wonky colored-in bats. ------------------------

It was an incredibly hot Memorial Day weekend in ‘85. The last three-day weekend before the end of school and the start of summer. Luckily, for you, it meant one thing, it was the time when the rich kids opened up their pools and doors at their fabulously large houses for the coming season. Their parents would leave them for the weekend to do what rich parents did best. Neglect their children and let them do what they wanted.

You sat in the backseat of Steve’s car as his co-worker and your best friend sat in the front. Both arguing about something from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. 

“You’re most definitely like Linda Barrett.” her arms flailing around, beer spilling from the can in her hand. “The older friend, mentoring, influencing the younger. I-E me, Dustin...” she pressed her hand against her chest.

“Watch the leather, will ya? And what?” Steve’s face pinched while gripped the steering wheel. “No, way Robin,” shaking his head in disagreement. 

“You are!” Robin laughed into her beer can.

“If I’m anybody, it is absolutely Damone,” he ran a hand through his mile-high hair. “He knows how to get all the ladies.”

“As if, Harrington.” you can barely respond. You felt your sides cramping.

“No, but seriously. Every. Single. Girl. That comes in…” Robin gave a raspberry with her tongue while giving a thumbs down. She shifted to her knees, practically dangling herself into the backseat.

“Hey!” Steve used one hand to grab the back of her jacket and pulled her down into the seat. You and Robin continued to laugh. “I have not, by the way,” shaking a finger in the air while looking back but also trying to focus on the road.

“I have all of his rejections tallied in the backroom.” Robin reached behind her, handing you a can of your own. 

“Shut the front door” Your face dropped. “Steve… Steve Harrington? Being rejected?” That would be a sight to see, especially when you know he’s forced to wear those shorty short shorts and that sailor hat. Opening the can with a click and a hiss, you take a swig.

“Aaand we’re here” Steve slammed on the brakes, in frustration, near the house, wanting to stop his humiliation. Your head bobbed forward, hitting the back of the driver's seat and spilling some of your beer. “Shit. Sorry, Henderson.” his eyes winced.

“No, no, it’s all good.” You swiped at the spilled beer on your shirt, only making the beer spread and soak into your shirt some more. “Eh, fuck it.” Shrugging your shoulders. You were probably going to end up having more drinks spilled on you later. No use in trying, you thought. 

“Alright, my friends. You know the deal.” His voice is subdued with a hint of irritation. Steve took in a deep breath. You and Robin gave a knowing look to each other on what was about to come. Mother-hen Steve. He turned around with his fingers pointed at both of you. “No mixing of drinks and not smoking. Stick to one kind of thing tonight. Got it?!” His voice was stern. “You hear me?”

You and Robin looked at each other with shit-eating-grins on your face. You wiggled your eyebrows as you looked back at Steve.

“We cross our hearts and hope to die.” You both spoke in tandem. As well as crossing your hearts and giving the boy scout salute. “Scout’s honor!”

“I’m fucking serious.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Remember what happened last time?” 

Oh, you remembered alright. You and Robin had drank so much that the two of you thought it would be brilliant to steal someone's bikes, leave the party, ride them to the convenience store at two am, and get slushies. Then calling Steve because you forgot where you placed the bikes and needed a ride home.

“Yea, we got it.” Robin rolled her eyes.

“Can we go in now?” Your body bounced with excitement as your hands were drumming on the top of the driver’s seat headrest.

“Alright then. Let’s go.” with one last chug, you exited the car.

Moments later, the three of you were squeezing together at the beer keg surrounded by the sweaty bodies of drunken teenagers. Girls danced provocatively, to the loud tune of Like a Virgin by Madonna, no doubt trying to impress their crushes that weren’t paying any attention to them. Boys flexed their non-existent muscles to each other, trying to “show” off the top masculinity they believed they possessed. It was a swirling jungle of hormones. 

The downstairs areas were littered with drunk teenagers sitting on the stairs and couches, empty beer cans and bottles abandoned on tables. All the cigarette and pot smoke made the air hazy. The wood flooring was sticky from the spilled alcohol. There were gaggles of teens hanging out on the back patio chanting along to someone holding Billy Hargrove as he did doing a keg stand.

About, two hours, you had lost your friends and your way around the house. You wander aimlessly in the halls with no destination in mind. Bumping into bodies that filled the hallway. By this time your drunken curiosity had already taken over. Every now and again, you would just open a door to peek in on a couple thumping awkwardly on a bed. Or opening another to see Jason Carver and some of his cronies snorting a line of the white nose candy.

By this time, Steve’s warning had flown out the window. Like paper lanterns in the sky on a windy day. You had chased a couple of beers with cups of heavily spiked punch and shots of tequila… Vodka? Or was it rum? You couldn’t remember by this point. You suddenly felt your stomach turn as the smell of spilled beer, aqua net, and sweaty body odor hit your nostrils. The hallways started spinning around you. The lights shone brightly, making your eyes water. You held yourself against the walls as you wobbled through the long corridors searching for a bathroom. The damned fruity punch (honestly could have been the shots. Who knows?) betrayed you and was quickly rising from your stomach, making you gag at its now acidic taste. Your hand rushed to your mouth as you tried to constrain what was to come. 

The next minute, you found yourself at the giving end of a porcelain bowl. Gripping the sides of the seat, you felt pieces of your soul leave your body. Spitting one last time, you reached for the handle and flushed the spewed contents. You leaned against the wall next to the toilet, you could finally take a full breath of air. Your head slumped forward because your neck no longer was able to hold its own weight. The world was so fuzzy and your body felt floaty. The walls vibrated from the music blasting throughout the house. Your head was pounding and your ears rang from the pressure building against your skull.

“Dude, get out,” a voice hissed. Barely lifting your head, only vaguely able to see, what could have been a small tussle, at the opening of the bathroom door. Behind your heavily lidded eyes, you saw a body being violently pushed away from the entrance and then the door being slammed shut. A shadowy mass flashed across the bathroom and kneeled down in front of you.

“Henderson?” You heard the familiar voice huff. “You ok? Talk to me, princess.” 

Their large hand nudged you softly at your shoulder, the other hand lifting your chin. Their calloused thumb caressed the edges of your jaw, wiping anything left over on your chin. Your eyes couldn't focus, but you could still make the shape of that unmistakable mane.

Eddie. His name floated in the black matter of your brain. Eddie. Cute Eddie. Eddieee. Your brain just repeating itself.

A sudden wafting stench of stale beer brought another wave of nausea. Bile came rising from your empty stomach, burning your throat once again. The contents dribbled out onto your shirt.

“Ooh, ooh! Let it out.” Eddie jerked your body toward the toilet. Gently gripping your hair away from your face as you hacked into the toilet. A cacophony of coughs fills the bowl. His other hand rubs your back. “It’s alright. I got ya, princess. We’ve all been here.” Eddie’s voice comforting you.

“Mm..fhank ooou” your voice croaked into the porcelain throne. Your hand gripped his thigh as the other wiped your mouth. Eddie’s body stiffened at your touch. “Eeeh…dd..ie Monshoon” the words slurred out your mouth in a sing-song manner.

“Alright, y/n, let’s get you settled.” he chuckled as he delicately backed you away from the toilet. He gently placed his hand on the back of your neck to support your head against the wall and wiped the tears from the edge of your eyes. Eddie rose to his feet to grab something by the sink. The sound of the tap being turned on and off filled the room. The feeling of his hand leaving you made you more empty than your stomach. It’s not like you and Eddie were incredibly close so having him against you was an odd sensation. However, it was a comforting one. One your drunken self decided that you really liked.

He bent back down to your level and kept you steady as he anxiously dabbed at your sweaty forehead. His brows drew together as he feared that he or his rings would scratch you. With every dab to your face, a small trail of heat was left behind from his touch. It was like your skin was trying to memorize the way he felt. There was an intimacy to his care in what seemed to be only for you. It was a side of Eddie you had never experienced before. You knew, beyond people's expectations, that he was a good person. But not like this. He had a softness in the way he looked at you and in the way he handled you, making sure he didn’t accidentally touch you inappropriately. Eddie was so gentle in his touch that it tickled. You couldn’t help but let out a groggy giggle. 

“What’s so funny, princess?” Eddie continued cleaning your face. Behind your heavy lids, you could see the worry that plastered his face. The lines on his face were accentuated by the furrowing of his brows. Your heart pounded against your chest.

“Oh… hic.. N..noothing” You playfully poked at his chest and let out another huge hiccup. Eddie pushed your hair back some more, wiping the damp towel across your brows. The air from the a/c hitting your heated skin sent goosebumps over your body. “Yyou’re... just .. hic… sopreeetty” You reached your hand up to his face and clumsily ran your thumb between his scrunched brows and tried to smooth it out.

“Ha, that’s a new one” Heat rose to his flushed face as he pressed his forehead against yours. His soft brown eyes focused on yours as he caressed his thumb along your jaw. “Don’t hate me, but I need to, ok?” 

“Mm…couldneverrrrrr” Your words stumbled out as if being accused of something.

The muscles in his arms flexed as he shed his jean vest first. Eddie then grabbed the hem of his shirt, slipping it over his head with ease. His auburn hair became more mussed. You could faintly make out the tattoos that scattered against his pale skin. Your drunk intrusive thoughts wanted you to reach out and touch them. The bats have always been your favorite. The next thing you knew, Eddie was pulling you towards him, shifting his weight to his knees. He fiddled with the top of your blouse, slowly unbuttoning it. You raised your arms for him to lift the blouse over your head. 

“Arms down, Henderson” he chuckled swallowing hard. The grazing of his cooled rings upon your skin gave you a shiver as he lowered your arms. Eddie chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. 

“But like wwwhy?” slumping into his body, your cheek pressing against his chest and your eyes fluttering, as you tried to keep them open. Sleep wanting to take over. He was so warm. And so comfy.

“You puked on your shirt, babes. And I’m going to need you to stay awake for me, ok?.” Eddie pushed your hair back away from your face.

“Mmmk…” Even in your drunken stupor, you could feel his hands trembling as they traveled to each button. After what felt like forever, Eddie was finally able to unbutton and slip your blouse off. With hitched breath, his body stilled when he glimpsed the bra you wore underneath. His eyes darted to the ceiling.

“Shit… fuck… I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled to himself repeatedly. His breath staggered and his heart pounded against his chest as it rioted for its escape.

After a while, he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe altogether and let out a huge sigh. He scratched at the back of his scalp and gave his hands a quick shake to expel the nerves that built up. Not wanting someone to walk in on them and think the wrong of the situation, Eddie finished replacing your shirt with his own as quickly as he could. He could not care any less what people said about him, but that was one situation he wouldn’t be able to handle if accused, especially if it was about you. 

Even in this inebriated state, he still thought you were the most rad girl he knew. However, this wasn’t how he wanted to see you in his clothes or you half-naked. Eddie’s mind wanted to wander, but he knew this was not the moment for it and that would have to wait for another day.  In another lifetime, when both are consenting bodies, this would have been a dream come true. With a brief rattle of his brain, he hurriedly put his jean vest back on. 

“Oo, mmm… ode..styyy” you giggled, lazily slapping your hand on his arm.

“Ok, sunshine. You’re gonna hate this‌ too,” he warned again. Eddie threw one of your arms around his shoulders for support, wrapping his arms under your armpit and hoisting you up. He then intertwined his fingers with the hand you held over his shoulder.

“No, back down,” you pouted. The sudden weight of your body losing grip in Eddie’s arms. Your head was spinning from vertigo, hitting your body. A lump formed in his throat. He hated seeing you this way. 

“Sorry, princess.” Eddie cleared his throat. He held you close and he held you firm. For a fleeting moment, you thought he may have placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I’m going to place my arm around your waist and you’re going to throw that pretty arm back over my shoulders again. Ok?”

With an unbalanced nod, you wrapped your arm back around him. He grabbed hold of your waist and braced you against him tightly. There was no way he was letting you slip again.

“Alright, let’s find Harrington, shall we?” Eddie struggled a bit to push you forward out of the bathroom and into the crowded hall.  ------------------------

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough and it didn’t. Your fingers tingled from the vibration of drumming your pencil against the desk. You reread the note over and over and over, trying to decipher anything from it. What could Eddie need to say? He sent an obvious message, on Friday, that he didn’t feel the same.

‘God, he hates you,’ you thought. You weren’t able to concentrate on anything but that note and Eddie. The edges of the small paper are already beginning to fray like your wracked mind.

A rush of energy consumes your body, making you shake your leg violently under the desk. You glanced over at the clock above the classroom door. 

‘Only 15 minutes till lunch.’ You squeezed your eyes shut imagining the bell ringing at that moment. Opening them up only to be disappointed that your Jedi mind trick didn’t work.

“Hey!” Robin reached over and placed her hand on your knee. “Calm down, you’re probably overthinking things,” she whispered.

“Oh, really?” the sarcastic tone coming out with a bit more venom than intended. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just… What if he hates me Robi...” tears pricked the edges of your eyes. 

Robin grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Please, with the way that boy looks at you, you’d think you were god herself coming for his salvation.”

“Shut up” You couldn’t help but laugh and accidentally snorted. It helped to rid some of the jitters‌. 

“Is there something funny about Uranus, Ms. Henderson?” the astronomy teacher asked.

“No, Mrs. Waller,” it took all of you not to burst at the timing of her question. 

The bell finally rang. It was probably the longest 15 minutes you’ve ever gone through, other than when your little brother and Steve went into the tunnels after Dart.

Every part of your anatomy vibrated with nervous energy. The books rattled in your arms as you practically power walked your way to your locker. Your hands trembled when trying to dial the numbers of your lock. Always managing to miss the last digit of the combination.

“Goddamnit!” You slammed your fist against the metal door. “Fucking open, you goddamned piece of shit!”

“Whoa! Now I see where Littleson gets his colorful vocabulary from” Eddie leaned onto the locker next to you with his arms crossed. The impact of his body on the locker made you jump out of your skin. There was a smugness to him, a little more than usual. But that’s what made you fall for him. It was the casualness of the enormous ego he had. Eddie wasn’t concerned by the likes of society accepting him. And that was the gravity that pulled you into his orbit.   

“E…eddie. Hi” barely able to get the words out.

“Look, about Friday.” Eddie looked down, playing with the rings on his fingers.

“Y..you didn’t call. You could have at least..” you began, taking in a deep breath. Unsure of how to properly convey the complexity of your feelings. “I g..get it. I com…completely read this wr…” 

“Hender…” halted only by the soft pressing of his hand against your cheek and the sweet whisper of his voice. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

“All the damn time.” His face was mere centimeters from your face. Noses practically touching. You could feel the eyes on the two of you as roaming students ran to their next class.

[darkness-eyes123]

Confessions (I can’t live without you) Part 2 *Billy’s POV

Summary: Bill’s POV after y/n gets shot.

Context: Billy and Y/n have somewhat of an unhealthy relationship for close friends who are not a couple. Everyone around you can see that you’re in love with each other, but the both of you are completely blind to it. That is until Y/n gets shot and Billy loses his mind.

Gif @andrewgrfields

His breathing was ragged

His body felt numb as it shook and trembled.

The pits of his stomach were twisted in knots that he wanted to fucking rip out.

Every single breath he took sent a sharp pain to his chest reminding him of where he was tonight.

Billy’s hands were drenched in blood, he was high on adrenaline, and still every bit of him was tensed and filled with complete and pure unadulterated rage.

The dead bodies of those who dared to take you from him lay in front of him. He had lashed out, destroying them with his bare hands before he made them beg for death. The violence that Billy bestowed on them was nothing that he’d ever felt before, and he’d fucking enjoyed it because they dared to touch you.

They were there for him. They were left over assholes that he dropped from Anvil once Rawlins was put down and out of his way, and they were there for him. The guilt that surged through him wrestled with the fury that wracked him.

He’d never felt so much rage.

It overwhelmed him—blinded him—but rage was something he could deal with. He could put his rage to use. What he couldn’t deal with was the fear. The bone crushing dread, worry and anxiety that Could drive anyone to the brink of insanity.

He never truly feared anything. Life was fucking life and It sucked. Billy especially knew how much it sucked, he’d seen first hand how much it sucked and he made it a point to conquer every single one of his fears since being stuck in those shitty foster care homes.

Even during his time at war, he would fight his way out every single fucking time. He wasn’t afraid of dying. Everyone died. And he’d made his peace with that a long time ago.

Billy never truly feared anything, not until you.

You just had to come and disrupt everything in his life. He had a good thing going on; he had Anvil, he had his buddies and he had an endless amount of beautiful women willing to do whatever he wanted.

His life was good and then you had to come in and uproot it all.

You had to come in all smart and sassy, never willing to put up with his shit. Your work paths had crossed and you’d despised each other for a good while before you managed to worm your way into his heart. You had a talent at doing that and you had no idea how many men he had to scare away because of it.

The thought of you sent quick and sharp waves of pain to his chest and he clenched his watered eyes shut. This was his fault. Every single fucking breath he took hurt. It was like a fucking Boulder was planted there, the weight of it stifling and he couldn’t breathe properly.

Not without you.

You had looked so fucking beautiful when he had taken you to the gala. Billy had kept you close because he wanted to fucking kill any asshole who looked at you, because no matter what, you were his. You were his from the moment you stepped into his office and you were his every day after.

He was dancing with you, you were so close it intoxicated him, and you had been laughing in his arms. He had never felt so complete. He felt like a goddamn teenager, it was pathetic—but he could care less. Then all of a sudden there was a loud commotion and gunmen blazed through the building. The desperation that rushed through him was nothing that he’d ever felt before. All he could think about was getting you the fuck out, everyone else be damned. He fought his way through, his senses heightened and yet he’d miss a gunmen pointing right at him, he could’ve evaded it, but you’d jumped right in front of him as the shot went off.

Billy’s heart had shattered into a fucking million pieces from the moment he saw you bleeding on the floor. It broke into more and more fragments every single second that you were away from him. Every single second that you remained unconscious—every single fucking dreadful second that he begged for you to wake up, to just open those beautiful eyes, to let him know that you were going to be okay.

But whatever was left inside of his heart stopped the moment yours did.

He barely remembers the hospital ride, the threats he made to the doctor if something happened to you, Curtis holding him back—because all he could remember was the fucking sound of the machines crashing and the sound of you leaving him.

Time seemed to have stopped and seconds felt like hours. The never ending shit hole that was that night managed to engulf him and he was stuck in the middle of the waves—desperate, clawing for an escape. He couldn’t fucking breathe. He couldn’t function. He had lost it. He had fallen to the floor and all he could hear was the noise of the machine and the muffled sound of Curtis screaming and trying to get him to breathe.

For 15 seconds you were gone and he had lost all sense of self. 15 seconds he had experienced a panic like no other. He fucking lived without you in this world and there was no pain in this world to match it. He felt empty like he was outside of his body.

He was losing you.

He was in a haze, violent tremors ran through him, and the only thing that brought him out was the sounds of those machines being steadied. Every breath he took after that was dragged out of him by Curtis. Billy’s fists clenched in pain, fear and anger. The anger was what he chose to cling on too in that moment— a survival instinct— because that was the only thing that he could control then.

Every minute Billy sat in that hospital waiting room haunted him because that meant that the shooters had an extra minute to get away. He hated himself for leaving you, he felt like a coward for leaving you but it needed to be done. He needed to eliminate them. That was what he told himself, a convincing act to hide what the deepest darkest pits of his soul knew— and that was he was afraid of staying there, waiting there and watching you die.

********

You were out of surgery in the ICU and he was in some shitty warehouse surrounded by dead bodies and left alone with the sound of those 15 seconds playing on repeat. He would forever be haunted by it.

He slammed his bloodied hands against his chest hoping willing for the pain to go away. He wished so badly that it was him instead. Why? Why couldn’t it have been him? Why did you get in the way? Why did you fucking do this to him? Why were you leaving him? Did you not know that he would burn the world a thousand times over before seeing you hurt? He never got the fucking chance to hold you the way he wanted, to kiss you— to spoil you with gifts, dates and movie nights— and he never got the chance to make you breathless as he claimed you again and again. You were always his, but he fucking never got the chance to show you.

He wanted to fucking sob on the ground. He wanted to bury himself next to you and hope that this was all just some sick dream. This was his fault.

His bloodied hands pulled at his hair as tears fell from his face. His palm hit at his head to rid himself of the images that tortured his mind.

“Bill.” He looked up hearing his name called out from the shadows.

Frank had walked towards him, his own hands covered in blood, a body being dragged with him, and his punisher gear illuminating in the dark that surrounded them.

“It’s done.” Frank through the body in front of him. A small bit of satisfaction filled Billy at seeing the mangled body, but it didn’t matter because you were still fighting for your life.

Billy had nodded towards Frank , tears blanketed his face giving unspoken words of gratitude for his brother. Frank didn’t even need to be told that they were going after these pieces of shit. He had already found them for Billy— he already knew that they were never ever going to see the fucking light of day again.

Frank had crouched down in front of him, his hand on his shoulder offering whatever comfort he could. “She’s gonna be okay Bill… Karen and Curtis, they called. She’s out of the danger zone. It might be a day or a couple but she’s gonna be okay.”

The overbearing weight on Billy’s shoulders dropped a little and he let out a breath that he felt liked he’d been holding since he saw you lying on the floor drenched in blood. His insides shook with it’s release. His eyes stung with a new wave of tears. You were okay—for now. “What if something else happens, what if—I can’t fucking lose her Frank?” He voiced his anxieties. Anything could happen still, a fucking infection, a blood clot—anything. He just needed you awake, he needed you to tell him you were okay. The itch to go and see you came at full force and he just needed to be with you, to see for himself.

Frank rested his forehead against Billy’s.” Shhh, she’s gonna be okay. You hear me. She’s gonna be okay. She’s always been a fighter. Always. And when she wakes up your ass has better be there and then your ass better tell her how you feel.”

Billy didn’t even have it in him to respond to that. He had no snarky comment, no banter—just nothing. It was him who put you there in the first place and he’d rather die then ever see you hurt again. He didn’t deserve you and telling you how he felt could just make you a target.

“She’s fucking there because of me.” He bit out.

“Hey. Don’t do that. Don’t go there. This is on them. They decided to do that—not you, you hear me.” Frank pushed through in attempt to get to him. “Those pieces of shit decided this. This is not your fault.”

Frank pulled him up patting Billy’s back as he stood. “Go get yourself cleaned up and go to her Bill. She’ll probably be allowed visitors soon. I’ll take care of this shit.” He pointed at the bodies giving Billy one last pat before leaving.

*********

He had gone to the hospital as fast as he could. The desperation of seeing you mixing with guilt that continued to spread within him.

The guilt rattled him. It ate him up and the possibility of you dying because of him was enough to end whatever your relationship with him was. He was selfish by nature and to give you up was something he would never ever consider doing, but your life had almost ended. Although it would slowly drive him insane, he had told himself he’d see you once and then he’d fucking stay away—he just needed to see you—but that all changed the moment he laid eyes on you.

You were surrounded by so many cords and machines, you looked so fragile and yet so strong and a well of emotion and anger assaulted him. A sob came out as he walked towards you, his hands trembling to finally touch you, to make him believe that you were still here with him. His eyes travelled to the rise and fall of your chest and to the monitor that very much confirmed that you were still here with him. He wanted to kill those bastards all over again and he wanted to lock you away so no harm could come to you again.

He had told himself to walk away, even as he sat there with you for hours, begging for you to come back to him. He could barely keep his eyes off of you, irrational thoughts filling his mind, worried that if he looked away something would happen or this would be a dream and you’d disappear.

Every step he took away from you left him with a crazed feeling of panic, an anxiety that swarmed it’s way inside of him until he was left with no choice but to stay there and watch over you. The minutes he was forced to leave for necessities or for the doctors to run tests left him restless and that feeling would take control of him again until his eyes finally rested on you again.

Karen had tried to get him to rest, but he couldn’t without nightmares threatening to take over. He could barely close his eyes without seeing you shot. Without hearing that monitor remind him that you were lifeless.

He couldn’t eat, he could barely sleep and somehow he thought he could walk away from you. Somehow he thought that once you woke up he’d be able to fight you and walk away.

But as usual you uprooted everything and captured him under your spell. When your eyes had opened and when you had called out for him, he wanted to pull you in his arms, hold you tight and never let you go. The pain in his chest burned and he finally felt like he could breathe again. You were alive. You were going to be okay. He didn’t lose you.

He could barely fight being away from you unconscious he didn’t know why he thought he could when your eyes were set on him, looking beautiful. making horrible miserable jokes, calling him out and telling him to fuck off.

He never stood a fucking chance with you. You were his and he was yours. And no one was ever going to try and take you from him again.

The end.

I’m sorry getting this out took so long, life is all sorts of crazy. Writing for the same story different POV is harder then I thought, because I don’t want to be repetitive Lol, so please let me know what you think! I hope this was worth the wait! Thank you so much for all my readers. You guys are amazing! ❤️ Here’s the link to part 1.

https://darkness-eyes123.tumblr.com/post/667816438602547200/confessions-i-cant-live-without-you

[piningbuddies]

absolutely unhinged spec fic based on the new promo for 5x14. enjoy!

"you ever think that maybe it's not worth it? what we do for a living?"

the question hangs above them in the silence, like an anvil that could drop and shatter them into a million pieces at any given moment. there's a pause before eddie continues. "i mean, what's the point? they're all gonna die anyways. what the fuck is the point in any of it at all?"

buck's lips part over and over again as his brain scrambles to try and catch up. "eddie," he whispers, voice hoarse and snagging at the edges. "please -"

eddie stands from the table abruptly, clenching and unclenching his fists around air as he begins to pace. "i mean, i pulled them all out buck. i pulled them all out of that helicopter, got them all home just for it to mean absolutely fucking nothing at all." he turns to buck then, eyes wide and frantic. fear begins to settle into buck's stomach like a stone, feeling a lot like he's stepping into uncharted territory. "what the fuck's the point?"

buck stands slowly, beginning to round the table as he approaches eddie. "the point," he begins slowly, stopping arms length away from eddie. "the point is that that's what we signed up for. we give people a second chance, eds. we save them so that they get the chance to save themselves. some of them do, some of them don't, but we save the ones we can, eddie. what happens after that? that's not on you. it's not your fault."

buck reaches out tentatively then, closing a hand around eddie's clenched trembling fist, breathing deeply as he feels like he's bridging a gap he thought he'd never close. "it's not your fault, eddie." buck says, voice barely above a whisper as he unravels eddie's fist. trembles course through eddie's body then, not unlike an elastic band that's been stretched too tight.

"it's not enough." i'm not enough.

"it is." you are.

the band snaps, then. eddie begins to cry silently, the trembling in his muscles increasing ten-fold as tears cascade down his cheeks. buck closes his fingers around eddie's, an anchor and a promise all at once. he pulls him closer and closer, eddie eventually tucking his head into the crook of buck's neck, his whole body sagging at the contact. buck releases eddie's hand and instantly feels his fingers clench in the back of his shirt. buck cups the back of eddie's head gently, running his fingers through his hair as his other hand rubs his back.

"i've got you eddie. i'm right here. whenever you're ready."

[minkkumaz]

jordan i am in tears with you're entire reblog it's not even funny. i am frowning so hard yet laughing my ass off at the same time. NAMEDROPPING JAY WAS CRAZY U DIDNT NEED TO REMIND ME ABOUT THAT PAIN HOLY SHIT.

i'm so happy you noticed how i kinda implied that in their relationship haem was definitely introverted and kinda appreciated being in his little world with reader; but going out of his way to do things and become more social for the mere purpose of trying to get away. i wanna assume he is the type to be bad with his feelings, and heavily rely on escaping from his problems because if he faced them head on he would say something he didn't mean.

also anvils dropping on your head is crazy LMAOO but that's relatable because something that used to be so mutually loving turning to shit makes my heart shatter. reader just wants haem to love her auggg. honestly i was self reflecting with the whole 'taking the blame' part because i definitely do that a lot when im blinded by something.

that argument sequence was a tough write. especially when i made haem give reader that false hope before ultimately switching up and showing his true feelings. it was hard to make haemin an asshole, but it makes everything so much more real imo.

[REDACTED] needs to get a grip but he is honestly perfect fic material. helps me truly embody what being a big fucking dick (and im not talking about the one in my pants.. ^_^) the lying.. the anger.. the gaslighting..

watching him do all the things they used to do together is just so.. and what makes it worse is that it looked like he was enjoying it so much more with this new girl as opposed to reader. part of me DID actually wanna make him come crawling back, but that would've totally shifted the ending into self love unless i like.. made the girl break his heart, he goes back to u, but she goes back to him and he breaks your heart again. if that makes any sense LMAO.

also haemin gossiping to kyungmin is canon. AS THE WRITER it is one million percent real. as someone who is always with kyung, that little shit probably painted you out as the bad person and kyung definitely believed it. but when it comes to the whole group i feel like yoonsung would really try to see both sides.

at first i was a little insecure abt this one but your words are so reassuring wtf:(( i will be proud since you love it so much and im really glad i could make you feel your feels. (and also deliver that angst prince sungho was lacking)

you can gatekeep this fic all you want ITS JUST FOR YOU ML (as it is posted on the internet for everyone to see, but we are in our own little world so it doesnt matter) but im so happy the execution lived up to expectations hehe.

keeping the secret.. especially for a month was so hard. but writing fics is my love language for u i cant stop, its honestly an ego boost when u enjoy them so much AND IT JUST MAKES ME HAPPY WHEN YOURE HAPPY. a lot of the times i got an idea and was like 'this sounds like something jordan would like!' so then i just make it of ur fav (cough haemin) and boom a star is born. also the fall from heaven wasnt so bad Lol (is this you finally returning my silly flirting whenever i reblog YOUR stuff? rubs hands together deviously)

if you get omi banger tattooed, ill get jordan banger tattooed. WE CAN BE MATCHING!! but srsly thank u so much for all ur kind words ur seriously the sweetest and i couldnt be more thrilled that u loved this:( literally the loml nobody on tumblr can compete with you. CHEERS!!!

YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO FEEL UNLOVED

there used to be so much love there, just two people completely infatuated with one another. you've been through so much with haemin, and you thought maybe he'd fight for your relationship. but even after all this hurt part of you still loved him.

PAIRING jung haemin x fem!reader WC 2.0k TAGS lovers to exes. angst. growing apart. asshole haemin. somewhat a timeline of denial to acceptance. miscommunication. OMI NOTE another little something for my @woonhakist because i love writing for her. except unlike prince sungho it's actually angst. sorry sungho ur getting booted out of this. this has been in my drafts for about a month but now i'm motivated to get it done for u hehe. i hope you like. ^_^ (inspired by just me by rin)

the skys were clouded with pillows of dark gray. it had been rainy recently, the smell of wet pavement becoming more distinguishable as it continued. you wanted to assume that maybe it was his fault. the reason behind why your days were always so dark.

it was common to fear the unknown. being innocently unaware of what was going on behind the scenes was slowly eating at your insides; making you feel as if you were the dead carcass of a street animal, being fed on by rats.

things were different recently, he was different. haemin was going out more than usual, a breath of fresh air in comparison to the introverted persona you were used to. despite your worries, he convince you that you didn’t need to know where he was all the time.

“i’m just hanging out with kyungmin and a few other friends. do you have to be so worried?” he groaned.

“it’s not like that, haem! i just got curious…”

shouldn’t you be glad? that feeling of relief knowing he was blooming into a person that could celebrate with others. it was growth, but not in the way you expected. more or less, he was growing into someone unrecognizable.

phone dials were met with an empty line. and even when he did answer, he ended the call with a simple ‘bye’ and not ‘i love you more.’

still, you loved him to the moon and back. every couple went through a rough patch, you understood that when you agreed to be with him. though it was difficult to convince yourself you were content with how things were playing out.

often you took long walks to distract yourself from the unread text messages. it was this time at noon that was most gloomy. your umbrella collected droplets of water, dripping down the side to barely avoid you.

you saw couples on the streets, holding hands happily. they took photos together and shared hot drinks with eachother to battle the slight cold. you envied them.

because in your head, that position seemed almost unreachable. he was so far away from you, farther than you could even realize. what used to be something special between your heart and his wasn’t recognizable.

that day, you stopped going on walks. everything reminded you of the boy that was falling out of love. you came home quickly, trying to outrun your own thoughts. the bronze plate with your apartment number came into view as you dug through your bag to get the keys.

fumbling with the lock for a second, you finally open up to your home. immediately your gaze lands on an extra pair of shoes by the door, making your heart skip a beat slightly. tugging off your own, you set down your umbrella in a corner to dry.

when walking farther into the house, you see haemin sitting comfortably on the couch. he looked busy on his cell phone, paying almost no mind to your presence.

“haem! i didn’t know you would be home, where were you?” you smile fondly, letting yourself sit next to him.

“oh. i was just out for a bit.” he barley acknowledged your existence, angling his phone slightly away from your view. you noticed this, but said nothing.

“did you have fun? it was pretty rainy out today so i hope you weren’t cold.”

“yeah, it was fine.”

“that’s good! did you eat while you were out? i can always make us something for dinner, though i do need to get some groceries–”

“are you done with your questions?” he said bitterly, setting down the device to look at you.

“i’m sorry haem, we just haven’t spoken in awhile and i wanted to see how your day was.” you said in a whisper.

“don’t be so clingy, y/n. we see eachother everyday.” he tells you.

“oh. you’re right, i don’t know why i was being so silly.”

“mhm.” he mumbles under his breath before getting up from his seat towards the bathroom. 

after the door shut behind him, the pit at the bottom of your stomach grew deeper. this wasn’t like him at all. the excitement that would underlie his stoic demeanor because all the love he had for you was overflowing disappeared. could you even call it love when you didn’t exactly know what it was?

every romantic word hes ever told you felt meaningless; what happened to ‘you’re so pretty, y/n. you’re so sweet?’

you could hear haemin’s muffled voice from down the hall, before movement of caps and containers echoed the bathroom walls. it sounded like he was on a call with somebody. he came out soon after, shaking the remaining drops of water off of his clean hands. 

“i’m going out.” he calls out to you before pulling his coat off the rack.

“wait! didn’t you just go out? i can go with you if you’d like!”

“no, i’ll be out late and i know you get agitated if you’re in public for too long.”

“can’t you just stay in for a little then? what about a movie night like we always used to have?” you rushed over to him, desperate to spend any sort of time together, “i just miss you haem..”

“did anything i say get into your head? you don’t need to so clingy, i’m just going out with a couple friends.”

“haemin…” you reached out to his hand, fingertips barely getting the chance to touch him before he was pulling away like you were the plague.

“god. i can’t do this anymore, y/n. i just want to live without you bothering me constantly!” he complains, sliding both of his shoes on forcefully.

“what is that supposed to mean?” you furrow your eyebrows worriedly.

“it means that i’m having a hard time pretending like i haven’t fallen out of love with you.” he sighs, “just give it a break, y/n. you knew were never going to last."

it felt like your world was collapsing around you. there was a confused look on his face as you stood there silently, trying not to cry. you wondered what it felt like to die, and if it felt anything like this.

they say your life flashes before your eyes, yet all that flashed was memories of what you and haemin used to be. you felt stupid to think that maybe it was salvageable, but the sorry truth hurt much more than this ill fantasy.

“but you promised me. you promised me that we would work through everything together, haem. was that a lie?” you choked.

“i wouldn’t make an empty promise like that, don’t twist my words.” he muttered.

“i’m not twisting anything! when you first confessed to me you said so many sweet things and promised to always–”

“i said give it up. that was almost a year ago, okay? you can’t expect me to keep a promise like that for so long.”

“are you serious right now haemin? after all that we’ve been through?” you uttered with a hurt tone.

“i cared about you, okay? but i can’t handle this anymore.”

“you’re my first boyfriend, i– i can’t let you go without at least talking first!” your words came out as a broken sob, but haemin only looked at you with disgust.

“and you were my worst.” he scoffed, “i can’t be with someone who isn’t mature enough to understand when i need time away.”

“but–”

“don’t even look at me right now, y/n.. i don’t want to hear you speak. i’ll come back and get my things later.” he leaves you with a bitter ending, before leaving out the door.

watching the love of your life leave you with no closure and not a second word was starting to physically pain you. you felt yourself drop to your knees as his sentences rung in your mind, stringing themselves into a sequence of utmost heartbreak.

cold hardwood floors comforted the red - hot heat that began to rise up your face like a wild fire. you were embarrassed of yourself, disappointed that you couldn’t grow enough for him to see you. see that you could change.

and while he was out with no doubt in his mind that he made the right decision, your world was shattering in the comfort of the home you used to share with him.

the only time he messaged you was him asking for you to pack up all of his stuff for an easier pickup. it was clear he didn’t want to see you anymore than he had to. would he see how mature you had become in the four hours he was gone if you obeyed him?

boxing up all of his things neatly, you stripped every memory the two of you ever shared together. your house feeling ever so empty from the lack of love, trapped in between cardboard walls. 

for what it was worth, you attempted to write a note to send off with him. however, your vision was too blurry with your tears, and you couldn’t keep them in. the smudged ink added for dramatic effect, but it was too much that it was impossible to read coherent words.

your head was scrambled everywhere, and for a second you thought he was right when he said you were immature. it felt like when you were back in highschool giving him silly love notes to hide in his backpack pocket. it reminded you of how he said that they were all still there, as he never bothered to clean them out.

why couldn’t things be the way that they used to? throwing away so much because there was a lack of communication. you wanted to see him, be with him. feel the pure touch of his lips sending shockwaves to your beating heart.

but since that day, you never saw him once. rushing to grab all of his things and get out of your life, barely escaping your desperate grasp. what was once a fond moment became a distant daydream.

you were so blinded by your infatuation for him, despite the fact he never thought of you like that. once again you failed to understand much.

and things only got harder from then on, your plush pillow absorbing your tears. the air in your room only grew heavier as time continued. 

at first days, then weeks, and months were going by that you gave him so much love from afar. a comfortable distance through your phone screen where he couldn’t spit such hurtful words to you again. it was difficult to bear with his selfish sense of care.

stalking him on social media didn’t get you anywhere really. he already moved on from you. though you were unsure whether your jealousy blossomed from the fact that she was beautiful, or that he moved on extremely fast. maybe it was both.

posts of his hand intertwined with hers, captioned with cheesy song lyrics that used to hold so much meaning to you. your music taste always tended to rub off on him. 

there were long paragraphs declaring how much she meant to him, and how she was such a breath of fresh air in comparison to his past relationships. these sacred words that used to be yours. and while you remembered what the two of you had together, he could only think of her.

still, you loved him.

but things got easier, even when you thought they wouldn’t. it took some time for you to realize that being alone was a lot easier on the heart. 

there was a big takeaway from this, being that the only thing he taught you what it was like to feel unloved. though everything that happened when things were okay, you’d never take for granted. 

the sky felt brighter, and you made your walks frequent again. you remembered thinking how dreary he’d make your days seem, but it felt like you were finally able to see the sun again. because throughout the multitude of stars in the galaxy, one always shone the brightest.

even when you were blinded by a haze, it was still there. maybe you were the star.

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

[heliads]

Rainstorm

Y/N and Newt have been best friends ever since she arrived in the Glade. However, she might find that her feelings over the blond boy have changed, especially after the events of a rainy day.

masterlist

There’s a great clamoring around you, the tearing and shrieking of metal. You feel like your head is being pounded by an anvil, and you clap your hands to your skull, desperate to stop the pain. You realize you’re moving, the floor beneath you swaying as it is dragged up by some unseen chain. There are boxes around you, crates of something that you can’t see in the dark. The worst part isn’t the echoing din, or the insufferable darkness lit by sporadic bursts of fluorescents. The worst part is that you have no idea how you got here.

After a couple of seconds, you force yourself to stand up straight and look around. There are boxes littering the ground, yes, but you’re in a larger box yourself. Is that what this lurching, moving metal room is? There are four walls and a ceiling that seems to press in on you with every waking second. Just as you come to this conclusion, the room stops moving with a sudden jolt that sends you to the ground. Panic crests over you and you throw yourself to the edge of the room, hiding behind the stacks of boxes just as the ceiling is lifted away.

Bright, overwhelming sunlight flows into the room like a wave. You squint, careful not to make a sound even as your eyes water from the sudden light. You can see the dim silhouettes of a group of people standing over the room, looking in on you. They must not see you, because you can hear dim snatches of conversation being tossed back and forth in the space above you. “Shouldn’t there be a greenie? Where’s the new kid?” You have no idea what a greenie is, but you do have a sickening feeling that they’re expecting someone, someone who will turn out to be you.

After another moment of indecision, a boy jumps down into the room, causing the floor to shake slightly from the impact. He peers between the crates. Your breath comes harsh in your chest as you realize he must be looking for you. Your hand closes around something in an open box, and as you pull it out slowly, you realize your fingers are clenched around the grip of a knife. It’s not much, but at least you have a weapon.

The boy calls out to you now. “Hey, we know you’re there. There’s always someone in the Box. You can come out now, we’re not going to hurt you.” He takes a couple of steps closer, and you realize there’s no getting out of this. Might as well use the advantage of surprise while it’s still in your court. You stand up suddenly, stepping away from the shelter of the boxes. You point your knife towards the boy’s throat. For a second, the two of you stand there- you with your blade, him with a look of surprise coating his eyes.

Now that you’re both standing in the sunlight, you can see more of him. This boy has light dirty blond hair and warm brown eyes. His hands rise by his sides the second he sees your knife. “Hey, there’s no need for that. We’re not trying to hurt you.” Then his brow furrows and he takes a step forward, surprise overwhelming his previous hesitation. “Wait. You’re a girl.” You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be a girl?” The boy glances up at the silhouettes of the others still standing over the box. “Back off, guys. She’ll be fine.”

He looks back at you. “Let’s start this over. My name is Newt. You’re in the Glade now, with a few other shanks. I’m just surprised because they’ve never sent a girl up before, that’s it. Now, can you please put down the knife? What would you do with it, anyway?” You keep the blade up, feeling slightly defensive. “I could use it.” Newt lowers his hands, humor outweighing any sense of self-preservation. “For what?” You gesture with the blade. “To, I don’t know, stab someone. It’s a knife, what else would I do?”

Newt grins. “Maybe not stab me? We’re going to be here for a while, I’d appreciate it if you didn't kill me immediately.” You lower the blade at last, reaching over to put it back in a nearby box. “I’ll consider it.” Newt offers you a hand to help you out of the Box. “Can I help you up? You can trust me, you know.” You consider him for a second, taking in everything you know about the boy. He looks at you encouragingly, smiling with all the peaceful freedom of a dove, and you relent. After a second, you stand blinking in the sunlight, turning in a slow circle to stare at the massive walls surrounding you. “What is that?” Newt comes to stand beside you. “That’s the Maze. Keeps us all stuck in here. Once a month, the Box sends up some new sap. This time it’s you.”

You glance around you at the other boys pretending to do their work. “There’s not that many people here. How long has this been going on?” Newt shrugs. “I’m not entirely sure. Maybe six months or so? Alby’s been here longest, he’ll have a better answer. Alby’s in charge here, by the way. I’m second in command.” You nod. “And you really don’t have any other girls here? That’s awful.” Newt laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I have a feeling you’re going to fit in just fine around here.”

Newt, as it turns out, is right. You talk and laugh with the other Gladers like you’ve known them your entire life. Conversation flows freely that first day, and after a few hours, you already remember your name, taking joy in turning it over in your head like a smooth stone from the river. You make fast friends with Minho, the runner, after he hears the story of how you nearly stabbed Newt back in the Box. Alby talks Glade politics with you, Gally seems to tolerate you far more than the others. However, your closest friendship will always be with Newt.

Maybe it’s because he was the first friendly face you saw, the reason you ever agreed to enter into the Glade at all. Maybe it’s because Newt hands away his trust like a gift, free of charge. You couldn’t stray from him if you tried. You exchange quick chats and stupid jokes in between shifts, and you find that you look forward to every minute shared with the blond second-in-command.

One day, Newt and his track-hoes are forced to give up their gardening to retreat underneath haphazard awnings from an encroaching rainstorm. Even the builders have hurried away, trading in their bricks and wooden slats for the dry cover of the few buildings in the Glade. You lean against a tree conveniently growing underneath a cloth shelter, eyes alight as you watch the rain pour down over the Glade. A faint smile plays on your lips. Newt walks up beside you, an eyebrow raised as he takes in your peaceful expression.

“You know, I’ve never seen someone look this happy over a bloody thunderstorm. We’re all forced indoors and we can’t do anything, and you look like someone’s just won you a million pounds.” You turn to face him, grinning. “I just think it’s nice. You’re the track-hoe, I thought you’d be happier about it. If it doesn’t rain, all your plants die. Honestly, we should both be celebrating.” Newt shakes his head in horror. “You’re ridiculous. I mean, look at Gally. He seems like he’s going to kill somebody just because of a few clouds.”

You reach out a hand, feeling the burst of the fat raindrops against your palm. “You want me to be like Gally and hate everything in the world? Not a chance.” Newt watches you, an amused expression entertaining itself on his lips. “I’m not asking for that, I’m asking you to stop looking so excited about a rainstorm. You’re making the rest of us look like miserable downers.” You grin at him. “Maybe you are. Have you considered that?”

You crane your head out from the awning, gazing up as the drops rain down upon you. “I’m going out there. Come with me.” Newt scoffs. “And be soaking for the rest of the day? Not a chance.” You look at him, a mock pout tainting your eyes with incredible sorrow. “It’ll be fun. Not everyone has to be a miserable downer, you know.” You reach out to grab his hand and pull him into the rain, but Newt dodges your grasp. Instead, your hand darts down to his pocket, and you steal his prized pocketknife, holding it up teasingly before him. Newt lunges for it, but you run out into the rain-drenched clearing, forcing you to run after him.

Newt’s carried this one knife around with him for what feels like forever. He uses it for everything- gardening, threatening greenies, lending it to Chuck for the boy’s latest carving project. It won’t rust in the rain, but it will be important enough to him so that he’ll follow you out into the storm, away from his shelter. You sprint through the clearing, Newt chasing after you. You can hear him shouting. “You’re a terrible friend, Y/N, you know that?” You risk a glance backwards, feeling a laugh bursting on your tongue when you realize he’s only a few feet away from you. “That’s just mean!”

Eventually, he catches up to you, reaching out an arm to stop you in your tracks. You come to an abrupt stop, still doing your best to hold the knife away from him. Newt laughs to see your last-ditch efforts. “You’re insane, you know that? Absolutely insane.” You beam at him, feeling the rain pour down over you. “Maybe so.” Newt lunges for the knife and the sudden shift in balance makes you slip on the soaking wet grass. Newt leans over, catching you, and for a second you feel like you’re frozen in that moment, his arms around your waist and the rain pounding around you.

Then he’s straightening up, knife held triumphantly in his palm. “Told you I’d get it back.” You grin at him. “That wasn’t the point. We’re both out here now.” Newt looks up, as if finally realizing that you’ve goaded him into leaving the tent. He tosses a playful glare your way. “I thought we were friends.” You laugh. “We are. That’s why we’re having such a good time.” You tilt your head up towards the sky, taking in the crisp, clear freshness of the rain. Newt groans, but you can see the smile he’s unsuccessfully trying to hide. “Maybe it isn’t that bad. Not all of it.”

When you look back, you see his smile, the rain pressing his hair against his face. You can feel your own breath coming sharply in your chest after the running, the cool of the rain against the heat in your cheeks. You’ve never felt this way around him, and you can’t figure out what it means until that night, when you lie awake for hours, mind still turning around the storm from earlier. The truth comes to you after a while, letting itself in without so much as a knock. You love Newt, no matter how much you’d like to hide it. 

The only problem is that Newt would never feel the same way about you. He constantly refers to you as his friend, even his best friend, and that’s all you’ll ever be. The fault lies solely with you, for falling in love with such a sunbeam of a boy and expecting that he’d look back at a matchstick of a girl, someone who’d light up only to die out seconds later. The only thing you can do is try to get over your little crush, hoping you can snuff it out like a candle.

This proves to be more difficult than you’d thought. Your first attempt is to just forget the whole thing ever happened. This plan runs into the ground as soon as you look at him the next morning, and feel all of your heart’s pounding rush over you. Your only idea after that is to edge slightly away from him. Maybe the distance will keep your mind from turning to him, from falling in love so easily. You still sit with him at mealtimes with all your other friends, but you don’t run to him at every break. Honestly, this is for the best. He probably thought you were too clingy anyway, this is just making things even better.

Yet it still hurts when you feel his absence, like a phantom limb that should have always stayed by your side. Maybe you’re just kidding yourself, but you could swear that Newt looks for you when you’re not there, like there’s a one in a million chance that he just might feel the same way. After about a week of this, you’re sitting in a quiet, empty part of the Glade on a rest break when Newt approaches you. He doesn’t say anything at first, just sits down right next to you. From the second you saw him, you noticed the crease in his brow, the look of unhappiness that seemed to permeate his every movement. Whatever he’s about to say, it won’t be good.

Newt fixes you with a quiet stare. “Why are you avoiding me?” The question, so blunt and straight-forward, demands an answer. You’re not sure that you want to provide one, so you try to steer away from his interrogation. “What are you talking about? We sit at the same tables at meals. We talk all the time, actually. We’re talking right now.” It’s a nothing answer, and Newt knows it. “We’re talking now because I came up to you. We used to spend a lot more time together, and then you decided that I wasn’t good enough for you.”

Your eyes widen. “That’s not what I thought at all! I-” You break off, wishing you could hold your tongue for once in your life. You almost gave it all away. Newt sees this sudden silence and presses it. “You what? I was closer to you than I was to anyone else in the Glade, and now I barely see you a couple of times per day. There’s always a reason, Y/N, and I would like to know why.” You sigh, but keep your mouth shut. Maybe he’ll hate you right now, but it will be better than the disappointment and even disgust when he finds out that someone he sees as a sister has fallen in love with him.

Newt’s voice is quiet. “I guess this was a mistake. You what, regretted all of this? You’re trying to pretend that we were never friends?” Your eyes flash. “I never regretted a thing. I loved you, and it was a stupid mistake that I’m trying to fix. Is that what you wanted to hear?” There’s silence for one heartbeat, two. You look away, furious with yourself. Then there’s a hand on your cheek, guiding your face back to his. Newt’s lips are on yours now, and you stifle a gasp of surprise.

At last, he breaks away, a smile dancing across his face. “You could have said that a lot earlier, you know.” You stare at him. “You liked me? You actually-” Newt chuckles softly. “Have for a while. I was trying to tell you, but you made it so bloody difficult sometimes.” You feel like you can’t think straight. “I can’t believe I never figured that out.” Newt’s smile is intoxicating. “I’m glad you know now. Makes it a lot easier to do this.” When he kisses you again, it’s even more breathtaking than the first.