#guess that’s why i’m still here! how about you?

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Stuck Here Like Me

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader

Summary: in the wake of the chaos, you’re there to pick up his broken pieces. Takes place during 1x13 so spoilers if you haven’t seen it yet

Warnings: depiction of explicit themes, death, grief, panic attacks, blood, hospital stuff, ptsd, age gap (reader is 35, Robby is 50) (no smut but yall better love it)

WC: 4.3k Drabble who?

A/N: omg no smutties??? Who possessed me??? Okay well there is smutties, this just isn’t it. I mentioned before that I started writing smutties based on ep 12 but when 13 came out I just had to write a comfort fic. God this man needs to be held and loved so I couldn’t help myself. The smutties based on ep 12 is still on the works. So think of it as an alternative ending to this one. I started writing this last night after I finished ep13 and i cant believe I finished it so fast. Hope you enjoy being traumatized give Noah his Emmy btw

Staying away from the chaos of the ER was the plan for today. As far away as you possibly could. You did this on purpose. Neither of you had worked on this day in years. You didn’t mind that Robby had made other plans. You were even happy that he was keeping his mind occupied with Jake. You would happily stay home and catch up on some well deserved sleep. Ever since you convinced Gloria to give you that pediatric emergency medicine fellowship, you had been doing overtime almost every single shift. You left at the same time as Robby every night, and that was saying a lot.

So when you felt movement beside you, your husband shifting as quietly as possible, you were very suspicious. You stirred and grumbled almost immediately. Much to his attempt of getting out of bed without waking you.

“Michael.” You muttered into your pillow, blindly reaching for your phone beside you. He gritted his teeth, turning his head to find you squinting at your phone. “Why are you getting up at six on your day off?”

“Ah, busted.” You felt his weight sink into the bed as he leaned over you to leave a kiss to your hair. “They’re down an attending this morning. And you know we’re short staffed so.”

You scrunched up your face, huffing softly as you shifted on your back. You gave him a look of apprehension and he leaned down to kiss the expression lines on your forehead.

“Today? Really?” The sleep lingered on your voice as you rubbed your eyes softly. He clicked his tongue but said nothing. You weren’t shy about it. You were an R2 when the pandemic broke out. How you managed to start, and maintain a functioning relationship was still beyond you. Though you guessed you understood each other’s he trauma. And your marriage has been without issues so far, so you guessed it worked out. Still, you weren’t beneath bringing it up, even if he didn’t quite enjoy it. “Michael I really don’t think—“

“It’s fine. I’m fine, really.” He was firm with his words, loving, but firm, like he didn’t want to press the matter further. A sigh of resignation left your chest and you shrugged, shaking your head at him.

“Mkay. Want me to come in with you?” You sighed, stretching out your arms with exhaustion. Robby narrowed his eyes at you and shook his head.

“Nope. You’ve been working what? Thirteen? Fourteen hours straight? Absolutely not. Sleep while you can. You’re going to burn yourself out.” You hated when he lectured you, the age gap between you sometimes becoming painfully obvious. You groaned with annoyance and squeezed your eyes shut. You hated when he was right.

“Fine, whatever.” You pretended to pout, which he found quite amusing. With a soft chuckle he leaned down to press a kiss to your pouty lips. You couldn’t help but giggle. “I swear Gloria is still punishing me for hexing you with my charms. She couldn’t get rid of me so she’s making me suffer.”

“Aren’t you doing overtime willingly?” He tisked at you as he peeled himself from you to finish putting on his scrubs. He knew that if he didn’t leave your side soon he would forget he has actual responsibilities to attend to.

You scoffed at him, shifting to your side again, “I’m being coerced. She insists that my fellowship is an unnecessary expense and that if it hadn’t been for your favoritism I would’ve had to transfer hospitals.”

“It wasn’t favoritism. I was completely objective and unbiased. You really are one of my best doctors.” He reminded you and you laughed into your pillow.

“She doesn’t seem to agree. She makes sure to remind me every time she sees me.” You rolled your eyes, disdain lacing your tongue. Robby found it almost amusing how you didn’t even try to hide your opinions. He always had to hold back a laugh whenever you gave Gloria side eyes when she came strolling down to the ER to get on his case about one thing or another.

“Yeah, well, she’s a pain in my ass too. Don’t take it too personally.”

“I’ll make you coffee and something to eat, hm?” You suggested, figuring you would spend as much time with him as you could before you didn’t see him for the next twelve-plus hours. He shot you an apprehensive glance, eyes narrowed but you were already throwing the blankets off you. “I’m already up. I’ll take a nap when you leave.”

Robby chewed on the inside of his cheek, clicking his tongue as his eyes followed you out of bed. His eyes never left you, more than happy to be reminded that you were parading around in nothing but an old tee and panties. He followed you out of the bedroom with eagerness, more than happy to follow you around until he left.

“Shit, my sweet and amazing wife is making me coffee this morning? And she’s making sure I eat? Aren’t I lucky.” He chuckled, following you to the kitchen. Your giggles filled the air and he was so in love with the sound it made his head spin.

“Don’t forget hot and young too.” You looked over your shoulder and shot him a wink, snorting at the groan he let out at your teasing words. If you had to be reminded that he was older, he had to be reminded that you were younger, too.

“God, I hope you don’t say that shit to other people. Makes me sound like such a creep.” He sighed out, his freckled cheeks dusting red with embarrassment. You loved to tease him about it. Even though you were already thirty when you started dating. You found it amusing how worked up he got about the logistics. You knew it fucked him up for months when you first slept together.

“If it makes you feel better, I tell people I wanted to fuck my attending.” You managed to hold in your laughter until after your words sunk in, you had your back to him as you made him his coffee, but when you heard him mutter ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ behind you, you bursted into giggles. “You love me. Oh! Can you get me the strawberries and blueberries from the fridge? And the Greek yogurt.”

“Yes I do, unfortunately.” He sighed out a long exaggerated breath as he searched around the fridge. You shoot him a glare, which he took with a chuckle.

“Okay, well, you can starve then. I’m not making you shit.” You clicked your tongue, huffing as you crossed your arms over your chest. Robby pouted, trying to stifle a laugh at the matching pout on your lips.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He said in between laughs as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to him and he left kisses on your cheek, on your nose, until you broke a smile and giggles left your lips. “You have such a shitty poker face.”

“I do. I can’t resist your old man charms.” You teased, throwing your arms around his neck. He rolled his eyes at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, successfully shutting you right up. You didn’t protest, you were in fact, very pleased with this exchange. God, you wished he would stay home with you. You didn’t want him to go. You were tempted to jump him right then and there. If you pushed him enough he really couldn’t say no to you even if he tried. But you also knew better. So against your better judgement you relented.

“I really have to go hun.” His words left his chest with an edge, his fingers slightly digging into your hips. You slightly threw your head back, grabbing his face as you whined. “Cmon, don’t do that.”

“I really can’t convince you to stay, hm? You’ll have me all to yourself today.” Your words left your lips softly, quietly. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head, his jaw ticking with each string you pulled.

“I’m gonna think with my head and regrettably say no.” An uneven breath left him, much to his dismay. Your offer was so fucking tempting. But he knew better, he definitely wouldn’t hear the end of it if he ended up not showing up.

“Ugh, I like your other head better.” You gave him one last jab to his sanity before you pulled yourself away to resume your previous task. You heard him groan loudly as he reached for his freshly brewed coffee.

“God, you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Though there was a smile on his face, those soft brown eyes filled with warmth, you knew him well, too well, and you knew there was more hiding behind those eyes, behind the same facade he put up every year. And that sat with you, you carried that worry like a burden, because you didn’t know what truly was going on in his head, what he was thinking. And it made you wish you could just lock him up until the day had passed. But alas, he wasn’t the type of man to hide. Exchanging I love you’s as he walked out the door left you with unease, with anxiety. And you couldn’t shake that feeling.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey love. Lemme guess, you’re staying late?” Your teasing words were laced with humor when you picked up the phone. You had managed to get through your day, though you definitely missed your husband. It was around six when he called.

“Yeah, something like that. Uh, fuck. I’m sorry to ask, but could you come in?” He rushed out his words, a sense of urgency edging through his tone even over the phone. The smile on your face quickly fell and you stilled, stammering over your words. “There’s an active shooter at PittFest and I’m down two residents. Please, you know I wouldn’t call if I didn’t have to.”

You were running to your bedroom for the first pair of scrubs you could grab before he was done talking. Your mind was racing with a million questions, but you didn’t have time to ask any of them.

“Fuck me. You really couldn’t stay home today, huh?” You blew out a breath of exasperation as you threw on pieces of clothing like a maniac. You were thankful you had decided to take a shower before getting started on dinner. Guess you would have to settle for takeout tonight, if you even left the hospital at all.

“I wish I had. Look on the bright side though, I missed you so much I had to find a way to get you here with me.” Though his words were playful, nothing about his tone was humorous in the slightest, there was so much edge to his voice it made your heart sink. As if he needed another thing to make today miserable. Today, out of all days, too.

“You could’ve just asked.”

You were on autopilot, walking to the hospital wasn’t even a conscious thought. You and Robby walked there every shift, it was just automatic. Though you were sure your feet walked just a bit faster than usual because you were walking through those doors and rushing downstairs before your brain could even process where your feet had taken you. You were met with the sight of just about the entire ER staff, day and night shift. Your heart pounded against your chest louder and louder by the second. You spotted Robby talking to Dr. Abbott. His eyes trailed in your direction and he could almost feel a sense of relief wash over him when he spotted you. It was automatic, his feet were taking you to him. He met you in the middle and he pulled you into his chest without hesitation.

“Michael.” You offered quietly, pressing the side of your face against his chest, happily accepting his embrace. You felt him press the cheek against the side of his head, a long sigh of relief leaving him.

“I really needed you. Thank you.” He muttered softly, only for your ears to hear. You nodded.

“You should’ve called me sooner. You’re down two residents?” You asked quietly, feeling the way he tensed under your touch at the question. He half nodded, another exasperated sigh leaving his heavy chest.

“Yeah. Collins wasn’t feeling well, so I sent her home, and I had to send Langdon home, too.” You could hear the slightest bit of edge in his voice at that last part. You frowned, pulling back to look at him with confusion.

“Why? What did he do?” You asked with a frown, having the feeling the reason had nothing to do with illness. His jaw tightened, his eyes drifting away from your gaze.

“You don’t want to know.” He shook his head dismissively, but his tone was anything but reassuring. You narrowed your eyes at him, not convinced by his answer. But he didn’t give you more than that. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

You didn’t want to push it, not right now at least, he had enough on his mind. You simply nodded at him, offering him a half smile as he walked you back to where everyone had gathered. You were met with some confused faces, but also welcoming glances of the familiar ones. You figured they were medical students or interns, since you didn’t recognize the new faces. What a day to be your first day, you thought.

“Okay, this is all hands on deck. That’s why I called for some help. For those of you who don’t know, this is one of our best doctors,” Robby looked at you as he introduced you. You felt almost embarrassed, faint heat rushing to your cheeks but you said nothing. “She’s our emergency pedes fellow, so if you need an attending and you can’t find me or Abbott, find her.”

You felt a bit awkward as Robby continued, now explaining the bracelet system and the colors for each area. You could still feel some confused and puzzled eyes on you every once in a while, but you otherwise ignored it. You figured there would be time for proper introductions later.

Robby and Abbott were done saying their final pieces before everyone dispersed in their own directions. You offered Robby a smile as he left to check on triage. This feeling of unease at the imminent doom that awaited you was making you sick, but you knew this is what you had to do. You eventually found Dana, and you were very distraught by the very evident brushing on her face.

“You didn’t have that last night. What happened to you?” You asked her, your tone alarmed, but you managed to keep your voice down. She sighed, like it was a long story that she had no desire to get into at this time.

“An unhappy patient decided to express how displeased he was with our care.” She states, her tone tired. Your eyes widened, your mouth falling open.

“A patient punched you? Are you fucking kidding?” You scoffed in disbelief and she simply nodded, too tired and burned out to do much more. You shook your head. “Maybe Gloria should fire me. Maybe she can hire better security with my salary.”

“Doubt it. She would find a way to claim we still don’t have the budget for it.” She blew out a humorless laugh, also shaking her head.

You opened your mouth to reply but stopped when you heard a string of voices speaking all at once, you knew it was time for the madness. And you had no idea just how much.

~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t know where your head was anymore. You were jumping from patient to patient like it was a marathon. You had managed to tune out most of the noise, focus on where your hands were. You were helping Langdon when you spotted Robby wheeling in a girl and your heart nearly stopped when you saw Jake following him. Robby hadn’t heard from him or his girlfriend since the shooting started and he was frantic, looking for him every time a new patient was wheeled in. He didn’t show it, but you could tell.

“You good here?” You asked Langdon, his panicked expression matching your own when he spotted Jake. He nodded, ushering you to go. You nearly ran across the other side to find Robby doing chest compression on a girl, and Jake was standing there, refusing to leave her side.

“Jake, hey, are you okay?” You asked him, checking him for any severe wounds, but he didn’t seem to be hurt, despite being covered in blood. He didn’t acknowledge you at first, his eyes glued to the girl on the gurney, you assumed this was the girlfriend Robby had told you took his ticket.

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay, just my leg I think. But Leah is really hurt. Is she going to be okay?” He still wasn’t looking at you, not moving either. You gently grabbed his arm as you made eye contact with Robby. You knew that look. You half nodded, trying to usher Jake back. You hadn’t known him super long, his mom and Robby had already been split for a while by the time you came into the picture. But he thought you were cool and you found his relationship with Robby endearing.

“Robby is helping her right now, but you can’t be in here. You need to get that leg checked. I promise I’ll come find you.” You slowly pulled him back as you called for a wheelchair, he wasn’t budging, understandably not wanting to leave his girlfriend. “Jake, please. Robby’s got her but you need to get checked out.”

You managed to join Robby, and it did not look good. You made eye contact with Dana, and you did not like the look she gave you. You took in a deep breath, clearing your throat as you tried to find your voice.

“Where do you want me?”

“Switch with me.” Robby panted, quickly switching places with you. You resumed chest compressions, despite knowing where this would end. You couldn’t stop the bleeding, and you couldn’t transfuse blood fast enough. But you would keep going until he told you to stop. “Stop compressions. Check for carotid.”

You swallowed, pressing your fingers to her neck. You held your breath, perhaps holding yours would allow you to feel even the faintest beat. There was nothing. You sniffled softly and shook your head.

“I can’t feel the carotid.”

“No femoral either.”

You stopped keeping track of how long you were at it. You were at three bags of blood when you stopped compressions, and again you couldn’t feel anything. Robby shook his head.

“Robby.” You protested, knowing this was it. There was nothing else you could possibly do. There just wasn’t enough time. He shook his head again, the denial evident on his face. You exchanged knowing looks with Dana as Abbott spoke, but he couldn’t get through Robby either.

“Push one more bag of O neg, resume compressions.” He insisted, his voice breaking the slightest bit. A shaky breath left your lips and you hesitated for just a second, but you complied nonetheless.

“Abbott is right. The bullet probably tore right through the aorta. I still can’t get a pulse and we can’t give her another bag.” Your own voice was breaking, sweat starting to fall down your forehead and soak your hair. He shook his head at you, checking his own pulse to make sure the machine worked. “Michael—“

“I know, I know. Fuck, just, let me try this. Please. Hold compressions.” His voice was shaky, on the verge of breaking as he avoided your gaze. You breathed out shakily as you stopped and waited. You could hear abnormal beats, coming and going. And then nothing. There was nothing. Robby kept trying, his jaw tight and he squeezed his eyes shut as he desperately tried to find a pulse. Anything. There was nothing. Your eyes found Dana’s and she shook her head at you. Your eyes filled with tears when Robby shook his head. “We’re done.”

Your breath got caught in your chest as you held it, your own eyes fluttering shut as the realization finally dawned on you. When you opened them again your eyes landed on Robby and your heart sank. You swallowed, inhaling sharply before you spoke.

“Do you want me to come with you?” You asked quietly and he quickly shook his head, sniffling softly.

“No. I’ll go. Just.. Can you take her?” He looked at Dana. She nodded. You opened your mouth to speak again but he gave you no time. He was rushing down the hall as you were left with your mouth open, speechless and distraught. Seeing him like this, it reminded you of what today was. And that feeling made you so uneasy it made you nauseous.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. You got pulled from patient to patient until your head started to spin. You didn’t even have time to notice Robby was gone. And nobody could find him. Those words made your stomach drop. You rushed to where Jake was, you found him still on his gurney, crying. You figured he knew.

“Jake…” You said softly, and he didn’t even bother to look at you. “Jake, I'm so sorry. We tried. We really did. But I need you to tell me where Robby is.”

Jake stayed silent for a long while, sniffling quietly, still not looking at you, “I dunno. He took me to see Leah then he kicked me out. He started, like crying and didn’t come back out.”

Your eyes widened, your breath picking up and your chest started to pound. “I promise I will come check on you but please, try to call your mom. She must be really worried.” You offered him a half smile, your lip quivering the slightest bit before you rushed to the pedes room. God this fucking room was cursed.

Your heart was not ready for the sight you would find. You were frantic as you opened the door and you found your loving husband, the love of your life, in a corner with his hands behind his head, shaking. You choked on your own breath as you grabbed the curtain and covered the door before you dropped to your knees in front of your husband. Your own eyes filled with tears at the sight of him like this. It was like he didn’t even process that you were here, he was hyperventilating, choking back sobs into his arms.

“Hey, Michael. It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.” You held back your own tears as you reached to grab his face. He wouldn’t stop, he was sobbing and crying like you had never seen him do. You didn’t know what to do, you had never seen him break down like this. Your own tears had started to fall without even knowing. But you kept talking to him, you grabbed his face, “Michael, hey, you’re okay. I’m here with you. I’m here baby.”

“Did… Did I ever tell you you have the prettiest freckles? They go so well with your eyes. You have the kindest, softest eyes. I’ve been in love with them ever since I met you. I knew that you were it, I knew I wanted to be with you, all the time.” You didn’t know what you were saying, or when you started to cry, too, but you continued, “I’m right here with you, okay? At your lowest, remember, like in our vows? I got you, I promise.”

You didn’t know what clicked in his head, or what wall fell down in his fragmented mind, but he reached for you, a broken sob leaving him as he found refuge in the comfort of your arms. He sobbed into your shoulder and you held him, cradling his head as you shushed him softly, choking back your own tears.

“It’s okay to cry, you know? You can cry. It’s okay. Just breathe with me.” You spoke quietly into his ear, pressing a kiss to his hair. He held you tighter.

“I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save any of them.” He sniffled into your shoulder, his voice hoarse from emotion. It shattered your heart to hear him like this. You would give absolutely anything to make sure he never felt like this.

“I know.. I know. And I can’t make it hurt less, I wish I could. But it’s okay to grieve and feel like this. Sometimes we need to feel it.” You said softly, breathing softly, each breath you took was slow and steady until his own breath matched yours. You held him there, you let him cry until he couldn’t anymore. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how long he had been holding this in. Years of grief bottled up until he couldn’t take it anymore. “You have saved so many lives. So many people look up to you. I look up to you. And I know you have lost a lot, and that feeling will never go away. But the good you have done doesn’t go away either.”

You lost track of how long you stayed like this. But you didn’t care how long it took. You held him for as long as he needed. You said nothing more as he cried quietly into your shoulder, until he stopped and all that was there was his tight grip on you and his steady breaths in your ear. When he was ready you gently grabbed his face and offered him a sad smile. He closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch, a shaky breath leaving his lips as you gently wiped his cheeks. He opened his eyes to find yours. And as he looked at you, you felt so much sadness seeing the eyes you were so in love with so full of pain. You held his face, your cold rings against his hot skin grounded him. You leaned your forehead against his and stayed just like that. You said nothing. He said nothing. You had nothing to say. You needed this silence. Words weren’t necessary, only grief and sadness was present and that was okay. You would be here to pick up his broken pieces when he was ready.

[estrellami-1]

March Mating Madness

Day 24: Arranged Marriage/Mating of Convenience & Day 25: Scentmates/Soulmates

North Dakota

Ao3 Link

“Munson,” Steve Harrington says, standing on his doorstep, because apparently this is the bullshit the universe is throwing at him today.

He sighs, steps outside. Leans against the doorframe with crossed arms and feigned nonchalance. “I don’t sell from home,” he tells Harrington. “You wanna buy, you can do it at the table behind the school.”

“No, I- I’m not here to buy,” he says. Eddie looks closer, realizes the confidence is feigned bravado. He’s scared.

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Then what are you here for?”

“A mating, hopefully.” He sighs, runs a hand through his perfect hair. “Listen, can I come in? Can we not discuss this outside? ‘Cause I know El’s here with Max and if I know them as well as I think I do, they’re spying on us.”

Eddie blinks, flicks his eyes over to the Mayfields’ trailer. Sure enough, a curtain slots back into place.

Eddie narrows his eyes again, but steps inside, holding the door open for Harrington. “Shoes off. How do you know Mayfield?”

“She’s pack,” he says simply, toeing his shoes off just inside the door. “They both are. There’s some boys too, you might’ve seen Lucas before? Sinclair? He and Max are dating. We’re all pack.”

Eddie motions to the couch, sits down. “You said you’re here for a mating.”

Harrington looks down at his hands, clasped in his lap. “Yeah.”

“I think I’m gonna need a little more than yeah, Harrington.”

He winces. “Um. My parents? They’re trying to marry me off to the highest bidder.”

Eddie’s brow hits the ceiling. “You? King Steve? No way.”

He winces again. “Could you please not call me that? I get that you hate me, and you have every right to, but I’m trying not to be that guy anymore.”

Eddie tilts his head in thought, then nods. “Alright. Still doesn’t mean I believe you.”

Irritation flickers over Harrington’s features. “Why the fuck else would I ask you to mate me, dude?”

Eddie shrugs. “A dare? Laugh at the Freak when he says yes? Any number of reasons, really.”

He scrubs his hands over his face. “I was really shitty to a lot of people,” he starts quietly. “And I get that this might be, like… cosmic judgement, or something. But I refuse to mate the person my parents want me to.”

“Why?”

He sighs. “Take your pick, man. It’s a business deal. He made a joke with my dad about, like, smacking me around, and… compliance, or some shit. He doesn’t see me as a person, he sees me as an object. Some… thing to have sex with whenever he wants it. To hell with whether or not I want it. He’s controlling, manipulative, and I know he won’t be faithful. It’ll be a miracle if I don’t get rejection sickness within the first year.”

Eddie blinks, sits back. “Shit, man.” He thinks for a moment. “And you’re asking for a bite because?”

“If I’m mated, my parents have no recourse, legal or otherwise. A bite should be enough to get them off my back.”

“And if it’s not?”

Harrington shrugs. “I run, I guess. I’ve got- y’know Robin? Buckley? From band?”

“I know of her, sure.”

“She’s… she’s my best friend. Like, in the entire world. She knows what my parents are planning. And if it comes down to it, we’ll run. We’ve got some savings tucked away, but it’s not much. But my whole life is here, my pack is here, and my parents aren’t. Much, at least. I don’t want to leave, at least not without my pack.”

“So why not ask her for her bite? She’s an Alpha too, right?”

“She is, but…” he shakes his head. “I can’t. Mostly because she’d do it.”

“And that’s a bad thing because?”

“Because it would fade. Or we’d separate, because as much as we’re gonna be in each other’s lives for the rest of our lives, we’re not… like that. We’re not meant to be together like that. And I can’t put her through that pain and heartbreak, if I have to bite her too.” He quirks a corner of his lips up. “Plus she’s a terrible liar. My parents would see straight through her.”

“And how do you know I’m a good liar?”

Hazel eyes flick over to him. “You were in theater. I took an educated guess.”

Eddie snorts despite himself. “That’s fair, I guess.” He tilts his head, sighs. “I’m still not sure you’re telling the truth, but say I believe you. What would I have to do?”

He works his lip. “It should just be a bite. That should be enough for them.”

“And if it’s not?”

He shrugs miserably. “I run, I guess. I go to Robin and we run.”

“And you think you won’t get isolation sickness from leaving your pack so quickly?”

“What other choice do I have?” He bursts out, an angry whine tearing its way out of his throat. “I can’t do what my parents want and if I stay in this town there’s no way for me to get away from them! I probably will end up sick but it’s better than fucking killing myself!”

“Shit,” Eddie whispers.

Steve puts his head in his hands. “I can’t,” he whispers. “I would. I’d find a way to kill myself because I know my parents and I know my dad’s friends. There’s no way I’d make it one step out of the door before they find me again. It’s running or suicide but I don’t actually want to die.” He sighs, long and drawn-out. “Yet.”

“Okay,” Eddie decides.

Steve peeks up at him. “Okay?”

“I’ll bite you. If your parents want to meet me, you’ll bite me. We’ll find a way to dissolve it after that won’t end up in sickness.”

Steve studies him. “You mean it.”

Eddie spreads his hands. “What gave it away?”

He cracks a smile. “Mostly the lack of any jokes.”

Eddie snickers, stands. “C’mon. I was about to make lunch when you showed up. Hungry?”

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah, actually. Thank you.”

Eddie makes mac and cheese, silently daring Steve to say something about the box, but he just meekly thanks Eddie when he’s handed a bowl.

“Y’know,” Eddie starts, mouth full, “you’re not who I thought you were.”

Steve blinks down at his bowl. “Um. Thank you?”

Eddie grins. “Yeah, it’s a compliment.” He swallows, looks down at his bowl to scrape together another bite. “Thought you were perfect, in the worst sense of the word. You’ve got the hair, the looks, the car… people of every secondary gender lusting after you. What could you possibly not have? Especially that I do?” He shrugs. “Choice, apparently.”

Steve huffs a breath out. Eddie thinks it might be a laugh, or something trying to be one, in any case. “Yeah. Most castles are also dungeons.”

“Shit,” Eddie murmurs, leaning back in his seat and regarding Steve with wide eyes. “You’re kinda metal, Harrington, you know that?”

He looks up at Eddie uncertainly. “Is that a good thing?”

“Hell yeah that’s a good thing,” Eddie agrees, stuffing another bite into his mouth. “You want the bite today? Or was today to just pitch the idea to me?”

“No, I- if I can, if you don’t mind- today, please.”

Eddie leans back, looks at the clock. “You got anywhere to be in… six-ish hours?”

“Um,” Steve says. “No?”

“Cool. I live here with my uncle, and he’s chill, he won’t mind, but he’ll definitely mind not knowing about it.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “Okay, yeah. Makes sense, I guess. So… you want to wait until after you tell him?”

“After we tell him. If you don’t mind telling him.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Okay. Until then,” Eddie grins, “I’m pretty sure you should know your Alpha more than just surface-level. Your parents are gonna have questions, right?”

“Probably,” Steve agrees, looking vaguely nauseous.

Eddie tilts his head. “Can I ask a question?”

“You just did,” Steve retorts, then colors. “Sorry. Yeah.”

Eddie snickers. “You’re kinda bitchy. I like it. Do you wear blockers because you want to or because you’re forced to?”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He glances at Eddie’s neck, his uncovered gland. “It’s- it’s not proper,” he starts, then bites his lip.

“That what your parents tell you?”

Steve nods.

Eddie hums. “I don’t mind. Wayne won’t, either. If you want to take the patches off.” He frowns. “Do you- wear them at home, too?”

Steve sighs, won’t meet his eyes. “I think, maybe, me being an omega is the improper thing.”

“Well fuck that,” Eddie says, grinning and winking at Steve. “C’mon. I’ll show you mine?”

Steve giggles, glancing at Eddie before looking away and peeling the patch off.

In just a minute, a new scent starts to filter through the trailer. Peaches and raspberries, and something a little sour from the anxiety starting to show on his face.

Eddie sends out reassurance, calm-happy Alpha scent. He knows from Wayne that it smells like pine and petrichor, and as soon as Steve gets a sniff he begins to calm down. “Oh,” he murmurs, glancing at Eddie’s neck, then back away. “You, um.” His cheeks flush. “You smell good.”

Eddie chuckles. “Thanks. You too. I like fruit.”

“Um,” Steve says, confused, “I like fruit, too?”

“No, ‘cause- ‘cause of your scent? Peaches and raspberries.”

Steve shakes his head, brows furrowed. “Robin says I scent like marshmallows,” he says. “What, um- what do people say you scent like?”

Eddie’s heart slams double-time in his chest. Says quietly, “I’m guessing to you I don’t smell like pine and petrichor?”

Steve’s eyes widen as he shakes his head again. “You scent like the beach, to me,” he whispers. “And, like- sunset? I know that doesn’t make sense, but-”

“No, I- I get it. The moment when the sun goes down and it gets cooler?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, eyes still saucer-wide. “Are we-”

“Looks like it,” Eddie agrees, glancing at Steve’s neck and leaning over, extending a hand, stopping just before he touches. “Can I?”

Steve nods, eyes wide, so Eddie does, rubs their glands together. His eyes widen at the feeling that zings through him. He keeps a tight leash on his scent until he smells the peaches and raspberries bloom, sweet and floral and fruity. His eyes widen even more. “You’re… happy?”

The fruit suddenly turns, goes bad. “Um.”

“No, shit, I-” he scrambles over on the couch, grabs Steve’s hands, lets his own scent bloom and fill out, tangible happiness. “Steve.”

Fruit turns ripe again as Steve’s eyes meet Eddie’s. “You are too?”

“I’m a fuckin’ idiot,” Eddie tells him, “but yeah.”

“You are not.”

“Mhm. So is now a good or a bad time to tell you about the embarrassing crush I had on you starting your junior year?”

“No,” Steve gasps. “Really?”

“Yup. ‘Course, I a little bit hated you too, but that’s a separate issue.”

Steve snickers. “Of course.” He softens as he watches Eddie. “I am glad it’s you,” he says softly. “Out of everyone.”

“Why?”

Steve looks down at their hands, still intertwined. “The Alpha my parents chose for me wouldn’t let me make my own decisions. Would decide everything for me. Probably enforce a strict regimen for me. I’d be… nothing to him. He wouldn’t see me as a person. But you will.”

“Of course I would,” Eddie bites out, scent going tar-sharp. “Because you’re a fucking human being.”

Steve shrugs, squeezes his fingers a little. “He wouldn’t see it that way. A lot of people—Alphas, really, especially in the business world—still see omegas, especially male omegas, as… secondary. Sub-human.”

“Which is fucking stupid.” Eddie sighs. “Wayne’s a beta, so he… kinda gets it, y’know? So I kinda get it, like, by proxy.”

Steve hums, shifts. “Yeah. Okay, this is a complete one-eighty, but… I mentioned Robin, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. She’s my absolute best friend in the entire world, we’re closer than anyone. She’s an Alpha but we’re not, like, together. Is that… going to be a problem?”

Eddie makes a face. “What the fuck? No! Be friends with who you want to be friends with!”

“Oh, thank god,” Steve whispers, sagging against the couch. “We’re basically siblings, except we tell each other everything, and I do mean everything, and-”

Eddie snickers. “You wanna call her and tell her we’re scentmates.”

“Yes!” Steve exclaims, then pulls back. “Unless- is that-”

“It’s fine, is what it is. She’s probably gonna threaten me, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Uh. She might threaten you. Sorry in advance if she does.”

“Steve,” Eddie says quietly, “you don’t ever have to apologize for someone loving you so completely.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers, staring at Eddie.

He inclines his head with a small smile. “Phone’s right there. Want me to talk to her after?”

“I- yeah, she- like we said, she’s gonna want to talk to you.” He frowns at Eddie. “You really don’t care?”

“That you’re friends? No.”

“We’re, like- it’s not just friends, though. She’s my soulmate.”

Eddie snickers. “As long as she’s not your scentmate. That would merit a talk.”

Steve smiles. “No, we’re not scentmates. Just… closer than any non-bonded people have any right being.”

“Steve,” Eddie reminds him, “my nickname is the freak. I’m pretty sure you can’t out-freak me.”

“You’d be surprised,” Steve murmurs, walking over to the phone and dialing Robin’s number.

They speak for a few minutes before he calls Eddie over. “Please be nice,” he begs her, then hands the phone over.

“-talking about, I’m always nice,” Robin retorts.

Eddie blinks. “Hello?”

“Eddie.”

“That’s me.”

“You’re Steve’s scentmate.”

“I mean. Yeah?”

Robin hums. “How do you feel about it?”

“Honestly?” He smiles at Steve. “Really good. I’m really happy.”

“And he explained how close we are?”

“He did.”

“What did you say?”

“He apologized for you threatening me, and I told him he never needs to apologize for someone loving him so completely.”

“Oh, shit,” Robin says knowingly. “Did he cry?”

“Almost,” Eddie chuckles. “Listen, Robin, you can properly threaten me later, but he wanted to call you as soon as we found out, so we haven’t really gotten a chance to talk yet. Maybe the three of us could do lunch later this week? My treat?”

“If you’re trying to bribe me out of threatening you, it’s only a little bit working. Lunch sounds good. Tuesday?”

“Tuesday?” Eddie asks Steve, who thinks, then nods. “Tuesday works,” he confirms.

“Tell Robin I’ll pick her up,” Steve whispers.

“Tell Steve he’s picking me up,” Robin says.

Eddie blinks, then bursts out laughing. “You two just said the exact same thing at the exact same time.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“We do that,” Robin finishes.

Eddie shakes his head. “Damn that’s freaky. Okay, see you Tuesday, Robin.”

“Yup.” She hangs up, so he does the same, then pulls Steve back over to the couch.

“So.”

“So,” Steve parrots.

“We should probably talk more about your parents.”

Steve groans. “Probably.”

“If- if you don’t want to-”

“No, it’s- I can, just-” he bites his lip, looks at Eddie, looks away.

“What?” Eddie asks softly.

“Can, uh. Like, the hands is nice, but can we-”

“Oh,” Eddie says, catching on, “yeah, sweetheart, come here.”

Steve trills softly as he settles by Eddie’s side, leaning on him, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “So. What do you want to know?”

“I think it’s more a question of what they’re going to want to know about me. I know the type of person you’re talking about. I know I do my best to not associate with them.”

Steve scoffs. “Sounds like a dream.”

“It takes some work, but it’s worth it. You hopin’ to distance yourself from them?”

“I think so. Especially now- I never thought…”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, pulling him in closer, as if he could protect Steve from the thoughts in his own head. “You never think it could be you until it is.”

“Exactly,” Steve murmurs back, then sighs. “They’re going to want to know that you can provide for me. Not because they care about me, because they care about their image.”

Eddie snorts. “They’re going to love the fact that I’m a drug dealer, then.”

Steve giggles. “Probably not. Anything they’re going to want to know about you… they’re not interested in getting to know you. They’re interested only in their status, in how other people see them. In the stories they can bring back to their friends to prove that they’re better.”

“Well ain’t we just a slap in the face,” Eddie mutters, lip quirking up.

“We really are,” Steve agrees. “I don’t care, though. Once we’re bonded… you’re my Alpha. They have no legal recourse.”

“Would they try something illegal?”

Steve sighs. “Maybe. Probably. Depends on how much this Alpha was gonna pay them.”

Eddie’s silent for a minute. “I’ll have to talk to Wayne, but it shouldn’t be an issue. Space’ll be a little tight but I’ll find a job, I know the mechanic’s hiring and Bill’s a friend of Wayne’s, owes him a favor I think.”

Steve shifts back to look up at Eddie, brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Eddie blinks at him. “You moving in.” He waves a hand around. “If they’re gonna try something illegal, it’s gonna be a hell of a lot harder to do if you no longer live in their house.” He pauses suddenly. “I mean, of course, if you’d rather not move in, I get it-”

“You were right,” Steve says, snuggling back in to Eddie’s side, happy omega scent blooming. “You are an idiot. Of course I want to move in with you.” A pause, then, “you’d get a job?”

“Course I would. I need to take care of you, don’t I? Buy you sweet things to make you smile? Your favorite candy just because? A flower because I like the way you blush?” A blush crawls up Steve’s cheeks, and Eddie leans in to nuzzle it. “All those things cost money, darlin’, and dealing is a nice hobby, but it ain’t gonna cut it as my only source of income.” He shifts, shrugs. “‘Sides, uh. I dunno if you want pups? But I know what growing up as the son of a dealer was like, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Steve looks up at him, wide-eyed. “But not- you said-”

“Not Wayne,” Eddie soothes. “He’s my dad’s brother in name only. Dear ol’ Pa, may the devil be tap-dancing on his soul, was the drug addict of the family. Taught me some things, though. Like how to hotwire a car.”

Steve snickers. “Please don’t.”

“What if it’s your car? And you’re right there watching me?”

Steve wiggles around, turning where he sits to face Eddie and cup his face in his palms. “Eddie,” he begins, eyes wide and serious. “My car is my baby. You are not touching her.”

“Noted,” Eddie agrees. “Idea forgotten.” A pause, “your parents’ car?”

Steve collapses in laughter, leaning forward so his forehead rests on Eddie’s shoulder as he shakes with the force of his giggles.

He calms down a few minutes later, relaxing into the feeling of Eddie running a hand up and down in his back. “In all seriousness,” he tells Eddie, “they’ll definitely have you arrested for that. And it’ll be a hell of a lot easier to do what they want with me if my Alpha’s locked up.”

Eddie’s scent sours. “I was due for a pickup in about a week or so,” Eddie says thoughtfully. “I’ll tell Rick I can’t make it, won’t be his gofer any more. We can smoke the rest of my stash, it’s just weed. I’ll talk to Wayne tonight about talking with Bill sometime soon.”

“Eddie-”

“Steve,” Eddie interrupts softly, shaking his head with a small smile. “I was pretty done anyways. It’s no secret I had to retake senior year twice, and it’s a badly-kept secret that I’m a dealer. It doesn’t take much to put two and two together, even if it’s not right. People weren’t really buying anymore anyways.”

Steve looks up at Eddie. “Why did you have to repeat twice?”

Eddie hums. “Honestly? I kept forgetting to turn in my homework first go ‘round, and the second I decided I just… didn’t really care. This year I stepped it up, turned in my work, actually came to class… hell, I even participated in gym. I want to be the first in my family to graduate.”

“You will be,” Steve whispers. “I believe in you.”

Eddie hides his smile in Steve’s hair. “I’m glad.”

They spend the next hour or so talking on the couch until Wayne gets back, blinking at the boys cuddling on the couch, then moving on to the kitchen. “I’m makin’ grilled cheese, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Sit down,” Eddie calls back, laughing. “That’s your tired meal, old man, you can’t hide from me. And we wanna talk to you anyways.”

Wayne sighs and sits in his chair, nodding at Steve. “Hello.”

“Hello, sir.”

“Wayne,” he corrects kindly. “I recognize you.”

“You, uh. You probably know my father.”

Wayne smiles. “Probably. ‘Ve been here long enough, I recognize just ‘bout everybody.” His eyes turn kinder, somehow. “Who’s your father, boy?”

Steve looks down. Eddie tightens his hold on Steve’s shoulders. “Richard Harrington.”

Wayne hums. “Yeah, I know ‘im. Knew ‘im, more like, left soon as he was able. Came back with a pretty little wife from the big city.” He leans slightly, catches Steve’s eye. “In this house, we don’t judge based on who your daddy is.”

“Thank you,” Steve whispers.

Wayne leans back, nods. “Now. Eddie?”

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s his story, Wayne. What I can tell you…” he looks down at Steve, smiles. “We’re scentmates.”

Wayne inhales sharply. “Well then,” he says, smiling at Steve again, “welcome home.”

Steve immediately tears up. “Shit,” he mutters, pawing at his face. “Sorry, I’m- thank you, I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Eddie shushes him, pushes his hands down, gently wipes his face. “Hey, sweetness, it’s okay. A little water never hurt anybody.”

Steve sniffles. “Hurt the wicked witch of the west.”

Eddie giggles. “Then it’s a good thing no one here’s a witch, huh?” He pushes out comfort, and Steve relaxes into him, letting his eyes flutter shut as Eddie wipes underneath them with his thumbs. “You’re home,” he whispers. “Wanna tell Wayne why?”

Steve looks up at him with hopeful eyes. “Can you?”

Eddie holds his gaze for a minute, then pulls Steve back in. “Sure I can.”

He tells Wayne what led Steve to the trailer earlier that afternoon. Wayne stays silent, then when Eddie’s finished, he nods. “Alright. So what’s for dinner?”

Eddie immediately looks to Steve, who shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m not picky.”

“Steve,” Eddie tells him, “you’re both a guest and my mate. You get to decide.”

Steve’s eyes sparkle. “Then I decide that I don’t want to decide.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve just as Wayne bursts out laughing. “You’re gonna be good for him, kid,” Wayne tells Steve, who grins back. “Grilled cheese sound okay to you?”

“Sure,” Steve agrees. “I can help?”

Wayne shrugs an unaffected shoulder. “You could,” he says. “Or you two could go into his room an’ make it official. And do whatever comes after that.”

Steve blushes at the implication, but can’t argue that he’s practically itching for Eddie’s bite. He turns to ask Eddie and is arrested by the look in his eyes.

“Up to you,” Eddie murmurs, hungry eyes tracking Steve’s every move.

Steve nods, stands, and approaches Wayne. He pitches his voice low as he asks where Eddie’s room is, and after Wayne tells him—also quietly—he glances back at Eddie, just once, before taking off.

He hears Eddie laugh behind him as he scrambles off the couch. “Oh, you fucker!” Eddie yells gleefully, chasing him into his room and tackling him onto the bed, laughing along with Steve up until he pushes his nose into Steve’s scent gland and inhales.

Steve whimpers loudly and pushes at Eddie’s chest. “The- get the door, please, Eddie-”

Eddie rolls off the bed with a half-hearted grumble and shuts the door before jumping back onto the bed, bracketing Steve with a grin. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Steve giggles.

“Are you ready?”

Steve settles his hands on Eddie’s waist. “Are you?”

“Almost,” he admits. “It feels a little weird, biting you before kissing you.”

A slight tug on his hips. “We can change that.” Steve leans up a little, nudges their noses together. Eddie pushes in until Steve’s laying down again. Eddie slides his nose off to the side, landing on Steve’s cheek as his lips barely brush Steve’s.

The grip on his hips tighten. “Don’t tease,” Steve begs, and Eddie acquiesces.

He pushes in harder, locking their lips together in a kiss that goes from zero to one hundred in less than a second as Steve parts his lips on a moan.

Eddie licks in between them with no hesitation. His aim is sucking Steve’s soul out from between his teeth, and based on the whimper that escapes, he’s successful.

He pulls back to pant out, “fuck, where’ve you been all my life, sweetheart?”

Steve gives a breathless laugh. “Right here, apparently, if it weren’t for my parents.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Eddie agrees. “Wanna bite you, baby, wanna show ‘em, give you my mark. Can I?”

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, writhing. “Please, want it, Eddie, want you-”

“Yeah, I gotcha, baby, I gotcha, gonna mate you, omega-”

He latches his teeth into Steve’s skin and he goes boneless. “Alpha,” he whispers, horny and reverent, fingers pressing flower petal bruises into his hips.

“C’mon, ‘mega,” Eddie whispers back, blood in his teeth and sliding down his throat like honey. “Want your bite too, wanna complete it. Want you to feel me like I feel you.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, leaning up. “Yeah, please, wan’it-”

“Take it,” Eddie whispers, and slots his mark into Steve’s mouth.

Steve bites down and moans, and then Eddie moans, and he nudges his hips into Steve’s one last time—when had he even started?—and comes as Steve stiffens up, also coming.

Eddie collapses onto Steve, nudging his nose into Steve’s gland, as they both get their breath back.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes. “Shit. I didn’t know it could be that good.”

Eddie snickers. “And we haven’t even done anything yet.”

Steve looks at him mock-seriously. “I might actually die.”

Eddie laughs and starts sucking a bruise into Steve’s jaw. “Nah,” he pulls back to say. “I’ll be careful with you.”

“Fuck,” Steve mutters. “Eddie, can’t go again this soon.” He pushes ineffectually at Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie moves away from his jaw, kissing up his cheek and over to his mouth instead.

“I wanna say something crazy right now,” he tells Steve.

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “I doubt anything could be crazier than asking an Alpha you barely know to mate them.”

Eddie crawls up Steve’s body and rolls them over on the their sides. Says into Steve’s hair, “I love you.”

Steve pulls back to see his face. “You do?”

Eddie nods. “I know it’s insane, and way too soon-”

Steve bursts into tears.

Eddie’s heart drops somewhere into his left thigh. “Baby?”

Steve cries harder, but he’s still scenting sweet as pie, and Eddie is thoroughly confused.

He decides to give Steve a few minutes, and eventually he calms down, wiping at his face and sniffling. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Eddie tells him softly. “I’m just confused.”

“I just…” Steve waves a hand around, laughs at himself a little. “I fall fast, and I fall hard, and I’ve never… I’ve never met anyone who falls like I do. And it’s always me getting left with the broken heart. So for you to say it first, and after, like, three hours… I mean, yeah, it’s insane, but holy shit, Eddie, I love you too.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Good.”

Steve giggles, pressing back into Eddie’s chest. “Yeah. Good.”

Eddie sighs, wraps Steve up in a hug. “Now there’s just one thing to figure out.”

“What’s that?”

Eddie hums. “It’s not really an if Wayne heard us. These walls are ‘bout as thick as paper. So the question is, do you think we can sneak out the window, escape to North Dakota, and change our names?”

Steve giggles again. “Change our names? Who’d you be?”

“Hm,” Eddie thinks. “I always liked the name Joseph.”

Steve pulls back. “No!”

Eddie blinks. “No?”

“That’s my middle name!”

“Oh, shit!” Eddie laughs. “No wonder I like it!” He nudges Steve’s cheek with his nose. “What name would you choose?”

Steve sighs, settles back into Eddie’s chest. “I like the name Elias,” he admits softly.

Eddie’s quiet for a few moments. “Can I say something else crazy?”

“Hm?”

“I like Joseph Elias. As a baby name.”

Steve’s arms tighten around Eddie’s waist. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Me too.”

A little over a year later, Steve holds Joseph in his arms as Eddie watches. “Our North Dakota boy,” Eddie murmurs, petting over Steve’s hair.

“Ours,” Steve agrees quietly, smiling up at Eddie.

[markleessodalite]

Letters to Lovers: NCT Dream

content: letters that lover!dreamies write to you. some cute and sweet, some a little angsty, some are short and some are a little longer. i wanted to have a lot of variety in these so hopefully i accomplished that

warnings: none that i can think of, chenle's letter is written after he calls reader annoying so if you're sensitive about that i guess maybe don't read that one

a/n: i wanted to intentionally keep the dreamies' roles as just lovers here bc its a vague term that can mean anything, so you can imagine them as whatever that term means to you :) but if you're curious about how i viewed them as i wrote these: mark, jaemin, chenle and jisung as established bfs (jaem is maybe a lil husband coded too), jeno as a friend, haechan as a skinny love of sorts, renjun as a situationship

Mark:

Hey baby! I hope you’re doing well… we’ve both been pretty busy, yeah? I guess that can’t be helped. But I’ve been missing you a lot, and I guess that can’t be helped either. I feel like our signals have been constantly getting crossed lately, don’t you? It just seems like anytime we make plans, one of us gets the time confused, or something else comes up, or one of us is just too tired from everything else going on to make any plans…  Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I’m writing this on paper instead of just texting you. Calling you would be the preferred method anyway, but you’d probably be too busy to answer. I know there’s been a lot of times when you’ve called me, but I was too busy. But anyway, I guess a letter feels more important? Or like… sentimental? That word sounds so dumb right now for some reason.  I guess what I want to say is that I don’t want this weird rut we’re in right now to prevent us from getting closer. I want to turn this into something that makes our relationship stronger instead of weaker. You kind of alluded to that last time we met, that you were getting fed up with how things are right now, but I think you were trying to pretend like you were joking? But I could still tell you were disappointed, y/n. When you think about it, there’s so many reasons why we decided to be together, right? It just seemed so obvious. Like we’re meant to be, as cheesy as that sounds. So I know that right now it kind of looks like this is something that’s gonna break us, but I think we should just change our perspective a little bit. This isn’t like a mountain that’s gonna block our path, its just a hill we have to climb over. And then we can keep on going. Last night I was listening to that one song by The Script, For the First Time, I think you should listen to it too. I think it kinda explains how we feel right now.  Just don’t give up on us yet, okay baby?

Renjun:

Hey y/n. I’m sorry for ignoring your calls. I’ve never liked talking on the phone. I was gonna text you, but I never really found the courage to, or the right words. I still don’t think I have the right words, but I really need to say this. This needs to be said now. I can’t keep putting it off.  That night we spent together, it was amazing. Please don’t misunderstand. I don’t think I’ve ever been that comfortable with anyone before, and I walked away from it feeling something that I don’t think know that I never felt before. I think you thought that I regretted going that far with you or something, but I promise there is nothing about that night that I regret.  And this is where I always get stuck. I don’t know how to say what I want to say from here. I’ve tried to think about how to say it without causing you pain, but I’m not sure that’s totally possible. So I’ll just say it.  We can’t be anything more than friends. I’m sorry. I know we said a lot of things that night that may have given us false hope, or made us think that we should be together, but I’m thinking realistically now. We have nothing in common. We don’t want the same things in life. There’s nothing really bringing us together besides a mutual physical attraction, but that’s not something that can last.  Its not a you problem, believe me. You’re beautiful, and you definitely would make a wonderful partner for someone– just, not me. And I don’t think I’d be good for you either.  So, I’m sorry if I said or did anything that night that may have given you a certain impression. I really, really am sorry. But, I’m not sorry that we got to share that experience with each other.  I don’t know what exactly makes people a perfect fit, but I’ve always imagined it has a lot to do with how a person is raised. Our experiences shape who we are, right? Maybe if I was raised differently, or if you had different experiences, maybe we could have worked out. But, not in this lifetime… But I’ll always be your friend, y/n. Always, until the end of time, in every lifetime.  I love you, my friend.

Jeno:

Y/n, I hope this doesn’t make you feel weird or uncomfortable. I would have preferred to do this in person, but I guess I’m a coward in that way.  Last night you said some things that really made me think. You said that I don’t move very fast, that I just let opportunities move past me. You’re right about that. I think that I’m very comfortable in my own bubble. I like my home, I like my friends, I like my job, so I guess I decided I don’t really need or want anything else. I just like the things I’ve always liked. I like doing the things I’ve always done. I think part of me doesn’t like change either. Or just not knowing what’s coming next. After what you said, I realized I want to change that.  If I’m being blunt, the main reason I want to change that is because I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I don’t think I wanted to admit it at first, because it makes me feel vulnerable in a way, and I hate feeling vulnerable. So I guess my plan was to just… keep it to myself. But I realized if I did that, I could be missing out on so much. I don’t want to miss out on things with you. (I mean, only if you feel the same way, of course)  So, that’s all. I really, really like you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it in person, but I hope this letter conveys what I want to say. Although I don’t think I’m the best writer either to be honest, haha.  I guess just, let me know what you think? I’ll talk to you later, hopefully. - Jeno

Haechan:

Dear Y/n, Ha! See? I told you I have pretty handwriting. It looks like one of those old romantic letters from the 1800’s or something, right? Back when they used a bunch of fancy expressions. Like saying you could swim in someone’s eyes. I wonder who was the first person to ever say that…  Another thing they used to do was put stuff in their wallets, like photos and stuff. My dad had photos of me and my siblings in his. But then he started using Apple Pay like everybody else and now no one carries wallets anymore. What a shame. The whole thing is so romantic– the wallet thing, I mean.  So, here’s what I think we should do: we should start carrying wallets with us, and you’ll put this letter in yours, and you can write me a letter to carry in mine. Isn’t that cute? I’m actually curious to see what your handwriting looks like, I know its not as pretty as mine though.  Okay, I should probably end this so that it will be small enough to actually fit in your wallet. Wait, what if we got MATCHING wallets?  Love, Donghyuck <3

Jaemin:

Good morning, pretty! Sorry you didn’t get to wake up to my kisses, I needed to make an early run to the bookstore before it gets busy (definitely not to get that book you’ve been talking about lately or anything…) I brewed some coffee, I put some in the fridge for you so you can make your iced latte :)  Also, did you know you mumble in your sleep sometimes? I could’ve sworn you said my name this morning, but I was too enamored by your cute sleeping face to really pay attention to what you were saying.  Actually, I realized that I might do that pretty often. I know sometimes you get annoyed with me, for spacing out or not paying attention. I’m sorry for that. It’s really not intentional! Honestly, how can I not be distracted when you’re the most beautiful person in the world? Sometimes when I look at you it takes my breath away– literally, and then I have to focus on breathing and I might miss a detail or two. That usually happens when you wear those pink diamond earrings, they bring out your eyes so well… But I’ve been getting better! At the detail thing, I mean. So hopefully by the time I get back you’ll be awake, and I’ll have a new, collector’s edition of this book for the prettiest person in the world. I love you y/nie! <3

Chenle:

I know a letter slipped under your door is probably the last thing you would expect or want to see, but you’re not answering my texts or calls, so this is my last resort.  I’m sorry for what I said. All of it. I was out of line. I was just angry, and like the immature brat that I am, I just wanted to make you angry too. But I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you, especially since I wasn’t even angry with you in the first place and you were just trying to help me.  I think it hurt my pride a little bit that you had to help me. It made me feel inadequate, or like I can’t do anything. But that’s not something that’s your fault. That’s my own insecurity that I need to deal with, because there’s nothing wrong with receiving help from people that care about you. I don’t know why I was so sensitive about it. I think part of it was that I didn’t want to seem weak in front of you– I want you to feel like you can rely on me, and instead I made you want to avoid me.  But all those things I said, about you being annoying or too much, none of it is true. I was annoyed and frustrated with myself. I could never be annoyed with you. I want you to be around all the time. I want you to come back. I understand if you don’t want to, if I hurt you enough to make you leave for good, I know that’s my fault. But I really, really hope you don’t feel that way. I think that’s all I can say. Please come back. Please.

Jisung:

Y/nie, Happy birthday! I hope you like this gift! I’m sure you probably will. Its all you’ve been talking about lately. You weren’t kidding when you said it was super rare– I had to basically stalk this one eBay account to make sure I won the auction thingie (I’ve learned that I HATE using eBay by the way) So, I can imagine what you’ll say when you get this. You’ll probably be like “something like this is way too special” but that’s… kind of the point.  We’ve been dating for a while, and it’s been mostly casual stuff, but I’m at the point where I want to be serious with you. I want to be your boyfriend, officially. I would have told you this in person, but a letter seems better. Because you said once that you love having mementos to remember good things, so maybe you can keep this letter and it will remind you of a good feeling. At least I hope this letter gives you a good feeling…  So yeah, I’ll leave this gift in your living room and just wait for you to call me when you get it :)  P.S. I know you said the extra key you gave me was just for emergencies and this isn’t really an emergency… oops!

[wonderjanga]

Road Trip!

Once upon a time, there were two little kids… a 13-year-old Billy Batson and a 14-year-old Freddy Freeman. They were minding their business until suddenly Freddy came up with an idea…

Freddy: “Billy?”

Billy: “Yeah?”

Freddy: “I think we should go on a road trip.”

Billy: “Huh…? Why?”

Freddy: “Well, it’s just we never do anything fun.”

Billy: “What do you mean? We do tons of fun stuff!”

Freddy: “Name one thing.”

Billy: “Uh… superheroing—”

Freddy: “Try again.”

Billy: “Uh… doing my radio sho—”

Freddy: “That’s only a you thing. Try again.”

Billy: “Uh… drat. I got nothing.”

Freddy: “Exactly! So here’s what we’re gonna do! We’re gonna steal a car—”

Billy: “What??”

Freddy: “One from a thief.”

Billy: “Oh okay.”

Freddy: “Then we’re gonna pick Mary up from the Bromfields, and set out on the open road!”

Billy: “Okay… I guess I’ll talk to Mr. Morris about my absence… and Tawny can watch the city. Dudley could maybe help. I could also talk to the Lieutenant Marvels…”

That’s how the idea was born. They actually snatched a truck but still set out on the open road after picking up Mary and finishing up any final preparations.

Though not even an hour into their trip, they ran into a problem.

Freddy: “What do you mean gas is three dollars?? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gas Station Worker(GSW):“Excuse me?”

Billy: *elbows him* “Sorry about him! It’s just that it’s rather expensive isn’t it, sir?”

GSW: “Kids, it’s three dollars. You are not missing out by spending three dollars.”

Freddy: “Three dollars can buy me…” *turns to Mary* “What’s 300 divided by twelve?”

Mary: “25.”

Freddy: *looks back to GSW* “Three dollars can buy me 25 hamburgers! So what are you on about, sir?”

GSW: “What are you on about? Where did you get this information?”

Billy: “From our home town? Gas they normally costs about 50 cents.”

GSW: “Where in the world do you live??”

It was after this conversation that the three children shared a look, went behind the gas station and transformed into their Marvel forms. Mary then proceeded to pick up the truck and all three of them flew in some random direction before standing in a circle and chanting.

Marvel, Junior and Mary: “mama se mama sa mama coo sa… mama se mama sa mama coo sa… mama se mama sa mama coo sa…”

That somehow made it so that the truck didn’t need gasoline anymore.

From then on, they were the stereotypical tourists. They went to the World’s Largest Yarn Ball, and the World’s Largest Frying Pan, and the World’s Largest Fire Hydrant. It was a blast.

Then they ran into their second problem. Everything was so expensive! They needed money (mostly for food) and it seemed like they needed a lot of it. So, Billy whipped out a solid gold brick he had gotten from a faerie that he traded with, and headed to a pawn shop.

Billy: “Sir, I’m in need of money.”

Store Clerk(SC): “Oh, uh…” *looks around the shop for Billy’s parents and doesn’t see them* “Well, you’ve come to the right place. You got something you wanna sell, little man?”

Billy: “Yes. This.” *places his brick on the counter*

*silence*

SC: “Is that real?”

Billy: “Yes?”

SC: *looks at him suspiciously*

The Store Clerk ran many tests on the gold. It left Billy’s foot tapping in anticipation and impatience. Eventually, the man finished.

SC: *just dumbfounded* “This is the goldest gold I’ve ever run into in my life…”

Billy: “Is that good?”

SC: “For you, yes. For me… I don’t know. I don’t even know if the shop has enough money to buy this to you.”

Billy: “Oh that’s fine. I’ll take however much you can give me without bankrupting yourself.”

SC: “I… are you sure, kid?”

Billy: “Yeah. Now, I’m kinda in a hurry so…”

With that, they acquired money.

They proceeded to treat themselves to some McDonald’s and go right back on the road. This put an end to their first week of the road trip. This also meant that Captain Marvel was gone for a week. Because of him being completely radio silent, the JL got concerned for their friend. So they gave him a call on the comm.

Mary: *driving, barely obeying traffic laws*

Freddy: *chilling out in the truck bed*

Billy: *sitting in the passengers seat when he suddenly startles and reaches a hand into his pocket dimension*

Mary: “You got a call?”

Billy: *pulls out his comm* “Uh… yeah.”

Mary: *pulls over*

Freddy: *leans over the side of the truck* “What’s wrong? Why’d we stop?”

Billy: “Got a call. Shazam!”

Marvel: *answers* “Hey, Flash. What’s up?”

Meanwhile, at the Watchtower…

JL: *all crowded around Flash’s comm*

Back with the Trio…

(Bold = they’re talking through Flash’s comm)

MM: *clears throat* “Captain. We’ve called you because we are concerned.”

Marvel: “Oh.” *confused as to why J’onn answered the phone, but whatever* “Thanks? Why?”

GL: “You’ve been gone for nearly a week, man? Did you get sucked into another dimension again?”

Marvel: “Nope! I’m on a road trip with Mary and Junior. Didn’t I tell you guys that?”

Aquaman: “Uh… No?? Geez, you’ve never taken time out to spend with those kids. Not in the… what? Six years we’ve known you?”

Marvel: “Huh. Now that I think about it, I really haven’t.”

Thankfully, he talked with the JL for a bit and told them (roughly) how long he’ll be gone.

The three kids had a blast driving around the states and their last stop was (unfortunately for some people, not them) Gotham.

Billy: “Uh…” *looking up at the menu* “Can I have three Bat-Mite Meals— those are the ones that come with toys, right?”

Cashier: “Yup. So, three Bat-Mite Meals.” *taps the register a couple times* “Will that be all?”

Billy: “Uh…” *looks back up at the menu*

In the background, the cashier watched as Mary and Freddy, who were chilling in the back of the truck, suddenly had a knife pulled on them by some random dude trying to car/truck jack them. The cashier also watched as the carjacker was flung back by some mysterious force (the truck had protective wards on it for situations like this) and crashed into the window of the Batburger.

Billy: “Uh………. Yeah that’ll be it.”

And Gotham was certainly interesting to the trio. They even got to meet Robin!

Mary and Freddy: *chilling in the truck bed*

Robin!Damian: *slips somehow and fucking crash lands onto their windshield, rolls up and over the truck*

Billy, Mary, Freddy: *horrified/gobsmacked*

Mary: *somehow bats him out of the air with Freddy’s crutch*

Robin!Damian: *lands in the truck bed*

It was after that that they pulled over and Billy got into the truck bed to see what in the world hit the windshield while he was driving because he was took startled to get a good enough look. That’s how they ended up circling Damian.

Freddy: “Hey. Buddy.” *smacking Damian’s cheek*

Billy: “You guys don’t think we killed Robin, do you?”

Mary: “No…? I’m pretty sure the truck killed him.”

Robin!Damian: *stirs*

Freddy: “Guys, he’s not even dead.”

Mary and Billy: “What?”

Damian, now registering that he was in the back of a truck, surrounded by kids his age, immediately freaked out and withdrew his katana. He immediately listed off some vile threats to their well-being before he scampered away before any of the Batsons or Freddy could get a word in.

All in all, it was a great road trip.

[dollbrbie]

♡ ⸝⸝ THE AFTERMATH

cw. fratboy isagi, he’s a little stalkerish in this but he just misses his girl, part one where they break up here

ever since your breakup with isagi, he’s been so in his feelings.

the only reason you know this is because of the posts your friends have screenshotted from his profile of sad quotes with drake songs playing in the background. it’s honestly a little cringe. so, if you hadn’t felt so bad already you’d probably be crying with laughter. you’ve also noticed user6372928 in your story highlights a lot recently. wow, must be a real fan.

and isagi knows he’s only making this worse for himself, that he’ll never move on this way. but, he can’t help it, hes a certified lover boy!

meanwhile, you’re not really sure how to feel with all this. you know isagi’s been asking around about you, you know he’s stalking your socials constantly. he just won’t leave you alone. and i guess in some fucked up way it was reassuring, knowing how much isagi actually loved and needed you.

but you ended things because you wanted better for him. so, why was he still holding onto this for dear life? you were hoping he’d realise sooner or later, hoping maybe his friends would help him move on.

but really, all his friends hate this more than when he was actually with you. saying, “bro, please just move on from her. you should be glad anyway, wasn’t she like, mad controlling?”

he frowns, “no..? where did you get that idea?”

shrugging, they reply, “cause you never came to the frat parties anymore. plus, she was pretty nasty. always saying shit to you, i couldn’t deal with that.”

but even if you weren’t his girl anymore, isagi wasn’t about to let his friends talk shit about you.

“shut the fuck up, she wasn’t nasty. she was the best girlfriend i had. you think i’m this upset over a girl who treated me like shit?”

then there’s a pause of silence.

“damn alright. sorry, bro.”

he huffs before getting up from the couch he was just sat on, storming up to his room with a frown on his face and slamming the door shut. he’s definitely letting your break up get to him more than he should.

so, he decides to stalk your instagram again!

and the way his stomach dropped when he saw your instagram story; you at a frat party with your girls, looking like you’re having the best time of you life, the frat isagi and his boys hate. what makes it all worse is the fact you look like you’re actually fine without him, that this breakup has no affect on you. and sure, isagi knows you’re the one who broke up with him, but you weren’t even a little upset? a little bit hurt that your two year relationship was over?

the actual truth was that your friends had practically dragged you there, wanting- no, needing you to stop being so fucking miserable about your now ex boyfriend. yeah, yeah, you love him, but you’re really bringing the energy down here!

of course, isagi never had this though cross his mind and instead jumping to the worst case scenario. it’s like everything finally snapped. there’s no way isagi is gonna take this for a second longer. he can’t.

and that’s how he ended up in this situation, his hands shoved in his pockets whilst walking out of his frat like a man on a mission, ignoring his friends questions and calls.

he’s gonna get you back one way or another.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

I dunno if any of y’all have heard about the book Daddy’s Little Toy by Lauren Tesolin-Mastrosa (under the pen name Tori Woods), but if you haven’t, here’s the synopsis and the pics of the cover/back —

“Daddy's Toy is a loose retelling of Cinderella, where Lucy's family are neglectful and cruel. As Lucy grows up she finds herself attracted to her father's best friend. Little does she know that Arthur feels the same way. Together, they explore a daddy and little girl relationship, falling hard and fast for each other. Daddy loves spoiling his little toy and treating her like the princess she is. Happily ever after guaranteed, with extra sparkles and unicorns.”

Basically, this Australian woman released this book, and within days, she pulled it and deleted all her socials because of the harassment she was getting. Why was she being harassed? Because the male character had known the female character since she was three, and groomed her. Keep in mind, these are fictional characters. 

(There is also a rumor that, in her dedication, she wrote something along the lines of “I’ll never be able to see my children the same way”, but I haven’t been able to find any screenshots or really any proof of that.)

Then she was arrested. Again, she lives in Australia, and laws regarding fiction are notoriously strict there, so her book was deemed CSAM, and she was arrested for possessing, producing, and disseminating CSAM. 

She has also been let go from her place of work. Again, all this over fiction. 

I shouldn’t have to say that harassing, doxxing, and threatening to call CPS on someone for writing a book is wrong, we should all know this, but I guess we don’t. It’s wrong. You can say that the content of the book is disgusting, weird, whatever, but the sheer amount of people across all social media platforms I’ve seen not only agree with the arrest, but applaud it is both baffling and frightening.

I do not care if it’s glorifying, romanticizing, or fetishizing anything, because it’s fiction, and no one was hurt. I do not care that it was written as dark romance instead of splatterpunk/extreme horror, because you still have the duty, as a reader, to look at the back of the book or read a synopsis online and decide for yourself if it’s something you’d like to read, or if it’s something that will upset you. I don’t care how disgusting a book is, **arresting someone over any kind of fiction is bad**. It *legally* being CSAM in Australia doesn’t mean that’s a good or just law, and anyway, we shouldn’t be conflating legality with morality. 

I don’t know that I’d go the full nine yards and say it’s censorship, because she decided to pull it (granted, under threats of CPS and the police being called), but now that she’s been arrested, it’s pretty damn close to being censorship. 

We, as a society, NEED to come to the realization that written words or drawn pictures don’t harm anyone, because, like it or not, censorship is not a scalpel, it’s a shotgun. It’s just not pointed at you yet.

I’m also tired of seeing so many people acting like the Americans joining in on the debate are too “freedom-focused” because our laws aren’t so draconian (yet, anyway) that we don’t arrest people over fiction. Australia being too police state-y is not a good thing.

How can you, in good conscience, celebrate a woman being arrested, losing her job, losing her hobby, and potentially having to deal with CPS in the future, all over a book she wrote with original, fictional characters? Why would you ever want to target OTHER creators as well, and have them potentially face the same undeserved and unnecessary backlash, again, over fiction?

What the fuck is wrong with you so-called “normal people” that you care more about the characters and tropes these people write about, than the innocent lives you’re directly ruining, that you’d advocate for censorship, that you’d call for the death of someone?

[sturnsblogs]

A Different Kind of Heartbreak (Chris’s POV) PT.5

Nerd!Chris X Mean!Girl!Reader

—

I love her.

I really, really do.

I want to give her my all. I always have. But she just… she just can’t see that. Or maybe she does see it, but she doesn’t know how to accept it.

So we ended it.

We’re not together anymore.

But somehow, we still call. We still laugh. We still talk like nothing has changed. She still whispers I love you when she’s half-asleep, and I still say it back because—fuck—I mean it.

But we’re not back together.

And that’s the part that’s killing me.

So I decided to talk to Lauren.

She’s nice. She’s smart. She doesn’t make me feel like I’m constantly trying to prove myself. She listens when I talk, doesn’t roll her eyes when I get excited about something, doesn’t make me feel like I’m some fucking nerd she has to tolerate.

She makes me feel wanted.

So when she asked me out, I said yes.

And now, I’m here. Sitting across from her at a dimly lit restaurant, watching her smile as she talks about something funny that happened in one of her classes.

And honestly? It’s going well.

Lauren is easy to be around. The conversation flows effortlessly, there’s no tension, no second-guessing my words. It’s… nice.

But it’s not her.

And maybe that’s why, halfway through dinner, I feel my chest tighten for no fucking reason.

It’s stupid. I should be happy. I want to be happy.

So why do I feel like I can’t breathe?

I clear my throat, shifting in my seat as Lauren twirls her straw between her fingers.

“So,” she hums, tilting her head. “How are you feeling about this? Us?”

I blink. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “I mean, I know it’s new. And I know you’ve been—” she pauses, choosing her words carefully, “—going through it. But I like this. I like you.”

I nod slowly, running my fingers along the condensation on my glass. “Yeah… me too.”

Lauren smiles, her foot nudging mine under the table. “Good.”

I force a smile back.

Then, my phone vibrates on the table.

Lauren doesn’t even glance at it, but I do. I glance, and my stomach fucking drops.

Y/N: Chris, please answer.

Y/N: I just need to talk to you.

Y/N: Please please please just pick up.

Y/N: Chris.

Y/N: I can’t do this anymore. I feel like I’m losing you completely.

Y/N: I still love you.

Y/N: Please just call me back.

My throat goes dry.

It’s like the whole room shifts. The air feels heavier, my pulse starts hammering in my ears, and suddenly, I can’t focus on anything except her name glowing on my screen.

It’s been weeks. Weeks of trying to move on, of convincing myself that I could, of forcing myself to be okay with the idea of her not being mine anymore.

But this?

This shatters all of it in an instant.

Lauren says something, but I don’t fucking hear it.

“Chris?”

I snap my head up, swallowing thickly. “I—uh—I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick.”

Lauren nods, completely unbothered, sipping her drink as I push back my chair and make my way to the restroom.

The moment I step inside, I grip the sink, inhaling sharply through my nose.

What the fuck am I doing?

I squeeze my eyes shut, my fingers digging into the porcelain. My phone buzzes again in my pocket, and I already know who it is.

I pull it out, staring at the screen.

More messages.

More pleading.

More of her.

I unlock my phone, my fingers hovering over her name.

And before I can stop myself—before I can remind myself that she’s the one who left—I press call.

The Call

She picks up immediately.

“Chris?” Her voice is breathless, desperate.

I swallow hard, gripping the sink tighter. “Yeah. I’m here.”

Silence.

Then, a shaky exhale. “Chris, please. I need you.”

A lump forms in my throat.

Hearing her voice like this—so raw, so vulnerable—hits me harder than I expect. It’s like she’s reached through the phone and wrapped her hands around my ribs, squeezing until I can’t fucking breathe.

I shut my eyes. “Y/N…”

“No,” she cuts in, voice trembling. “No, I mean it. I swear I’ll be better. I’ll love you the way you deserve. I won’t embarrass you in front of my friends, I won’t act like I don’t care, I won’t—” Her breath hitches. “I just need you to believe me.”

I shake my head, running a hand over my face. She doesn’t get to do this now. She doesn’t get to break me all over again.

But then I hear it—

A sniffle.

And fuck—she’s crying.

My stomach twists painfully.

“You don’t understand,” she whispers. “I can’t do this anymore, Chris. I can’t be without you. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t care about anyone else. Just you.”

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.

I should hang up.

I should.

But instead, I whisper, “Then why did you leave?”

She chokes on a sob. “Because I was stupid.”

I exhale sharply, pressing my forehead against the mirror.

“I love you,” she breathes. “I love you, and I’m done pretending like I don’t.”

My heart pounds.

And for a second—just a second—I think about telling her I still love her, too.

But then—

A soft knock on the bathroom door.

“Chris?”

My stomach drops.

The line goes silent.

Then, her voice comes back, sharp and furious. “Who the fuck was that?”

I shut my eyes, my head pounding. “Y/N—”

“Was that her?” she snaps, her breathing now erratic. “Was that your little study buddy checking in on you?”

I exhale, my fingers digging into my palm. “She’s just—”

“Shut up.”

She lets out a humorless laugh, shaky and unhinged. “Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. I’m sitting here, begging for you, and you’re out with her? You’re letting her call you fucking Chris like she knows you?”

Guilt seeps into my chest, thick and suffocating.

I sigh. “Y/N, please—”

“No.” Her voice cracks, pure rage dripping from her tone. “You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. Go be with her. Go be with your perfect little girlfriend who listens and understands you and doesn’t make you feel like a fucking nerd—”

I clench my jaw. “Stop.”

“Or what?” she hisses. “You’ll block me? You’ll go back to pretending like you don’t love me? We both fucking know you do, Chris.”

I stay silent.

Because she’s right.

And she fucking knows it.

Her breath shakes. “You’re mine.”

My grip on the phone tightens.

Then, for the first time, I break first.

I let out a shaky breath. “Y/N…”

My voice isn’t sharp anymore. It’s not angry.

It’s weak.

And she knows she’s winning.

“Come home,” she breathes, voice suddenly softer. “Please, Chris.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N, I—”

Another knock. “Chris?”

I hear her inhale sharply through the phone.

Then, just as fast as she broke—

She snaps.

“Don’t fucking call me again.”

The line goes dead.

And just like that—

She let go first.

—

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120

[velaris-fic-repository]

What the Tide Brings In (Part 4)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Loading and unloading ship cargo turned out to be a fantastic way to reacclimatize yourself and your healed body after the accident. You made dock friends fast and before you knew it, you knew the name of every ship brat and which mother to threaten to report to when the kids poked around with something they weren’t supposed to.

You wouldn’t of course, it was just fun to scare ‘em a little. Cute kids, all of them. You’d tell them some of your pirate stories whenever they asked. If you embellished here and there that’s fine, it’s what a pirate story was for.

You placed the final crate onto the stationary ship, before returning to the merchant it belonged to on the dock.

“That everything?”

“I believe so,” he said, taking a quick glance at the manifest in his hands. Once certain everything had been accounted for, he returned his gaze to you. “You know, if you were so inclined, we could always use another hand out there on this voyage. It wouldn’t be long, just sailing over to Boreala and back. It would only be a few days, and you’ve been so helpful.”

Dread and shame found a way to get their hooks into you. It had only been a month. You weren’t ready yet, and a very large portion of you hated yourself for it.

Still, you said, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m still settling in here. Maybe ask Evander.”

The merchant frowned but nodded, “thank you dear, maybe next time.”

“Maybe next time, fair winds and safe sailing to you,” and you walked off. The crew gathered and untied from their moorings shortly after as you watched.

A small wisp of wind flitted between your fingers, a neglected power wishing to be used. Smiling faintly, you wove your hands around each other as a small ball of wind gathered between them.

It wasn’t a particularly unique power amongst Summer Court residents, especially those who grew up amongst the ropes and wood of sailing vessels, but it was yours. The sea breeze, if you asked nicely, would come to your aid in small doses. It was incredibly useful when your means of transportation relied on heavy sheets of cloth. The real stunning power from your part of Summer was dominion over water, and in case recent events weren’t enough to go on, the ocean may call to you, but it didn’t have to listen to you in return.

Once you’d gathered the amount of wind you wanted, you pushed your hands outward, sending the wind in the direction the ship had been heading. Your wind caught in the sails, giving the vessel a nice boost further out into the harbor. You could make out some of the crew glancing back your way, so you smiled, sending a coy wave back at them. You got some waves back as you felt a presence on your left.

“Full of surprises, aren’t you?” Azriel said.

You felt through the threads in your chest, nothing on the other side. Not yet. Why did you even bother checking?

“You have no idea,” is how you answered him.

“How long have you been able to pull the wind like that?” he asked.

“It’s a little embarrassing where I come from, I was a late bloomer,” you admitted. You pulled a small amount of air to you, dancing it through your fingers absently.

“So was I.”

You stopped. Turned.

“You?”

Azriel flexed his wings, “I didn’t fly until I was eleven.”

He hadn’t told you everything about Illyrian culture or his childhood. You made a few guesses, but never told him or pushed for more information. It was easy, being around you, he found.

“Well, I couldn’t touch the wind until I was twelve. Looks like you won.”

Azriel hummed, watching the water with you in your customary comfortable quiet.

“You’re not gonna gloat?” you asked, humor in your voice.

His neutral expression, despite its fight to stay in place, cracked a little. Veins of amusement showed themselves on his features as he looked at you. “Do you want me to?”

“I always appreciate a challenge,” you said.

“Then why did you let me win?”

You blinked then recovered, honestly saying, “I thought you’d earned it.” You nudged him with your elbow, smiling, a second after, “but don’t expect a repeat, got it?”

He laughed with you, “got it.”

The stars and moon were out over Velaris as the activity in the harbor continued to pass you both by. Azriel offered you his arm.

“Walk you home?”

“Sure.”

He brought you back to the little apartment he’d helped you find. It wasn’t the prettiest or biggest by any stretch of the imagination. It felt more like a large closet some days, but when your list of belongings started and ended with the clothes on your back, you didn’t need much. You’d spent most of your three centuries of life sleeping in a hammock in smaller quarters. The apartment itself was the adjustment, not the size of it. You’d found sleep difficult without the bobbing of the waves beneath you.

The one window the apartment had though had a clear view of the harbor, and you loved it.

You unlocked the door, “you can come in if you want.”

Azriel offered to help move you in when you’d started in the place originally, but when faced with a smart mouthed comment from you about ‘what exactly did he think he would need to help move’ he realized it was sort of a foolish offer. He’d never actually been inside.

Luckily for you and the golden threaded secret you kept, you didn’t have much in the way of offer-able food. Also luckily for you, Azriel seemed more interested in looking around your space than expecting you to be a host.

In the brief weeks you’ve lived here, you’ve amassed a handful of belongings. The apartment was pre-furnished and not very well, so he did not spare lingering glances on those pieces. The bookcase however, had a few things nestled into it. Small pieces of artwork of various mediums, all in one way or another inspired by the sea. Wood carvings of a shark and a few fish. A small watercolor of the sea at night. A tiny model sailing ship and assorted shells.

Reminders, a shadow whispered curiously by his ear, guessing.

There were a few small books stacked haphazardly in the bookcase too. Seemingly placed wherever it was you deemed to place it with no attempt at reordering them. A short novel or two. A poetry collection seemingly of nautical nature, and what looked like from the spine, a binding of sheet music for sea shanties.

Azriel prided himself on his deductive skills. Even without his shadows, he excelled at reading people. Someone’s place of residence can tell just as much about them as their body language and the pitch of their voice. On habit, he turned his eye to your space.

Disorder in the placement of all these objects. Spontaneity, duh. Bursts of activity. Out of house a lot. Working extra shifts?

Common thread between the pieces. Pride. Longing. Reassertion of personal history. Joy in small amounts.

Pristine state of objects. New, but also cared for. Reverence. Pride, again.

Azriel smiled faintly.

“Find any evidence of treachery or treason yet?” you called from the kitchenette.

Azriel quickly realized you had been watching him. Of course you were, this was a small space and he was about the only thing in it. The words you said were accusatory but your tone and wry smile suggested teasing. More than that, he knew, he knew you. You’d found another way to poke fun at him, and as always, he was unbothered. Liked it even, if your eyes glistened like that.

He locked down that thought as quickly as he could, not that he was terribly successful.

You had two glasses laid out on the little half counter that separated your ‘kitchen’ from the rest of the apartment, each with a small splash of whiskey in it.

“Took the liberty of pouring you some,” you said, your skin unfortunately itching at the thought of just how different this moment would be had it been food, “just a little something. I have to at least pretend like I’m a good host right?”

Azriel chuckled, accepting the glass from the other side of the half wall.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” he said.

“Thanks,” you answered, sarcastically, “a friend of mine helped me find it.”

Azriel huffed a little laugh again, the two of you falling into comfortable silence as you sipped your glasses.

Azriel eventually finished his and set it down, mulling over a thought. Finally, he voiced it. “I saw you with that merchant today. It seemed like a great opportunity to get out on the water again.” He waited for you, when you didn’t respond, pouring yourself another glass, he continued, softly, “why didn’t you take it?”

You took a gulp of your whiskey and scanned his features. He recognized the look on your face, he’d seen it before when he first met you. Looking for a way out.

He stayed firm. Soft and open, but present and by no means going anywhere. You didn’t have to tell him, but his look let you know that he would ask again - maybe not now, but definitely later.

You sighed, downed the rest of your glass in one pull and set it down.

“Because I can’t and I hate it.”

He remained silent, waiting for you.

“I can’t,” you said again, voice and hands shaking.

Azriel reached forward, grabbing your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over one pair of your knuckles. Your hands were not scarred like his, but they bore countless calluses and divots from centuries of handling ropes and wood. You’d seen his hands before, holding your own up to prove his weren’t so bad. He did not fear holding your hands now.

“Tell me how sailing felt before” he prompted.

How were you supposed to do that?

It must have been written on your face because Azriel said, “I know it might be hard. Just try.”

Try. You could do that.

“It was… everything.” A soothing thumb stroked your knuckle, encouragement.

“It was adventure and sunlight and joy. The kind of feeling where your heart just lifts in your chest and you feel… free. The sea spray splashing at your face, the wind whipping around you. I’ve never felt as strong as I do with my boots sturdily planted on the deck of a ship.”

You’re lost in it for a moment, before a stroke across your knuckle pulled you back. Lacking for what else to say, you asked him, “what’s flying like for you?”

He met your eyes, “the same. I’ve never felt more powerful and free than when I’m in the air.”

You let your gaze drop, frustrated with yourself, “and I’ve lost it.”

Azriel reached up with one hand, still brushing your knuckle with the other, and cupped your face by the cheek.

“No you haven’t.”

“I can’t even think about going sailing without a pit of dread forming in my stomach,” you frowned.

“You’ve been through something awful,” he asserted, “of course the last thing you’d want to do is open yourself up to that danger again. When… When I was first learning how to fly, I fell. Bad. Every time I thought about trying again, I felt like I would be sick. I didn’t try again for weeks, resigned that I would never do it. I would never fly. My wings were useless and… and so was I.”

Your chest ached but he pushed forward, “That was until two bastards more stubborn than me all but forced me back up there. It was slow. It took time. But eventually, I wasn’t scared anymore. Not in a paralyzing way like I’d been before. I respected the dangers of the action. The risks I subjected myself to every time I did it. I learned to trust my wings, I learned to trust myself, and I was free again.”

You exhaled a shaky breath.

“You can be too,” he said, “I’ll help you trust the sea again if you’d like to try.”

Tears pricked your eyes but you blinked them away.

“Try. I can do that.”

Series Taglist: @rcarbo1 @shylahstarzz @tele86 @bubybubsters @willowpains @breemitch15 @96jnie @polli05927 @starsidesigh

[w2soneshots]

Chris is on Raya, so maybe could you do a fic where he meets an actress and he tells his friends about it and it's kinda unbelievable, cause she is been in Marvel films or a really famous film

And maybe they breakup and everyone's like "Boy, you fumbled"

Almost fumbled -ChrisMD

words: 1.7k+

warnings: angst with a happy ending, intrusive paparazzi (when isn’t it), mentions of a break up, slightly suggestive, George is a great friend.

summary: after you and Chris match on Raya you go on a date, though the both of you have the pressure of your friends and the paparazzi so your relationship proves to be more difficult than you’d have thought.

notes: hello angel, thank you for your request, I’m obsessed with this idea!!🤭 I also love love love marvel so it was fun to incorporate a little bit of it into this. I hope you enjoy this extra long one!💝👏🏼

Liked by y/username, arthurtv and others

chrismd10: Some Machu Picchures

-comments-

georgeclarkeey: fun fun fun

youtube: swapping the pitch for peaks🫡

user: wait, why is nobody talking about the fact THE y/n y/l/n has liked this👀

-> user: omfg and she lives in London... I ship them tbh🤭💞

"Chris?!" George skirted into Chris' room. He turned to him from his desk. "Yeah?" He asked, slightly confused as George looked baffled. "y/n, from the marvel films, like your fucking instagram post!" He alerted his best mate.

Chris signed I relief, it wasn't something serious. "I know, I matched with her on Raya," he replied calmly. George's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding my ass. You matched with her?" Chris breathed out a laugh. "I was just as shocked to be honest, she lives here though."

"Please can I see her profile," George begged as he sat on Chris' bed with a thump. "I don't know-" "please..." he cut him off. "Alright."

George stared at Chris' phone. "This is insane. Don't fumble this." "I'm gonna try not to, she seems cool. Also... I'm going to dinner with her on Saturday." George almost combusted right then and there, falling back onto Chris' bed.

"Imagine you get with her and she comes round to the flat. What am I gonna say? Act like I've not watch half of her films?" George rambled. "You probably aren't going to have to think that far ahead mate, I'm guessing she'll take one look at me and run for the hills." "Don't be silly, you're a good bloke. She'll like you."

"I have absolutely no fucking clue what to wear!" You shoved another piece of clothing from your wardrobe onto your bed with a huff. "How casual is the dinner?" Your best friend, whom you live with, asked as she sat comfortably on your bed.

"I don't know- like not crazy fancy but kinda fancy... ugh, that makes no sense." "Leather, faux obviously but you know, that's a mix between the two?" She suggested. "Okay, yeah good idea."

You finally found a good outfit and you turned to your friend once you were finished. "Good?" You asked hopefully, since you definitely didn't want to try anything else on. "Absolutely drop dead gorgeous babes."

"So who is this guy anyway?" She asked as you popped all of the necessities into your little bag. You pulled your phone out and clicked on his profile. "Chris."

Her eyes widened after a moment. "Oh my gosh, that's ChrisMD!" "Huh?" "He's a youtuber! My brother used to watch his videos. He did football challenges and they were pretty fun to watch actually." She explained excitedly. "Oh right, cool. I had a quick glance at his insta but I didn't really look much into it, he did have a big following though."

"I wonder if he still does them? I'm checking." She scrolled around on her phone for a second before a video began playing. "Today we're in Munich where we will consume a beverage at each of nine pubs. Welcome back to football pub golf everyone!" The screen played as the both of you watched intensely.

"Jesus he's gotten fitter over the years," your bestie breathed out quietly. You chuckled in response as a slow motion video compilation played of the group posing. "Do you reckon any of his friends are single?" She asked with a smirk, causing you to playfully push her shoulder with yours, to which she just giggled. Though she was being completely serious, they were a group of hot dudes.

y/username posted a new story!

"God... she's beautiful," Chris thought as you followed the waiter through the restaurant and towards the table he'd booked and was already sat at.

"Hi," you smiled warmly when you reached him. He quickly stood from his chair to greet you with a side hug. "You look amazing," he complemented, you could tell he was a little nervous by the awkward way in which he said it but you thought it was cute.

The small talk commenced once you'd sat down. You spoke about where you grew up, how long you'd been in London and then the topic of your jobs came up.

"I already know what you do," you confessed with a cheeky smile. "Oh, you do?" Chris was shocked. "Mhm, my best friends brother used to watch you, you make youtube videos right?" "That's right, yeah. Please don't tell me you've seen any of them," he grimaced.

"Uhm..." "oh god." You chuckled at his embarrassment. "No it's cool. They actually seem quite entertaining and I'm pretty sure my friend has a crush on half of your friends," you said lightheartedly. Chris' demeanour changed and he loosened up a little after your reassurance.

"I know what you do too, but that's probably a given," Chris began, he knew George would be on the edge of his seat if he was listening to this conversation. "Right, brilliant," you replied sarcastically with a chuckle, you didn't mind talking about your work though sometimes it can turn into a conversation all about your costars.

Chris was really chill about the whole thing. He didn't pry or ask anything weird, he actually was more interested in how you got into the industry and the beginning of your career, which was a breath of fresh air.

Dinner seemed to fly by and without even realising it you'd been sat there eating and chatting for four hours. Eventually it was time to say your goodbyes and you were silently hoping that he'd had as good of a time as you since you didn't want this to be the extent of your relationship.

"So... you free anytime next week?" He eventually asked as you stood outside, about to part ways. You smiled happily and then the both of you organised a day.

The next day you woke up to see multiple pictures of you and Chris sat at your table in the restaurant. You signed deeply and then called your manager.

After having the situation minimised, you messaged Chris, "hey, I'm not sure if you've seen but some paparazzi took photos of us in the restaurant yesterday. My manager has had them taken down from the original website but as you can imagine people have screenshotted it. I'm sorry, I probably should've pre-warned you xx"

He replied pretty quickly, "I saw. Don't worry about it, it's not a problem. How are you? x" He didn't seem to be too bothered which really reassured you since you thought you'd finally found a good guy in a sea of dickheads.

You and Chris went on multiple dates, had been to each other's places, had sex an abundance of times and were constantly texting before he eventually asked you if you'd be his girlfriend. Obviously you said you would since you had undeniable chemistry and he'd been all green flags up until that point.

"Hello love," Chris greeted you at his apartments front door, seeming a little... distant. You shared a quick hug before you stepped through the threshold. "Hi y/n!" George, Chris' friend and roommate whom you've become familiar with, enthusiastically waved to you as he walked through the hallway. You waved back with a smile.

Everything was going great, you liked his friends and he liked yours, it was like you were in your own little bubble... then the bubble popped.

You sat on his bed and he sat at his desk, the chair facing towards you. "I feel like I'm constantly being watched," Chris said, completely out of the blue. "What?" "The fucking paparazzi, it's ridiculous. Every time we go anywhere we're in the press the next day. I understand it's because you're famous and all but-" he stopped himself.

He couldn't make eye contact with you properly. Your heart was slowly breaking as you listened to him. This had happened before in a previous relationship and that was the reason it ended, though you thought since Chris was already used to being in the public eye, he would understand.

"What're you saying?" "I don't know if I can do this. I like you, a lot, but the whole being followed thing... I've never experienced that before and I don't think I can hack it."

You were gone within twenty minutes. Tears in your eyes as you let yourself out. "Are you alright?" George's voice asked from behind you. You didn't -couldn't- turn around. "Mhm," you managed, though your voice cracked before you swiftly opened the door and left.

George, now confused and concerned, walked to Chris' room and knocked on the door. "Mate?" Chris didn't respond, he just opened the door.

Chris sighed. "I broke up with her," he muttered. "You- what- why the fuck did you do that?" It took him a minute to reply, "the paparazzi... it's just not for me George."

"You love her don't you?" Chris hesitated then nodded. "So, don't throw all that away over some stupid dicks taking photos. You're perfect for each other, plus you can't fumble a funny, kind, -don't punch me- gorgeous actor," George told his friend. "I'll think on it." "Okay, just- consider how she feels...?"

Within a week Chris had messaged you to ask how you were doing. It was a stupid question really, you were so upset and hadn't really left your apartment since the breakup. You didn't reply to him.

Then he turned up on your doorstep, at ten o'clock at night. You answered the door in your pyjamas, you were just about to get into bed. Your face dropped when you saw him stood there.

"I love you," was all he said, hope in his eyes. You bit the inside of your lip. "But you said-" "I don't care what I said. It doesn't matter because I love you and I was an idiot to ever have let anyone get between that y/n."

That night ended with the both of you -naked- cuddled up in your bed. After that Chris never complained about the paparazzi again because if he was with you nothing else mattered.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Petal By Petal

Summary: Azula is trying to feel like herself again. Mai and TyLee take her on a picnic.

Mai watches dragonflies. Azula counts the spaces between the cattails that surround the pond. TyLee skips stones. Azula counts the rigglets on the pond. 

The world around smells like damp moss and burnt wood, the best of all of the elements. Azula digs her fingers into the soft dirt and hopes that she won’t find any worms. She doesn’t think that she is digging deep enough to worry about the things that wriggle. She finds it to be rather dull, their trips to the pond. But maybe that’s what she needs. Duller days.

“This is a red swampdragon. It’s a dragonfly that favors ponds and, of course, swamps.” Mai explains. “But they also like creeks…”

It’s kind of nice to hear her talk about things that interest her, she hadn’t done much of that when they were out chasing Zuzu and the Avatar. Mai says that it is nice to have someone to talk to—that Zuko listens, adds his input, and insists that he is intrigued. But she can tell that he’s not all that interested, that he seems to be a bit squeamish about bugs. 

Azula is interested enough. She likes learning new things.

“And the bug by your hand…”

Azula jerks her hand back.

“...is completely harmless, it’s a firefly-grasshopper. When they jump, their bulbs glow. People usually confuse them for firefly-crickets.” Mai takes a seat next to Azula and holds her finger out, waiting for the firefly-grasshopper to crawl or leap onto her finger. 

Azula looks away from Mai to where TyLee busies herself chasing a moth-mantis. 

“Here, why don’t you try to hold it.” 

Azula rubs her lips together. “I…well. I suppose. Just don’t let it hop onto my face.”

“That’s not up to me.” Mai says as she holds the grasshopper firefly out.

“I thought that these were nocturnal.” Azula touches her pointer to Mai’s. 

“Nope. You’re thinking of the firefly-crickets.”

“Then what do they have bulbs for?”

Mai is more than delighted to explain. “To ward off predators. The flash their bulbs when a predator gets too close and if the predator is something like an arachnid it will be temporarily blinded.”

Azula nods. “Fascinating.” Her tone falls a bit flat, but she does mean it. She hopes that Mai understands that. But she is still tired sometimes, still worn out and…

And sometimes she wonders if she will ever truly feel like herself again.

She wonders if Mai and TyLee will start to get sick or bored of her by the time she does.

She knows that she probably shouldn’t be poking at the firefly-grasshopper if she doesn’t want it hopping onto her face, but she is curious about how that little bulb feels. 

“Hey look! I found a ladybee!” TyLee calls. Azula wishes that she could muster up a fraction of that enthusiasm. 

“You should probably leave that alone if you don’t want to get stung.” Azula says. 

“Ladybees don’t sting.” Mai replies. “Bumblebees might sting you but only if you bother them.”

TyLee giggles. “They’re like you, Azula!”

Azula cracks a smile. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe.” She reaches for the small pitcher of dandelion wine that rests on their picnic blanket. It sits next to the plate of watermelons that she had cautioned TyLee to cover up before the ants that now crawl over it could get to it. Azula sighs, she guesses that she won’t be having any more watermelon slices.

“Want another glass?”

“No thanks.”

She probably shouldn’t have one either, she would hate to have Mai or TyLee have to drag her home clumsy and stumbling. She pours herself only a half a glass. She doesn’t want to be like her grandfather anymore than just her name. 

“Rough day?” Mai asks.

Azula shakes her head. No rougher than any other day. All things considered it has been a pretty good day. She shouldn’t be so glum. “It’s a fine day. I guess that I’m just…” trying to claw her way back up. She climbs excruciatingly slowly. 

TyLee plops down next to her and takes her hand. She gives it a squeeze. The firefly-grasshopper propels itself off of her other hand and right onto her head. She jerks and goes rigid. “Mai! Remove the insect from my head!” 

Mai chuckles. 

She grimaces. She can feel its little legs shifting strands of her hair. Through gritted teeth and in a pitch a touch higher than she’d like she says, “Mai…”

“I know, I’ve got it.” 

And she does. She gently untangles the firefly-grasshopper from Azula’s hair and returns it to the grass.

“I didn’t realize that you were scared of bugs.” Mai lifts a brow. 

“I’m not afraid of them, I just don’t like them in my hair or on my face or…” She might be a little afraid of bugs.

“I think that the ladybees are cute. The caterpillars too! Oh and that caterpillbugs.”  TyLee declares. 

Azula has yet to figure out which ones are the caterpillars and which are the caterpillbugs. She wonders how long of hanging out with Mai it had taken TyLee to begin to identify them without having to ask Mai. Not that Azula minds asking. In fact it makes conversation easier when she finds that words aren’t coming to her very readily. 

She leans herself upon Mai’s shoulder and TyLee leans against hers. They stay like that for quite a while watching the clouds drift by. It feels kind of like the old days. When they were kids on the playground of the Academy. A breeze rustles the grass and for a moment she can pretend like it has always been like this. That there hadn’t been anything between their playground days and this moment. That she hadn’t been so lost and so alone for so long. That her her heart and mind haven’t been bruised and bandaged, hemorrhaging and then stitched. Sometimes she fears that the wounds won’t heal and that her soul will be covered in bandages for the rest of her days. She squeezes Mai and TyLee’s hands. The clouds float on by, untroubled. 

And then shades of pink and orange begin to appear on the horizon. 

“Ready to go home, bumblebee?” Mai nudges her.

And Azula manages a laugh. A light, lilting thing.

The sound of it is unfamiliar even to her, she hasn’t made it in quite a while. 

TyLee is beaming from ear to ear. Mai smiles too. She holds out her hand and helps Azula to her feet. And Azula helps TyLee to hers. 

“I’ll shake out the blanket.” Azula says. “But I’m not touching that ant infested plate.”

“That is TyLee’s job.” Mai side the woman in question. “We told her to cover that plate up.” 

TyLee gives a mock pout but makes her way over to the plate and dumps the ants and their watermelon slices into the tall grass for the animals to eat. Azula shakes out and neatly folds the blanket before tucking it back into the picnic basket. Mai loads the uneaten food and some utensils on top of that. The three of them scan the grass for anything that they might have left behind.

TyLee takes Azula’s left hand and Mai takes her right.

And they begin their hike back to the palace, three silhouettes against a sunset. 

“Today was nice.” She muses aloud. 

She feels a bit better. A bit lighter.

“Yeah.” Mai agrees. 

“We can do it again next week.” TyLee says.

“I would like that.” Azula nods. 

“Are you going back to the flower shop with Mai?”

Azula nods. “Where will you be?”

“Here and there.” TyLee replies. It is a very TyLee answer. “But I’ll be sure to be here and not there by next week.”

They reach the flower shop in what seems to her like such a short time. And TyLee is pecking both she and Mai on the cheek and makes a third promise to show up bright and early a week from now.  Mai tells her that bright and midafternoon would work just fine too. 

Azula laughs again. 

Sometimes she doesn’t have much to add to the conversation. 

But she is alright with that. She just likes hearing their voices and being surrounded by people again.

She and Mai watch TyLee disappear down the road where several Kyoshi Warriors meet her. 

“Tea?” Mai offers.

Azula nods. Mai doesn’t have to ask. They always check on the flowers and then take tea before bed. The routine helps. Little by little, petal by petal, outing by outing, and laugh by laugh, Mai and TyLee help her piece herself back together.

[impossiblepluto]

look, you've put out three SPECTACULAR fainting one shots so far, and as much as I'd love another one (seriously!! they're so good!!), I'm putting in a vote for stabbing.

there isn't as much variety, and you've gotta be a bit bendy with them, but you've got accidental (falling, getting hit by debris in an explosion, hit by a car accidentally and driven into something etc etc) and purposeful (mugging, someone desperate to get away, mistaken identity, stabbing to help ala mac with the gas etc) - seriously, take your pick of literally any interpretation of stabbing, and absolutely no pressure whatsoever to put something out, you've given us such delights already!!

A soft scraping sound has Jack's eyes flying open. He lays there in the comfortable darkness of his bedroom, tucked between luxurious sheets of an origin he won’t mention and waits for the noise to repeat. Confirm it wasn’t a dream so vivid he woke himself up. Or that he’s been in LA so long that the sound of mist on the window is foreign enough to be deemed a threat. 

Rain continues to patter. Any other time he’d enjoy laying here, listening to the seldom heard sound

After another few seconds his patience is rewarded. 

It’s coming from the living room. 

He pulls his t-shirt on and his gun out of the bedside table and moves silently through the darkness, listening. 

Something skiffs across the wooden door to his apartment. 

Jack gives himself a silent “three-two-one” countdown before throwing the door open.

Squinting into the hallway light, he has less than a second to make an identification and conduct a threat assessment before he finds himself catching an armful of dripping Mac. Jack fumbles for the light switch, pulling Mac into his apartment, gaze sweeping up and down the hallways before slamming the door shut and flipping the lock. 

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Sorry. Sorry,” Mac mumbles. “Was just resting. Didn’t hear you. I can-” he grunts and straightens, pulling away from Jack and pushing his hair from his eyes. “I’m okay.”

Jack raises an eyebrow taking in the bedraggled sight.

“Was just resting,” Mac repeats. 

“You said that.” A tendril of worry coils through Jack. “Why?”

“Um…” Mac blinks. “I guess I went farther than I planned.”

“You went for a run?” Jack guesses. 

“It was raining,” Mac gives a crooked half-smile. “Doesn’t happen often. Wanted to take advantage of it.” His clothes and hair drip. His smile turns into an apologetic wince. “Sorry about your floor.”

Jack waves it off. Not the worst thing that’s dripped on his floor by  a long shot. “How long were you out there? Why didn’t you knock?”

“Didn’t want to wake you. Just–” Mac winces, his breathing still seems unduly labored. He leans back against the closed door. “Just needed a minute.”

“Let me get you a towel. And some water,” Jack says, setting his gun on the counter before heading up the hall toward the linen closet. “Then I can drive you home.”

“You don’t have to.”

Jack shakes his head though he knows Mac can’t see it. “If you ran long enough that you needed to stop and rest I think I should probably drive you home.”

“Just have a stitch in my side. It’ll pass.” Mac closes his eyes, pressing a hand against the muscles cramping just above his hip. 

Jack stops short on his return trek to Mac, staring at the puddle growing beneath Mac’s feet.

“What the hell-” Jack crosses the remaining distance. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Mac’s eyes blink open in confusion. 

“Mac, you’re bleeding!” 

“What?” Mac pulls his hand away from his side, his fingers coated in blood. “Oh.” He looks down at the tear in his moisture wicking t-shirt. Blood drips onto the floor. “Here, let me.” Mac reaches for the towel, and makes a move to squat.

“No,” Jack buzzes, snatching the towel back and pressing it to Mac’s side. 

Mac hisses. His head clunks back against the door behind him as he squirms. 

“Come on, sit down.” Jack’s mind races. 

“Are you sure,” Mac resists Jack’s insistent tugging on his arm. “It’s kind of a lot of blood.”

“That’s the point. Sit down.”Jack pushes Mac into a chair. 

“But it’ll get everywhere.” 

Jack peels back Mac’s shirt to get a better look at the wound. “How did this happen? Did you fall or…” 

Mac shakes his head before looking down, blocking Jack’s view. “I don’t– oh, I wonder if it was that guy.”

Jack gives a manic laugh as he gently pushes Mac’s head back so he can see better. “Somebody stabbed you?”

“No. I mean, I didn’t think so. He ran into me. I thought he was just a jerk.” Mac’s voice breaks off with a groan of pain as Jack puts pressure on the wound again. “

“You didn’t notice?”

“To be honest, this hurts a whole lot worse than that did.” Mac grinds out between clenched teeth. “Damn it, Jack.”

“Gotta put pressure on it.” Jack doesn’t look up. Hardens his heart against the pain in Mac’s voice. The way the muscles of Mac’s abdomen roil under his touch. The blood seeping through the towel to warm his hands. 

“I know but–” Mac twists. 

“Breathe, breathe through it. That’s it. You’re doing good.” Jack praises, watching the lines on Mac's face ease. "You think he stabbed you on purpose?"

"I think it would be weirder if he did it on accident." The sharp edge of pain in Mac's voice is softer.

“Okay. Hold this for me while I get something to secure that–”

Jack waits until Mac’s hands replace his own before he moves. Rummaging through the drawer in the kitchen until he finds a roll of duct tape.

“We’ll get this secured and then we’ll go.”

“Jack…” Mac whines.

“Hey! What’s the rule? Stab wounds, accidental or not, go to the hospital, right?”

Mac’s lips fold into a pout. “Right.” 

[untitled-document-95]

Enamored (jake seresin x reader)

Summary: Following the events of Infatuated, Jake and reader take a walk.

Warnings: none

Requested: by the lovely readers of Infatuated. You all gave me such a confidence boost, thank you so much!

Word Count: 1k

A/N: A part 3 is in the plans! Please do not hesitate to drop ideas, inspo, and any wishes for part 3 in the comments.

*gif is not mine*

That night, Jake couldn’t help but think his tiny Texas hometown somehow knew how important the evening would be to him. Riding the high of seeing her so happy instead of angry at him for how late he’d been, he led her down the sidewalk downtown. There was a gentle breeze blowing down the street between the historic buildings. Streetlamps cast a warm glow in contrast to the bright light from the stars and full moon. Jake blamed the moon for the chaos that had led them to this moment, but thanked the stars for how it had turned out. 

Ever the gentleman, Jake kept her on the inside of the sidewalk, between himself and the dark buildings. They silently wandered up and down the lonely main street for half an hour, the night sounds of the little town as their soundtrack. Finally, Jake broke the calm. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Honestly?” she said, sounding much different than back at the bar. “Humiliated.” 

“I can’t imagine why,” Jake asks, smirking at her. 

“I…really don’t know what made me so bold back there.”

“What, or who? Jack, Jim, Don…” Jake rattles off alcohol with male names, making her giggle. That would be the first time he’d hear one of his favorite sounds.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she laughs. 

“No, no, don’t get me wrong - I want to thank them,” Jake chuckles.

“Really?”

“I was expecting you to be pissed at me. I’m so sorry I was so late. I promise that’s not like me,” Jake says seriously. 

“Well, alcohol-induced audacity isn’t like me, either,” she replies, still feeling embarrassed. Jake’s eyes lift to look at the sky. 

“Guess it’s this full moon making us both act out of character.” Her eyes look up to the sky as well. 

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?” She rubs her arms, the breeze giving her a small chill. While her face remains upturned, Jake trains his eyes on her. 

“Second most beautiful thing I can see right now.” She blushes and looks at him bashfully, eyes darting between his face and the ground. 

The pair continue to walk. As they do, Jake lets his fingers lightly brush hers. She does the same, giving Jake the confidence to slowly envelop her hand in his, a motion that feels so new and exciting, yet warm and familiar at the same time. This time, she breaks the quiet. 

“Didn’t we say we were meeting here tonight to talk about why we came back here?” Jake’s mind flashes to the memories that led him home. Or rather, that forced him home. Without the noise and activity of the bar, Jake isn’t sure if he trusts himself to talk about it. 

“Did we?” he teases. “I can think of many more interesting things than that.” “Like what?”

“Like that amazing song I heard you playing this morning?” She scoffs at this, but it’s a playful scoff. 

“Amazing is a stretch,” she opines. 

“No, I’m serious,” he insists. “You may not be Mozart but that was a hell of a lot more than what most people can do.” 

“Well, thank you. I’ve been wanting to learn piano, so I’ve been trying to practice whenever I check out books.”

“You like to read?” She nods. 

“I love to read.”

“So how often would I find you at that library?” he asks. 

“Two, maybe three times a week?” Jake gives a low whistle.

“That’s a lot of books.” There’s that giggle of hers again. 

“I only check out one at a time so I have an excuse to run an errand every few days.”

“Still. That’s not a rate I could keep up with unless we’re talking Dr. Seuss books!” They both laugh at this, perhaps both picturing adult Jake cuddled up in bed with “Green Eggs & Ham” in hand. 

“I learned to read really young and it just became a habit, I guess,” she says.

“It’s impressive,” he replies. 

“I don’t know…if I could trade being a good reader for being good at piano or something like that, I would.” Her tone has darkened, grown in seriousness as though she has begun shrinking inside the shell she’d worn at the library. 

“Why’s that?”

“Well, to loosely quote one of my all-time favorite books: ‘Musical prodigies are always celebrated, early readers aren’t, because early readers are only good at something others will eventually be good at too; so being early isn’t special, it’s just annoying.'" Jake waits a pause to ensure she’s done before speaking. 

“I don’t think you’re annoying,” he says softly. 

“Not yet,” she mutters under her breath. Jake stops walking, but she doesn’t. He doesn’t let go of her hand, so she’s lightly pulled back. Her face is concerned, and so is Jake’s - but for very different reasons. 

“Take it back,” he says somewhat playfully. 

“Take what back?” Her question seems innocent. 

“I heard you,” Jake chuckles. “I heard you say ‘not yet’ when I said I don’t think you’re annoying.” Her face flushes with embarrassment. “Let’s make a bet,” he says, the cocky, smart ass pilot in him coming to the surface. 

“What kind of bet?”

“For however long this lasts, if I ever think you’re annoying, I swear I’ll tell you. But I bet that I never will.” Her face churns from confused, to doubt, to a silly smirk. 

“What’s at stake?” she asks teasingly. Jake thinks for a moment, smiling at the concrete beneath his feet.

“If I go a whole year without ever finding you annoying, I’ll get you a ring,” he says, her earlier boldness making way for the words he never thought he would have the guts to say…or someone worth saying it to. The twinkle in his eye tells her that yes, he does mean that kind of ring.  She giggles and her hand flies up to cover her mouth. She does a little dance in a circle, face towards the moon, as if to ensure that he doesn’t see her face while she has this little moment. She takes a loud, deep breath and spins around to face him seriously. 

“You’ve got a deal,” she says, and they resume their walk. 

Maybe other people would have been weirded out by this conversation. Maybe other people wouldn’t react the way either one of them had towards each other that night. But when a match is made in Heaven, there’s not a supernova in the galaxy that could ruin it. 

[blenselche]

replacing an old insert

Ky AU excerpt this is meant for under the cut

“Shoko?”

She stares back at him, only a few inches away and inspecting his face with narrowed eyes.

“I’m stuck being your guide again,” she surmises. “Subtractional. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” She blows a sigh out, pushing a hand through her hair. “I should have stayed in the deadworlds.”

Finn snorts, elbowing her. “Well, for what it’s worth I’m glad you didn’t. Is it actually you this time, or- or is this just part of the hallucination?”

“I’ve been dragged out of your subconscious. I’m still with you, after all, as you’ve aged you’ve grown closer to me. You remember my life,” she turns, and they’re back at the gang’s open bathhouse, overgrowth creeping backwards. “Why is that?”

The Plant Teacher metamorphoses into a bath boy, poking at its hair rollers. “Your future is debating removing you from the cycle of reincarnation.”

Shoko looks over her shoulder, quirking a critical brow at him.

“I—“ Finn's hands raise in defense of himself. “Maybe. It was just a stupid thought,” he muffles into his palm as he stares at their feet, uncomfortable and edgy. “Fern is immortal, he doesn’t have to die unless I do, and- and if I don’t die, then…”

“You’re afraid you won’t be able to find yourself in the next life,” she guesses, and he lifts a finger gun to the air without looking up. “You found the Princess, Finn, and we were barely friends. You found our closure, what makes you think you wouldn’t be able to find it again?”

“Maybe I’m tired of finding myself! Maybe I’m tired of going through painful junk and learning the same lessons just to find something good under it all,” his hands raise and slap back down to his sides as he walks in a circle on the concrete platform. “I’ve never- I’ve never been in love in any of my lives, and I finally have that. Why can’t I get off the ride if I have the chance? What if I want us to stay like we are?”

Shoko stops him, dragging him to sit on a cracked step as her life bustles around them in blurry, fluid dreamscapes. Finn watches with tired, drooping eyes as she releases the Ice King from a group of old witch women.

“That’s what life is, Finn. Sometimes we have our arm cut off by our father, sometimes we lose it trying to cling to him. It’s just how the cycle works. You can’t stop it.”

“I want to,” he murmurs, muscle of his jaw jumping. “I’ve finally got some stability.”

“Life is change,” the entity reminds him, lifting a slice of cucumber over its eye. “You cannot cross the stream without getting wet. You are not prone to give yourself to indolence, child, you are always moving, always changing. Do not falter to the soul erosion of a middling existence in vampirism, it is counterintuitive to your purpose.”

Finn groans, chest deflating. “I hate that determinism gunk. I’m not made for anything. I don’t believe in destiny.”

“No, I know you don’t. That does not stop it from being true.” It settles lower in the water, watching him. “You are a very purposeful being, Finn. You, a cosmic force trapped within a man cannot remove yourself from the cycle even if you wish it. You have yet to find your final method of being.”

“Not this comet crap again,” he whines, face tipping to the sky and eyes screwing up tight.

“Yes this comet crap again.” It snaps its fingers and they’re hung in the vast nothingness of space.

Shoko scrambles to grab onto him, terrified. “Finn!?” she screeches. “What’s it talking about?”

He curls an arm around her waist and hefts her higher. “We were put here to commit acts of ‘great good’,” Finn says, tense, “Davey stopped Orgalorg, you released Simon, I defeated the Lich, Penny blasts the cosmic elementals…” he pauses, brain skipping on the realization that he remembers her, “and some day we’ll ascend to the fourth dimension. I refused last time.” He nods with a rigid jerk to the comet, to Martin and the moth. “We’re… some godlike entity. But we forgot.” He swallows dry, throat constricting. “I don’t think about it. It makes me feel like- like my skin is on too tight.”

“You may reject predeterminism, but that does not stop it from affecting you,” the Teacher announces, loud enough to rattle his bones. “I can only help you if you’re open to it. Will you open yourself? Or will you pursue this dead ended, disillusioned passivity borne from the fear of your truth?”

He feels Shoko tremble in his arm, smells the sweet spices they used to use in her hair and sighs out a dejected “okay.” His feet hit the hardwood of the tree house’s kitchen, and he lets Shoko dismount his side, knees shaking and wobbly as she falls back into the dingy cushions of the wrap around sofa.

“That was terrifying,” she chokes with an airy laugh, forehead thunking to the table.

“… our bones are like, six feet away,” he thinks out loud and she shoots him a freaked out glance. “Sorry. Nerves.”

“Are you ready to face yourself, little hero?” It hangs from the ceiling, having taken on Marceline’s form.

A smarmy, weak grin stretches across his expression. “I already am, technically.”

“Don’t be tiresome, the other half of your soul gives me enough trouble.”

Finn snickers unevenly in the face of this unknowable tutelar, at the sensation of bantering with some infinite providence when he’s such a tiny animal.

He nods, and the strings of his being unravel as Shoko keeps hold on the red piece of yarn that connects them, steadying the knot at his center.

[moonandst4rs]

“You and I drink the poison from the same vine”

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Masterlist

DEAN WINCHESTER X VAMPIRE!READER

WC: 1.1k

Summary: You and Dean are more alike then you both thought.

Warnings / Content: Inspired by 'Daylight' by David Kushner, angst, no use of y/n

A/N: Sorry posts are slower, i'm hoping to be able to post more soon !! Any requests or feedback is helpful, even if you're just chatting -- they don't need to me music related !!

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The flickering light from the motel room lamp is the only constant, it casts faint shadows against the faded paint on the walls. It’s a dirty, forgotten place, much like all the others Dean Winchester has passed through on his never-ending hunt. You sit across from him quietly, the hum of a distant highway flows through the cracked window. It’s the middle of the night, you assume. You don’t know how long you’ve been here.

It’s been hours since you were both forced into this room. The hunt had gone sideways, Dean had been tracking a nest, and you found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Except for the fact that you weren't entirely wrong. You had your own reasons for being there.

You glance at him, the famous hunter, the legend whose name spreads fear and awe in equally. He’s every bit as dangerous as they say, sharp eyes, tensed muscles, always on edge. Even now, sitting across the small table from you, he’s ready. He’s always ready. For you. For whatever comes next.

But he doesn’t reach for the knife he’s surely stashed under his jacket. Not yet.

"Still can’t believe I’m not dead right now," you murmur, breaking the silence that’s been stretching for far too long. You can’t help the smirk that plays on your lips, though there's no real humor behind it.

Dean doesn’t respond immediately. His jaw clenches, that familiar muscle twitching in his cheek, the one that shows up when he's thinking too hard or holding back something he’d rather not say. Finally, his voice cuts through the still air, low and rough. "You’re lucky, I guess. If you want to call it that."

You lean back in your chair, your arms crossed, raising an eyebrow. "Lucky? Is that what we’re calling it?"

Dean’s eyes flick toward you, green like a mischievous cat. There's no trust in his gaze, but there’s no real hatred either. He’s conflicted, you can feel it radiating off him like heat from a fire. It’s not every day he shares a room with a vampire and doesn’t end it with a beheading.

"You’ve had your chances to take me out," he says, leaning forward just slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "And I’ve had mine. So, what gives? Why am I still breathing?"

It’s an odd question, considering you could ask him the same. Instead, you look out the window, watching as the streetlights flicker to life in the distance. "Maybe I’m tired," you say quietly. "Tired of the blood, the running, the endless nights that never change. Maybe I’m just sick of being what I am."

The silence that follows is heavy. You don’t expect Dean to understand. How could he? But then, you think about him, this is a man who has spent his life drenched in the blood of monsters, driven by the same hunger for survival that drives you. He kills because he has to. You feed because you have to. Two different paths, but neither of you had much of a choice.

Dean exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You think I don’t get tired? You think I don’t wonder why I keep doing this, why I keep fighting when it never seems to end? It’s all blood, all of it. Doesn’t matter whose it is."

You turn to look at him, surprised by the edge of vulnerability in his voice. You’ve heard stories about Dean Winchester, about how he’s a man made of steel, unyielding, relentless. But sitting across from you now, he looks more human than you expected. More broken.

"It’s different for you," Dean adds, his voice hardening again. "You’re a vampire. You chose to live this way."

A bitter laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it. "You think I chose this?" You stand up slowly, pacing toward the window, your reflection faint against the glass. "You think any of us wake up one day and decide we want to be monsters? To be hunted down, to live in the dark forever, watching the world move on without us?"

Dean’s silence is telling. He’s heard it all before, probably from other monsters begging for their lives. But you’re not begging. You’ve never begged.

"It’s the same for you," you continue, turning back to face him. "Maybe you weren’t bitten, maybe you weren’t turned into this thing that has to kill to survive. But you were made into something. The life you live…it consumes you. It makes you into something else. Something…less human."

His eyes narrow at your words, but he doesn’t argue. He knows it’s true. You’ve seen it before, hunters who become so consumed by the hunt that they forget why they started in the first place. They forget who they were before all the killing, before all the death.

"You’re not like them," He finally says, standing up, his hands sliding into his pockets. He moves toward the window, standing beside you, though he keeps a cautious distance. "You’re not like the ones I’ve hunted."

"Maybe not," you admit, your voice softer now. "But it doesn’t change what I am."

Dean’s gaze shifts from the window to you, his eyes searching yours, you don’t know what for. Maybe he’s trying to figure out if he should kill you now, if he should put an end to whatever this tense truce is. Or maybe he’s looking for something else, some sign that there’s more to you than fangs and bloodlust.

"It’s not just about what you are," he says, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. "It’s about what you do."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning. What you do. It’s always been about that, hasn’t it? The choices you make, the lines you’re willing to cross. You’ve killed before, and not always because you had no other choice. But you’ve also chosen not to kill. To walk away when you could have fed.

Dean’s eyes remain fixed on you, and for the first time, you feel a flicker of understanding between you. He doesn’t trust you, not fully. But he knows you’re not the same as the monsters he’s spent his entire life hunting.

"That’s enough for now," you say, breaking the tension. "For tonight, at least."

Dean nods, a small, almost undetectable gesture. He turns away from the window, heading back to the table where his weapons are stashed, he doesn’t reach for them. Not yet.

"Sun’ll be up soon," he mutters, glancing at the clock on the wall. "We’ll figure out what next."

You nod, but neither of you speaks again as the night wears on. You both know there’s no easy end to this. Tomorrow, Dean will have to decide what to do with you, and you’ll have to decide if you’ll stay or disappear into the night before he can make that choice.

Two souls lost in the shadows, bound by the blood on their hands, neither quite human anymore.

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

[jassy2uall]

– Heart Like A Habit 🧡 (pt. 5)

Highschool!Billie Eilish x black fem!reader

“You're the new girl—just trying to survive another school year in a place where you know no one. But then there’s her—Billie Eilish, the infamous heartbreaker and rising star who somehow has you completely hooked, whether you like it or not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alycia sat in her car in the parking lot, her mind racing with thoughts. She told herself not to get too excited—there was still a chance she and Billie wouldn’t even talk today. There was no reason to feel this giddy... and yet, she couldn’t help it.

“Enough, Alycia. Stop acting foolish and just get today over with.” The words repeated in her head like a broken record as she stepped out of her car and made her way into the school, determined to push her emotions aside.

Alycia’s body stiffened as she gripped the edge of her locker, her eyes flicking to the three girls standing behind her.

Odessa stood in the center, arms crossed, smirking like she had all the time in the world. To her right, Quen mirrored her smug expression, and on her left was a girl Alycia hadn’t seen before—short brown hair, heavy dark eyeliner, and a slightly gothic look.

Great. More of them.

“Hey, new girl,” Odessa drawled, her voice sickly sweet. “That was some game yesterday.”

Alycia exhaled slowly, keeping her cool as she shut her locker with a quiet clank. “Yeah. Tons of fun.”

Quen let out a low chuckle, while the gothic girl simply tilted her head, studying Alycia in silence.

Odessa took a step closer, eyes glinting. “Didn’t take you for such a fighter. Not gonna lie, I was pretty pissed when you got me and Quen out. But then our girl Billie took care of it, and that made my day.”

“I’m so mad I missed that,” the gothic girl muttered, barely above a whisper.

Alycia sighed. “It was just a game, Odessa. And Billie didn’t seem to care nearly as much as you two did.” She glanced between Odessa and Quen before crossing her arms. “Honestly, it felt like you were more focused on getting me out than winning.”

Quen snorted. “Yeah, well, Billie doesn’t always show what she’s thinking.”

The gothic girl finally spoke up, her gaze flickering over Alycia with mild curiosity. “So, what’s your deal? You just move here or something?”

Alycia hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. From Atlanta.”

Odessa hummed, tilting her head. “Atlanta, huh? Guess that explains why you’ve got a little fire in you.”

Alycia held back a sigh. She wasn’t about to let them bait her into whatever game they were playing.

Odessa smirked, her tone turning mockingly sympathetic. “Well, you’ll figure out soon enough how things work around here.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Just a little advice? Billie might’ve been nice to you yesterday, but don’t get too comfortable. She doesn’t do nice for long.”

Alycia’s stomach twisted, but she forced her face to remain unreadable. “Thanks for the tip,” she said evenly. “But I think I’ll figure things out on my own.”

Odessa studied her for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. “Suit yourself.” She turned to Quen and the gothic girl. Odessa's smirk widened as she turned back to them. “Where’s Billie now?” she asked, her tone casual—too casual, like she already knew the answer but just wanted to say it out loud for Alycia’s benefit.

Quen grinned, flicking her gaze toward Alycia. “Pretty sure she spent the night at Ava’s place. They’re probably on their way now.”

Alycia felt her stomach drop, but she kept her expression neutral, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Still, Odessa studied her closely, like a predator watching for the slightest sign of weakness.

And maybe, just maybe, she caught it.

Because her smirk deepened, and she took a slow step closer. “I cannot wait for gym today,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “It may not be dodgeball, but I have a feeling it’s gonna be way more fun than yesterday.”

She was right in front of Alycia now, eyes locked onto hers, daring her to break.

Alycia clenched her jaw, holding her ground.

“I can’t wait either,” Alycia shot back, fire in her voice.

Odessa’s smirk twitched, just for a second. Barely noticeable—but Alycia caught it.

Before Odessa could respond, a voice cut through the tension.

“What’s going on?”

Alycia knew that voice.

She turned her head, and there was Billie, walking side by side with Ava, her expression curious but unreadable.

Alycia felt her throat go dry.

Alycia’s heart raced as Billie and Ava approached. Billie’s eyes briefly flickered over to Alycia, but before she could say anything, Ava shot a look at the group with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s going on here?” Ava asked, her voice dripping with a hint of superiority, just like Odessa and Quen.

Alycia’s stomach twisted, but before she could even respond, Billie’s gaze snapped toward Ava, her eyes sharp.

“Seriously, Ava?” Billie said, her voice colder than Alycia had ever heard it. “Cut it out. We don’t need to be rude for no reason.”

Ava blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in Billie’s tone, but she didn’t push it further. Billie turned back to Alycia, her expression softening, the corner of her mouth lifting in a small, reassuring smile.

“Don’t mind them,” Billie added, her voice low, just for Alycia to hear. “They’re always like that. You good?”

Alycia nodded, her heart pounding, trying to hold herself together. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Billie looked at her for a moment longer, before glancing at Odessa and the others. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice firm, but there was something in her eyes—something that made Alycia believe Billie wasn’t just trying to protect her from the others.

Billie led the way down the hall with Ava following behind, leaving Alycia standing there, trying to process what had just happened.

Did Billie really just defend her?

The question echoed in Alycia’s mind, and her heart raced. The feeling was almost surreal—like a whirlwind of emotions all hitting her at once.

God, this was such a rush.

She stood still for a moment, gathering her thoughts, trying to calm the chaos in her chest. This wasn’t just some high school drama—there was something real here. Something she couldn’t quite put into words, but it felt different.

When Alycia finally made her way to class, the door creaked open, and she spotted Billie talking with the others near the back of the room. It looked like a heated conversation—gestures were sharp, voices were low, but there was no mistaking the tension in the air.

Alycia hesitated at the door, her nerves creeping back, but then she took a deep breath and pushed forward, heading to her seat. As she sat down, she could feel Odessa’s eyes on her, though Odessa didn’t turn around, her posture stiff, her face set in a permanent scowl.

Quen was doing the same, her usual smirk replaced with a more annoyed expression, lips pressed into a tight line.

The tension from their conversation was palpable, and Alycia couldn’t help but wonder if it was all because of her—because of what Billie had said to them earlier.

She looked up at Billie once more, but Billie wasn’t paying attention to her. Instead, she was still in a low-key argument with Odessa and Quen. Whatever was going on, it was clear that things were far from settled.

“Good morning, class!” Mr. Brown said with a bright smile, his enthusiasm making it clear he was in a good mood.

Most of the class mumbled a half-hearted “Good morning” in response.

“Today’s going to be an easy day,” he began, but he couldn’t even finish his sentence before the class erupted into loud cheers and applause. It made him shake his head and chuckle.

“How you kids love my class,” he joked, grinning.

“Your only assignment for today is to watch the videos posted on the screen. They’re only twelve minutes long, but I know most of you aren’t going to really pay attention—which will definitely hurt when the test comes up on Friday,” Mr. Brown added, holding back a laugh at his own teasing.

A chorus of boos filled the room.

“Come on, Mr. Brown! We don’t want a test this week! Can’t you push it to three more weeks?” Quen called out, her voice full of exaggerated drama.

The class murmured in agreement, some of the students slumping down in their chairs, clearly not thrilled with the idea of the test.

Mr. Brown raised an eyebrow, pretending to be stern. “Oh, really? Three more weeks, huh? Well, maybe I’ll just let you all do nothing and see how well that works out for you when your grades plummet,” he said with a playful wink.

The class groaned, some rolling their eyes, while others tried to beg with their hands folded together like they were praying.

“Alright, alright,” Mr. Brown relented, his smile still in place. “Watch the videos. But don’t think you’re off the hook for that test. Trust me, it’ll be here before you know it.”

Alycia couldn’t help but chuckle, and she noticed Odessa’s eyes immediately shift to her. Odessa tried to cover her smile with her hand, but it faltered when she noticed Billie’s gaze.

Alycia tilted her head slightly, glancing behind her, and saw Billie, who looked... less than pleased. Billie’s eyes were locked on Odessa, and her usual smirk was nowhere to be found. Instead, she wore a frown, her brow furrowed as if she was trying to hold back something.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that Billie wasn’t too happy with her friend right now.

Odessa, sensing the tension, straightened in her seat, quickly looking away from Alycia and trying to focus on the front of the classroom. But Alycia could see the slight shift in her posture—she was trying to play it off, but the crack in her confidence was clear.

Billie’s sharp gaze lingered on Odessa for a moment longer before she turned back to the front of the room, her expression unreadable again. But Alycia couldn’t ignore the way her stomach fluttered at the thought that Billie had noticed what had just happened.

Alycia quickly grabbed her laptop from her book bag, along with her headphones, determined not to waste any time on the assignment. She plugged in her headphones and opened the video, trying her best to focus.

But as the minutes ticked away, her attention kept drifting. The thought of gym class kept creeping into her mind. The idea of playing against Billie—or maybe even being on the same team—made her heart race. She couldn’t deny it; the anticipation of it all had her nerves buzzing.

One thing was clear now—Alycia was down bad.

There was no escaping the way Billie had completely taken over her thoughts.

End of pt. 5

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[freshsandwichdinosaur]

Boss lady

The rhythmic tapping of Y/N’s Louboutin heels echoed through the sleek, glass-walled office of her hedge fund. The London skyline stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but she barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere—on the market fluctuations, the billion-dollar positions at stake, and, annoyingly, on Jude Bellingham.

She sighed, glancing at her phone. Three missed calls. She knew exactly why.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” her assistant, Bella, poked her head in. “Your seven o’clock is here.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, smoothing down the lapels of her tailored black blazer. Beneath it, a cream silk blouse draped effortlessly, paired with high-waisted wide-leg trousers that elongated her frame. Her diamond tennis bracelet glinted under the dim office lights, and the deep red on her perfectly manicured nails matched the iconic soles of her heels. Power radiated from her, but she barely had time to enjoy the image she presented.

She expected another fund manager or an investor. Instead, it was him—Jude, fresh off a match in Madrid, dressed in a fitted black suit that did nothing to hide his athletic frame.

“Really, Jude?” she folded her arms. “You flew in for this?”

“For you,” he corrected, shutting the door behind him. “What was I supposed to do when you started ignoring me?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was—”

“Busy?” He smirked. “Yeah, I know. Always. But guess what? So am I. And I still find time for you.”

She rolled her eyes and moved to stand, but the second she did, he blocked her. His broad frame towered over her, and before she could react, she found herself face-to-face with his chest. His scent—clean, expensive, with a hint of something distinctly him—invaded her senses. Her breath hitched as his fingers gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

The tension thickened. Jude’s jaw was clenched, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. He stepped closer, so close she could feel the warmth radiating off him, his voice dropping to a dangerously low, calm, and seductive tone.

“You don’t run from me, Y/N.” His thumb brushed over her jaw, a barely-there touch that made her pulse spike. “Not when we both know you don’t want to.”

Her throat tightened. Because he was right. Again.

Jude let out a slow exhale, his eyes searching hers, waiting. The air between them was thick—too thick. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not yet.

“Jude,” she started, her voice steady despite the heat creeping up her neck, “you don’t get to just fly in, corner me in my own office, and act like you have me figured out.”

He chuckled, dark and knowing. “Oh, I do have you figured out.” His grip on her chin softened, his fingers grazing her skin before he finally let go. “That’s why you’re pushing me away.”

She hated how easily he got under her skin, how effortlessly he stripped away her carefully curated walls. But she wasn’t about to let him win.

Straightening her posture, she stepped around him and reached for her phone on the desk. “You should go. I have actual work to do.”

Jude remained unmoved, watching her with that unreadable expression. But instead of arguing, he pulled out his own phone and typed something before slipping it back into his pocket. “Fine,” he said, his voice deceptively casual. “I’ll go. But I’m not giving up on you.”

She didn’t respond, refusing to look at him as he made his way to the door. Just as he reached for the handle, her phone buzzed.

Jude Bellingham: Flight to Madrid is at 10 AM. First-class. I’ll see you there. Don’t be late, boss. 😉

Y/N smirked, shaking her head as she typed back.

Y/N: Cute. But I have my own private jet. Maybe I’ll let you hitch a ride if you ask nicely. 😏

She leaned back in her chair, amused. She could already imagine the look on his face when he read that. If Jude thought he could throw down a challenge, he better be ready for the game she was about to play.