#i get really afraid that i'm going to but then i don't!

[teaboot]

tranny freak :)

[mxrcielaguito]

Oh boi, I've been wanting to write Elliott x Farmer for a while so here we go:

Based off one of the comments of the original post

"I would suggest we make time for a little 'rendezvous' in my old cabin... But I'm afraid it's become rather... Musty... In my absence" Elliott says. I'd like to think he's being playful but I can't really tell. His words are mischievous but his eyes seem melancholic. I mean, well, he writes angsty stuff all the time, why would this be any different, he loves feeling melancholic. He's an overemotional drama queen, and that's pretty much why I fell for him in the first place. But something's off today.

I look at him, up and down. Wouldn't be the first time we escape a social gathering and make time for ourselves. I work relentlessly. He writes relentlessly. Our kids mess around the house relentlessly, too.

"Why not?" I suggest. "It's not like anyone's paying attention."

His green eyes widen, his face blushes for just an instant and I recognize his look. He bites his lower lip, grabs my arm and pulls me into the cabin so quickly I can't even react. As soon as I step into the cabin I understand what he meant by "musty". The air feels heavy, humid, and the wood is starting to decay. His old piano is still there; withering away.

He locks the door behind us and I can already feel his heavy breath. I can't help but find it cute. It's been three years and he still gets all hot and bothered. He's turning his back on me, his hand still on the door knob.

"Elliott? Are you all right?" I ask.

"I have really neglected this place, haven't I..." He murmurs. "It's- it's not romantic at all, I-..."

"Love, it's okay, I don't mind" I try to reassure him, rubbing his back. Something's wrong but I'm not can't put my finger on it. "It's been quite some time since the last time you came here, huh."

Elliott laughs nervously and forces himself to let go of the door knob. He turns around and looks at his cabin, his eyes scanning every corner.

"I really used to live like this, didn't I?"

"I didn't know this place brought you bad memories", I say, my voice soft, almost a whisper. I know we don't talk much; my words are usually rather scarce, I can't remember the last time we sat and spoke to each other. I'd rather listen, but Elliott doesn't speak too much, either.

He runs a hand through his copper hair.

"Once upon a time, there lived a man by the sea..." Elliott speaks quietly, absently. "He dreamed of fame and greatness; he dreamed of people remembering his name. However, that day never came, and his little cabin by the sea, he let it rot away."

I frown, trying to make a meaning off of this.

"My father bought this cabin a long time ago, we used to have our vacation here, when I was a kid. With time I guess we all forgot about it, then I remembered it when he kicked me out."

My eyes widen.

"He... Kicked you out? Why am I learning about this just now?!"

"Well, he wasn't happy when I said I wasn't pursuing a career in the family business." Elliott runs his hand through the dusty desk, then fidgets around with an old inkwell. The ink has been dry for a very long time. "I didn't have much money. I was running out when I met you."

"That part, I remember, yeah", I reply.

"It's not that this cabin holds bad memories, as you said. It just a reminder of almost everything that hasn't worked out in my life. All the scrapped manuscripts. All the arguing with my father. All the times I stayed up late, trying to come up with the perfect plot, the perfect words, the perfect... Everything" he closes his eyes and sighs. I look at him and take his hand in mine. I love it: it's so soft. "And then, one day, you showed up and took care of that old farm nobody cared about. And you took care of me..."

He leans his head over mine. His hair tickles my nose, and it smells like pomegranate shampoo.

"I can take care of this place, too" I suggest, trying to cheer him up. "Just like I did with the farm."

"No, no. This place is mine to bear, not yours. However I would like to take your example and make this old place something worth the effort. Something out kids will be happy inheriting."

I look up at him and smile.

"Yeah? You wanna do that?"

Elliott smiles and nods. I feel his hand make its way through my eternally sore back to my waist. I rest my hand on his, fidgeting with his wedding ring.

"It's not that musty", I tease, after a very long silence. "The bed's still in good shape."

When you're just trying to make some goddamn soup but Elliott wants to have sex in his mouldy ass cabin.

[xinganhao]

✏️ scared freshmen chan x reader.

prompt: "helping a scared freshman despite also being a scared freshman." ✶ part of my svt university milestone event

⤿ fluff, cute & clingy!chan, slice-of-life. more content under the cut. ♡⸝⸝ prompt from @wollycobbl3-blr!

dino's declassified uni survival guide .ᐟ

survival guide to: making friends

attend the freshman year orientation event, no matter how lame you think it may be. sit through the whole thing. make small talk with your seatmate. when they assign you a 'buddy', jump at the chance of morally obligated friendship.

fuck trying to be cool and chill. 'be yourself' is painfully cliche advice, but they were on to something. what's the point of trying to act nonchalant or putting your best foot forward? be yourself, and you'll find the people who can appreciate that.

go to the school events. recruitment week? check. pep rally? check. going alone is alright. going with your orientation-sanctioned friend is preferable. the two of you can sit through the whole thing judging other students and making comments about the performances. maybe you can make more friends by chatting up the other students around you, but, honestly? each other is plenty fine.

survival guide to: getting around

have a copy of the school map saved on your phone. keep it in your favorites folder. that way, you don't have to stop at those blown-up maps at every corner or so.

test out the advice of your peers. sometimes, their advice is just a little more reliable— they're coming from places of experience, after all. take, for example, the recommendations from your orientation buddy. take their suggestions to heart. the cafeteria they think is best, the coffee order they swear by. very serious business.

you'll eventually get a little more familiar with the ins and outs of campus. you'll carve out your own spaces and make your own set of friends. if some people eventually fall out with you, that's fine. if you still take a wrong turn every so often, that's fine, too. keep in touch with the people that you really do like. and don't panic about getting lost. sometimes, taking the wrong turn can lead to some pretty exciting stuff.

survival guide to: ... falling in love?

the turn of feeling something for your first friend at uni isn't exactly what i was referring to, but it is what it is. my initial advice still stands: come as you are. if you've always been a little annoying, if you don't know how to shut up and you're shameless in your affections, then keep that up. why be someone who you're not? what if they fall in love with that charade instead of who you really are?

some differences may be warranted, especially if you want to progress the relationship further. friends to lovers is a little complicated; the lines, tending to blur. flirt. or: attempt to flirt. remind them of how attractive you are. find ways to be around them, whether it's heading out for a beer or 'running' into them after their last class of the day. gifts are okay, but don't overdo it. maybe find some occasion for it, in case they ask why.

it's terrifying. being a freshman. making friends. falling in love [with a friend]. and yet i keep going back to yet another cliché: just because you feel fear, doesn't mean you can't do it. do it afraid. do it scared shitless. walk them home. give them the flowers. package the confession in a joke, if you must, but confess. put your heart in their hands and trust that it will be safe, there. that the gamble will pay off. that you— maybe, just maybe— will be loved right back.

survival guide to: dating

tba. i'm still figuring this one out. :-)

written by lee chan (2024).

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

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[imtherain]

Smeared Lipstick

Still on my Logan nonsense (thank god) and had a round of Patch!Logan feels. I know nothing about him other than what I saw in Deadpool and Wolverine, so sorry if I messed him up somehow.

This is for @likedovesinthewnd because she's the one who told me I should write it lol

Also shout out to @bpmiranda for posting the best/nastiest smut fics that inspired me to go ham and not hold back for once. If you need some more Logan, read mine first but she's got a lot more!

Warnings: Casino, basically pure smut with only a sprinkle of plot, oral (male receiving), some light conartistry, mutant reader, bathroom smut, fingering (both receiving because I'm a feminist lol), sugar daddy but only kinda, Patch!Logan, a touch of 'getting caught', and probably some other stuff. Let me know if I missed anything important.

Word Count: 3473 (don't look at me)

[More Logan]

[Main Master List]

“Hit me,” 

The dealer passed Logan another card and he concealed his joy easily. He’d hit 20 for the third time at this table. Lady Luck always on his side.

“You win again, sir,” The dealer said, pushing the new stack chips across the table to him.

“I’m afraid it’s time we close this table, sir,” Your voice always soothed something in him. You’d been working at this particular casino for a few months, and so, Logan always found himself at your tables. No one suspected the truth of why you both were there.

“Pity, I was doing so well,” Logan looked up at you with his one good eye, drinking in the way your glittery red dress hugged every single one of your edges just right. How your hair was done up with sparkly bits to match the shine on your dress. How your lipstick was the exact shade of red as your dress.

You looked good enough to eat, if he were being honest.

“I’m sure I can find you somewhere else to play,” You smile, half customer service, half something naughty.  Logan put the cigar he’d been chewing on away into his pocket. He had a feeling he’d find himself with something better to put in his mouth shortly.

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Logan stood, leaving his chips all on the table. “Cash those into my account,” This was directed at the dealer who was just cleaning up his station.

“Please, Mr. Locken,” You urged the dealer. He was a clever young man, one of your best dealers. He’d caught three different cheaters in his time at the casino, and you were impressed that he was so good at catching them. Even the team upstairs, who’s entire job it was to catch cheating, had missed one of the three Locken had spotted.

“Of course, Miss Y/N,” Locken replied, gathering Logan’s chips.

“Thank you,” You said, taking Logan’s arm and leading him away. 

Logan had been staring at the skin exposed that showed over the slinky material of your dress. You knew poor Locken likely knew exactly what you and Mr. Logan were about to get up to. Locken didn’t really want to know, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that you and Mr. Logan, the high roller with an eye patch, were an item. Most of the staff knew, and the rest likely suspected.

But Mr. Logan, being a high roller, got away with all kinds of things. Fucking the floor manager was hardly a big deal or a surprise at that point.

“And where are you taking me, Miss Y/N,” Logan mocked Locken’s tone and you smacked his chest with one hand. “As I recall, there aren’t any tables this way, and the hotel is the other direction too,” 

“I was thinking you needed a little more luck,” You told him. “I heard that another big fish was headed in to drop some cash, and he’s luckier than most who walk through the door.” There was something about you that no one in the building, other than Logan, knew about you… and that was that you were a mutant who could control a person’s luck. You could also see how lucky someone was, just by touching them. It came in all kinds of handy working in a casino, and extra handy where Logan was involved. The two of you having a sort of arrangement in regards to luck.

“What did you have in mind for me?” Logan mused as you led him down another hallway and into a single stall bathroom. It was one of the large single stall bathrooms, where several people could use the two sinks and spacious counter during a wedding or other event, usually to get ready. This particular bathroom was out of the way of the main space though, less likely to get interrupted.

“Lock the door,” You told him with a saucy smirk. 

You and Logan had met originally in a different casino, and he’d figured out that his string of bad luck had been tied to you. He thought, originally, that it was because he’d gotten so distracted by you that he’d lost his edge. You knew it was because you’d turned all his luck to bad and all your own luck to good, hoping to clean house well enough to eat for the next month.

“Yes, ma’am,” Logan turned to lock the door and when he turned back, you were sitting on the counter, skirt hiked up to your knees. Logan took a deep breath through his nose that quickly dissolved into a growl of pleasure as he smelled your arousal. “Never will get over how good you smell, honey,” He stepped between your thighs and tipped your chin up so that you were looking at him.

“Only for you baby,” You purred back, leaning up so your breath brushed his lips sensually.

“No kissing,” Logan reminded you, and you pouted, but you knew the deal. After he’d found you out as a mutant, you’d both struck a deal. You would give him better luck, and he'd take good care of you, effectively becoming your sugar daddy. Only, if you called him ‘daddy’ he’d bend you over his knee, so you saved that for special occasions. 

“Please?” You begged, knowing that was the only line left in the sand between you. You’d done everything else, had sex in every direction you could think of. But no kissing. Never kissing.

You didn’t like it, but it was easy enough to complain around.

“You know the rules,” Logan growled softly. He ran his tongue along the exposed skin at your throat and you moaned. He chuckled, feeling your vibrations against his tongue.

“Rules are made to be broken, I thought?” You pressed as he stepped forward to bump the hardness in his pants against you. Your hips moved against him as if there was ever any question to what was going on between you.

“I can walk away,” Logan warned and you whined, but nodded to tell him you’d stop asking. “Good girl,” 

“Wait,” You said, suddenly having a sordid idea. Logan rocked backwards on his heel far enough to peer questioningly into your face. “Let me take care of you this time,” 

“You wanna take care of me?” Logan asked skeptically. You reached down to palm him through his slacks. His eye fluttered closed at the contact and he had to brace himself on the counter on either side of you.

“Please, baby? Since you won’t let me kiss you, at least let me taste you?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he knew he was a sucker for giving in to you anytime you did that. Hell, he’d kill a man no questions asked, if you batted your lashes at him.

“Get to it then,” He moved back only far enough to let you slide off the counter and to your knees. You made short work of undoing his belt and pants. You pulled his slacks and boxers down just far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He was already rock hard and leaking for you when you cooed happily and kitten licked the warm tip of him.

He had to grip the counter again to remain in control of himself. You smirked as you did it again, tasting the salty tang of his precum before you wrapped your lips around just the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” Logan grunted, trying his best not to slam his dick straight down your throat. He knew you could take it, but he wanted to let you get there on your own.

“Want me to stop?” You pause only long enough to ask before you licked a long stripe up the underside of him, tracing the thick vein there from balls to tip.

“Don’t you dare,” Logan pants, cursing again when you go back to the small licks along the very tip of his cock. You always seemed to know exactly how to drive him out of his mind. Maybe that was why he’d give you anything you wanted. Diamonds, jewelry, gold, silver, hotel rooms, a car if you asked for it… He’d give you anything his money could buy. 

Anything but the heart he was pretty sure you weren’t even aware you’d already stolen.

You pressed a small kiss to his angry red tip before sticking out your tongue and sliding him into the warmth of your mouth.

Logan cursed again, his hips bucking once before he could stop himself. You adjusted your knees on the hard tile floor, loosened your jaw, and slid your hands lovingly around his thighs.

With your eyes fluttering softly and the end of his dick in your mouth, Logan was surprised he didn’t cum right there on your tongue.

You looked up at him and gave a slight nod, telling him you were ready for him to take control if he wanted it. Logan felt his heart rate spike as the animal in him begged to claim you. If he wasn’t careful he’d bury his fist in your hair and throat fuck you until you couldn’t speak. But he’d promised to be careful when you were at work, because you needed to look nice for the casino.

When Logan didn’t immediately take over, you leaned forward, taking more and more of him into your mouth, slowly, until he just barely touched the back of your throat. Your throat constricted on a gag and the feeling of your throat closing was all it took for the animal inside him to break free.

Logan’s strong hand cradled the back of your head, trying to avoid pulling out the glittery baubles you’d put there this morning before he’d driven you to work. You leaned back into his palm, trying to ease the sensation in your throat, and you got relief for about two beats before that same careful hand pulled you back along him until your nose was pressed flush with the rough hair at his base.

You knew it was his turn to have his fun now, and you couldn’t help but grin for a moment before you remembered how hard it was to breathe around the girth of his cock.

Your nails dug into the meat of his thighs as you focused on breathing while he jerked his hips. The drag of his cock along your tongue made heat pool in your stomach as he abused your throat over and over again.

Meanwhile, Logan was making the most guttural noises while he used your throat. His grunting and groaning echoing in the empty bathroom, occasionally punctuated by a soft curse or two when your throat squeezed him just right. All paired with the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your throat.

But as much as you’d love to let him stay there in your mouth until he came, you needed a break. You reached up and tapped on his stomach, your agreed sign that you needed air. 

Instantly, Logan pulled back and caught your eyes with his one good one.

“You alright?” He asked and you nodded with a slight cough.

“Just needed to catch my breath,” You admitted. “I’m out of practice,” 

“I know one way to fix that,” Logan said with a cheeky grin.

“Give me five more seconds,” You said, adjusting on your knees again. You took a second to pull his slacks down to his knees. You lean in and give some attention to each of his beefy thighs, kissing the strong muscles and nibbling the soft flesh.

“Don’t tease me,” Logan grumbled, his hand coming back to your head. “Finish what you started,” 

“Yes, sir,” You batted your lashes up at him and his cock twitched next to your face. You took another moment to lick the side of him, rubbing his length against your face, showcasing just how long he was compared to your head. It was a wonder you could fit him all down your throat.

You kissed the side of his dick a few times, preparing you both for another round, and with one last kitten lick to his slit, his dick slid back into your throat.

The second time was always easier for you, and you’re always happy to help when it means he would let out those grunting noises you love so much.

And you knew exactly what would make him whine for you too.

You slid your hands up and around the back of his thighs until you could grip both of his taught buttcheeks in your hand. This distracted him enough from his movements that you were able to swallow around his tip and make him groan again. You bobbed your head as you kneaded his flesh and he got lost in the sensation the exact same way you did when he was face down between your legs. And just like he always did, you carefully slid a finger into his waiting hole.

The noise Logan makes is something you wished you could bottle up for a rainy day. It’s somewhere near a whine and too gravelly to be a whimper. You withdraw only long enough to add some moisture to your digits before working yourself back into him, stroking at that spot deep inside that makes his thighs tense and his knees shake.

Having discovered how stroking him like this made him feel, you understood why he liked to finger-fuck you so much. Making him experience such pleasure, pleasure that only you have brought him? Heaven. Heaven on earth, about to cum down your throat.

Logan never lasted long with your fingers in his ass.

You hold your breath while he comes undone in your mouth, bucking his hips against the swirling of your tongue. You try to swallow it all, but it’s difficult when he’s moving still, so you just hold on until he’s pumped every last drop into your mouth.

Before he can be overstimulated too much, he pulls your hand away from him and slides himself from your soft mouth.

“Fuck, baby, thought you were going to suck me dry for a second there,” 

“I would if you’d let me,” You smiled up at him. He reached down and gently rubbed his thumb under your bottom lip, catching a drip of his cum that you hadn’t managed to swallow. At first you thought he’d press it into your mouth, but instead he brought it to his own and you felt your face flame with unexpected heat.

“Maybe next time sweetheart,” Logan helped you to your feet before adjusting himself and pulling up his slacks.

“Wait, you’ve got lipstick all over,” You tried to stop him from tucking himself away hoping you could clean him up properly, but he just chuckled and did up his pants.

“Something to remember you by,” He teased and you rolled your eyes before turning to the mirror to see the state of your own face. It was about what you’d figured but also you didn’t mind in the slightest.

Your red lipstick was smeared all across your cheek, your eyes were wet so your eyeshadow had mostly rubbed off, but luckily your eyeliner had stayed put. You wore super waterproof eyeliner for that reason after all. There was still some of the sticky release of Logan’s painted on your lips and tongue from where you’d failed to swallow it all.

“Look at that,” You mused. “You smeared my lipstick,” Logan chuckled at that, turning you around so that he could see.

“Seems so,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He gently took your chin and held you steady while he soiled the white silk with your red lipstick and the remains of his cum. After fucking your throat like that, you almost forgot he could be gentle too.

You liked it when he was gentle.

When Logan was satisfied with his work, he put his handkerchief back in his pocket and leaned down to kiss your cheek, you froze when you felt his lips at the edge of yours. Almost a kiss. 

But he knew better than that. 

You both did.

You whined softly for him, wanting more, but you also needed to get back to work.

“Turn around for me,” Logan said. You raised an eyebrow at him but did as he asked, gasping when he pressed himself against your ass.

“Logan,” You chided. “I need to head back,” 

“Just give me a minute to return the favor,” Logan was smirking at you over your shoulder as you watched him in the mirror. “I promise I won’t smear your lipstick this time,” You bit your lip at the thought of him getting you off here too.

“I really should be getting back,” You tried to say, but it was half hearted at best. He smacked your ass and you whimpered at him, terribly needy and terribly turned on.

“Spread your legs for me and lift your skirt,” He commanded against the shell of your ear. “Now,” You jumped at the authority in his voice and moved to do as he asked. You hoisted your skirt up to your hips and let your legs shift apart so that he had room to slide his knee between your thighs.

You gasped as he bounced his leg into your sensitive folds.

“I’ll repay you properly when we get home tonight, but until then,” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “Let me make my baby feel good,” You could only nod as he reached down and slid his hand into your already soaked panties.

“Logan,” You moaned as his finger traced circles around your bud. “That feels so good,” 

“Good,” He nibbled on your earlobe. “Just relax,” 

You were about to give in entirely when the handle to the bathroom jiggled and it reminded you all at once that you were still at work.

“Fuck… Logan…” You tried to stop him, but he just dipped his fingers deeper and you mewled instead.

“Don’t worry about that, focus on me and what I’m doing,” Logan purred. The handle rattled again and this time you heard someone curse about the bathroom being occupied too long.

You jumped when the person outside banged on the door.

“Find another bathroom, bub!” Logan growled loudly as he kicked the door angrily in return. Another curse from outside the door and Logan slowed his movements until he couldn’t hear the person outside anymore. “Now where were we?”

You were gripping his arm, which was wrapped around your waist to keep you in place.

“I don’t even remember,” You admitted with a laugh, which shifted into a moan as he moved his fingers against you again and all at once you remembered. “Fuck,” You moaned.

“That’s it,” He sped up his fingers, watching your face in the mirror as your closed your eyes in pleasure. “Come on, baby, give it to me,” He grunted against your shoulder, his teeth teasing your skin.

It didn’t take much more for you to cum around his fingers, fluttering and shaking in his arms as he held you up.

“That’s it pretty girl, that’s it,” Logan purrs against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my pretty girl,” 

You turned, wanting to kiss him, to thank him for this, but you remembered his rule, so instead you pressed your forehead into his jaw and whined at him.

“I really do need to get back to work,” You whisper. “And you need to go make enough money for that trip we’ve been talking about,” 

“Yes ma’am,” Logan chuckled in your ear as he finally pulled his fingers out of the tight embrace of your cunt. You groaned at the loss of him, but hummed in pleasure when you watched him lick his fingers clean. “Need me to carry you to your desk?” He teased.

“Oh shush,” You stood and adjusted yourself. “I was just enjoying the moment for a little longer,” 

“Could always play hooky and use your key to get us into a room upstairs,” Logan said, like he was nothing but serious. You shove him playfully.

“Yeah, and then I’ll get fired again,” You chided. “We’re going to run out of good casinos if we keep doing that,” 

“So?” He pressed his lips to your temple. “Maybe when we run out of casinos, I’ll make an honest woman out of you,” This makes you pause. Could he be serious? 

“Only once we’ve run out?” You asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“And if we get married, I’ll have to kiss you, won’t I?” It sounded almost like a tease, but there was nothing but joy and mirth in his eye.

And maybe, just maybe, love was sparkling in there too.

[More Logan]

[Main Master List]

[shradsmanifestt]

These are the only things You need to know about manifestation :

Manifestation is not a process. You aren't trying to manifest anything. You are just accepting the fact that it's already yours.

Don't get stuck in the trying/learning phase, you don't need it to make sense. You don't need to know how/when/what. Just know that it's already done.

You make the rules in your reality. Stop asking if you can manifest this/that or why some coach was saying this and the other coach said the opposite. Don't accept what they say as true in your reality. What's the point of being the operant power in your own reality if you're just gonna go behind the latest technique/ fad some random person on the internet tells you to do.

The simplest way is the real way. Accept it as true in your reality. That's all there is to it. If you wanna affirm and persist do that, If you wanna do saturation do that, If you wanna listen to subs do that. There is no right or wrong way. Just accept the fact that it is already done.

To answer the question of how can I assume something to be true when it clearly isn't - How come you always assume the worst when it comes to stuff you want? Don't you assume how you're gonna be late somewhere before it even happens? Don't you assume that something's gonna go wrong before it even happened? Don't you overthink all sorts of shit without once knowing what's actually happening behind the scenes? If you can do all this shit with no proof whatsoever, you can assume what you want is true - if you really want it. I said what I said.

Don't be afraid to claim it as true. You aren't being delusional, You aren't aiming too high, No it's not that farfetched, It's okay to want what you want, It isn't impossible (unless you assume it is). Stop letting fear take over your power. If you can desire it you can have it.

More often than not people stumble upon manifestation because they are desperately trying to manifest something. Like their SP, or money or the job or appearance change or whatever it might be. Most people fail at manifesting what they want the most. In my personal opinion, it's because you're so busy "TRYING" to manifest it and just stuck in the process and have just too much resistance. You guys are never like - I have it, but instead like - I'm trying to manifest it. I'm manifesting this and that.

Change that. You are not gonna be stuck in that anymore. You are gonna decide now and here that it is already done. You have it. It is yours. NOT TOMORROW, NOT TWO WEEKS FROM TODAY, BUT NOW.

You have it now. If you can accept this, nothing can stop you from having what you want.

[tidesreach]

fuck it friday

tagged by @dangerpronebuddie <3 haven't done one of these in a while but. i started writing this one months ago and now i'm like. well wow. should really finish this because. eddie really might be going to texas. (part of the buck drowns fic btw)

Buck waits, chugs down some more wine while Maddie's eyes flicker over the letter, once, twice. Finally, she sets it down on the counter, looks up at Buck and says, "I think you need to go to El Paso." Somehow, all at once, it's exactly what Buck wants to hear, and exactly what he doesn't want to hear. There's a relief that washes over him, like a warm, sunlit wave. But then— "You think I don’t want to?" Buck says, sets his glass down. "God, Maddie. I feel like I—like I'm going five rounds in a ring with myself every day just to not get in my car and drive." "Okay." Maddie looks at him. Careful, soft, gaze intent. "So why don’t you?" "Because," Buck argues. Because. "Because he asked me not to." "Did he?" Maddie asks. She slides her fingers over the letter, delicately. Like it's something precious, like—like she knows it is. To Buck. Then pushes it back over to Buck's side of the counter. "Because I just read the note, Buck, and I don't think he did." Buck swallows, reaches for it, for those familiar creases, the distinct indent of Eddie's scrawl. Did he? "I–well, okay. Not–not specifically," he agrees. Because it wasn’t—Eddie didn't ask. But it was— "He said he needed time. So I can’t. I can't be this person, Maddie. This—this needy, clingy person who chases him across states. That's not who he needs me to be." "Or it's exactly who he needs you to be." Maddie covers his shaking hands. Shaking. God, when did they start shaking? "I think he needs you to go after him, and I think—" Maddie pauses, soft pads of her fingers pressing against Buck's skin. Then, "I think the only reason you haven't is because you're afraid you're not enough to bring him back." Buck shakes his head, can't quite make his throat and mouth work in tandem to refute her. The words twist and churn in his chest, his stomach. Like a pinwheel. Sometimes, it's uncomfortable, just how well Maddie knows him. "You—you really think I should go?" "Buck," Maddie says, then softer, "Evan," the way she used to say it when they were kids. When she needed him to hear what she meant. "This is a love letter. You do know that, don't you?"

tagging @thatbuddie @sibylsleaves @inell @absolutelybifurious @standback

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

❥𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧;

Crew members x Afab! Insecure! Reader.

summary: you express to your partner that you are insecure about your acne and stretchmarks.

a/n: this is going to be a pretty self indulgent thing because I struggle with body image as well.

warnings: sensitive topics,body image.

𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷,𝓒𝓾𝓻𝓵𝔂.

this guy is physically unable to grasp the concept that you're insecure, about your body.

he is genuinely at a loss of words,like... are you being fr? acne? stretchmarks? such trivial things?

he finds your acne cute,and your stretchmarks sexy,the thought that they could be sources of insecurity for you didn't even occur to him.

—"y/n such things do not make you any less beautiful,these things are a normal aspect of human life,why would you ever feel bad? If you ever even think,that these things will make me love you even slightly less,then you've gone crazy. I love you y/n,i love everything about you".

𝓒𝓸-𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓸𝓽, 𝓙𝓲𝓶𝓶𝔂.

He didn't even notice them in the first place.

Jimmy is a cold bastard,sure. But judging your body? Such things are below him. He couldn't care less.

Jimmy loves you, because of who you are,not what makes you. he couldn't be less bothered about acne and stretchmarks,why would he? They aren't things to be afraid of.

—"wow just how privileged you have to be for your concerns to be so trivial,y/n if you really think such silly things make you any less beautiful then maybe you should get your head checked out first,c'mon really?,stop being goofy and get up, let's go and watch tv instead".

𝓝𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮,𝓐𝓷𝔂𝓪.

she's baffled that you would even think like that,she understands that insecurities are a normal aspect of the human psyche.

but still,she's speechless,she thinks that someone as gorgeous,as jaw droppingly attractive as you could even be Insecure? Over things like stretchmarks and acne?

—"y/n,these stretchmarks and acne which you have? they make you beautiful,they don't take away anything from your beauty, you're a human being,being. these things are not on your body for you to feel bad, they're here to remind you that you're human,plus I think your stretchmarks are gorgeous. You're the best thing to have ever happened to me y/n, don't you ever feel like you're worth anything less than the best".

𝓜𝓮𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓬, 𝓢𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓪.

he has experience with situations like these.

this man doesn't give two fucks about your acne or stretchmarks.

—"tsk,if ya really think that stuff like this is gunna make you any less gorgeous, then ya better just stop thinkin' put ya brain to rest. c'mon let's get some bagel and coffee"

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷, 𝓓𝓪𝓲𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓮.

HUHHHHHH? WHAAAAAT?™

Bro is befuddled, bamboozled, hornswoggled, hoodwinked, outmanoeuvred at your words.

nah this man can't even understand as to acne and stretchmarks could be bad things.

"Y/N YOU ARE LIKE LITERAL PERFECTION PERSONIFIED, WDYM SOME STRETCHMARKS AND ACNE MAKE YOU FEEL UGLY???????", I'M SAYING THIS EXTREMELY SERIOUSLY. YOU ARE THE PRETTIEST,COOLEST, BEAUTIFULLEST GIRL I'VE EVER LAID MY EYES ON. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU.

Proceeds to smother you in kisses.

[bishopony]

How draw wings.

first thing, references all day long. I like to use physical books that I pick up from thrift stores like this massive book on birds of prey-

it's got giant spreads that are really easy to look closely at. I really prefer physical books and images over digital references unless I need something really specific cause that way I've already got the good poses bookmarked and I don't have to go searching

If you don't have access to any good books, I definitely recommend getting reference images from stock image sites like pexel.

Step 2 is simplification. Don't try to draw exactly what you see; instead look at the major shapes in the wing. In the image above I can separate the major parts of the wings into these shapes: (doing all this with a trackpad so bear with me)

which can be further simplified to something like this:

don't be afraid to play with shapes either to make them look nicer and less stiff. definitely look into wing anatomy as well, I'm not an expert on that and there are definitely people out there who can explain better than me lol

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Places To Sleep

I've seen many fics and prompts with Homeless Danny, and I've just had a thought: what's the safest place to sleep at night when you a) don't have a home, b) can turn intangible and invisible, and c) are not afraid of mortals' justice system since you're dead and it doesn't really apply to you?

Cop cars.

Cops patrol the streets at night, but really, they mostly just pick a place and stay there until something happens, right? (I mean, I think that's right, I'm not very educated on the matter)

So, say Danny is in Gotham, and he needs a place to sleep, but it's the most crime-ridden city in the world, and sleeping out in the streets is cold and uncomfortable. And sure, he can climb into any car, but he chooses the cop car because, first, it's got a radio, so if the cops get any alerts about him (you can't tell me that GIW wouldn't use the help of local police, they are government agents after all), he will hear it first. Second, it's warm and cozy and soft. Third, and the most important: no one is going to look for him there! It's like hiding in plain sight but even better.

Or, well, it is, until one night the cop car he is sleeping in gets dispatched to some crime scene along with about a dozen others, and it turns out to be some trafficking rink that got busted or whatnot, and there are a lot of people who need to be taken to the GCPD station. So Danny, sleepy and grumpy because he was suddenly woken up, searches for the first still running but empty car, while staying invisible and intangible, and when he finds it, he just crashes in the back seat.

He is very surprised a few minutes later when the motherfucking Batman jumps in the front seat, and at least three of his sidekicks are trying to squeeze themselves in the back.

The Bats are even more surprised when they find a random teenager flickering in and out of visibility in the back seat of Batmobile, his eyes wide as saucers and Lazarus green.

[selinakylesupremacy]

Favourite Batcat quotes in comics:

Bruce to Selina:

There exists such a thing as longing, for two hearts beating across time, space, and dimension, then perhaps she helped provide a beacon. A reason to return. Someone to come back to. - Bruce Wayne: The Road Home: Catwoman #1 (2010)

When we kiss the pain goes away - Batman #12 (2020)

Her smell. Chanel. Wet leather. And sweat. I want to get lost in that smell. - Detective Comics #800 (2005)

Nothing matters as long as we're together - Batman Chronicles #11 (2014)

In any world, I love her - Batman #132 (2023)

There has only been one woman who has really held my heart - Heart of Hush (2009)

All I can think about is Selina. Beautiful, fascinating Selina Kyle. - Batman: Black and White #6 (2016)

When I first met you on that boat, the diamond you stole, after I got it back. I bought it. I've had it for years. I knew, even at the beginning. I knew I'd need it. I... I needed it. Just like... I need you. - Batman #24 (2017)

I'd do anything for you. - Catwoman #51 (2023)

She's more important than the galaxies. - Batman #68 (2019)

She's the only one who...who understands what... she knows who I am. What I am. And she loves me anyway. - Batman #15 (2017)

I love you Cat. I always will. - Batman #85 (2019)

Something passed between us - a spark of electricity. The shock of recognition. It was as if I'd suddenly found a part of myself that I never knew was missing. - Batman Chronicles #11 (2014)

Without you, I'm lost - Batman/Catwoman #6 (2020)

When I do let myself dream, Selina...in that life. I'm with you. - Catwoman: Lonely City #3 (2022)

Even in the middle of death and madness she makes my heart skip - Batman #143 (2024)

My world is dust without you - Batman #78 (2019)

Selina to Bruce:

By now we both know we can't stop it. This. Might as well try to stop the planets orbiting the sun. It's more than love. It's gravity. - Catwoman #1 (2023)

You and me. The Bat and the Cat. In the dark making sparks - Batman #392 (1986)

When the world blows up around us we reach out for one another. - Catwoman #58 (2023)

The Bat and the Cat. We are forever. - Batman #85 (2019)

You are part of the night, just like me. We're not afraid of the dark - we come alive in it. - Catwoman #40 (1996)

I'd rather die with you than live without you. - JLA: The Nail (1998)

When I fall he catches me - Batman #37 (2017)

Just for today don't be Batman. Don't be the mask. It's okay to let it go, just for today. You can fall apart, I'll hold you together. - Injustice: Gods Among Us #17 (2013)

I hope somewhere deep down you know I will never let you fall - Detective Comics # 1077 (2023)

I liked the smell of him - leather and sweat - Batman #66 (2019)

I liked how he held me, like he could do anything, but he couldn't let go - Batman #66 (2019)

I love you too, Bruce. Just like a fairy tale, I could live with you in your castle forever. - Batman Returns Comic (1992)

His love is my great escape - Catwoman #58 (2023)

I love you, Bat. I love you so much - Batman #85 (2019)

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

They talked about this before it started, that if it got to be much for anything, they would talk about it. Steve would understand. He always did, especially since he was afraid himself. Eddie's panic attacks were happening more frequently, and what happened over spring break was still fresh in everyone's minds. It was difficult for Eddie to breathe, and Steve knew it was coming, and Eddie did too. They could feel it when they touched, kissed, and fucked. They were already mourning a relationship that was never supposed to be serious in the first place. The next morning, Eddie told him that his band wanted to go on the road.

"I figured," Steve said, picking at his blanket.

"You're not mad?" Eddie asked.

"Of course not," Steve said. "This town is killing you, Eddie, I couldn't ask you to stay."

"You could ask," Eddie shrugged.

"You wouldn't say yes, and I wouldn't want you to resent me for staying," Steve said.

"You could come with me," Eddie said.

"You know that I can't leave the kids until they graduate," Steve said.

"And I can?" Eddie asked.

"Yes," Steve said. "You want to go. Do you want to go?"

"I do," Eddie said, swallowing thickly.

"I don't want to hold you back," Steve replied.

"You could never," Eddie said and paused. "I suppose you really can't have it all. You're right, I suppose I can't stay. I know I should have said. . .but I guess you could already tell. This town is killing me and not even you - which is crazy because you're Steve fucking Harrington. You're the most beautiful man alive. Inside and out."

Steve pulled him into a deep kiss, pouring everything he had into it. He could taste salty tears on his tongue. He couldn't tell who was crying more. Steve pulled back with a gasp.

"Eddie, I - " Steve closed his mouth and said nothing.

The next day, they said another goodbye, this time in front of everyone. It wasn't nearly as intimate. No one knew they were fucking. They had still been figuring things out about themselves, and Eddie hadn't been quite ready to label himself or tell anyone. Steve couldn't even tell Robin. The day after Eddie left, Steve took off to another bar outside of Hawkins. He couldn't go to the Hideout, too many memories, and he couldn't explain to people why he was drowning his sorrows. Steve was having a lot more difficult time than he had thought he would, and he respected Eddie's choice but it was killing him that he was gone, that there was an empty spot in his bed. He couldn't even tell Robin why he was so heartbroken. The best thing about this bar was that it was attached to a motel, so he was planning on getting drunk and finding his way to the room he rented. Of course, that's where he met Tiffany, who was just as heartbroken as he was. . .

"Steve, Steeeeve," Robin sang.

"Ugh, Robin, go away, my head is killing me," Steve said.

"Yeah, that's probably because you drank half the motel bar," Robin said.

"How are you here?" He asked, burying his head deeper into the pillow.

"You gave the girl you slept with my phone number, and you told her to let me know if you accidentally died," Robin said.

"I'm not dead," Steve groaned.

"No, but you look it," Robin scoffed. "You're going to need to check out soon."

"Where's - " Steve asked, looking up. "Tiffany?"

"Yeah. She left," Robin said.

"That's probably good for her," Steve said. "Ooh. I'm going to puke. Yeah, no, wait - yeah, I'm going puke."

He slipped out of the bed, butt naked, and ran to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach.

"Jesus, what the hell? I thought you were done with one night stands?" Robin asked.

"I just - yeah, I mean, I was but then - FUCK!" Steve yelled and then he burst into tears.

Robin frowned and grabbed a sheet of the bed, tossing it over him. She cleaned his mouth, sat on the floor, and pulled his head into her lap.

"Steve?" Robin asked. "I know you and Eddie have gotten close, but I didn't think you'd be this upset that he left. Jesus, how are you going to handle me going off to college? Shit, I put my foot in my mouth again, didn't I? Was that a little insensitive? Steve?"

"I'm in love with him," Steve sobbed, and then everything came pouring out. "I'm sorry and shit, I think I need to apologize to Eddie because I shouldn't have told you."

"Hey, hey, slow down. I think he'd understand," Robin said softly. "There's a lot to process here. I'm sorry, babe, I should have known."

"It's not your fault," Steve said. "I'm just so stupid."

"It's not your fault either," Robin said. "It was just a sticky situation for the both of you. And if you ever call my best friend stupid again, I'm going to beat you up. Only I'm allowed to call you a dingus, okay?"

"Okay," Steve said and laughed.

"Come on, let's get you home. . .dingus," Robin said.

Steve smiled. She always said dingus like she was saying I love you. God, she was his best friend.

"Dingus," Steve said, and Robin laughed.

"You're so drunk," she giggled. "Come on, Popeye."

It was a difficult time for Steve over the next few months, even more difficult than when he got over Nancy Wheeler. Maybe because he had allowed himself to be more vulnerable than he ever had with Nancy, and maybe in doing so, he had fallen harder for Eddie. With Robin's help, he was able to move forward. It helped that he had sold and moved out of his parents' place. They didn't think he could sell the place, but he proved them wrong. And with the money, he was able to tuck a lot of it away and move into a comfortable two bedroom apartment, an apartment that he was allowed to decorate however he wanted. After nearly a year, he was in a good place when things decided to turn upside down again for Steve. We'll, roughly 9 months later, to be a little more precise. . .

"Oh my god! I can't believe you forgot to buy me my favorite chips! After I came all this way to visit you!" Robin yelled.

"If you would move stuff around, you'll find them!" Steve exclaimed as he set up the movie.

"Oh, there they are! I knew you still loved me," Robin said.

Steve rolled his eyes as Robin came into the living room, her arms laden with snacks. She unceremoniously dumped them on the table.

"I'm glad you were able to pull yourself away from Vickie long enough to visit me before heading back to Chicago," Steve said.

"I can prioritize between the romantic love of my life and the platonic love of my life," Robin said.

Steve and Robin snuggled into each other, their matching pajamas firmly in place, as they settled in for the evening. Just as they were about to start the movie, Steve got the phone call. Robin watched as Steve could only give one words answers before finally putting the phone back down, his face pale.

"Steve?" Robin asked.

"We're going to have to cut the evening short," Steve said.

"What? But we've been planning this evening for weeks - "

"Robin, I'm a dad."

They drove to Indianapolis, where Tiffany had given birth, and now they were standing in the nursery, staring at the swaddled baby right in front of them. Tiffany had already left the hospital by the time they arrived.

"She's so tiny," Steve said breathlessly.

"And pink," Robin said. "She doesn't have a name yet. Do you have any ideas?"

"I - I don't know," Steve said.

"Do you want to keep her?" Robin asked.

"Yeah, I know it's crazy, but I want her," Steve said as he took her hand in his, letting her tiny hand wrap around his finger. "More than anything."

"You think of a name while I take your credit card and go get some supplies for your little chicken nugget," Robin said, squeezing his shoulder. "You're going to be a great dad."

Robin pressed a kiss to his hair, cooed at the baby, and then quickly left them alone. Steve watched his daughter wiggle in her blanket and listened to the noises she made, her little tongue darting out every so often. He watched as her brow furrowed in confusion. It must be so confusing to come into this world, not knowing who you are, where you are, and taken from the only place you've ever known. Steve placed a hand on her chest.

"It's okay, I'm here," Steve whispered, and he smiled when she calmed down a bit.

"You can pick her up, you know," the nurse said.

Steve almost jumped. He forgot he wasn't alone in the room. A friendly faced hispanic nurse was there, chuckling at him.

"I know, I just don't want to - she's so small," Steve said.

"Every good parent is afraid of dropping them," the nurse said. "Come sit over here."

Steve sat down in the rocking chair and watched as she picked up his daughter. He glanced at her name tag. Sofia. She placed the baby carefully into his waiting arms. He gasped in delight, the feeling of holding her overwhelming him in a very good way. Was he crying?

"Thanks, Nurse Sofia," Steve said.

"She looks good in your arms," Sofia said.

"She feels good. Feels right," he muttered. "She's so wonderful. Hey, there. I'm your dad. I know, it's crazy. Don't feel intimated by my hair. You're bald now, kiddo, but it'll grow. . .and even if it doesn't, I'll still love you. . .oh, I'm suddenly terrified. I am going to mess her up."

"Hush, you're going to be fine," Sofia said.

Steve watched as the baby's head started to move around, as though she was looking for something and she started to whimper.

"I think she's hungry," Steve said.

"See? Your instincts are already kicking in," Sofia said.

Steve smiled. Sofia reminded him of both Claudia and Sue. Oh, speaking of them. . .they're going to freak when they find out Steve made them grandmothers. Sophia left to go the formula and came back with it pretty quickly. She showed him how to hold it so the baby wouldn't choke.

"Thank you," Steve said. "I really appreciate it. . .oh, she's really going to town. Yeah, she was hungry."

"She goes after it like my four boys did," Sofia said.

"You have four boys?" Steve asked.

"Oh, yeah, they're a handful, but I love them. Supposedly, girls are easier, but I think that's bullshit," Sofia scoffed.

"Oh, girls are just as much of a handful. I babysit a group of teenagers," Steve said.

"Then you have some practice under your belt," Sofia said. "I always thought that if I had a girl, I'd name her Elizabeth. Never happened, but I'm happy with my boys, more than enough for me."

"Elizabeth," Steve whispered.

"Does that name mean something to you?" She asked. "It sounds like it."

It was Eddie's mother's name. He remembered him talking about her all the time, how she died when he was six, and how he got his love of his music from her. Eddie always wished he could have had more time with her.

"Elizabeth," Steve whispered to his daughter, and he smiled.

"Elizabeth Robin?"

"Of course, I named her after you," Steve scoffed.

"Oh my sweet little baby bird," Robin cooed. "I can't believe I have to go back to school soon. . .as her godmother, shouldn't I get like godmaternity leave?"

"Yeah, I don't think they do that," Steve said.

"Well, they should," Robin said.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," Steve said.

"If you love your child, you would," Robin said. "By the way, Tiffany left you a letter at the front desk. They gave it to me."

Together, they got Elizabeth into the car seat and then into the car with Robin in the driver's seat, bringing her home. . .

Dear Steve,

I hope that night meant a lot to you as it did to me. I wanted to face you and tell you so many times, but I'm kind of a coward. I think we were both very heartbroken that night, and I hope you found the same comfort in me that I did in you. It gave the courage that I needed to face who I truly am.

I feel like something greater than ourselves brought us together that night. I was just a mere vessel. . .I know you wanted to be with someone else. You called out their name, and you said it like a declaration of love. I wasn't meant to be a mother, not yet. This isn't my baby. I hope that everything works out and that you feel it as much as I do. I was glad to help you and be a part of this journey. Don't wait too long to be honest with yourself.

Sincerely, Tiffany

"A mere vessel? What the hell does that mean?" Steve asked.

"Fuck if I know."

A YEAR AND THREE MONTHS LATER. . .

Eddie scowled, his ear pressed to the phone, as Dustin went on about Steve’s new special girl in his life. How many times did Eddie have to say that he didn't want to hear about it? He swore that Dustin's ears were only there for decoration.

"Yeah, yeah, that's great that this Liddie person likes Robin more than you, but I need to tell you something, and you can't say anything to Steve," Eddie said. "You can't say anything to anyone."

"Ooh, a secret, lay it on me, and by the way, her name is - " Dustin started to say.

"Okay, whatever. I don't care. I'm surprising Steve and coming home for his birthday," Eddie said.

"Oh, shit! He'll love that. He's missed you like crazy. We all have," Dustin said. "If you get in late, make sure it's before 7 because that's when he puts her to bed."

"He gives her a bedtime?" Eddie asked.

"Of course, he does! It would be completely irresponsible to let her go to bed whenever she wanted to. She needs a schedule, Eddie," Dustin said.

"That sounds a little controlling, but okay," Eddie said.

"Well, what time would you give her?" He asked.

"I wouldn't give her a bedtime at all!" Eddie shrieked.

"Eddie! You can't do that!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Look, just don't ruin the surprise, okay?" Eddie asked before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone.

Yeah, he was definitely going to win Steve back because, honestly, this new relationship of his sounded a bit messy, and Steve deserved better than that. How much trouble could this girl be that she needed a bedtime? She has to be the one that's trouble. . .right? Steve Harrington couldn't have lost his way. There's no way he would have turned to the dark side after he left. Either way, Eddie needed to intervene.

"Okay, okay, you can do this," Eddie breathed.

He looked at the address written on the piece of paper and checked it again. He was in the right place. He didn't waste any time after visiting with Wayne. Steve’s apartment was his second place to visit. Eddie took another deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Coming!" Steve yelled, and then he heard muffled laughter from Steve. "Lizzie! Stop barking! You're not a dog! I'm going to have to talk to Robin about teaching you that."

Steve opened the door, and he nearly stumbled back at the sight of Eddie. Steve was wearing sweats and an old t-shirt of Eddie's. . .to Eddie's delight. His hair was longer, and he had quite a bit more scruff to him. Eddie was also pleased to see that he was wearing his glasses.

"Hey, Stevie," Eddie said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Eddie," Steve breathed.

They've talked on the phone and written each other letters but it was definitely better seeing each other in person.

"I wanted to surprise you for your birthday," Eddie said. "Surprise!"

"My birthday isn't until next week," Steve said in amusement.

"So, I came early," Eddie said, and then he smirked. "It's not like I haven't done that before. . .but then, you know that."

"Eddie," Steve scolded, but he was smiling and blushing. "Come on in."

"Don't mind if I do," Eddie said, stepping over the threshold. "So, where's this girl of yours? . . . Liddie? I want to meet her."

"She's in the living room, and her name is Lizzie," Steve corrected, laughing. "Come on."

Eddie followed behind Steve, enjoying the view as he did so. When he walked into the living room, all he saw was a playpen with a little girl inside. Was Steve in the middle of babysitting?

"I don't see her," Eddie frowned.

"Lizzie's right there, Eddie," Steve laughed, pointing at the crib.

"Oh my god! Steve!" Eddie yelled, appalled.

"Uh?" Lizzie asked, looking up from chewing on her teddy bear.

"Yeah, I know, I have a daughter," Steve said. "Surprise! Although, I thought you knew."

"A daughter! Oh, oh, thank god!" Eddie said, clutching his chest.

"What were you thinking?" Steve asked in confusion.

"Uh, never mind what I was thinking," Eddie said, blushing. "So, a daughter, huh? How old?"

"A year and three months," Steve said proudly.

"Oh, wow," Eddie said with a grin.

"Yeah. Time flies, and it seems like only it was only yesterday that I was in the hospital with her. . .holding her for the first time," Steve said.

A year and three months. Eddie looked at the kid. She was cute with curly brown hair and big brown eyes. Apart from that, she looked almost exactly like Steve. Eddie chuckled. It almost looked like they had a baby together. A year and three months. A year and three months?! Eddie did the math in his head. They had sex right before Eddie left, which meant that Lizzie would have had to have been concieved sometime around there. Lizzie. . .Elizabeth. . .oh, after his mom?

"Oh my god," Eddie whispered softly and grabbed his arms. "Steve. . .Steve, is she mine?"

"Eddie," Steve said slowly. "I want you to really think about what you just said."

"I am thinking about it! I'm thinking about you going through all that alone!" Eddie exclaimed. "You had to deliver her without me there to hold your hand!"

"Eddie, I didn't - "

"I'm such an idiot! I never should have left, I mean, I could have toughed it out a few more years!" Eddie shrieked.

"Eddie, I swear - "

"Oh, my god, and even though I wasn't there for you, you still named our daughter after my mother," Eddie rambled.

"If you would just stop for a minute and listen - "

"Steve!" Eddie said, grabbing his arms. "Was it the bat bites? Because I slept with a guy like a month ago, and it was only because he was wearing a polo like you! I also slept with a girl. . .she had hair like yours! Can girls also get me pregnant?! Do I have to take a pregnancy test?. . .Lizzie, sweetheart, I think you're going to be a big sister!"

"Arf! Arf!" Lizzie barked.

Eddie bent over, putting his head between his legs as his mind spun around in circles. He felt Steve grab him and drag him into the kitchen. Steve yanked off his vest and jacket, tossing them onto the counter. He turned on the faucet, grabbed Eddie's head, and shoved it under the water. Eddie shrieked.

"Okay! Okay!"

Steve turned off the water and let him up. Eddie scowled as he rung out his hair.

"Are you done?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, thanks, I needed that," Eddie said.

"Lizzie is not your daughter," Steve said.

"She's not?" Eddie asked, with wide eyes.

"Okay, with you looking at me like that, I kinda regret saying that," Steve said with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"No, fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left," Eddie said. "I think I just regret doing that."

"Eddie, this town was suffocating you," Steve said. "You needed to leave."

"Did I, though?" Eddie asked. "Wayne managed to tough it out here."

"You need to stop beating yourself up for reacting to a bad situation that was out of your control," Steve said.

"I regretted the minute I left, but I was already out there on the road with the boys," Eddie said. "I loved it, but I think I might have left my heart behind here."

"You want to stay?" Steve asked.

"If you'll take me back," Eddie said.

"It's hard to say no when you're looking all sad and wet like that," Steve said.

"I want to stay anyway, even if you don't want to take me back," Eddie said.

"I have missed you every single minute of every single day," Steve said. "I haven't stopped loving you or hoping we'll find our way back to each other."

"I love you," Eddie whispered.

"I love you, too," Steve said.

Eddie grabbed him by the waist and kissed him. He felt Steve smiling into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck. He pressed Steve up against the counter, melting into him like butter. He broke the kiss, crossing to press thousands of tiny kisses all over Steve’s face. Steve giggled and pushed him back.

"Will Lizzie's mother have a problem with this?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, she's not in the picture. Hold on," Steve said.

He left and came back to Eddie, putting his hair into a towel. He handed Eddie a letter.

"What's this?" Eddie asked, sitting on a stool.

"The day after you left, I went to a hotel bar, drank it, and met a woman who was just as heartbroken as I was," Steve said. "We slept together and nine months later, Lizzie was born."

"A mere vessel," Eddie cackled after reading it. "I like her. She sounds like me."

"She also looks like you," Steve blushed.

"Okay, so we went the long way around, but we got here," Eddie laughed. "She is my daughter."

"What?" Steve asked.

"In every other way except biologically, Elizabeth is mine. I mean, you even named her after my mother," Eddie said.

"Yeah, I did do that," he blushed.

Eddie pulled Steve in between his legs, wrapping his arms around his waist. He studied his face, drinking in every inch of skin, every mole. . .God, he loved this man.

"Steve Harrington, if you want me to, I want to be your baby daddy," Eddie sighed.

"I do," Steve smiled.

Eddie flashed his dimples and smacked Steve’s ass.

"Well, introduce me to our daughter, big boy," Eddie said.

Steve laughed and pulled him up off the stool. Holding his hand, he pulled him down the hall. Eddie stopped him before pulling the towel off his head and fixing his hair. He straightened his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, his hands on his hips.

"I want to look good," Eddie said, and then he gasped. "Steve, what if she doesn't like me?"

"Eddie, she barks like a dog. She's going to love you," Steve said.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, and Steve just shook his head.

Eddie followed Steve into the living room, where Lizzie had moved onto a cloth book. Her little tongue was out as her little finger traced the words as though she was trying to teach herself how to read. Eddie smiled. She glanced up and smiled at Eddie then at Steve.

"Dada?" Lizzie asked and held her hands up towards Steve.

Steve pulled her out of the playpen and put her on his hip. Holy fuck, Eddie thought, he looks totally hot.

"Lizzie, this is Eddie. He's going to be your other Dada," Steve said.

"Dada?" Lizzie asked, confused.

"You get two!" Steve exclaimed, pointing to himself and then to Eddie.

"Two Dadas!" Lizzie clapped.

"Wow, she caught on quick," Eddie said.

"Yeah, she's smart. I'm still not sure how much she understands," Steve said.

Lizzie leaned over Steve’s arms and reached towards Eddie. He grinned and took Lizzie into his arms.

"Hi," Eddie whispered.

"Hi," Lizzie said.

"Hi."

"Hi," Lizzie said, and then she giggled.

She reached over and started licking Eddie's cheek. Eddie cackled.

"Yeah, we definitely should talk to Robin about this. She can't go around licking people," Eddie giggled.

"Dada! Dada! Dada!" Lizzie shrieked as she bounced on his hip.

"Ooh! I wonder - ," Eddie gasped.

"What are you thinking about?" Steve asked.

Eddie set Lizzie on the floor and sprawled out in front of her.

"Okay, can you raise your little fingers like this?" Eddie said as he raised his pointer fingers to his head to make horns.

Lizzie blinked at him. She reached over and grabbed Eddie's hair.

"Ah!" Lizzie screamed.

"No, baby, no!" Eddie said while Steve laughed.

Eddie eventually guided her gently and got her to make little horns while sticking out her tongue. It wasn't perfect, but she managed it with Eddie's help. Luckily, it took Eddie long enough for Steve to get a camera.

"Good job, daddy," Steve said.

He leaned down and kissed Eddie. Lizzie shrieked and pushed Steve off Eddie. She scrunched up her face at them before hugging Eddie.

"No, Daddy, don't do that," Eddie laughed. "That's gross. . .Thanks for saving me, baby."

"I ordered dinner. . .Are you gonna stay the night?" Steve asked.

"I'm going to stay forever," Eddie said as he hugged Lizzie to him.

After dinner, Eddie happily helped Steve give Lizzie a bath before throwing a colander over a flashlight in Lizzie's room to make stars. He laid down on the floor with Lizzie curled up between him and Steve, her eyes getting heavy.

". . .so I opened my eyes and wondered if I was floating. I realized a moment later that a beautiful man was carrying me out of hell. He was begging me to stay with him, and I did want to stay with him, but I didn't know why. He spent the next few weeks taking care of me, and I spent the same amount of time trying to fight the fact that I was falling for him, a man. It wasn't until the town had run me out that I realized I was in love with him. When I came back, I realized I never wanted to leave him again. . . That man, of course, was your daddy. So, the next time I go on the road, it's going to be with you and your daddy in an RV. Your daddy is going to be playing obnoxious music, so I apologize in advance."

"Hey, your music is not obnoxious," Steve said.

"I was talking about yours," Eddie grinned.

"Hey!" Steve exclaimed, slapping his chest.

"Shh! Steve, our daughter is asleep. . .what is that sound?!"

"Yeah, she snores," Steve said.

"My god, that's the loudest sound I have heard from someone so tiny."

"Hey, Eddie," Steve whispered.

"Yeah?"

"We're a family," Steve said and Eddie leaned over Lizzie's head to kiss him.

" . . . And they all lived happily ever after. . ."

[crownmemes]

Threatening Sentences, Vol. 5

(Sentences from various sources for threats to and from a muse. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"You better watch it. You know my reputation?"

"Nobody is untouchable."

"I've been shot too many times to be scared by a gun."

"I'll give you a choice. You can walk out of here and never come back, keep your mouth shut... The other choice, I don't think I need to go into much detail about."

"Nothing changes behaviour like pain."

"Think twice about playing games with me; I will blow you to pieces."

"Blackmail? Go on, then. With everything you've done, you'll be going down with me."

"We execute traitors. Didn't you know that?"

"You best be looking over your shoulder because if we cross paths again, I'm going to bury your whole family."

"I came back to finish you off."

"I know what you're afraid of me. It's okay; I'd be afraid too."

"If you come after me, you better bring more than that pretty smile."

"Turn around and put your hands in the air now!"

"Don't ever fuck with me. I will know."

"I'm a hair's breadth from riddling you with holes!"

"I can get everything I want from you even if you only have nine fingers, or perhaps only one eye."

"I'm going to wear your head as a watch fob."

"The prospect of death is strong motivation."

"Will you stop playing dumb? I can't stand it when cops play dumb!"

"I'd tread very carefully if I were you. You, of all people, should know what I am capable of."

"You know, I will shoot you! I will shoot you in the liver!"

"If you want to live to see another day, you'll be out of town by nightfall."

"What's the most pain you've ever felt in your life?"

"Do I need to remind you what happened last time you pushed me too far?"

"I have a job for you. If you want to stay alive, you're going to accept it."

"If you like breathing, you might want to fix this."

"If you put your hand around my neck, you'll lose it."

"How nice to see you properly dressed for a change!"

"Never underestimate the power of incentive."

"Make so much as a sound, and a bullet goes through your throat."

"I may not be allowed to kill you, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to hurt you."

"As bad as you think things are now, they're going to get much worse."

"Put that down or I'll blow your head off!"

"Say what you want, but I promise you, you'll be dead by dawn."

"I don't believe that anybody's coming to look for you."

"Do you really think you can win?"

"If you plan on exposing me, then my only option will be to kill you."

[everlastingdream]

Part 1 - Part 7 - Part 8

Kara bathed in the artificial light, feeling her powers restoring. But it didn't help with her tangled thoughts at all.

J'onn and Alex was planning a mission, Winn was checking the equipment. And Lena...

After declaring that Lilian Luthor was the culprit, Lena's image blurred even with Winn's device still working. She silently took a step outside of the room to disappear completely.

Lena looked really shaken. But then she appeared ten minutes later, face resolute, only to start helping Winn. They seem able to communicate through gestures alone and judging by his exclamations Lena made some good suggestions.

Honestly speaking, Kara was shaken herself. It's not that she was that afraid to face Lilian Luthor, but the thought about the fact that the woman who called herself Lena's mother (even just for the sake of public appearances) tried to kill her... Anger started to boil inside Kara. For her cousin, for innocent people Luthor family hurt, and for Lena.

"Kara? Is everything alright?"

Alex stepped inside the room in dark googles which made her look silly, and Kara smiled despite the situation.

"Yes, thanks, Alex. I think I need another couple of minutes and we can start".

"It's good. But I'm still not sure if we need to do it now. It will be better if have another day or two to get ready".

"Maybe, but I agree with J'onn. We don't know if Lilian knows that we have Lena's files, so it's better to do it fast, even if we won't take her in custody".

"Yes-yes, I know. We'll do it like you both decided. But I was talking about you. Are you okay?" Her sister looked worried even in her funny googles.

"As much as I can", Kara said truthfully, closing her eyes. "I'm nervous about going into Cadmus base, knowing it can have kryptonite. And..."

Alex just waited for her to continue.

"I kinda don't want to go there. I will need to come to terms that Lena... I want to help, really. And I know it was just couple of days, but... I see her, Alex. I hear her. I talk with her. I... I don't want to see her dead body".

They just sat here in silence. Alex, a steady presence by her side. They both pretended that tears didn't slide down her cheeks.

/ / / / / / / / /

"Kara", Lena was floating near, once again visible to only one person.

"Yes, Lena?" Kara wanted to call her name again. To call her enough times so that her name is permanently etched inside her mind.

"Thank you for your help. If not for you... I would've been stuck inside that apartment for eternity. Meeting you was the best moment of my afterlife". Lena chuckled but it sounded wet. Kara couldn't bring herself to look at her.

"I'm glad to meet you too. Even if we didn't know each other for long, I enjoyed our time together".

They fell silent.

"What's your favorite color?" Lena suddenly blurted.

"Red", Kara smiled despite her surprise. "It was one of the colors of my House, and the color of Rao. What's yours?"

"I don't really remember. But I think it either green or blue".

"Not really a fair game of twenty questions."

"I'm a businesswoman, Kara. I'm not really fair".

Kara hoped that she would remember this smile for the long time.

/ / / / / / / / /

They played all the way to the base. Laughing and bickering like they knew each other for many years. And Alex and J'onn who was usually pretty strict about communication on missions didn't say a word.

But they quited down when the entrance to the underground base showed up.

The way inside was easier than expected so everyone was tense. Lena helped by looking through walls which allowed them not to waste time on unnecessary rooms. But they all were wary of letting her go too far because no one was sure what will happen if Lena found her body.

Kara was crossing the hall to one of the wings when doors locked on the both sides. She always thought it was funny. People could search up how she bents metals and crushes concrete but they still thought simple steel locks can stop her.

"Well-well-well, who do we have here? Hello Supergirl. What brought you to one of my facilites?" Speakers in the corners became active with the woman's voice.

"Where is Lena?" Kara asked with all the patience she could master, even if her hands clenched at her sides.

"And who are you to my daughter?"

"I'm a friend", Kara looked right into camera.

Lilian scoffed and judging by the quiet murmur from speakers gave a string of commands.

"Kara, Lilian's not here", Winn intervened in the ear, "I'll try to track her, but it'll be better if you just go find Lena".

Kara turned around, destroying the lock with lasers without any delay. There wasn't a point in listening to the psycopath.

"You can take her", suddenly sounded behind Kara's back. Lilian's voice was cold and sneering. "She was even more useless than I expected. Perhaps she'll have some purpose being your punching bag. After all, you even called 'Luthor' your friend. Surely there has to be at least some purpose like that".

Kara saw Lena freezing in front of her, almost half way to the next door. She was silent and apathetic as soon as they heard Lilian, blank face facing the wall. But now she started flickering rapidly, which looked a lot like trembling.

"Don't you dare talk about Lena like that!" Kara whirled around, powered by rage and an image of Lena's back, so small and vulnerable.

If Lilian was there perhaps Kara wouldn't be able to restrain herself. But now she just blasted a camera and speakers with a good part of the wall. Like from underneath the water she heard Alex's swearing and Winn's aggresive typing. Even if he won't be able to actually destroy Lilian Luthor, but she will have some big troubles after his intervention.

It actually helped Kara to calm down and speed up to Lena. It was another instance when she regreted deeply about being unable to hug her.

"She was always like that", Lena smiled weakly and went ahead without a word.

Kara, worried sick, went after her.

/ / / / / / / / /

They passed through underground complex, defeating mercenaries, who obviously lacked any real skills. Alex reported that back up teams did the same to the reinforcements outside.

Even if it was good, but it's kind of felt like an insult to have Lena guarded so poorly.

"Supergirl, next is the room around which all defences were made. So we think it's our target", Alex paused. "Good luck".

Kara nodded even if her sister couldn't actually see her. She crumpled door, so that no melted metal would hurt Lena's body.

They stood here, not really looking inside. And seeing Lena hesitate to step in the room made Kara feel like she needed to play hero just one more time for her. So she made the first step after a big sigh even if it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Room was small and crumpled. There was a table, a chair and a bed. Nothing to indicate that there was someone's daughter, sister, friend's body lying inside.

There really wasn't a chance that Kara's eyes wouldn't be drawn to Lena the moment they finally were in the same space.

Lena was- Lena's body was lying on the bed. It looked pale, deadly white, which made her raven hair look even darker in comparison. It was dressed in some kind of prison's rob.

Kara sobbed.

"It's a limited collection jacket, Kara!" She pouted, turning her head away.

"Sorry-sorry", Kara laughed gently, lifting her hands up. "I have no idea about wealthy people trends despite working for Cat Grant. The world of fashion changes too fast. But it suits you!"

"Thanks", Lena smiled shy, blushing just a tiniest bit.

She knew. She knew all along that Lena was dead. That when they find her body, Lena won't open her gorgeous green eyes to look and smile at her. That she won't be warm to the touch.

But still, standing there, face to face with reality, Kara couldn't help her tears.

"It's a shame I can't hug you", Lena whispered when she thought Kara fell asleep after talking about small nothings the day they decided to ask Alex for help. "I bet it would've felt nice. And safe".

She lowered on her knees beside the bed, gently taking Lena's hand in hers, flinching from the feeling of cold skin.

Ghost Lena gasped behind her. But all Kara could think about was grieving for a friend who's smile made her heart race. Who was lost forever because of stupid power play in which she didn't even want to participate.

"I really wish we met sooner", Lena said somber. "I would've loved to take you out for a dinner or, you know, hang out. I'm rich enough for you to eat freely with your kryptonian metabolism." She sighed softly.

Kara winked, feeling bolder after meeting Sam.

"I would've loved to hang out even if you didn't spent a cent. I'm not that kind of girl, you know".

Kara lowered her head to the palm of the cold hand, praying that Rao's light helps guide Lena. And then she heard it.

Badum-badum

Kara's own heart painfully squeezed inside her chest to the point of leaving her gasping for air.

She chocked on the tears, which now freely ran down her face.

Kara looked up, ignoring worried voices in her ear.

When her eyes met Lena's she knew that it was really true.

"Y-you are- you are alive..."

[postracehair]

say again

george russell x reader | 3.9k

three times george curses. or, a beginning, a middle, and a future.

cw: george cursing. a few scrapes and a little bit of blood, some kissing, and a love confession to boot.

a/n: this kind of ran away from me, especially in the middle but every time george russell says fuck an angel gets its wings. written ages ago but posting in honor of Las Vegas.

---

YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME

The door buzzes and you let yourself into the building.

You've only been here a few times, but a match day spent with your coworker and some of her friends is better than sitting on your couch alone, right? Wine and cookies in hand, you trudge up two flights of stairs to her flat. By the time you reach the landing, you can already hear the chatter and the TV.

No one seems to hear your knock so you push the door open and gingerly step in. The kitchen is on the other side of the flat, and you assume everyone is somewhere between there and the television.

But when you pass the living room where the TV actually is, there's just one guy on the couch. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees watching a penalty get called.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he says to no one.

You snicker. He whirls around. "Hello," you say.

"Sorry," he says, standing immedietly. Wow, he's tall. "Sorry, hello."

Oh, and he's familiar. You know him, kind of. He's -- god, he races cars, right? Shit, what is his name? Your coworker has social connections you barely understand so it's not really a surprise to find someone who is probably famous in her flat.

"It is just you, then?" you ask. He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. Dressed in jeans and a team jumper, his casual outfit is at odds with the severe cut of his jaw, his cheekbones. He just looks expensive.

"No," he says. "No, everyone is putting plates together. I'm afraid I might be the one most interested in watching the match."

"Not going well?" you say lightly.

He rounds the sofa, hand out. "Could be better," he says. "I'm George."

You readjust the items in your hands to shake his and tell him your name. He repeats it, and you smile.

"Let me go put these down," you say, "and then, um. Do you want some company, George?"

Honestly, you're not sure where that came from. But, though you came here to escape the smothering loneliness of your own flat, something about him makes you want to stay here rather than go into the kitchen with everyone else.

"'Course I do," he says. "I promise to tighten up my language. Won't do for that to be my first impression."

You wave him away though your cheeks feel a little hot and head for the kitchen.

Your coworker brightens at seeing you and takes your hostess gifts with ease.

"The match is on in the other room," she tells you, "but most of us are drinking in here."

"I saw," you say. "I met George."

She hears something in your tone that turns her expression something between amused and calculating. "You did, did you?"

You just nod, loading up a plate with the various nibbles. "How do you know him, anyway?"

She shrugs. "Oh, you know." No, you don't, but she plows on. "What did you think?"

"Taller than he seems on TV," you mutter. "But very polite. He shook my hand."

That gets her to laugh. "Oh, of course he did. Well, don't stand around in here with us. Go chat up a Formula 1 driver!"

George is back on the couch when you return, arm stretched over the back of it, brows furrowed.

"Has anything exciting happened?" you ask him, sitting down with a perfectly responsible distance between you.

He grimaces. "Nothing good. Wolverhampton, bless 'em, are quite bad."

That might explain why no one is watching this match with him, but you keep that to yourself.

"I see," you say, solemnly. "But loyalty is loyalty, I suppose, if they're your club."

"Exactly," George says. "It's suffering but it has to be done." Someone on the screen triggers a free kick and George leans in until it's over. He starts talking about one of the players being traded, or his contract being renegotiated, or something. You nibble on your plate and just watch. He's animated, this man. Fringe falling over his forehead the more he gestures, blue eyes wide and serious. It's all very endearing.

"Sorry," he says suddenly. "I'm being so rude. You don't want to hear about all of this, do you?"

You smile at him. "I don't mind. I came over for some company more than anything else."

He sinks back into the couch a little, hand running through his hair again. "Well, lucky for me that you did," he says.

Your face feels hot and you don't want to mistake this for flirting if it's not. He is a world-famous athlete, after all, but here you are on the couch next to him. "Lucky for you, indeed."

He laughs, delighted.

OH, SHIT!

This is not how you saw your life going, but maybe that's just the nature of it. Big moments happen just the same as small ones and we have to handle them regardless. The trajectory of your life shifted just a little bit when you sat down on someone else's couch to watch a football match with a stranger.

Because that stranger -- George -- is now much more than that. He asked for your number that day before he had to leave earlier than everyone else, and has been speaking to you ever since. Texts, phone calls, FaceTimes. And, when he's not driving hundreds of miles an hour halfway across the world, he likes to spend time with you.

They're dates, you know they are. But things are still casual, immensely so. Coffee, dinner, long walks through the park. It's probably past due that you ask him what he'd like out of this, but your friends tell you to just have fun for the time being. You've learned a lot about him in the last month or so, both from him directly and by doing your research.

You'd watched a few Grand Prix before meeting him but not with any kind of rapt attention. Now, obviously, you watch with purpose. See him zip around the track, read his radio messages, hope desperately that he'll be alright. He's a big mix of things, George Russell. Witty but determined, thorough but reactionary, polite but intense. You want to keep getting to know him on a personal level and measure that up to how he appears to the world.

Today, you're on one of those long walks. George is recounting the last race at your request. It's always more interesting to hear him talk about what happened than watching it, though you're really growing to love that part, too.

It's a bit chilly and he's got a scarf on in addition to a nondescript hat pulled down low over his eyes. You're used to this by now, though you wish you could see his face more fully.

"And then -- well, I'm sure you saw this bit -- he turned right into me like I wasn't even there!"

"But you avoided it," you remind him. "I saw that, too." A cold wind blows down the path and you shiver a bit.

"You alright?" he asks. "Nippy, huh?" He stops walking and turns to you, his huge hands coming to rest on your shoulders before he rubs them up and down your arms.

"A bit," you agree, a little breathless. God, you really need to talk to him about what this is. You're thinking about him all the time, which is a bit of a nuisance, as you're not sure he's feeling the same. But, a small voice in your head tells you, you can't be too far off in thinking that it might be based on the way he's looking at you right now.

Even under the cap, you can see the soft set of his brow, the way his eyes are shining. The gentle quirk up of his mouth. What would it be like to kiss him? Would he let you?

George stops his warming efforts, catching your hands in his. "Better?"

All you can do is nod. He grins, looking a bit too pleased, and starts walking again, you in tow. This is something else you've learned about him -- he really can be a cheeky bastard. He must have more than some idea as to how he affects you and enjoys it. It's somewhere between a game and a challenge.

You're thinking about ways you can get him back, ways you can flirt mercilessly. His hand is in yours and he's half a step ahead of you when suddenly your fingers are ripped from his and you find yourself on your hands and knees with a gasp.

George is immediately there with you.

"Oh, shit," he says. "Are you alright?"

"I--" You're a bit too stunned to say anything. George rarely curses, which is funny given how you met, but it unsettles you a little bit as much as it warms you. "I think I tripped?"

"Let me see your hands," he says, gently tugging at your wrists with his long fingers. He sucks on his teeth when he sees your palms. "Not too bad, but a little scratched."

You rearrange yourself so you're flat on your bum, legs in front of you. Your hands might be alright but your knees are another story. The fabric of your jeans isn't ripped but you can see the bloodstains already.

"Oh," you say. You look up at George, feeling a bit pathetic. "This is embarrassing."

He scoffs. "No, it's not," he says. "I do think we should get you cleaned up, though."

"We can go to my place," you suggest. The sting sets in a little more, but mingles with your chagrin and you just set your jaw. "Help me up?"

"Brave girl," George says. He presses his lips to the base of your wrist and stands, tugging you up as he goes. "Have you got first aid things at your flat?"

You nod, running through the contents of your bathroom in your mind. It occurs to you that George has not been to your place before, and you did not mentally prepare yourself to bring him there today.

George gently says your name. "Let's get a cab, shall we?"

It takes no time at all to flag one down. George removes his hat in what you can clearly see as an effort to get the cabbie to hurry along a bit, but it seems to work. He takes one look at you, one more at George, and steps on it.

"Let me get your belt," George mutters, making quick work of the buckle.

"I don't think I've ever worn a seatbelt in a cab in my life, George," you reply. He just pats your thigh.

"Think we've had enough injuries for one day, don't you?"

George and the cabbie chat about the race season, about how hot it really is in Singapore, about one of George's recent podiums. He keeps you tucked into his side the whole time -- he's ignored his own seatbelt, you notice -- hand on your thigh. You keep your palms turned up on your knees and wonder how on earth you got here.

The city flies by and you lean your head on his shoulder. You can feel something shifting between you, something clicking into place that wasn't entirely settled before. It's scary, it's exciting, it's big. It's something you're going to have to talk about.

George pays the driver in some large bills and helps you out of the cab and up the steps of your building.

"Where are your keys?" he asks.

"Front right pocket of my jeans."

"Pardon my reach," he jokes, and lightly rests on palm on your hip and slides the other into your pocket to find them. He tugs the keyring out and winks at you before unlocking the door. Up the stairs, into the flat. Shoes toed off, coats on the hook after George helps you out of yours.

"I'm not an invalid, you know," you tell him. He clicks his tongue.

"We don't want blood on this nice coat of yours, do we?"

You roll your eyes. George glances around your flat and smiles. "This is very you."

Dishes on the counter, the pillows a mess on the couch, your books and trinkets on every flat surface -- you suppose he's right.

"Thank you?" you say. He taps your chin with his knuckle.

"It feels like a home, I mean." Your cheeks feel warm and your heart sighs. God, the things he says.

"Oh," you breathe. "That's kind."

"And does this home have a first aid kit?" The reminder brings the dull sting of your scraped skin back to the forefront of your mind.

"Bathroom cabinet," you tell him. George nods.

"I'll get that. Why don't you change into something loose so I can get to your knees?"

In your room, you tug carefully tug on some sweatpants, mindful of your palms, and let yourself marvel at how today has gone. You expected to have George here someday, but certainly not like this. Will he want to see your bedroom? You shove some dirty laundry into the hamper and thank past you for making the bed this morning.

"I think you should sit on the counter," George calls. "Whenever you're ready."

You pad out to meet him in socked feet. It's quite the sight, him in your kitchen. He's bent over your sink, washing his hands. His sweater has been tossed over a chair and you can see the lines of his back under his t-shirt.

"Do you need help getting up?" he asks. You nod. Together, you get yourself on the counter, making you about eye level.

"Hello," you say. His hat is gone, too, so his fringe falls across his forehead in slightly curled strands. When you've cleaned yourself up, maybe you'll work up the courage to run your hand through them.

"Hello yourself. Right hand, please." You hold out your palm and George gets to work. He cleans it, getting all the bits from your skin, and then uses an alcohol wipe.

"Do you have a special interest in first aid, or something?" you ask to distract yourself from the sting. His thumb strokes your pulse point as he works.

"I guess you get beat up a bit in karting when you're young," he says. He wraps one palm in gauze and moves onto the other. "I suppose i just like knowing how to take care of people."

"God," you groan. "Is there anything wrong with you?"

He looks at you then, hair falling into his blue, blue eyes. "Oh," he smirks. "Plenty, darling." He finishes up on your other palm and holds it in his for a moment longer than you expect. Then he slowly brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the bandage.

You might gasp, You're not entirely sure, eyes glued to his lips like nothing else exists. Then he kisses the other palm. Your gaze flicks up and George is looking right at you.

"Knees," he says, voice a little hoarse. "Alright?"

"Alright," you breathe. You stick one leg out just to see what he'll do. You're learning that he rises to the occasion, and that's exactly what happens. He cups your ankle, places your foot on his thigh, and slides your sweatpants up above your joint.

"That's gnarly," he says, breaking the tension. You laugh and tap his leg with your other foot. "You ready?"

"I'm ready."

He makes quick work on it. One hand on your calf, the other gently cleaning and bandaging. The silence is comfortable, familiar, though you've not been in this situation before. It's not until George is almost done with your other knee that he speaks.

"You know," He says, lightly. "If you wanted me to touch you, all you had to do was ask. The tripping wasn't entirely necessary."

"George!" you gasp. He squeezes your calf.

"I'm just saying, darling."

He ties off the gauze and rolls down your pant leg. You widen your knees and he steps between them immediately, hands resting gently on your thighs. It's absolutely electric -- going from shy, appropriate touches to being in your flat together, his hands all over you. How are you going to go back?

Maybe you can't.

George's eyes rake over your face. You inhale his exhales, feeling them on your lips. His pupils dilate.

"What is this, George?" you whisper. His fingers press into your thighs a little harder.

"Well," he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "What would you like it to be?"

"I don't know," you say, honestly. He is not dissuaded, does not back away. He must know that this is hard for you -- his life is so different from yours. As it is, you avoid social media so you don't see pictures of you splashed across gossip accounts. It's impossible to totally stay away from it but you try, because you really like being with him.

"Shall I tell you what it is for me?" George says.

You nod.

He cups your face in his hands, thumbs stroking the delicate skin under your eyes.

"Every second I am not with you I am thinking about when I'll see you next," he says. "I store up things to tell you and take photos to show you and I have a bag full of things I've bought you but been too afraid to give you. Beautiful things, things that remind me of you."

"George--"

"I worry about fucking up your life," he continues, and you fall silent. "This is a lot. I am a lot. My life is not simple, and you've already seen that. But I want you in it. I want you in it however you want to be there, though I have my suggestions. I promise that if you let me, I'll treat you so well, because you deserve everything, and --"

Your heart is going to explode if he goes on any longer, so you close the gap between you and kiss him. Finally.

It's just the press of your lips against his for a few seconds, your eyes fluttering shut, before George catches up to what's happening and angles your faces a little bit to make it deeper. Your bandaged hands rest on his elbows and you swallow a sound from deep in his throat, something that lights a fire in your belly.

"Blimey," George says, leaning your foreheads together.

"What, no curse for me?"

His eyes sparkle and he wrinkles his nose at you. "Fuck," he says. "I've been thinking about that for weeks."

You press your lips to the corner of his mouth. "That's more like it."

BLOODY HELL

What the fuck was that? Is he serious? Keep focused, George. This is fucking ridiculous. Head down.

It's a bad day. Not as bad as it could be -- George does not end up in the wall. But he ends up way further down the pack than he should, barely scraping together a few points. It's the car and everyone knows it. The bouncing, the drag, the understeer. A showing far too poor for this late in the season.

And George is pissed. It's not often that you see him this way -- he's fairly levelheaded, even when things get tough. Something about him causes conflict to lull, things to fall into place, but even that can't fix the silver arrow.

You slip out of the garage during the last lap to sit in his driver's room and wait.

This isn't your first race. Far from it, by now. Things got official halfway through the season after that day in your flat, and you've been coming to as many as you can. It's a rush, really, to see him work. Scarier than anything, but when it's good? It's amazing. You love the energy of the garage and everyone seems to have taken to you, too.

So much so that they know to send George right to his room before the media pen so you can calm him down.

You sit on the bench and wait.

He comes in, closing the door firmly but never slamming it, and sighs. All the tension melts from his body and he looks defeated. Sweaty, annoyed, and defeated.

"Hello," you say, lightly.

He smiles wryly. "Shit day, huh?"

You love how George looks after a race. Hair a mess from his helmet, skin beaded with sweat. He unzips his race suit and lets it hang at his hips and you can see the outline of his muscles through his fireproofs. It's genuinely swoonworthy, even with his visibly bad mood.

"Are you alright?" you ask. He shrugs, rolls his shoulders, and winces.

"Bloody hell," he curses. "My back is killing me."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing," he says automatically. "You're perfect just as you are."

It's a reflex he has -- not to ask for things. You're still working it out, poking and prodding to find the cracks. Maybe, with time, he'll loosen this grip he has on his desire to make your life as comfortable and wonderful as possible without thinking of himself. There are moments when it's best to just let him fuss, but right now you think you can push back a little.

"George," you sigh. "Come on."

He hides his face behind a sweat towel for a breath, then tosses it aside. "Alright," he says. "Just sit with me for a bit."

You scoot over on the bench and he flops next to you, head back against the wall and eyes closed. His hand fumbles around for yours, pinching your thigh when he overshoots, which makes you laugh. He cracks a smile and opens one eye just enough to see your grin before settling back into his rest.

He breathes deeply, fingers entwined with yours. The line of his jaw is pronounced in the awful lighting of the room and the shadows under his eyes look worse than usual. A few more races and then he can rest. What will you do in the off season? Maybe a vacation. Hopefully a vacation. You imagine George in swim trunks on a beach somewhere, dozing in the sand. Rubbing sun tan lotion on his back and his shoulders and his nose, reading books for hours until he convinces you to run into the water. Lazy days on a balcony or in a bed with all the windows open, never being far from each other --

Someone knocks on the door.

"Christ," George mutters. "Let's ignore it."

"You need to go to the pen, darling," you whisper back. He squeezes your hand and presses your legs together.

"Just a few more minutes," he says. "Eventually they'll just come in."

"If you say so."

You press a kiss to his tacky cheek and lean your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

George takes a deep breath. "I love you," he says.

The words stretch into the silence that comes after, the moments it takes for you to process it. They fill the small room, sneak their way into your bloodstream, your lungs, all the way to your heart.

Part of you is waiting for the follow-up. I know it's too early, I know it's a lot, You don't have you say it back. But George doesn't deal in excuses. He feels it, so he says it.

You lift your head to look at him and find him already staring at you. Not expectant, just looking to look.

"I love you, George," you say.

He grins bigger than you've ever seen, bigger than after your first kiss, than the days when he's on the podium.

Someone knocks on the door again.

"Oh, piss off," he mutters and leans in to kiss you.

[mybworlds]

Chapter 9: Emptiness

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N) | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI | W.C.:

Summary: Your life sounds perfect: you live with a perfect man, you live in your dream house, you do the job you love, you don't miss anything, except love and passion.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, use of you, reader is a photographer, reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to, unspecified age gap, Joel and reader are two cheaters, for a while. Smut, use of pet names, dirty talk, masturbation, unprotected PiV but the first time, creampies, comeplay, oral (both f and m recieving), exhibitionism, size kink, personal use of an unspecified sex toy. No outbreak here. Let me know if I missed anything!

Masterlist

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Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

Taglist @harriedandharassed

The air suddenly becomes suspended, as if charged with a strange electricity. Patrick no longer speaks and Joel seems to have become a statue, you don't know what to do or say. You wish you hadn't been so direct and hasty in your words, but now it's done, you can't go back.

“Patrick?” you resume “I'm sorry, but I had to tell you the truth. It's not fair that you still believe or hope that we'll get back together.” you are lapidary even though you don't know if there will actually something with Joel, but you really hope so.

Patrick sighs, “I see.” He sighs again, “Are you happy?”

You feel a tightness in the pit of your stomach, you close your eyes and look up at Joel who instead is not looking at you anymore and you feel empty. Is he afraid? Does he not want to? Does he not care about you?

On the other hand, he’s always been clear, he told you since your first meeting that he doesn't want a relationship with you or anyone else, why should he change his mind now? For you? Not even before you were in bed, he told you that he wanted a future with you, he just told you that he was fine, but... while for you that might mean having feelings, for him it might not be like that.

“I'm confused.” You are sincere in your response to Patrick.

“He doesn’t want you?” he asks you.

You look up at Joel who has his back to you now, his body turned toward the kitchen and his hands resting on the sink, his head still low.

“I don't know.” You answer him and in those moments, seeing his reaction, you can't help but wonder if deep down you didn't do everything wrong with Joel and Patrick. “Patrick, I'm sorry,” you add, clutching the phone tighter.

“We’ve both hurt each other, baby.” He sighs. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with him, but I hope he makes you feel more important than I did.” he adds with a regretful tone.

You wanted to tell him that given Joel's expression, it's highly unlikely that you can or he will want to continue seeing you. But you don’t say anything.

“I wish you every happiness,” Patrick tells you again.

“Yes, you too.” there’s still a moment of silence between you, then he ends the call.

You place the phone on Joel's kitchen peninsula and then look up, taking in the weight of the words you just said: Joel is silent and motionless as if everything he has heard has robbed him of the strength to move and speak. He still doesn't look at you.

“Joel?” you call, getting up from the stool. “I’m sorry you heard it that way, but… it’s the truth.”

He sighs, looking towards the window next to the kitchen, “Do you know why I never wanted to bond with someone again?” he asks without looking at you.

You shake your head, even though you know he's not looking at you.

“Because I can’t stand to see or hear words like the ones I heard. D’ you know what my ex-wife said to me when I tried to find a way to get back together?” he pauses, a long one and that's when he turns towards you “That she had fallen in love with someone else, that she was confused, that things between us weren't workin’. Do you know how that made me feel? Useless, a useless man." he nods “And the worst thing is that Patrick is my friend and I did what I did to him.”

You frown, “There were two of us, there have always been two of us who were together, in confiding in each other.” You tell him almost in a pleading tone “Please, don’t feel guilty. We both wanted it.” he shakes his head. “Joel? Please don’t.” a horrible creepy feeling spreads inside you, Joel doesn't want you. He's pushing you away.

Your eyes fill with tears, your lips tremble, you look down, while timid tears fly towards the floor. You feel like throwing up, a feeling of rejection, of pain tightens your stomach making you almost unable to breathe.

“Please, talk to me.” you beg.

His face becomes tense, then he finally looks up at you and the sweet look you had found there until a few minutes ago has disappeared. He looks cold, his gaze hard, then shakes his head, “I can’t.” his gaze is empty, unrecognizable.

“Maybe we could...”

“No.” his tone is cold, he doesn’t allow for replies “There’s no us.” you freeze in place "You better go.” he adds, looking everywhere but at you.

The world around you is spinning wildly. Suddenly nothing seems to make sense, every thought you have is jumbled together so meaningless. Your lower lip is trembling, shy tears are streaming down your cheeks, “That was the reason why I just fucked. Now even that won't be possible anymore because every time it’ll happens, I won't be able to help but wonder if I will see your same look in another woman, or if any other woman won't want to change her life because of me." his is a thin whisper in which each word is well articulated and impossible not to hear.

You’re about to tell him not to shut himself away, not to treat you like this, but he interrupts you again, “When you go out, make sure you close the door tightly.”

You're about to repeat his name and beg him not to treat you like this, but nothing comes out of your mouth, not even a sound. He gives you one last long, silent look, then you're left alone in his house.

You look desperate and absent at the same time, you don't even know where you're going. You only know that you're empty, completely empty. Your heart is beating hard in your chest, it hurts. You are speechless and almost breathless. What happened has completely shaken you. You are struggling not to give in to the tears that are building up in the back of your eyes.

Everything is destroyed. Everything is lost.

You have lost everything.

You have nothing left and what could have been a beautiful project that you could have shared with him, with Joel, has disintegrated because by his own admission he himself has already lived everything and does not intend to do it again. He's always been clear from the beginning. His previous relationship burned him so much that even his heart is reduced to ashes and now maybe hearing it beat again for someone pains him so much that he doesn't want to feel it.

You wipe away your tears a couple of times, not wanting to attract anyone's attention. You know that surely no one will even look at your face, but crying for you has always been an act to be done alone.

You have now arrived in front of your shop, the seat of your great infinite pride, your job. Maybe everything can start from here, from who you are, a photographer, a good photographer. And it's not you who says it, but the people who turn to you.

You struggle to concentrate, your mind often goes back there, to that silent goodbye. Joel won't go back. If his ex-wife hurt him as much as he says, he won't look for you again.

No matter how hard you try to think positively, to focus on something else, your mind always takes you back to that exact moment, to when you destroyed three lives at once, when you uttered those fateful words.

I fell in love with someone else.

You feel stupid because for a day you really had illusions that Joel could choose you, but then all of that dissolved before your eyes, shattering your hopes and your heart.

Emptiness.

That's what you feel.

Emptiness.

Just a deep, unbridgeable void.

As the hours pass, the situation does not improve, indeed it seems always be worse.

You feel weak, cowardly, maybe the problem is not Patrick or Joel who clearly rejected you, but you are the problem. Maybe you need so much love, passion, desire that you don't care about making others feel bad if you're fine.

What kind of person have you become?

Daisy's words that should comfort you make you collapse into a state of great despair. She’s very sweet, she takes great care of you in every possible and imaginable way, but all this doesn't lift your spirits.

You don't know what kind of person you are anymore. You once knew exactly who you were and what you wanted, you thought you knew it and you went straight down that road.

The result?

You hit a wall called Joel Miller. A wall that left your heart broken, bleeding and humiliated you like no one had ever done before.

But you want to make a last desperate attempt, you want to talk to him. You want to do it calmly, find the right words and not be reckless. You know it will almost certainly hurt to hear certain things, but you want to hear them. You have two.

Are you a masochist?

Yes, maybe.

But then you tell yourself that if he's cruel to you again, you'll be the one who doesn't want to think about him anymore. You want him, you want him in your life, but you don't want someone who makes you feel weak and vulnerable, who uses you and then throws you away like that.

You are not like that, you know it. You know you are worth so much more than this. You deserve better. And if that better is being without Joel Miller, then so be it.

Daisy of course advises you against it. She says you aren’t thinking clearly yet. You feel confused, but determined.

It's been almost three weeks and now you're sure you want to talk to him, you need to. Even if you know you probably won't get a different answer than the one you've already had, but as much as it may hurt you now you want to put an end to it.

The emptiness he left in you has given way to disappointment and anger.

You reach his house thinking about what to say to him, but everything seems stupid or incoherent. You are in front of his place.

You ring the bell.

What the fuck are you doing here?

You hear a voice shouting ‘comin’, it’s a woman. Your heart skips a beat. A moment later, a beautiful woman opens the door. The woman is wearing a bathrobe, she looks strong and determined, but above all happy. She smiles at you, “You’re the delivery guy, aren’t you? You were fast!”

You're shocked, “No... uhm, is Joel there?”

“Yes, are you a colleague of his?” she asks you, pulling the edges of his bathrobe a little tighter.

“No.”

“So, who are you?” she asks.

“Uhm…”

“Tess, who’s there?” another voice from inside reaches your ears. It's Joel.

Joel appears behind her, opening the door a little wider. His expression changes from puzzled to astonished, then he becomes gloomy, “What are you doing here?” he asks you.

What are you doing there? You're wondering that too.

Tess looks at your face, then at Joel's. You don't know what to answer.

You kind of expected it, but not in such a brutal way. He replaced you even though he told you he couldn't do that anymore after what you told him.

“Sorry, I was wrong to come.” You don’t know what else to say to them.

How stupid!

You turn your back on them, feeling a lump in your throat. You move away quickly from Joel’s place. You were wrong to go there, but now more than ever you feel like you can move on and stop thinking about him. He has already replaced you. There’s nothing left for you.

You decide you don't want to think about Joel Miller anymore, since you met him you have fallen into a vortex of passion, he has satisfied you every time, but no one has shattered your heart like he did. You hold your hair with both hands, tonight you stay in your shop where you tinker with the computer. You look back at all the photoshoots you've done over the last two years and think about how many times you've put yourself aside to please others, but making yourself unhappy and pretending it was your decision.

Now all this has to end. From now on you will only think about yourself, for a while enough with love. You have only known how to make a lot of messes. You go through some old emails and find one from a few years ago that you received for a fashion show of a prestigious fashion house. You never wanted to trash it because you liked to remember that moment and then because in the email as a post scriptum they had written to you that if you had been interested there would always have been a place for you. It was really a great service that you did, you remember that they wrote to you that the sales had even tripled after your work!

You smile while looking at the screen. Why not!

Maybe Saint Barbara will do you good.