#it turned out a little emotional at the end didn’t it?

[corroded-hellfire]

https://www.tumblr.com/corroded-hellfire/743622480481107968/reading-ayw-things-has-me-thinking-about-eddie-and

I loved this request! To add on the baby fever, but this has a little bit of sadness, when baby Eliza looses that newborn baby scrunch, meaning that she's no more a newborn and she's growing. I was loosing it when my cousin did this (we're like 5 years apart)

For those unfamiliar with the newborn scrunch: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLFYCP6t/

THE NEWBORN SCRUNCH! It is the cutest of cuteness. I can't even imagine how I'm going to feel when I someday have a baby and they stop doing this lol. Probably react like Reader, ngl 😂

Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Eddie, Eddie should get kneed in the balls for suggesting having another baby so soon after Reader giving birth

Words: 1.2k

“Well, good morning my little cutie pie.”

Eliza gazes up at you from her bassinet, her little legs kicking within the confines of her pink teddy bear footie pajamas. 

“Morning, sweet pea.” Eddie comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder as he smiles down at your infant daughter. 

“Ready to get up and start the day?” you ask, fighting back a yawn. Eliza has gotten on a more consistent sleep schedule, but you’re still nowhere close to your preferred eight hours. “Babe, can you grab an outfit for her?”

“Sure thing.” Eddie barely takes two steps towards the door to head across the hall to the nursery before hearing you whimper. He immediately spins back around and takes in the situation with wide eyes. “What? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

You’re still facing the bassinet, Eliza held out in front of you. Eddie can see the baby hanging from your grip, her eyes going over your shoulder to squint at her father.

Slowly, you turn to face him, hugging Eliza to your chest. Eddie sees the tears building up in your eyes and comes to your side.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks.

“S-She…” You sniffle and shake your head, unable to vocalize it. Her soft downy hair tickles your cheek as you cradle her. “She didn’t do the scrunch.”

Your husband’s face pinches up into a confused frown. His eyes slide to the left, then right, trying to figure out what the hell you’re talking about. 

“The…scrunch?” he asks. 

“The scrunch!” you whine. “The newborn scrunch!”

By the petulant tone of your voice, Eddie is pretty sure that you would’ve stomped your foot on the ground like a child if you weren’t holding your baby. The look on his face clearly conveys that he has no idea what you’re talking about because you sigh and continue to explain without any further nudge.

“You know how when you pick her up her little legs pull up towards her chest? Like she’s curling in on herself?”

“Oh,” Eddie says as it dawns on him. “Yeah, yeah, now I know what you mean.”

“She didn’t do it when I picked her up.” The wobble in your voice is clear and noticeable even before Eddie sees your bottom lip trembling. “She’s not my newborn anymore.”

“Of course she is,” Eddie says, placing a hand on the middle of your back and rubbing soothing circles there. “She’s only six weeks old.”

“She's already six weeks old!” you cry, the tears finally falling free past the lash line. 

“Aw, sweetheart.” Eddie chuckles, not unkindly, as he uses his thumb to wipe your tears away. 

“S’not funny,” you mumble, gently resting your head against your daughter’s.

Strong, warm arms wrap around you from the side, and you’re pulled up against a solid frame. A few soft kisses are pressed to the side of your face.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby,” he coos. “I think it’s cute, though.”

“Cute that I’m emotional over our baby growing up?” Your voice is harsher than you intended, but Eddie knows you don’t mean any harm by it. All of your hormones are still out of whack from pregnancy and giving birth. 

The end of her scrunch is just the first sign of her growing up. Suddenly you see her walking, saying her first words, going to her first day of pre-school, learning to ride a bike, having her first relationship, going to prom, graduating high school. The cherry on top is her packing up the car to head to college. More tears sting the back of your eyes at the thought. All of a sudden, her mere six weeks seem like a flash in the pan. 

“I think you’re cute,” Eddie amends. “Eliza’s still our newborn, though. She’s going to get stronger, and her little habits and cues are going to change, but she still needs her Mommy and Daddy for everything. Hell, I don’t think the boys could survive without us, either.”

Logic doesn’t always help even out the emotions, but your husband’s attempt does break through the surface. With a soft sniffle, you nod your head in agreement. Of course, Eliza is still your newborn and completely dependent on you. It doesn’t mean that you won’t have the same emotional upheaval when she can hold her head up on her own for the first time, but it’s comforting right now. 

Eddie has been doing a great job of letting you be a first-time mom and have all the emotions and experiences that go along with it, but sometimes his experience of having had two babies already helps ground you. 

“You’re right.” You exhale a deep breath and nod your head. “But I am still going to miss the scrunch.”

“Guess we’ll just have to have another one then, huh? Since you’re going to miss the scrunch,” your husband teases.

Slowly, you turn your head and give him a playful glare. The doctor just gave you the okay to start having sex again. The thought of pushing another baby out of your poor aching body is enough to threaten Eddie with never having sex again. 

“When you give birth, we can have all the babies you want,” you say.

Eddie laughs and presses a few kisses against your hair.

“Deal. Alright, let me go get her some clothes.” Eddie gives your side a loving squeeze before heading out into the hallway.

“Daddy’s right,” you say to Eliza as you gently rock her. “You’re still my new baby girl. I mean, look at these little fingers!” You offer her one of your index fingers and her fist instinctively curls around it. A smile grows on your face as you lift her small hand to your lips and press quick kisses against her knuckles. 

“Babe?” Eddie says as he grabs onto the bedroom door frame and leans into the room. “Where’s her yellow polka dot onesie? The one with the pink buttons.”

“Hmm?” You look at Eddie over your shoulder before turning to face him properly. “Oh, I packed it away a few days ago. She doesn’t fit into it anymore.”

Eddie frowns as he lets go of the doorframe and takes a few stumbling steps into the room. His messy bedhead sways with the movement.

“What?”

“Yeah, the buttons wouldn’t stretch to snap shut anymore,” you tell him.

A harsh sigh makes you look up at your husband. He crosses his arms over his chest and it’s a frighteningly similar look to when Luke is told he can’t have cookies before dinner. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“That was my favorite outfit of hers,” Eddie huffs.

You try your best to hide a smile, but biting your lip can only do so much. Now you realize what Eddie meant when he called you “cute” moments ago. Your husband’s pouting is currently rivaling Eliza’s adorableness. 

“It’s okay, Eds,” you tell him.

“How many clothes did you pack?” he asks, coming closer to you.

“A bunch of newborn ones that are too small now.”

“Eliza,” Eddie whines. He rests his chin on your shoulder and reaches around you to grab her tiny foot. “Why you getting so big? Stop growing up.”

It’s impossible for you not to chuckle at his words. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

[urarakasgff]

come here, babydoll.

Synopsis: Vi x f! Reader. Based on the song Babydoll by Ari. Even though you were just friends, her drunken words definitely made it seem like there were some hidden feelings underneath her intense demeanor. Not proofread.

It was late out at night, the wind crashing against the walls of your apartment, the moon brightly illuminated the night. You stayed in your warm sheets, tossing and turning as the night went by. That was until you heard a knock at your door.

You slowly opened your eyes, it was around 4am, you knew it had to be Vi if anyone was coming to your place this late. You shuffled out of your bed, trying to stabilize yourself on your feet, then making your way to the front door with half opened eyes.

As you slowly opened the door, Vi stumbled her way in, making eye contact with you, but you were both slightly out of it, for two entirely different reasons. 

“Vi..? What’s going on, why are you here so late?” You said gently, grabbing onto her arm and leading her over to your bed for her to get a place to just sit. The mix of alcohol, her cologne and sweat lingered.

Her being drunk wasn’t something that was unusual. She was a pit fighter after all, and this girl would constantly get drunk and get into the ring without a second thought, no care in the world for her own safety. But, for her to make an appearance this late at your place? That was unusual.

“Nothing cupcake. Just, needed you around.” She said, slightly slurring her words, the alcohol clearly had already taken over. She slowly sat down on your bed, slightly manspreading as she leaned her head into her arms, probably from how exhausted she was.

You stood there, just looking at her with concern. She was one of your closest friends, and to say you felt nothing but just friendly emotions towards her would be a lie. But feelings aside, and whatever they were, You were still beyond worried about her. These constant fights and drunken states could not be good for her, whatsoever.

As she slowly looked up at you to make eye contact, she opened her arms a bit. 

“Come here, babydoll.” She said in a lower tone, quite literally almost as if she was demanding for you to come over. A hint of affection and want in her eyes.

You looked at her, and luckily the mostly dimly lit room did an amazing job at hiding the blush that crept onto your face. While it wasn't unusual for you two to be close and even flirty sometimes, she was being a lot more blunt, direct even.

You walked over to her and grabbed the hand that was slightly reaching out for you, and she pulled you into her lap. “Darling, I’m falling, fucked up over you.” Her voice was a bit wavering, a hint of need and desperation. But, it wasn’t what you’d expect.

Vi isn’t one to just open up about her feelings, much less about romantic ones. She wasn’t sober, at all, her mouth was running on autopilot, leaving her a bit vulnerable and honest.

“Vi, you- you aren’t sober right now. And as much as I'd just love to-” You said gently, trying to almost avoid the conversion. She interrupted you by holding onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together.

She called out your name, almost as if she was pleading for you to try and understand her. “I don’t care, I mean it Cupcake. Fuck, I didn’t want to wait this long to tell you, but I can’t stand it. The thought of me losing you, all because I couldn't say it? Because I couldn't tell you?” She cupped your face, trying to keep the eye contact steady, still keeping your fingers interlaced with hers.

“And fuck me if im wrong, but you feel it too don’t you babydoll?” She said, smirking a bit, knowing she was right. 

writer’s note: TBH didn't know how to end this (could you tell) and I had to go study for an exam, so enjoy this little drabble <3

[0omillo0]

— hyunjin x reader ;༊๋࣭

: g. angst/fluff :

a/n : drunk confession (in the rain), mentions of wine, shouting, happy ending

♡‧₊˚🌧️

The night had started out well enough. You were at a cozy dinner with friends, laughter and conversation filling the room, the gentle clink of glasses punctuating the easy chatter. You’d been looking forward to it all week—a chance to unwind, enjoy good food, and maybe even relax enough to let go of the way you felt your heart race every time Hyunjin looked your way.

You had asked him to drive you, feeling it was easier than arriving alone and dealing with your friends’ teasing questions about your friendship. Just friends, you’d remind yourself, repeating it like a mantra as the evening wore on.

But “just friends” was hard to remember when Hyunjin was sitting so close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, his laughter warm and easy as it washed over you. It was impossible not to feel that spark every time your eyes met across the table, even when you tried to ignore it, drowning your nerves in a glass—or maybe two—of wine.

By the time the dinner ended, you were both a little tipsy, laughing at some joke that probably wasn’t even funny as you stumbled out of the restaurant together. The rain had just started to fall in light, misty droplets, and Hyunjin held the car door open for you, flashing a smile that felt almost too intimate in the dim light of the street.

The car ride was quiet at first, the steady rhythm of the rain filling the silence between you. But as the miles passed, the silence grew heavier, charged with something unspoken that neither of you could ignore anymore. You were too aware of him beside you, his hand gripping the wheel, his face lit up by passing streetlights, each glance at him making your heart race.

Finally, you couldn’t take it. The warmth from the evening, mixed with the alcohol still buzzing in your system, pushed you over the edge. You broke the silence, your voice soft but full of something you’d been holding back for too long. “Hyunjin… do you ever feel like we’re pretending?”

He glanced over at you, caught off guard. “Pretending?” His brow furrowed in confusion, but there was something else in his eyes, something hesitant, like he knew exactly what you meant but didn’t want to acknowledge it.

You sighed, looking out the window as the rain started to fall harder. “Like… we’re pretending to be just friends.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and immediately, you felt a pang of regret, of fear that maybe you’d gone too far.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tense, his hands gripping the wheel tighter. The silence stretched, thick with tension, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest, each second that passed filling you with more doubt.

Just when you thought he might ignore you, he pulled over to the side of the road, the car coming to a sudden stop. The rain was pounding down now, drumming against the roof, echoing the frantic beat of your heart.

He turned to you, eyes dark, his voice laced with frustration. “Why would you ask me that?” he demanded, his tone sharper than you expected. “Why now, after all this time?”

You felt a surge of anger rise up, fueled by his evasiveness, by the way he always acted like there was nothing between you, like he didn’t notice the tension simmering beneath the surface every time you were alone. “Because I can’t keep pretending like it doesn’t matter, Hyunjin!” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “I can’t keep acting like I’m okay with being ‘just friends’ when… when I feel like this!”

“You think you’re the only one who’s been afraid of this?” he said, voice rough with emotion. “You think I haven’t thought about what it would mean if we crossed that line? If I told you… if I admitted that…” He trailed off, his words swallowed by the rain, but you understood.

Suddenly, the distance between you felt unbearable, the space charged with the weight of unspoken feelings. Before you could think, before you could let doubt creep in, you closed the gap, standing so close you could feel his breath, warm against the chill of the rain.

The confession hung between you, filling the small space of the car with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. For a moment, you both just sat there, breathing hard, staring at each other as the rain hammered down around you, trapping you in this moment.

“You act like it’s nothing,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain. “You act like… like you don’t even care.”

His gaze softened, but there was still a fire in his eyes. “I act like that because I didn’t think I had a choice. Because I thought… I thought you didn’t want this.”

The vulnerability in his voice, in his expression, took you by surprise. It was like a dam breaking, the flood of emotions you’d both been holding back finally spilling over. Before you knew it, you were both shouting, voices raw, the frustration and longing and fear spilling out, untamed.

“I’ve been afraid,” you admitted, feeling the tears sting your eyes, mixing with the rain that had somehow managed to find its way inside the car. “Afraid that if I said something, you’d just brush it off, like always.”

Hyunjin’s face softened, his anger fading as he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, gentle even in his frustration. “I could never brush you off,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Not when you mean this much to me.”

And then, in the midst of the rain and the silence that followed, he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, the confession hanging in the air, unspoken but understood. The rain was relentless, blurring the world outside, leaving only the two of you, finally stripped of all pretense.

And that was when the silence fell, and his eyes held yours, and the anger faded, replaced by something deeper. And in that moment, all the walls you’d built around your heart crumbled, leaving only the certainty that this—this feeling, this moment—was real.

The world outside seemed to vanish, swallowed up by the rain that drummed relentlessly against the car roof. All you could see, all you could feel, was him—Hyunjin, his face close enough that you could see the raindrops clinging to his lashes, his eyes flickering with uncertainty, hope, and something far deeper.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The fight had drained you both, left you raw and vulnerable, stripped of all the defenses you’d clung to for so long. And yet, in the silence, there was a peace you hadn’t expected—a sense of inevitability, as if this was where you were meant to be all along.

Hyunjin’s hand came up, fingers trembling slightly as they brushed a damp strand of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, reverent, like he was afraid you might disappear if he held on too tightly. His eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air, and you knew that if you pulled away now, he would let you go.

But you didn’t want to pull away. Not anymore.

“Say it,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the rain, but you knew he heard them. “If you feel the same… just say it.”

For a moment, you thought he might hesitate, that he might hide behind the wall he’d built around himself. But then his expression softened, and you saw the resolve settle in his gaze, a quiet determination that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I love you,” he breathed, the words falling from his lips like a promise, soft and unguarded. “I’ve tried to keep it in, tried to pretend that we could stay ‘just friends,’ but… I can’t anymore.” His voice broke slightly, and he let out a shaky laugh, his hand still resting gently against your cheek. “I love you, and I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Hearing those words—words you’d dreamed of but never let yourself believe—felt like a weight lifting off your chest. You let out a shaky breath, the relief and joy flooding through you, filling every corner of your heart until it felt like you might burst.

You didn’t need to say anything in response. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips finding his in a kiss that felt both familiar and brand new, like coming home and stepping into the unknown all at once.

The world around you melted away, the rain fading to a distant hum as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His lips were soft, warm, and you could feel the tenderness in every touch, every gentle brush of his fingers against your skin. It was a kiss that spoke of all the things you’d both been too afraid to say, a silent confession that went beyond words.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and dazed, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, as if savoring the moment. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your jaw, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability, “but I know that I want it to be with you.”

You smiled, feeling the last remnants of your fears slip away, replaced by a quiet certainty. “Me too,” you replied, your voice barely more than a breath, but he heard it. “As long as it’s with you.”

For a while, you just sat there together in the car, wrapped up in each other as the rain continued to fall outside, washing away all the doubts, all the hesitation. In that moment, there was no need for words, no need for explanations—just the feeling of his hand in yours, steady and sure, a promise that you would face whatever came next together.

And as the storm began to pass, you knew that, for the first time, everything was exactly as it should be.

; tags ;

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143

[itsjunear]

Comfort

Note: Hello, loves! I guess I disappeared again 😭 I'm sorry, there's been a lot going on these past few weeks, and I wasn’t feeling very well. This is my way of making it up to you ❤❤ I'm still working on the second part of "Shadows and Whispers", but I got sidetracked, and something totally out of my element came out of it. I’m really sorry if this turns out to be a mess, I’ve never written anything obscene and explicit before, so feel free to tell me if it’s terrible! Remember, English isn’t my first language, so if there are any mistakes, don’t hesitate to let me know! Please take care of yourself! Love you all! 💙💙💙

P.S. I didn’t tag anyone because I wasn’t really sure if you’d want it, especially after disappearing for almost a month. Sorry 😭😭

Words: +1k

Warnings: Obscenity

Summary: Reader goes to comfort Azriel after he's returned from a mission. However, things take a turn, and somehow she finds herself in a sinful situation with the shadowsinger.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I still didn't understand how the hell I had ended up in this situation.

Or rather, how I had ended up in this position.

My intentions in arriving at Az were completely genuine and innocent. I knew him well enough to know that he was absolutely frustrated with how the mission had ended, just as I also knew that he would try to hide his feelings because that was his way of dealing with everything.

When I arrived at the River House, I found him sitting at the foot of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands tangled in his dark hair. He was so out of it that he didn't even lift his head when he heard me enter and he didn't bother to pick up his wings either, a strong indicator of his mood.

Seeing him like this made my heart ache, and the urge to comfort him took hold of me, so I didn't even think when my feet carried me directly in front of him. Somehow, I sneaked my hand in and gently placed it on his cheek, forcing him to look up. His shadows were scattered and restless.

I wasn't ready for what I found in his hazel eyes: loneliness and resignation. He didn't even try to hide it from me, and that was what scared me the most. I was prepared to face the big wall he put up when something emotional was involved, but I wasn't ready for the honest vulnerability that hit me like a blow to the cheek.

"Aziel..." I let out with a shaky sigh.

He shook his head and for a second my body went rigid as I felt his arms wrap tightly around my waist and rest his head on my stomach. I reacted and instinctively placed one hand on his back, in the middle of his wings, and the other in his hair, scraping gently with my nails. In response, a shiver ran through him, and I stopped my movements abruptly.

"No" It was the first thing I heard him say since I had entered "Please... Just... continue."

I nodded even though I knew he wasn't looking at me and resumed my movements. He relaxed against me and settled his head higher, right between my breasts. HIS shadows calmed down then, and limited themselves to passing through us occasionally.

"Az..." I tried again.

“Y/n…” he interrupted me, pressing himself tighter against my body. "I need this right now. Just... tell me to stop if you don't want it."

I didn't stop him, and he decided to explore a little more, brushing his nose against the edge of my breasts, making me shiver. One of his hands that was on my waist went down to my ass and squeezed hard, but at the same time slowly, as if he wanted to melt into my skin.

A gasp of surprise escaped my lips when I felt him place soft kisses on my breasts, near the nipples, covered only by an old shirt that was too big for me. He put it in his mouth, wetting the shirt, making my hands fly straight to his hair, tangling and pulling gently. A grunt of approval came from Azriel, and all logical thought vanished from my mind, leaving me completely blank and a prisoner of sensations.

His hands became bolder reaching for one of my perfectly fitting breasts and he squeezed, making me gasp.

"You're so beautiful" he said breathily and pulled my shirt up over my head.

My breasts were exposed, and directly at the height of his lips, so he did not hesitate to put them in his mouth. I just arched my back, delighted in the way he made me feel even though I knew this was wrong. Az was very vulnerable right now and it was a miracle that he was showing me this side of him.

That thought hit me like a bucket of cold water and brought my feet back to earth.

"Az," I called after a moment. "We can't..." I gasped as I felt him pull my nipple between his lips. "Listen, I don't think this is a good idea..."

"I need to feel you close. I need to know that you are here with me," he pleaded in a tone of voice I had never heard before, "Making you feel good will make me feel good."

"But I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantage..."

"I need this. I need you" he interrupted me.

That took my breath away and the way he looked like I was his only lifeline made me give in, so I finally nodded.

The shadowsinger rewarded me by leaving a wet kiss on my neck before separating for a moment to unbutton his leathers and reveal all his glory. I didn't hold back and gently touched his skin, trying to convey everything I felt through those caresses, trying to tell him that I was there for him and from the way he tensed where my fingers passed, I assumed he could understand it. I even brushed the edge of one of his wings and he shivered violently, not hiding the low moan that escaped.

His hands moved down to unbutton my shorts without leaving soft kisses combined with licks on my neck. I dug my nails carefully into his back, avoiding the membranes, and he let out a hoarse moan that went deep into my bones. He slowly slid my pants down caressing my legs in the process and then helped me out of them once they hit the carpet beneath my feet.

That's how I was left in nothing but panties in front of Azriel, who was looking at me like I was the only damn person in his life that he had ever wanted. I didn't feel self-conscious under his scrutiny, on the contrary, I had the feeling that he was memorizing me.

“Y/n” he ​​called with rapid breathing “You are beautiful, fucking beautiful.”

His words also had more meaning, I realized. It was the second time he had told me this tonight and somehow, he managed to warm my heart.

The shadowsinger manipulated my body to his liking, so he gave me one last open-mouthed kiss right over my heart before turning me over, leaving me on my back now. I felt him fill my spine with kisses and hook his fingers on my panties, slowly lowering them until he left a kiss on my lower back that made me shudder.

Completely naked, she took me by the waist to place me on his lap. I could feel his hardness beneath me, and he hissed when I ground my hips together.

I was sitting in the middle of his legs, until he hooked one of his hands and put one of my legs over his, so that I was wedged over it, although I still rested my back on his chest.

Then he hugged me, imprisoning me in his arms and hiding his face in my neck. His hands then went down, directly to my center, and he began to touch me with gentle movements, slow caresses on the clitoris that made me gasp. A moan escaped from the back of my throat as I felt his fingers slide into my folds and curve them deliciously.

"That's it honey, let me hear you" he whispered in my ear.

He repeated the movement, and my body went crazy when he added another finger. Everything was slow and felt completely different, it felt more intimate, fuller of feeling. His fingers worked magic inside me while he caressed my clit with his thumb. It was too much, and I figured Az could sense it because he sped up his movements.

Another moan escaped my lips as one movement pushed me over the edge and the orgasm rippled through me making me tremble, sweeping through everything. Azriel did not stop his hands, prolonging the sensation and supporting all my weight, since I had practically collapsed on top of him.

After a few seconds, he did something that left me gasping, partly from the orgasm he just gave me, and partly from the sensual sight. He took his fingers out of me, not caring in the least about the mess, and sucked on them, looking into my eyes before resting his forehead against mine.

"Az" I whispered in between a gasp.

He lunged at my lips and there are no words to describe the way he kissed me. It was messy, a combination of tongue and teeth, but it felt perfect, like once in a lifetime, everything fit together.

I walked away after a moment, to catch my breath, and he grimaced as if it physically hurt him not to be around, to which I responded by standing up and climbing up behind him, only this time who hid his face in his neck. It was me, absolutely enjoying the skin-to-skin contact and the way he held me close to his bare chest and mine.

Az didn't care about the mess I was probably making on his leathers still wearing my fluids. He didn't seem interested in any of that.

"Thank you for staying," he said after a moment, wrapping his wings around us.

"You have nothing to thank me for," I responded, taking his face in my hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, now that you're here." He responded and for emphasis, one of his shadows caressed my arm with a cold touch, making me smile.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked as I ran a finger over the membrane of his wing again.

A shudder consumed him along with a gasp and he rested his head on my shoulder.

"Not yet"

I nodded and wrapped my arms around his neck. Trying to give him comfort beyond words and show him that she was here with him. Not anywhere else.

[rothpie]

❝INHERITANCE❞|part1

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Marriage of Convenience; JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

Summary: The rebellious child of a noble family, the last hope, the one meant to carry on the family name. Your grandfather’s health was failing, and though you were expected to inherit everything, he had pulled away from you completely. Now, there was only one condition for you to receive his inheritance; to get your life in order, stop coming home late at night, give up drinking, and, of course his last wish—a marriage.

Warnings: kind of daddy issues, mentioning losing parent

selly's note: I'm so excited!!! hope you like it💗💗💗

next

Parties had always been intriguing. For some, they were an escape from life; for others, a lifestyle. They were places where you’d run into everyone you knew or didn’t know. You always hoped they’d play good music, and when you walked in, you loved that moment when most eyes turned your way. Feeling their gazes, being the center of attention, being talked about—that was power. You couldn’t live without attention. Sure, everyone enjoys a little of it, but you craved it every moment.

You loved dancing wildly, drinking, and letting loose at parties. It was one of those rare times you’d truly disconnect from everything. Laughing crazily with your friends, getting close with a guy—it thrilled you. It was as if the world were ending and you were going out with a bang. Live fast, die young, right?

You were meant to live each day like it was your last. You were here to enjoy life, and you had no intention of stopping—because you wouldn’t stop. Today could be your last day.

It wasn’t just a behavior; it was a way of life.

And you were in love with it.

The future could wait; you had more important things to do now—like being young.

You loved the label of “party monster.” Even while listening to The Weeknd, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself in the scene. You didn’t think you could live without partying—not at this point.

Most people didn’t matter much to you. Usually, you enjoyed drinking and hanging out with people your own age, soaking in the party vibes, watching people cannonball into pools, the beer pong games, seeing everyone try to drink from kegs. You loved being young.

No lie, you loved everything that came with youth—guys, the fun, the parties, sex, the yacht parties…

Even if you didn’t always prefer getting drunk, your body wasn’t exactly used to it. Strong drinks got you tipsy fast. Most times, you ended up having friends drop you off at home, or you’d wake up at some guy’s place you’d hooked up with. It didn’t matter. You never felt ashamed of one-night stands. Sex was just a part of life. And though you didn’t always like sneaking out quietly, you still did it.

Sticking around and getting emotional wasn’t your style. You hated the “What are we now?” question. You’d rather jump off a cliff than hear it.

Sometimes, though, you’d wake up at home, only to face your dad’s and grandfather’s disapproving stares. Most mornings, you’d stumble down to breakfast looking like a mess. Even after washing your face, your mascara and eyeliner would still smudge, the headache hitting hard—you looked fucked, no doubt.

But you were just a young girl who partied.

You might come home late, drink, be out most of the week, and practically treat the house like a hotel, but hey—at least you didn’t do drugs. That was an accomplishment, right?

You were just a girl.

Hanging out at the golf club didn’t interest you. You thought it was ridiculous, even though you were part of the Kook crowd. With so many things to do, golf? Really?

There was only one reason you’d stay out under the sun that long—tanning. Nothing else could keep you baking in the sun. Ever.

Most people at the golf club weren’t there for golf anyway. They’d wear their best outfits, spritz on perfume, do their makeup, and show up just to flaunt themselves. Some were hoping to score a date for the night, others looking for a potential spouse. The place was swarming with people trying to show off their wealth, a live version of a dating app. You hated it.

Waiting in line for a guy? 

You wouldn’t even look at someone who wasn’t interested in you from the start. Your guy had to be loyal. Chasing other women while pursuing you? Eliminated. Eyeing three other girls in the same room as you? Out. Walking alongside you and your best friends on the same beach? All three of you would kick him to the ass.

You never needed it. Your family name was known, and everywhere you went, you stood out. You didn’t need to make yourself known or put in extra effort to catch people’s attention.

You were already valuable. The brightest jewel on the island. The shiniest diamond.

You were noticeable even on the path you walked.

Still, your love life wasn’t exactly successful. You weren’t sure if it was by choice or if the guys on the island were just idiots. Either way, you always knew most of them were after your family name—maybe to get into the company, or for the benefits it would bring to their own families. It was always a letdown.

Looking back, you were grateful. Those experiences taught you something, and you were now certain none of them were worth a second thought. Your exes were terrible. Thank goodness you hadn’t given any of them your virginity.

One had been worse than the others. But at least he was handsome—and muscular, tall… Too bad he’d left the island.

You were never treated as the “heir” they wanted. Before you were even born, they’d wished for a boy. They’d wanted you to be a son. It was insulting. But you just preferred to think of it as saying, 'Too bad, bitches—I’m a girl!'

Thank heavens.

As a kid, you always wanted a sibling. So did your parents, especially a son to carry on the family line. But when your parents plans conflicted with God’s plans, there’s no telling what might happen.

Before you could have a sibling, you lost your mother. She was in the same car as your dad, and he was the only one who survived. When he refused to remarry, you were left as the family’s only grandchild.

No, you weren’t a boy. But you were still the one they had to trust to carry on the family line. You’d take over the company someday; you’d be the boss. They’d always made that clear. They let you be a kid for a while, but the moment you hit adolescence, the serious talks started. Because of the family’s public image, they always expected you to be polite and courteous. You were, of course.

But over time, these expectations became stricter, and as you felt more pressure from your family, your need for freedom grew.

As much as you loved the party life, you’d take over the company one day. That ambition was in you—it was just a matter of time. And until then, you’d live it up.

Who said girls can’t carry on the family name?

You were living proof, like millions of women out there. You had plenty of time before taking over the company, and for now, you were enjoying the moment. Future you could deal with the future. Why would you worry now?

At this age, you and Jada and Aaliyah were way too busy partying.

It had taken days for you all to decide on a birthday dinner over a party, if we’re honest. It was Jada’s 20th. It was a big deal, and you’d discussed a lot of options. But finally, she decided on a quiet celebration with her closest friends instead of a big party.

The reason was simple.

Her family had just bought a new home, and they’d made it clear they wanted no parties for a while. Jada was on board with that anyway. She didn’t want people throwing up on her new couches or couples making out all over her place.

Besides, she realized you could manage with a small, private party of your own.

First, you’d talked about doing it on a yacht, but Jada didn’t want to risk throwing up on a boat after drinking, not to mention the fear of falling overboard while drunk. It was very much something that would happen to her. She couldn’t stay stable on anything that moved.

After a lot of back-and-forth, Aaliyah came up with the idea of a dinner. She told you both to leave the details to her and picked the spot. Jada was thrilled.

She felt like she was getting a surprise party—although she knew it’d be just the three of you and was fully aware of the plan, she still acted clueless. Even on the way there, she acted like she had no idea why or where you were going—as if it wasn’t her birthday.

But neither you nor Aaliyah broke character. You both played along as if you were headed to the yacht. It became a little game between you.

“Girl, I swear—kisses to the chef won’t cut it! I need to go back to the kitchen and fuck him. If a man cooks like this, I owe him at least ten kids,” Aaliyah said, cracking you both up. Thanks to her, you had the best seats with a full view at Figure Eight’s top restaurant—prime Instagram Story material.

As you took a sip of your white wine, Aaliyah cleared her throat. You turned to her, smiling.

“Girl, you’ve lost it. What if the chef is, like, 54?” Aaliyah scrunched her face, and you joined in, pulling a face as Jada raised an eyebrow. She seemed incredulous. She took another bite before saying anything.

“You two are fucking idiot. Hugh Jackman’s 56, and I’d get in his bed in a heartbeat. I’m ready to be his personal whore.”

She had a point. If the chef looked as good as Hugh Jackman in his fifties, maybe he deserved a look, especially considering guys your age were nothing to brag about.

But still—the idea of dating, let alone sleeping with, a guy old enough to be your dad? That made you feel pretty gross. Just thinking about it made you cringe.

It was nasty.

Unless, of course, it was Hugh Jackman. For him, you'd practically sign up to be his broodmare.

After Jada threw out her little example, the silence stretched, and she looked at both of you with a smug grin. She’d laid down her final word. Period.

Spending time with these girls? Honestly, the best.

Aaliyah, right beside you, let out a dramatic sigh, catching your and Jada’s attention. When she put her hand to her mouth and dropped her fork, the two of you exchanged puzzled, worried glances. Was something wrong? But just as you started to feel real concern, Aaliyah moved her hand and started talking. “I cannot believe I forgot to tell you!”

For a moment, you were seriously worried about her, but quickly you realized that what she’d forgotten was merely a juicy piece of gossip. Which, for the three of you, was life-or-death level serious. If it wasn’t something major, there’s no way she’d be reacting like this. You dropped your fork, grabbing your wine glass as you turned to her. Jada followed suit, shaking her head with a hint of annoyance. “Girl, you’d better mean this in a good way, or I’m throwing you over the railing. You just freaked us out.”

Aaliyah tucked her hair behind her ears, her face breaking into a huge grin. She knew she was holding gold. This might just be the gossip of the year.

After clearing her throat, she looked at the two of you with sparkling eyes. “First off, I heard this from my mom. The whole island doesn’t know yet, but soon enough, everyone will. So we’re like, one of the first. Do you realize how big this is?” Aaliyah took a deep breath, savoring your expectant stares. She was clearly pleased at how primed you both were.

If she held back any longer, you were about to discover telepathy.

“You guys know the Rodolp's, right? They have a son our age, Harry. Apparently, Mr. Rodolph has been coming home later and later, and eventually it came out—he’s cheating on Mrs. Rodolph.” Gossip-wise, you were unimpressed. Who cared about middle-aged infidelity? Cheating on your wife of forty years was just... gross.

“I can see it on your faces. Hold on. Apparently, the person he’s seeing is someone our age.” Now that was interesting.

You turned fully to her, a mischievous grin growing on your face. “Girl, you’d better give us more. I’m dying of suspense here.” Jada nodded in agreement, pointing to you as she puckered her lips. “Right on the money, babe.”

“Do you remember our last year? That term when we mostly had classes together? Biology class, with Liliana. Apparently, Mr. Rodolph is fooling around with Liliana from biology. And it gets even worse—Liliana and Harry are dating. The guy is cheating on both his wife and his son, with his son’s girlfriend.”

Aaliyah was a fucking queen.

You and Jada were on the verge of screaming. If you’d been at home, you two would’ve been shrieking your heads off, but since you were in a restaurant, you both had to clench your teeth to avoid an outburst. This scandal was going to be the talk of the town for months, and thank heavens it had come your way first.

“Damn… Double homicide.”

Leaning back with pride, Aaliyah pointed to herself, clearly reveling in her role. She looked like she’d just swept every major award.

Best Gossip in the Game.

That award was hers. She deserved it.

After that, things settled down a bit. You went back to eating as Aaliyah filled you in on the divorce proceedings, how Harry was firmly on his mom’s side, and any other spicy detail she had on the Rodolph's situation. Jada blew out her birthday candle, and you handed over your gifts—she was thrilled. With a designer bag in one hand and a diamond necklace around her neck, she struggled not to scream from excitement, kissing each of you about a thousand times.

The rest of the evening felt like the perfect girl’s night. You laughed, gossiped, had a blast—until the food was gone and the alcohol intake was way too high.

No one expected to get that drunk. You were pretty sure Aaliyah had promised to only have a little, yet you were positive she had polished off a bottle herself. Jada? She didn’t even pretend; she kept saying it was her birthday and she was entitled to it. She wasn’t wrong.

At one point, Jada even contemplated going into the kitchen to hunt down the chef. She nearly got up but couldn’t decide if she should carry her new bag or stick with her regular one. She added something about 22 or 52 looking no different in her eyes.

And you? Every moment with these girls was priceless. You were making new memories to look back on, imagining them as your kids’ honorary aunts, and then as their kids’ aunts too. Best friends for life.

None of you stopped drinking. You egged each other on, shot after shot, until you lost count.

At the end of the night—you were all completely hammered.

How you got home, who paid the bill, who drove? No clue. You opened your eyes the next morning in your own bed, with a throbbing headache. You felt as if you hadn’t had water in forty-eight hours, and your stomach was burning. You wanted to just lay down on the cool floor. Hangovers like this were the worst.

Sitting up, you reached for your phone. The group chat was lighting up with notifications. When you opened it, you saw that Jada and Aaliyah were already awake, talking about just how far things had gone last night. Jada was still going on about the chef. You’d really gone too far.

It was supposed to be a normal dinner, celebrating Jada’s 20th birthday. A night to hug each other, share some love, then go home—naturally, you’d gone way beyond that.

After reading about Aaliyah getting scolded by her mom, you set your phone back on the bed, unable to deal with more notifications with your throbbing head. You’d text them back later. As much as you loved the wild nights, you hated the mornings after.

To snap yourself out of it, you headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. You were sure you reeked of alcohol, which you absolutely despised. Smelling bad was practically the worst thing you could think of. You had to smell good, always. The shower didn’t take long, and after you got out, you brushed your teeth and went back to your room. You wrinkled your nose at the lingering smell of alcohol.

You opened the windows, threw on some casual workout clothes, and as you brushed your hair, you couldn’t help but think how much you loved being a girl. The self-care, the hair products, all the creams… how do guys even go without this stuff?

What the fuck do they even talk about? How do they survive missing out on all this?

You couldn’t. It was baffling.

Once you were done, you left your hair damp and headed out of your room.

As you were about to enter the living room, three men in suits caught your eye as they exited. Instead of finding your dad and grandfather seated as usual, you noticed your father standing by the window, gazing out over the view, while your grandfather was settled in an armchair, tapping a pen rapidly.

"Good morning," you said, hesitating slightly. Things were always tense in these situations—you were used to it. They didn’t approve of your lifestyle. They might even consider it… unbecoming. And you got it to an extent, but the tension was draining. You’d always hated it.

“More like good afternoon, dear.” Your grandfather’s voice was gentle, but you sensed the sarcasm. He wasn't pleased. Classic.

Just as you were about to respond, you saw your dad turn away from the window. He rubbed his face with his hands, his eyes settling on you with a look so intense it ignited a spark of dread in your gut.

What the fuck was going on?

“Would you like to sit down?” Your grandfather’s voice broke the gaze you held with your dad. You immediately took the seat across from him, catching a hint of a smile on his face. Yet it wasn’t warm. It was an unsettling grin, one that made you feel… uneasy.

You did not like this. Not a bit.

Your dad moved to stand between you and your grandfather, arms crossed. But now he wasn’t even looking at you.

“You never understood.” Your grandfather’s voice cut through, and your brow furrowed. You hated this strained atmosphere. You wanted to get up and leave. But you knew you wouldn’t.

"I’ve tried to help you understand; your father has tried. You’re twenty years old. What are you even living for?”

Okay, now you were officially starting to worry. Your grandfather’s tone, the whole approach—he seemed to be trying to soften the blow. And that, somehow, was even worse. Right now, you hated everything about this.

“You used to be a kid with straight As, despite those odd habits of yours. You didn’t want to go to college; we let it slide. You carry yourself with a confidence that can only come from knowing you’ll always be cushioned. No lie, it’s true.” His smirk widened as he placed the pen down on the coffee table and leaned back.

You’d rarely felt fear in your life. With your father and grandfather behind you, the family name erased any need to be afraid. Your last name was its own protection.

You’d always known that whatever happened, you’d come out fine. That’s why you’d never been scared.

But now? Now your body was nearly trembling. This wasn’t like the usual lecture about your carelessness, or how thoughtless you could be. It was always that same song and dance. But today, they’d taken it somewhere new.

You couldn’t help but be scared.

“So we expected, at the very least, that you’d learn from your mistakes. But it’s clear that’s not happening. You need something to wake you up—a push. And we’ve found one. Until you prove yourself, you won’t receive even a single percent of your inheritance.”

What?

Did he just—did he really just say you were cut off?

As if you didn’t carry the family name? As if you weren’t his grandchild? There was no one else in line for this inheritance. If he left it to your dad, it would still go to you eventually.

So, just because you were young, he was really taking away your rights? This was your birthright! What you did—it wasn’t some rebellion, wasn’t meant as a statement. You didn’t act this way because—

This was your birthright…

Your grandfather started coughing suddenly, his frail body rattling with each hack. Your father moved quickly to his side, and you got up as well. But he raised his hand to stop you both. A helper came to wheel him out of the room, his chair squeaking slightly on the floor. Watching him leave, you replayed his words in your mind, trying to make sense of it.

It was impossible. This was your birthright! How could he just strip it from you?

“You’ve gone too far,” your dad spoke, fixing you with a look that felt like a fireball about to explode. You wanted to lash out, to yell, to demand that this decision be taken back. But the words didn’t come.

“You came home last night like a disaster. Do you know how hard I had to fight to keep him from cutting off your credit cards?” He shook his head, his voice rough. “You’re going to fix this. You’re going to restore your image in his eyes, because right now, you are anything but the girl he wants you to be.” Your hands went to your wet hair, squeezing in frustration. You wished this was all a nightmare, that you were still sleeping.

“What do you want from me, Dad? Should I become some kind of church girl?” Your voice had risen without you realizing it, and you quickly quieted down. You hated feeling cornered, hated this situation, hated everyone—everything.

And those credit cards… if they were cut off, there’d be nothing left for you. And now, losing your future inheritance entirely? It was catastrophic. It wasn’t like you wanted your grandfather dead; you loved him, outdated as he was. But this felt so unfair… You hated every bit of it.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes!” Your dad’s voice snapped you back to reality, his tone so firm it reminded you of being ten years old, on the verge of crying because you hadn’t gotten your way. “Your grandfather is ready to leave the money to the government, do you understand? No—look at me. Let this sink in. Money, property, the company—everything. Fix this. He got married at twenty. It’s practically a miracle he hasn’t lost his mind with you staying out all night, bringing home God knows who. You’re going to fix this, understand?”

You found yourself nodding automatically.

The way he was using this inheritance as a punishment was disgusting. Leaving it all to the government—now that was a nightmare. You did not want that.

“Can’t you… Can’t you change his mind?” you asked, voice low. Your father gave you a look like you’d just spoken in a foreign language. He took a few quick steps forward, disbelief on his face. He was furious that you still seemed unwilling to accept this reality.

“Do I look like I haven’t tried?” His voice was hard, his expression angry. He was holding back to avoid drawing attention. Neither of you wanted this conversation getting back to your grandfather. “If you want the money, you’re going to stop spending your nights out like some fool. Yes, actually, a church girl wouldn’t be a bad idea. Hell, maybe even get married if you need to, I don’t know! Just make him happy! I’m not the one causing this mess!”

Your hands pressed against your head as you closed your eyes, feeling the weight of it all. You tried to think. Even if you did all of this, how did you know your grandfather would ever change his mind? Maybe he’d never truly approve…

When you opened your eyes to speak, you found an empty room.

Of course—your dad had left.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

takin’ what’s not yours

chapter 1

tags: pre portal, hurt/comfort, angst, Stan & Ford needs a hug, reader too, emotional manipulation, everyone needs therapy but that’s not happening, mystery trio dynamics if you squint, billford?? hmmm

author note: guys i swear this was supposed to be a shameless porn threesome fic, but then Ford and Stan showed up with a whole suitcase of unresolved issues im so sorry

“You’re gonna change the world, Ford.”

“Only if you’re there to see it.”

***

Backsmore University. What a fucking place.

It wasn’t just the old brick buildings or the ivy creeping up the sides. Not really. It was the people. The crazy mix of the smartest, weirdest people you could imagine. You were one of them, no doubt. An absolute nerd with a lab coat on 90% of the time, a mess of papers and equations in your backpack and a head full of ideas and knowledge. But unlike Ford, you weren’t shy about showing it. You thrived in it, honestly. Lectures? Boring as hell, but the energy in the halls? The potential of every single person you met? Yeah, you were there for it.

One of these was Ford Filbrick Pines.

The ultimate BMU enigma, the textbook definition of nerdy. For some reason, his persona always made you think he was hiding some secret genius-level insanity behind his weirdly serious face. 

You’d laugh about it with your friends, the way he avoided talking to anyone. Classic “genius who’s too good for people” type.

He was everywhere, and yet, nowhere at all. Seriously, you could walk through the student lounge, see him hunched over a pile of research papers in the corner and just know you were witnessing something profound. He didn’t get what you were about at first.

You were funny, obnoxious even, always the first to crack a joke or make a ridiculous observation in class. Meanwhile Ford would just stare at you with those big eyes like he was trying to figure out if you were some kind of social experiment.

But then you started talking, typical nerds topics. About quantum physics, mathematics, about the mysteries of the universe, about everything. He’d scoff at how crazy your ideas were but then, just a second later, he'd be scribbling down some insane theory of his own that he wouldn’t even tell anyone else about. And you’d get it. You both would sit in the library, trading theories and arguing about the tiniest details of space-time.

You were the loud one, in Ford’s opinion, the one who could hold a conversation about quantum theory and drag Ford to a campus party all in the same breath. He’d grumble the whole way, saying it was a waste of time, rolling his eyes at your insistence that he needed a little break. He’d follow you through those sticky, badly lit student lounges, watching you laugh with people he’d probably never even look at twice.

These late nights when you’d drag him out to stargaze, pointing out constellations, half-naming stars you didn’t know, laughing when he’d shake his head, muttering about inaccurate astronomy. But he always went along with it, always ended up laying beside you on the grass, looking up at a sky he could never quite make sense of but was desperate to understand.

The graduation day. You clearly remember that one.

The sun was so bright you could barely keep your eyes open and everything felt like a dream. You had your cap crooked on your head (you were probably running late, as usual), your tassel swinging as you walked across the field, your friends beside you, shouting and celebrating like you were all in the fucking “after party of the year.” But then you turned and your eyes saw Ford, who was clutching that damn diploma like it was a golden ticket. He looked different somehow, like he’d finally unlocked a new version of himself. 

The Stanford Pines himself, recipient of Backsmore’s largest grant for his “eccentric” research, standing with his square academic cap, although it was comically slipping off his head. He looked out of place, like a scientist among a sea of partying students who could barely remember their names half the time.

So, you did what any good friend would do— you adjusted his cap for him, (plus you wanted an excuse to touch him), made some dumb joke about how he’d better not screw it up. He’d roll his eyes, but you knew he liked it. He needed it.

“Hey,” you grinned, “looking pretty fancy for someone who spends all their time talking to aliens or whatever.”

Ford smirked. “I’ve already got a date with a space-time continuum. But you can join if you want.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile didn’t leave.

***

Outside, the world has turned into a kind of cold, quiet hell. Snow falls in thick slow flakes, burying everything in a suffocating blanket of white. And Stan stands there, jacket pulled tight against his chest, staring up at the looming silhouette of his brother's house.

It's freezing, but Stan hardly feels the cold. Not really.

It’s quiet here, but it’s not peaceful. Silence feels heavy, like it’s watching him.

His thoughts are pulled back to a time that feels both recent and impossibly distant.

Ten years. Ten goddamn years. It’s been a decade since he's seen Ford’s face. Well, of course he doesn't expect Ford to look like something completely different, they’re twins after all. But at least now Stan knows what Ford would look like with a mullet.

Stanford was always the smart one, the golden kid, with big brains and hands that tinkered with mysteries beyond Stan’s understanding. And now. . . after all these years of silence, Ford finally decides he needs him. It’s a postcard, a single damn postcard, that drags Stan out of the muck and dumps him back here in this town, holding secrets and god knows what kind of twisted shit his brother’s got himself mixed up in.

After everything Ford did, after leaving, after barely even thinking to check in after all these years, Stan knows he shouldn't feel this way. But here he is. Waiting. Hoping. Hoping against hope, as if somehow, that tall figure would come striding down the snowy path, arms filled with books and that same serious look on his face. That same one he had as a kid when something big was on his mind. 

Stan shakes his head, letting out a breath that forms a small cloud in the icy air.

“Ten years, and you drag me here for what, Stanford?” he thinks.

Stan takes a deep breath, the cold seeps right down to his bones, but it’s not the winter’s chill that makes him shiver. His heart pounds as he stares at the weathered door in front of him, trying to shake off the surge of memories of the two of them, inseparable, back when they thought the world couldn’t touch them. But that was more than a lifetime ago.

He mutters to himself, “you haven’t seen your brother in over ten years. It’s okay. He’s family. . . He won’t bite.” or at least Stan hopes so and then he knocks, half-heartedly, already bracing himself.

The door swings open with a sudden jolt. Before Stan can even greet him, Ford’s voice booms through the biting air. "WHO IS IT?! Have you come to steal my eyes?!” his trembling hands grip a crossbow, pointed directly at Stan, and the first thing Stan notices are his brother’s eyes — wide and paranoid.

Stan looks at Ford, steps back a little, blinks, then blinks again. He tries to mask the pang of hurt as he lets out a shaky laugh, “Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome.”

Ford lowers the weapon slightly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously and then, as if finally recognizing the person standing before him, he blurts, “Stanley, did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?”

“Eh, hello to you too, pal.” Stan grumbles, but to his surprise, Ford grabs him by the clothes, yanking him roughly inside before he can even process it. "Ah!" he exclaims, stumbling forward, before the door slams shut behind them.

Ford, still skittish, shines a flashlight in Stan’s eyes, his fingers trembling as he holds it, blinding his brother. “What is this?!” Stan shoves the flashlight away.

Deep down, though, he tries to mask the pang that Ford’s mistrust strikes in him. What happened between you two? Mom would be so upset about their relationship. They used to share everything, trust each other without question, without even a word. Now here they are, stumbling through a reunion that feels like walking on broken glass.

"Sorry,” Stanford answers quickly, studying Stan’s face as if looking for lies hidden in his eyes. “I just had to make sure you weren’t. . . It’s nothing. Come in, come in.”

Stan follows him, the warmth he thought he’d feel upon seeing his brother slowly cooling into something he doesn’t want to admit that feels like disappointment. He watches Ford flit around the room, casting paranoid glances, clutching onto a battered old journal like it’s the only thing holding him together.

The shack is cluttered, papers scattered on the floor, strange devices cluttering the tables, books piled high. Wow, Stan thinks, the whole place screams my brother has been here alone too long.

It makes Stan's chest tighten.

“Uh, you gonna explain what’s going on here? you’re acting like mom after her tenth cup of coffee.” he is trying to defuse the atmosphere somehow, to make contact, but inside, his heart aches. He missed Ford; he missed him like hell. And to finally be here, standing right next to him, only to find him. . . like this. Seriously? It’s almost too much to bear.

Ford, ignoring the gentle jab, clutches the journal tighter. “Listen, there isn’t much time. I’ve made huge mistakes and I don’t know who I can trust anymore.” he doesn’t meet Stan’s eyes as he glances at a skeleton in the corner, twisting its head away from him.

Stan’s heart drops. This is bad, worse than he thought.

He steps forward, placing a hand on Ford’s shoulder, a touch he hopes can somehow bridge the miles and years between them. “Hey, easy there. Let’s talk this through, okay?”

But Ford pulls back, a strange, paranoid look in his eyes. His fingers trace the spine of the journal as he glances at Stan. “I have something to show you. Something you won’t believe.”

Stan's brow furrows, his curiosity piqued despite himself. What could it be? Some kind of super scientific bullshit that opens doors to parallel worlds? A time machine? A wormhole? Black hole made at home?

He looks at Ford, how the man hasn’t aged a day physically, but the exhaustion, the fear, the isolation, it all is painted on his brother’s face. It’s painful to see. It’s heartbreaking to think how Ford might have been living in this place, alone with nothing but his thoughts, trapped in his own world of mistakes and fears.

Stan manages a weak grin, masking his own fear for brothers sanity in his heart. "Look, I’ve been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I’ll understand."

That twist in your chest, that awful, prickling feeling that something’s wrong.

You’re curled up at your kitchen table, sipping your tea with that kind of numbness you get when you’ve been overthinking too much. You told yourself to back off. He needed space. He needed time.

But when Stan’s eyes scan the giant, hulking portal machine in front of him, he can’t hide the bewilderment as he adds, “There’s nothing about this I understand.”

Ford’s hand wrapped tight protective around his journal. It’s the only one left, his last remaining key to understanding, to protecting everything he’s worked for. 

But now Stan stands across from him and his face clearly shows something what can be called betrayal.

Ford’s been distant. Secretive, even. The last time you two spoke, it was tense, full of anger and words you didn’t mean. It shouldn’t matter, you tell yourself, but the thought of him out there, alone, is like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Ford tries to explain as if Stan would understand. “It's a trans-universal gateway, a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension. I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe. But it could just as easily be harnessed for terrible destruction. That's why I shut it down and hid my journals, which explain how to operate it. There's only one journal left. . . and you are the only person I can trust to take it.” he steps forward, holding the journal out to Stan, eyes pleading. “I have something to ask of you: remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?” Stan’s face shines with smile until he hears next shit his brother say. “Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as ya can! To the edge of the Earth! Bury it where no one can find it!”

I should’ve just stayed, I shouldn’t have left.

Your fingers curl around the warm mug, but sadly the heat doing nothing to soothe the anxiety creeping up your throat.

You set it down on the counter, trying to shake off the feeling. It’s just the storm, it’s just you being overdramatic. It doesn’t mean anything.

But the knot in your stomach refuses to untangle.

Something’s wrong.

“That’s it? You finally show your face after ten fucking years and all you’ve got to say is ‘get away’?”

Ford's hand drops and disappointment flashes across his face. “Stanley, you don't understand what I'm up against! What I've been through!”

“Oh, yeah?” Stan can't contain his emotions. How dare he?! “You don’t understand what I’ve been through! Three different prisons, Stanford! I’ve chewed my way out of a goddamn car trunk! Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods! Selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself!”

With a sigh, you stand up, setting the mug down on the table as your dog, a sweet, eager little spaniel, looks up at you with wide, curious eyes.

Ford's temper snaps because he can't believe what the fuck his brother is talking about. “I’m selfish? I’m selfish, Stanley? You ruined my shot at a real life! At my dream school! And here I am, giving you a chance to do something meaningful and you still can’t get it through your head!”

You glance over at your dog, a scruffy, affectionate spaniel with big brown eyes who’s been staring at you from the corner of the room.

Stan raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? You want this fucking book gone?” he yanks a lighter from his pocket, the flame flaring up as he flicks it. “Fine. I’ll get rid of it right fucking now.” he holds the journal over the flame, daring Ford to make a move.

You can’t shake this feeling, this urge to go find Ford, even if it means dragging yourself out into the goddamn blizzard.

“I’ll be back soon, girl,” you murmur, pulling on your coat. You don’t know what you’re looking for, don’t even know what you’re hoping to find. But you have to see him. You have to know

Ford’s eyes widen, panic flashing across his face. “No!” he lunges for it, reaching out, but Stan yanks it back. “You don’t understand!” Ford shouts, desperation pouring through him.

But Stan takes a step back, holding the journal dangerously close to the flame. “You want me to take it? Well, then, I’ll decide what to do with it.”

“My research!” they jerk the book back and forth, playing a fucked up game of tug of war, their yells echoing through the lab as they struggle over it.

You can’t shake the feeling, it’s like something’s dragging you forward, pulling you toward him, toward the unknown.

It’s late and the woods are fucking silent, which is weird for Gravity Falls. You’ve been running for what feels like hours, your chest burning, your mind tangled in a mess of thoughts you can’t quite shake. Every goddamn thing with Ford lately has been a disaster, hasn’t it? One fight after another, with him shutting down, disappearing into his head like he’s always been known to do.

The last words you shared with him are still fresh in your mind, “this is it, okay?! I can’t do this anymore.” he didn’t even fight back, just. . . stared at you like you were the problem. Maybe you were the problem, you don’t know, but damn it, you cared. You couldn’t just pretend like everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. That’s why you’re out here, because you’re not about to let him get swallowed up by whatever the hell is going on in that messed-up head of his.

And now, here you are, halfway to his place with nothing but your gut telling you that whatever was going down at Ford’s place was way worse than you thought.

When you enter, you hear the kind of noise— angry, violent, something breaking and you know Ford’s involved, you just know it. You don’t care if you two haven’t spoken in days, if things between you and him are a mess of unsaid things and frustrated silences. He’s been acting so off, and now, hearing the absolute mayhem erupting inside, you’re terrified.

The sounds are loud, shouting voices, furniture crashing, angry grunts. Your heart fucking stops as you push the door open so fast it slams against the wall. You’re not thinking, not caring that maybe you shouldn’t be here, but it’s too late to stop now.

At first, you think you've completely lost your mind, because you're seeing two Ford Pines. And then you think, either you're the one who's gone crazy, or Ford has, because he's literally fighting with himself.

But as you take a breath, both Fords turn to look at you, and that’s when it hits you: this isn’t just some bizarre mirror trick. There’s Ford and then there’s someone who looks a whole lot like him, but is definitely, absolutely not him.

“What the fuck is going on?” your voice rings out much louder than you meant, but you don’t care. Your heart is pounding way too hard and your feet are planted, legs shaking with adrenaline and worry. You’ve seen Ford in a mess of emotions, but never like this. Not this bad.

The second the door slams open, both of them freeze, but it’s the mulleted guy who speaks first. “So you got yourself a chick now, huh? Thought you were too busy playing goddamn Einstein to bother with things like that.” his angry eyes narrow at you, and you’re not sure if it’s anger or. . . jealousy? Frustration? You don’t have time to decode it.

This guy have absolutely the same features, same nose, same intense, serious brow, but his whole look is just rougher, like he’d been living a life Ford would never survive.

And your blood boils.

“No, fuck that,” you snap, glaring at mullet-man. “You don’t talk about me like that.” then you glance at Ford. “Ford, why the fuck didn’t you tell me about—”

but you get interrupted by Ford’s clone, Ford’s twin, whatever. “Name’s Stan. Stanley Pines. The brother of this genius. Bet he’s never even mentioned me, huh?”

Your stomach churns at the words. Fuck that, no way. This isn’t about you, this is about Ford.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” now you are shivering not only from the winter cold, but also from the absolute chaos of what is happening. You turn to Ford, eyes desperate, desperate to know, to understand, to find answers. “What’s going on? Where have you been? I couldn’t get ahold of you. You just. . . left. And I—” you stop yourself, biting your lip. This isn’t the time to scream at him for all the unanswered questions, for all the shit that’s been left hanging. Not yet.

Ford doesn’t seem to get it. His eyes flick between you and Stan like he’s trying to piece it together, but nothing adds up. "I don’t— what are you doing here? We— we said goodbye," his voice is strained, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“No, Ford. You said goodbye! You fucking disappeared! I don’t even know why, and I— fuck, just explain yourself, okay?” you can’t keep the desperation out of your voice anymore.

Stan is watching with his arms crossed over his chest, and he still doesn't look too pleased, but it's not just anger. Although you don't have time to deal with his point of view. You need answers. You need Ford to talk.

Ford opens his mouth to say something, but then the anger, the frustration, all of it just snaps. "I didn’t want you involved in this. . .  anyone involved. This, this thing with the portal, you wouldn’t understand—"

You don’t even let him finish. “Stop. Just stop, yeah? You don’t get to just disappear like that, Ford. I don’t care about the journal or the goddamn portal anymore. I care about you. Why the hell are you so fucking determined to push everyone away?”

Ford tries to get himself together, though he looks like he’s been caught with every secret he’s ever buried. “This— this doesn’t concern you, alright? Just— just leave, go, this is between me and him.”

Stan scoffs. “Oh, yeah, classy, Sixer. Let’s bring her in just to shove her right back out, huh? Really hitting your all-time high here.”

“Shut up,” his brother snaps.

But Stan’s just as stubborn, glaring right back. “No, I don’t think I will. Not when you’ve dragged some poor girl into this whole shitshow. Real nice, by the way, real nice! Does she even know what you’ve been up to, huh? All the crap you’re into?”

“I said shut up, Stanley. I shouldn’t have called you— God, I regret calling you! You’re just here to make things worse, like always.”

The words land harder than you thought they would. It's not like you didn’t know Ford could be an asshole, but hearing him say that directly to his brother hits a nerve, like a punch to the gut. 

You see Stan’s face change, his mouth drops open, his eyes so wide, like he’s been slapped across the face. He looks like he’s been gutted. It takes his breath away, because he didn't expect to hear this ten years later, and it's obvious that Ford's words hit him too deeply.

However, your own heart drop to your stomach too. Fuck. You didn’t know what was worse — the fact that they were tearing into each other or the fact that Ford could say something like that to his own brother. It’s too much, even for you. You want to scream at Ford, demand that he stop, that this isn’t helping anyone, but you’re paralyzed.

But Stan’s hurt turns into something else and he spits back, “You think I wanted this, Ford?! You think I wanted to be the fuck-up brother?! You’re the one who dragged me into this whole goddamn mess now. You asked me to come! You! So don’t go acting all high and mighty like I’m the one screwing your life up right now!”

And then, in that moment, everything goes to hell.

Before you know it, they’re back at each other’s throats. Ford lunges forward, grabbing the journal, but Stan’s not letting go, the damn thing passed back and forth between them like it’s a live wire, all anger and resentment boiled down to this one book as each of them trying to get a hand on it. 

You rush forward, hands outstretched to push them apart, anything to stop this from going too far, but in the heat of it all, Ford jerks back, elbow flying and you feel it land in your ribs, knocking the wind right out of you and it really fucking hurts. The pain shocks you so hard you gasp.

Ford’s eyes snap to you instantly, widening in horror. “Oh my god— I’m s-so sorry! are you alri—“ he reaches toward you, himself can’t believe he just did that to you, but he barely gets a word out before Stan’s fist slams into his jaw.

This time, Stan hits so hard, putting all his resentment into the punch that Ford stumbles dangerously close to the portal, which is buzzing. You watch in absolute horror as his body goes too close, the fucking thing flickering and humming like a beast about to devour him whole and for a heart-stopping second, Ford looks like he’s going to fall right in.

You’re out of your mind in an instant as you scramble to your feet, adrenaline spiking, crazy fear in your eyes. Without thinking, you reach out, grabbing Ford’s arm, pulling him back, using every ounce of strength you have to pull him back. “Ford, no! Get back!”

Stan’s standing there, frozen for a second, scared himself by how far he had come. His chest rises and falls in heavy breaths and his face is fucking pale as he stares at his brother’s body half in portal, but the guilt is written all over Stan’s face. His bruised hand is still raised, like he wants to hit Ford again, but it’s shaking. Did he. . . did he just. . ? God, he didn’t mean—

“You!” you scream, still tugging Ford away from the edge, but the portal’s pulling like a magnet and you’re fighting with everything you have. “Help me, now!”

Snapped out of his daze, Stanley rushes over, grabbing Ford. You tug harder, your muscles screaming as Ford’s body gives a last push toward the rift, but finally, finally, together, you both heave him back, dragging him away from the portal and out of that damn pull. His feet hit solid ground and you both just collapse.

You’re gasping for breath, hands still fisted in Ford’s coat, both of you holding on like if you let go, he’ll slip right back toward that nightmare.

Ford’s breathing heavily, disoriented, his hands gripping your arms in fear. 

Stan’s still looking at Ford, his face torn up because he doesn’t know whether to say sorry, to yell or to just walk the fuck out to not ruin something else. There’s realisation in his eyes and, for the first time, Stanley is seeing what his anger’s capable of. That punch could’ve been the end of everything.

“Brother. . .” Stan’s voice trembles. “I didn’t mean to—”

You don’t let him finish. “No, you didn’t mean to. None of you meant to,” you snap, but it’s not anger in your tone, it’s damn fear, panic, it’s this deep fucking worry. You turn to Ford. “But this shit needs to stop, okay? Right now. Please.”

The silence between you, Ford and Stan stretches out as if it’s some aftermath of a bomb going off. Ford’s still on the floor, breathing hard and it’s not the near-death experience that’s fucking him up, but the bitter realisation of what could have really happened if that damn portal had taken him in.

“So that’s it, huh? After ten goddamn years, this is how you treat me? Almost shove me into a portal like it’s nothing?”

Stan opens his mouth, but Ford isn’t letting him get a word in, he’s too riled up now, all that anger and pride churning in him, boiling over. “Do you even understand what could’ve happened? What you almost did? You haven’t changed one bit, Stanley. I should’ve known better. Should’ve known you’d just fuck everything up, again. Just like you did back then.” Ford’s voice sounds colder than the winter outside. “Remember the science fair, Stan? You destroyed my experiment because you were too fucking selfish to think about anyone but yourself. I could’ve had everything. You took that from me, my chance at West Coast Tech, my chance at anything and then you have the nerve to make me the villain?”

It hits Stan harder than any punch ever could. Stan doesn’t even blink, his whole body stiff, shoulders slump.

His mouth opens like he wants to fight back, but there’s no fight left in him, the words are stuck in his throat. He doesn’t say shit, trying to process everything at once. But there’s nothing to process. Ford’s right.

“Yeah, I get it,” Stan mutters, holding back tears. “I’m a fucking failure. I know that, Sixer. Always have been. I’m sorry.”

But then he does the one thing you didn’t think he would. He turns around, slow, defeated, too fucking tired to argue and fight anymore.

And just like that, he starts walking away. But deep inside Stanley is crying like a child, expecting Ford to stop him. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t say a word, but he wishes Ford would care, at least once. 

You’re fucking shocked, feeling helpless rage and anger, heart pounding with confusion and disbelief. You thought. . . well, you don’t even know what you thought! That they’d hug it out? Have some big, tearful reunion? Not really! But this mess of accusations and bitterness and old scars is so fucked up. Completely and utterly fucked up.

Ford stands there, all silent, watching Stan’s back as he walks away, not moving an inch. The pride, the stubbornness, the wall he’s built around himself. Oh god, that guy is so fucking smart he doesn’t know how to feel anymore.

You look back at Ford, at his rigid stance, he won’t even move, won’t even try to call Stan back. You can’t believe it and something snaps in you, something fierce and hot because you’re done with all this bullshit.

“You’re not even gonna ask him to stay? Fuck, what is wrong with you both?”

Ford’s face tightens, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flinch. And it drives you insane, watching him cling to that pride, that goddamn logic of his that’s somehow more important than his own damn family. No fucking way is this ending like this. Not after everything you’ve just seen, not with Ford standing there like a goddamn statue, too proud or too blind or too stupid to do anything but let his brother walk out.

You storm past Ford, ignoring his surprised look as you push past him, practically running after Stan. “wait!” you shout. But Stan doesn’t stop, doesn’t even glance over his shoulder.

“Stan!”

“What?” he snaps at you.

You step closer. “You’re not leaving,” you say, staring him down like it’s a challenge.

He lets out a dry, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’s better if I do. I don’t belong here.” he jerks his thumb back in Ford’s direction. “Pretty clear I’m not welcome.”

“Bullshit,” you respond, what makes Stanley raise an eyebrow, looking a little surprised at your bluntness. “I don’t care if he’s too proud to say it, but you’re his brother— I mean, you think this is how family’s supposed to be? You think he doesn’t want you here?”

“Look, kid, you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. Me ‘n’ Ford? We’re a lost cause. Always been. Ain’t no point in tryin' to fix it now.”

“Oh, come on! So you fuck up, he fucks up— you’re both disasters. That doesn’t mean you just give up. I don’t care if it’s been years or what the hell happened between you two. You don’t just fuckin’ quit on family. That’s not how this works.”

Stan’s mouth twitches and he looks like he’s gonna bite back with something snarky, but he doesn’t. He just lets out this tired sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t wanna hurt him more than I already have. I always mess things up. I’ll just make it worse. So what’s the point?”

You take a deep breath, trying to rein in the frustration pounding through you. “The point is, you’re his brother! And if you don’t stay, if you don’t try to work this out, you’ll both regret it. You can’t just leave him to deal with this shit alone.” 

Stanley opens his mouth, ready to throw out another excuse, but you cut him off.

“Look, Stan,” you change the intonation to softer one, “I don’t know the whole story here. I don’t know what went down between you two and I’m sure as hell not saying it doesn’t hurt like hell. But this whole thing you guys are doing? Pushing each other away? It’s not gonna make anything better.“

“Fine, fine. But don’t expect me to be the hero, alright? I ain’t got no magic words to fix this shit.” Stan sighs and looks down like he’s too damn tired for this conversation.

When you and Stan make your way back inside, you see Ford still there with his back to you.

Stanley huffs out a laugh, trying to shake off the tension. “So, Sixer, when’d ya start collectin’ all this junk? don’t tell me you got a whole damn museum in here.”

Suddenly, Ford huffs a dry laugh that sounds a little bitter coming from someone like him. “Wouldn’t expect you to get it. Takes more than a few brain cells to appreciate real science.”

Stan’s smile falters, well, it was pretty rude, but he thinks he deserved it. You and Stan share a look, but before you can say anything, Stan just shrugs it off, letting out a forced chuckle, his voice trying to stay light. “Ha, yeah, same ol’ Ford. Ya always had a way with words, didn’t ya?”

There is only silence in response, but when you come a little closer, you finally take in the sight of Ford holding a goddamn crossbow.

Wait, what?

Your eyes go wide and the first thing that hits you is the cold sweat creeping up your spine.

Stan and you freeze. Confusion mixing with a little fear as you both look at Ford, What the hell is going on with him? Since when does Ford carry a crossbow around like it’s no big deal?

Stan raises an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. “Hey, bro, you planning on hunting something tonight or just ready to, I dunno, take out some deer in the backyard?”

[itslovelyamari]

I'm Here

Ellie x Reader

TW: violence, mentions of wounds

Switch POVs alot 😓

ELLIE'S POV:

The storm clouds that had threatened all morning now loomed heavy over Jackson as Dina came stumbling through the gates, panic etched across her face.

"I lost her!" Dina's voice cracked as she tried to explain, her breaths coming in gasps. "We were on patrol, everything was fine, and then... I don't know. I lost contact with her. I've been searching, but I can't find Y/N!"

Ellie froze mid-step, her blood turning cold at Dina's words. The rest of the group—Joel, Maria, Jesse—gathered quickly, concern rippling through the air like a lightning strike.

"Where?" Ellie demanded, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

"An old warehouse, a couple miles east," Dina said, guilt written all over her face. "We split up to check different sections, and when I called out, she didn’t answer.”

Ellie didn’t wait for more details. Her boots hit the ground hard as she sprinted toward the stables, her mind racing.

---

Y/N'S POV:

Meanwhile, Y/N crouched low behind a metal shelf in the dimly lit warehouse. Her breaths came shallow and quick as she clutched a jagged piece of glass in her trembling hands.

David's footsteps echoed ominously through the building, his cruel voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

"You're a tough one, aren't you?" he taunted, his tone sickly sweet. "But you can’t hide forever, sweetheart. Come out, and I might go easy on you."

Y/N bit her lip to stifle a sob, her heart pounding in her chest. She refused to give him the satisfaction of her fear. She tightened her grip on the glass, determined to make him regret ever laying a hand on her.

Title: I’m Here

The air in the abandoned warehouse was stifling, thick with dust and the stench of decay. Y/N crouched low behind a rusted shelf, her breath hitching as David’s footsteps echoed closer. Her hand trembled as she clutched a jagged piece of broken glass she’d found on the floor.

She had been lucky to escape his initial grab, twisting out of his grasp when he lunged at her in the dark. Now, she was running out of options—and energy.

“Come on now, don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” David called out, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. “You’re only making me more excited. I like a little fight.”

Y/N clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to silence her shallow, panicked breathing. Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat a countdown to when he would find her.

“Think about it,” he continued, his boots crunching over broken debris as he prowled closer. “No one’s coming for you. It’s just you and me, sweetheart. We could have some real fun…”

She clenched her jaw, fury momentarily overtaking her fear. She wouldn’t let him win. Not like this.

David suddenly kicked over a stack of crates, the loud crash making her flinch. “Hiding won’t save you!” he snarled, his voice shifting from playful to menacing. “You think I don’t know where you are?”

Y/N’s grip on the glass tightened, her palm slick with sweat. The faint shuffle of her movement betrayed her, and David’s head snapped in her direction.

“There you are,” he said, his lips curling into a predatory grin.

Y/N bolted, sprinting out from behind the shelf and darting toward the far end of the room. David gave chase, his longer strides closing the distance quickly. He grabbed her arm, yanking her back with brutal force.

“No!” Y/N screamed, twisting and thrashing with everything she had. She drove her elbow into his stomach, earning a grunt of pain, but his grip didn’t falter.

“Feisty,” he sneered, slamming her into a nearby wall. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and the glass shard slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor.

David leaned in, his face inches from hers. “It’s over, sweetheart. Just stop fighting—”

Y/N brought her knee up hard, striking him in the groin. David howled, doubling over as he released her. She scrambled away, her hands frantically searching for the shard of glass.

“You little bitch!” David roared, recovering quickly. He lunged at her again, and this time she managed to roll out of the way, grabbing the shard as she did.

“Stay back!” Y/N shouted, her voice trembling but defiant.

David laughed, his eyes gleaming with sadistic glee. “Or what? You’re gonna cut me? Go ahead, try.”

He moved toward her again, and Y/N slashed wildly with the glass, grazing his arm. Blood seeped through the tear in his jacket, but he barely flinched.

“Better than I thought,” he muttered, his tone almost admiring. “But you’re still mine.”

Desperate, Y/N threw a nearby metal pipe in his direction, creating a loud crash that distracted him just long enough for her to dart behind another set of shelves. She crouched low, her body shaking as she tried to calm her breathing.

“You can’t run forever,” David taunted, his voice echoing through the room. “I’ve got all night, sweetheart. And when I find you, I’ll make you pay for that little stunt.”

Y/N’s vision blurred with tears as she tried to steady herself. She didn’t want to die here. She didn’t want to let this monster win.

Suddenly, a voice pierced the tense silence.

“Y/N!”

Ellie.

---

ELLIE'S POV:

Ellie rode hard, her heart a storm of worry and anger. By the time she reached the warehouse, Joel, Jesse, and Dina were not far behind her, but Ellie didn’t wait for backup. She crept through the front doors, her pistol drawn, adrenaline making her senses razor-sharp.

“Y/N!” Ellie called out, her voice echoing through the cavernous space.

The sound of movement caught her attention, and she turned just as David emerged from the shadows. Before she could react, he was on her, a gun pressing into her back as he wrenched her arm behind her.

"Drop it," David hissed in her ear, his breath hot and rancid.

Ellie growled in frustration but complied, her gun clattering to the ground.

"Ellie!" Y/N’s voice rang out, high and panicked. She watched from her hiding spot, horror coursing through her veins.

David smirked, tightening his hold on Ellie. "Looks like she cares about you. Maybe I’ll have some fun with both of you."

David let out a strangled cry, his grip loosening on Ellie as he stumbled forward, blood spurting from the wound. He collapsed to the ground, choking on his last breaths.

Ellie turned, wide-eyed, as she saw Y/N standing there, the bloodied shard still in her hand. Y/N’s chest heaved, her knees buckling as the reality of what she had done crashed over her.

She fell to the floor, gasping for air.

Y/N'S POV:

Hope surged through her, but it was short-lived as David’s predatory grin returned.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “Your girlfriend’s here to join the party.”

David moved toward the sound of Ellie’s voice, leaving Y/N just enough space to collect herself. Her survival instinct kicked in. She gripped the shard tightly and began to creep after him, her steps silent.

When she saw him grab Ellie and hold her at gunpoint, fury overtook her fear.

“Drop it,” David growled at Ellie, shoving the barrel of his gun against her back.

Ellie hesitated, her green eyes locking briefly with Y/N’s over David’s shoulder.

That split second was all Y/N needed. Fueled by adrenaline, she charged forward and drove the shard into David’s neck with all her strength.

His body jerked as the glass sliced through flesh. Blood sprayed out, painting the walls and floor in violent streaks.

David gurgled, his hands flailing as he dropped his gun. He stumbled forward before collapsing, choking on his own blood as life drained from him.

Y/N stared at his body, her chest heaving as the weight of what she’d done settled in. Her hands were covered in blood—his blood—and her vision swam.

“Y/N!” Ellie was at her side in an instant, grabbing her shoulders.

The touch startled Y/N, and she flinched, backing away. Her body shook violently, and her breaths came in

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, babe,” Ellie murmured, pulling Y/N into her arms. “It’s over. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Tears spilled from Y/N’s eyes as she clung to Ellie, her head buried in her chest.

Ellie stroked her hair gently, whispering soft reassurances. “You’re so brave. It’s over now. I’m never letting anything happen to you again.”

Joel and the others burst through the door moments later, their eyes scanning the scene. Joel’s gaze softened as he took in Ellie holding Y/N, both of them shaken but alive.

“We’ll take it from here,” Joel said quietly, signaling Jesse and Dina to check the area.

Ellie helped Y/N to her feet, her arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Y/N leaned heavily on her, still trembling, but Ellie held her steady.

“We’re going home,” Ellie promised, her voice firm. “And I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

As they stepped into the cold night air, Y/N clung to Ellie, finding solace in her warmth. The storm had passed, and for the first time in hours, she felt safe.

[fanficsbysteve]

The Best for the Both of Them

This will be my first foray into writing fanfiction in a long long time so please be kind. Constructive Criticism is always welcome. Hate Mail is not. I also haven't used Tumblr in awhile so if anyone has any suggestions on how I can make my posts better or easier for you all to read, please let me know.

Rated: PG? WC: 4863

___________________________________________________________

 “I’ll see you around Buck”, Tommy stood for a second before he walked to the door and out of Evan’s loft. His mind was reeling from what he just did. Evan had been the best thing to ever happen to him, and he had just ended it. Did he do the right thing? He kept walking eventually coming to his truck. He got in and looked up at the windows to Evan’s loft. He saw his now ex-boyfriend standing there looking out at him.

                “This is the best thing for both of us,” he told himself as he started the truck up and drove off towards his house, “It was never meant to last anyways. I’m his first not his last” he just kept telling himself that as a means of justifying it to himself. He felt tears start to well up in his eyes as he drove towards his house. He didn’t want to do that. Evan was the sweetest and most caring person he had ever known. But he couldn’t handle the heartbreak if he decided that Tommy wasn’t enough for him. Yes that was an incredibly Biphobic mentality to have, and he knew it, but your brain is never logical when it comes to your emotions and your potential for heartbreak.

                He pulled into his driveway and turned off his truck. Sitting in his truck he let the tears start to roll down his cheeks. Sobs racked his body as he just let out all the sadness that he was feeling over what he had done. He desperately wanted to take out his phone and call Evan and say he was sorry. Say he didn’t mean it. Beg him for forgiveness. But he knew he couldn’t do that. No this was how it had to be.

                After about 10 minutes of the ugliest crying, he had ever done in his life, he composed himself, got out of his truck and head inside his house. It was going to be a long night, and he knew it. This was the best for the both of them.

***

                Tommy took a couple days off work so he could just get all his crying out. His work best friend, Jessica, had come by a couple times during that time to check in on him and see how he was doing. She reported to him that he always looked like shit and that he needed to pull himself together. She really didn’t get it though did she. She had been with her husband for as long as he knew her.

                After the third day, Tommy again pulled himself together and compartmentalize all his emotions like he had grown accustomed to all those many years ago. Looking around his house he found so many things that reminded him of Evan. Some of his clothes that he had left behind after a night over, a toothbrush, some different knickknacks that he bought for Tommy to keep in his apartment to remind him. Sighing, Tommy picked up a box and started to place all of Evan’s items into it. He kept the pictures. And a hoodie. He may have broken up with Evan, but he didn’t want to forget about him completely. He was a big part of his life for the past 6 months. Everything else went into this box.

                He spent the better part of a day trying to decide the best way to get these items back to Evan. He didn’t feel ready to see Evan again so going to the loft to drop them off was probably not in the cards. Maybe Eddie or Chim could get them to him. Though not sure if that was going to be easy either. They were both closer to Evan than they were to him. Wouldn’t hurt to try anyways.

                Tommy took out his phone and shot a quick text message off to Eddie. He didn’t expect anything back right away, but little did he know, “You fucked up bud” was all he got back at first.

“Don’t you think I thought this through,” he responded back.

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t fuck up” Eddie wrote back.

“I have a bunch of Evan’s stuff that he left at my place that needs to get back to him,” Tommy wrote quickly, “And I don’t think either of us wants to see each other right now.”

“I spent the past 3 days with a very drunk Evan pining over you hard,” Eddie replied, “You have no idea how badly this is affecting him.”

“He doesn’t know how this is affecting me either,” Tommy sent back, “Can I leave his stuff with you, and you give it to him?”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Eddie wrote back, “But I think the two of you need to talk this out. Sometime before my liver gives out.”

                Tommy sighed and took the box to his Truck, meaning to head towards Eddie’s house. At least Eddie was still talking to him, which was a good sign. He hadn’t fucked things up with the entire 118 at least. He drove about an hour to get to Eddie’s house. Seeing Evan’s Jeep parked out front, Tommy drove right past the front of Eddie’s house and parked a ways up the street so that he wouldn’t be noticed. God, he needed to mature up, but he really didn’t want to see Evan right now. He had just gotten himself to stop crying and he knew that if he saw him it would start the tears up again.

                Tommy slowly walked up towards Eddie’s house, navigating like some weird stalker up the sidewalk and deposited the box outside the door to Eddie’s house. He snapped a quick picture of the box and Eddie’s door and hurried down the walkway, sending a picture of the box to Eddie with a quick message of “I can’t see him yet. The box is outside your door.”

                Tommy drove back to his place, hyperventilating a little bit over what could have happened. He needed to stay strong. This was the best for the both of them.

***

                It had been a month since he ended things with Evan. Work kept him busy so that was beneficial for him. He could throw himself into work and forget everything. He did tend to avoid using the mouth static because it reminded him of Evan. His captain was probably very appreciative of that.

                Tommy had taken to using Tinder to see if he could get someone to date again. He did miss the companionship that Evan gave. Someone to hold at night. Problem was that he was trying to pick a fish from the sea that was Gay LA. The amount of people that just wanted to have sex with him far outweighed the people looking for a nice date.

                He did find the rare gentlemen not looking for a quick fuck which was nice. Tommy wasn’t ready to dip his toes back into THAT market just yet. Besides if he wanted that he would have been on Grindr, not Tinder. Men were just horndogs no matter where they were.

                Tommy swiped right on a handsome man that he saw and got the “Match” signal, so he started messaging this person. He was 5’6, fit, brown hair, blue eyes, worked as a nurse at one of the local hospitals. Tommy decided to go on a date with this guy. Have a nice dinner and a movie. That was his typical first date. Had it been that before Evan and will continue to be that after. He just needed to figure out a restaurant.

                The night of the date came, and Tommy met this new guy at the restaurant. His name was Bryant, and he was closer to Tommy’s age than Evan had been. He wouldn’t admit it in person, but he felt a little bad when he and Evan were together since there was such a large age gap.

                Bryant had chosen a nice Vietnamese restaurant to meet up at, and Tommy would be picking the movie. They ordered their dishes after sitting and waited. Tommy looked around the room a bit, taking in his surroundings. It was a nice place, he thought, and then a thought he didn’t want to have came up ‘Evan would really like this. He likes to try all kinds of new food.’

                He had to stop himself. He was drifting off into thinking of Evan and that wouldn’t have ended well. Bryant was talking and Tommy hadn’t heard a thing he said in his revelry. God he was the worst person to go on a date with right now. His thoughts constantly running back to Evan like some kind of sick masochist. No, he wouldn’t let that man keep such a vice grip on his heart. This was the best of the both of them.

***

                It had been 6 months since he had broken up with Evan. He had managed to match with about 10 very nice gentlemen in that time, and failed to go on a second date with about 6 of them. Why was he so bad at this? It was never this bad with Evan. Not even remotely. They always got along and always had things to talk about.

                Sitting down at the coffee shop, a handsome Latin man sitting across from him, Tommy sipped at his drink while half listening to the man talking about his life. He was interested, really he was. He just couldn’t make his mind focus. It kept going back to thoughts of Evan.

                The bell above the door rang as someone came in again. They were sitting near to the door, so Tommy had a bird’s eye view of the people walking in. And what he saw made his heart clench in his chest. Walking in through that doorway was Evan. He was there with a very beautiful blonde woman. God, he looked amazing still. Hopefully he didn’t see Tommy.

                Quickly looking away, Tommy hoped against all hope that Evan didn’t notice him. He didn’t want to create a scene or end things badly on this date. His date seemed to notice as he asked what was going on?

                “Ex-boyfriend just walked in,” Tommy replied. His breathing had slightly deepened after Evan walked into the shop, so he suggested that they take their drinks and go for a walk.

                He couldn’t be in the same room with Evan. It was too hard to see him. He did look happy though. Walking out of the coffee shop, his date heading out before him, he glanced back hoping, while also not hoping, to catch a glimpse of Evan again. Looking right at him, his blue eyes trying to hide a sadness that he could match was Evan. God how he missed that man. He turned back around and left the coffee shop, not wanting to feel the pain that his heart was currently feeling. This was the best for the both of them.

***

                It had been three days since Tommy saw Evan at the coffee shop. Things had fizzled out again with the latest in a long line of dates he had gone on. Honestly, it was getting a little depressing for him. But he kept on trying. Maybe one day someone will click with him.

                His phone buzzed and he absently picked it up without looking to see who the message was from and opened it. His heart skipped a beat when he looked at it. It was from Evan and just said one word “Hey”.

                Tommy was freaking out a bit. He hadn’t expected this to happen. He had taken a break and wanted Evan to experience his life now. He would have done the same had he been the first for a gay man. It wasn’t fair to tie someone down into a relationship if they hadn’t fully experienced life to its fullest.

                “Hey,” Tommy replied back, “Saw you at the coffee shop a few days ago. You look good”

                Tommy stared at the screen at the Typing bubble showed up on his phone. It was agonizing waiting to hear back. One minute. Two minutes. Was he writing the next great American novel over there?

                “It was nice to see you as well,” was the reply. Eight words? It took him that long to write eight words? The typing bubble showed up again, “Can we meet up? I have some things I need to talk to you about.”

                Tommy stared at his phone. Could he do this? It had been 6 months. Surely things had settled between them enough that they could have a cordial meet up right? “I could do that. Do you know a place?”

                “Let’s get pizza for old times sake,” Evan replied. Tommy felt his heart beat a little harder in his chest, “You know the place. Did you want me to pick you up or meet you there?”

                Tommy stared at the phone. While he would have loved to go there together, he knew that he couldn’t. Not easily anyways. 6 months they had been apart but every thought in his mind was about Evan. He had never had a relationship with anyone, quite like the one he had with Evan. There was something about it, “I can meet you there. 8 pm? Know a day?”

                “Can we meet tonight?” Tommy’s heart fluttered in his chest. Did he dare accept?

                While his brain was overthinking every situation that could come of this, his heart took control of his hands and he typed back, “That can work. I’ll see you there.”

                “See you there,” was the reply. Tommy put his phone down and let out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding. This could go so many ways. Picking up his phone again and looking at the time, Tommy had about 3 hours to get ready. The Pizza place that Buck wanted to go to wasn’t too far from where Tommy lived. Maybe a 30 minute drive. It gave him time to look his best. They may be broken up, but Tommy definitely didn’t want Evan to see him look a mess.

                He went about getting ready and he felt his heart fill with joy a little bit. He also started to have second thoughts on the breakup. Was this the best for the both of them?

***

                Tommy walked up to the entrance to the restaurant at just before 8 pm. He was trying not to hyperventilate about what was about to happen. He stopped at the door and stood for a second, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down before he walked in.

                He could see Evan sitting at a table off to the right of the entrance. Tommy had a little bit of a chuckle. His brain was not thinking in perfect thoughts right now, but he just loved the idea of him picking a table slightly to the right of centre when the last happy conversation they had was about the Kinsey Scale and how Tommy was a solid 6.

                He walked over and sat in the chair across from Evan, “Hey” he said. It was his general greeting for everyone.

                “Hey,” Evan looked up to him, a light of what looked like happiness hiding in his eyes, “Thank you for coming”

                “I didn’t have anything planned for tonight,” Tommy smiled but his eyes just kept taking in this man sitting in front of him. God he was beautiful, “Your text caught me by surprise though. Can’t say I was expecting it, but it was a nice surprise.”

                “Yeah, well when I saw you at the coffee shop, I knew I had to reach out,” Evan smiled and looked down at his hands, “It just took me 3 days to send that first message. I kept psyching myself out and telling myself not to and that you hated me and that you didn’t want to hear from me”

                “I could never hate you Ev…Buck,” Tommy quickly changed the name he called him. He had been thinking of his as Evan for so long that he had forgotten that friends call him Buck, “I was the one who broke it off with you. If anything, you should be hating me.”

                Tommy saw Evan deflate a bit when he changed the name he called him. But what was he supposed to do? They were broken up. And as much as Tommy wished it, they weren’t going to get back together. Tommy had messed that up already with what he said when they broke up. The best he could hope for is salvage and become friends and just watch from the outside and be supportive while Evan found someone new.

                “I could never hate you either Tommy,” He whispered. He was still looking down. Tommy reached across the table and gently put a couple fingers underneath Evans chin and lifted his head so they could look each other in the eye. Tommy was a little shocked to see the barest hint of what could only be tears in Evans eyes.

                Tommy coughed quickly, “Anyways should we order something? I want to hear all about your life since the last time we saw each other.”

                Tommy picked up his menu and used it to hide his face a bit. The tears and look of sadness on Evan’s face was going to get to him if he didn’t compose himself. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

                They eventually ordered a pizza to share and some drinks, “So the woman I saw you at the coffee shop was very pretty. Did things go well?”

                Evan was a little taken aback by that statement, “You think she’s pretty? I thought you were a 6 on the Kinsey Scale?”

                “Just because I can notice when someone is attractive doesn’t mean that I want to immediately have sex with them,” Tommy chuckled. That broke the downer mood that had been soaking the two of them since the moment he sat down. Evan chuckled as well, “Society has its standards of beauty in men, women, and anyone in between. These are drilled into us from an early age. You ask a straight man who the most attractive man to them is, and I can almost guarantee you that they will give you one of the Chrises or one of the Ryan’s”

                Evan smiled at that, “Chrises and Ryan’s?” This man was clueless sometimes. Tommy smiled at him. This man could find a substack about some 200 year old cowboy but he knew nothing about the Kinsey Scale or the Chrises and Ryans.

                “Well first you have the easy ones, Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, and Chris Pratt. They have all been in Marvel movies, so everyone knows about them. Then you toss in Chris Pine, and you have the Chrises. Chris Pine is the odd one out as he hasn’t been in Marvel, and he has what some people call an Odd Attractiveness. The other Chrises are conventionally attractive,” Tommy took a sip of his drink before he continued, “Then you have the Ryan’s. Ryan Reynolds and Ryan Gosling. Both very attractive men in their own rights and both very famous for various different reasons.”

                “I never thought of it that way,” Evan replied, “I always thought that just because you were straight or gay you didn’t really notice the other gender.”

                “Well, you have much to learn my Baby Bi,” Tommy chuckled, “You didn’t answer my question though. How did things go with the blonde at the coffee shop? Don’t think you can change the subject by claiming your naivety in things around the LGBT+ world.”

                Evan smiled and it melted Tommy’s heart, it was good to see him like this, “It went OK. We aren’t planning anything else though. Seeing you at the shop put me in a bit of a mood.”

                “I’m sorry about that,” Tommy replied, “She looked like she was your type. Well, I think. I don’t really know your type when it comes to women.”

                “I don’t really have a type when it comes to anyone really,” Evan explained, “I just find certain people attractive and decide then and there if I want to date them. She was pretty but not what I was looking for I guess.”

                “Well, that sucks,” Tommy replied, “I haven’t had much luck either. Nothing clicks I guess.”

                “Its hard to find something like what we had,” Evan replied. He sounded sad again. Tommy didn’t know how to make him happy again right now, so he just took a bite of his pizza on his plate.

                They ate in silence, Tommy sneaking glances at Evan, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He thinks he got caught at least once and quickly started looking off into the restaurant, trying to hide what he was doing. This was truly one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen. He was a fool for letting this go.

                After they finished their pizza, it was time for dessert. Evan ordered a tiramisu, and Tommy ordered his usual Spumoni. What could he say, it was his favorite. And when you know you like something, you always go back to it.

                While Tommy was thinking to himself, he caught sight of a spoon reaching across the table and taking a piece out of his dessert, “Hey!”

                Evan smiled as he placed the frozen dessert into his mouth. Tommy smiled a little. Picking up his spoon, Tommy reached across and took a scoop of Evans dessert. He got an indignant little squeak from Evan over that as he raised it to his mouth, “All’s fair in love and war Evan.”

                Tommy watched as Evan’s smile grew wider as he heard his name spoken out loud. Tommy didn’t realize that it was going to happen. He smiled a bit before taking the bite of Buck’s dessert.

                They back and forth stole each other’s desserts until there was nothing left on the plate, and they were giggling like two school boys who had seen something naughty, “I miss this,” Evan said with a sigh, “I miss you.”

                Tommy stopped giggling and looked directly at Evan. Had he heard what he thought he heard?

                “I miss seeing you come home after work, covered in soot. I miss standing in the kitchen cooking us dinner, you coming up behind me just to hold me. I miss waking up in your arms,” Evan continued, “I miss us.”

                “Evan,” Tommy tried to get him to stop. This was hurting him too much, but Evan lifted up a hand.

                “Let me finish,” Evan continued to talk, “We came here to talk about life so let me finish and then you can have your say,” He put his hand down and took a breath, “Over the past 6 months I admit that I did try dating new people. Men, women, I think I went out with a non-binary person once as well. And each and every one of those ended the same. Me alone in my loft. They always ended up the same because of one thing. They weren’t you. None of them were you. It took me a while to fully understand what happened between us.

                Tommy stared at Evan as he spoke. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes and he tried to stop them, but they just started to fall down his cheeks. He hadn’t wanted this. He just wanted to talk to Evan again. To be a part of his life again.

                “I realize now that I wanted the future with the idea I had of you. I wanted the idea I had of you move in with me in my Loft, which lets face it, was a ridiculous thing to say at the time,” Tommy noticed that Evan was essentially talking to his hands as they wrung a napkin in his hands, “And it took me talking to Maddie, Eddie, Josh, and basically everyone in the 118 to realize what I did to you. And to understand why you did what you did. You were scared. You were scared of being hurt and I understand that now. You didn’t want to be hurt so you hurt yourself and me in the process.”

                The tears were steadily going down Tommy’s cheeks at this point. He wasn’t a super emotional person. He worked in a life or death job. He saw people die all the time. He could compartmentalize everything. But right now, he was failing at that.

                “I tried to hate you at the start of it,” Evan still hadn’t looked up. Why wouldn’t he look at Tommy, “I tried really hard. But I couldn’t. You had just broken my heart, and I couldn’t hate you. It wasn’t until a month in when I was visiting Maddie at work, and the wise gay sage that is Josh was there and he gave me some words of wisdom, ‘You jumped ahead too far. You are currently seeing a future with who you think Tommy is. Not who Tommy actually is. And until you figure out which one you want to have a future with, you need to sit back and think about what it is you truly want. Do you want the idea of Tommy that you have? This unattainable statuesque Greek God of a man. Or do you want Tommy, the man who was engaged to a woman for 2 years, who had to survive the military at the height of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. Tommy who is scarred beyond what you can see. And when you decide which, it is that you want, well the universe will bring you what you need.’ And then he just made a dramatic exit from the room.”

                Tommy chuckled a little while the tears kept flowing. He kept looking towards Evan, “Now I know that it was you who broke things off with me, in a not very classy fashion by the way,” Evan finally looked up from the napkin he had basically shredded into tiny pieces during his speech, “But I wanted to see if maybe, you wanted to try again? Try being together? It took me awhile to realize that I wanted the Tommy with all the scars that I never got a chance to learn about. The visible and invisible ones. You don’t need to answer right away. I can give you time to think about it. But I know that it is you that I want. You that I need in my life. You that I see a future with.”

                Tommy stood up, his eyes blurry at this point, walked around the table towards Evan, leaned down, placed his hand gently on Evan’s chin, and kissed him with as much love and passion as he could muster. He didn’t want this to stop. He couldn’t let this stop. Of course he wanted Evan back.

                The kiss ended and they were both breathless. The noise of the restaurant hadn’t died down so hopefully nobody was staring at their very obvious display, “Should I take that as a yes?” Evan was breathless and Tommy was as well. He nodded his head vigorously.

                Evan’s smile became the widest that Tommy had ever seen. He didn’t know how to take that. Evan grabbed him and pulled him in close, nuzzling his head into the crook of Tommy’s neck, “We should probably pay the bill and go I guess,” Tommy said eventually, enjoying holding Evan again. It had been too long, and he missed the gentle breathing.

                Tommy reluctantly let Evan go so they could pay their bill and head out, “House or Loft?” Evan asked as they walked out the door.

                “Huh?” Tommy was confused.

                “House or loft? If you think I’m going to spend tonight alone, you have another thing coming. So will we spend the night at the house or loft?” Evan explained.

                Tommy smiled, realizing that this was all his again. This perfect man, with his substacks, his belief in curses and his random spirals into insanity. This was all his again. Walking towards his truck, Tommy smiled and said, “House,” before getting in, “Though we’ll need to stop by your loft to grab some items for you for the morning after.”

                Tommy watched as Evan smiled. That smile always made him melt. Before he had met Evan, he was reserved. He had slowly started to come out of his shell a bit. To be more of the man that Evan had seen he could be. He still had worked to do before he was that person. But with Evan by his side, maybe he could be that person. Maybe the idea of Tommy that Evan had in the past could be the Tommy he gets in the future. Only time would tell at least.

Sitting on the drivers side of his truck, Evan on the passengers side, Tommy shifted his truck into gear and backed out of his parking stall. He felt a hand over top of his on the gear shift and smiled. This. This was what was best for the both of them.

***

And that's the end of that. Thank you all for reading. I wrote this because S8xE06 really irked me so I wanted to fix it somehow. Let me know what you think.

[strnilolover]

Prince!Matt needing to go make trades with a foreign country but "Darling" can't go along on this one, she is kind of afraid of his parents and they have a million other maids to do their stuff so she's kind of just left alone in the big palace but lingers in Matt's room mostly. And when he comes home she's like crying as she had been frequently without knowing how he was doing and she admits she had no idea what to do without him and it made her realize she was pretty dependent on him with this kind of job and without her man around. :)

In the days leading up to his departure, there was a quiet tension that neither of them spoke about, but both could feel. Prince Matt tried to reassure darling with easy smiles and casual words, promising he wouldn’t be gone long. But each time they shared a glance, she could feel the weight of what it meant for him to leave her behind, even if it was just for a short time.

Normally darling went along with matt on his outings and such — but this time he wanted her to stay behind. Telling her he didn’t want her to get hurt or for something bad to happen since it was a place he hardly knew himself. He just wanted to keep her safe.

“You’ll be alright, won’t you?” Matt asked one evening, his tone light, but his eyes searched darlings face as they stood in the quiet of his bedroom. “The palace will be the same without me… just quieter.” he said, admitting the obvious.

Darling managed a soft smile, nodding. “Of course, Matt,” she replied, her voice steady. “It’s just… i don’t know — i’ve always gone with you.” she whispered, her fingers fiddling with the apron on her dress.

He gave a gentle chuckle, reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmured. “And I’ll bring you something from the trip. Something to remind you that I thought of you the whole time.”

Her heart fluttered, but she tried to keep her emotions in check. She didn’t want him to feel guilty, didn’t want to let him see just how much she was already dreading his absence. So, instead, she focused on the little things — helping him pack, making sure he had everything he needed, and sharing stolen moments when no one else was around.

When the day had finally came, she helped him prepare one last time, smoothing his coat and avoiding his gaze as her fingers lingered just a bit longer than they should have. “Safe travels, Matt,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady. “I’ll… keep things in order here until you’re back.” she could feel her chest tightening just a little. Why did it hurt?

His hand found hers, squeezing gently as he smiled down at her. “I’ll miss you,” he said quietly, and before she could reply, he turned and left, leaving her standing there with a hollow ache settling in her chest.

The first night he was gone, darling tried to keep busy, falling into her usual routine with a determination she hoped would distract her from the silence. But with each passing day, the palace felt larger, colder. She moved through the halls like a ghost, fulfilling duties that seemed meaningless without Matt there. The other maids offered polite nods, and his parents rarely spared her a glance, making her feel even more out of place.

She hadn’t realized just how alive matt made the palace feel — just how cold it was without him around. It was like everyone just…somehow lost their life.

She ended up spending her evenings in his bedroom, lingering in the familiar warmth of his space. She would sit by his desk, her fingers grazing the books he’d left behind, or lay on his bed, breathing in the faint scent of him that clung to the pillows. At first, she told herself it was only to make sure his room stayed tidy, but as the nights wore on, she knew it was more than that. She missed him — his smile, his gentle touch, his quiet presence that made the palace feel like home.

By the end of the first week, darling slipped into the habit of staying there most nights, curled up beneath his blankets, seeking comfort in the small reminders of him. The emptiness without him was almost too much to bear, and lying in his bed felt like the only way to keep the loneliness at bay. She would fall asleep surrounded by his things, imagining he was still there, whispering quiet reassurances to her in the dark.

She knew it was risky of her to do — sleeping in the princes bed. She could get caught at any moment, and who knows how much she’d be punished for it. But, the consequences didn’t bother her — she just wanted him home.

One morning, as the light crept through the window, she stirred, blinking sleepily as she stretched. It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t alone, and when she looked up, her heart leapt to find Matt standing at the edge of the bed, watching her with a soft smile.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice warm and laced with amusement. “You look comfortable.” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his arms crossed against his chest.

Her cheeks flushed, and she sat up abruptly, pulling the blanket around herself in embarrassment. “I… I didn’t realize you were back, Matt,” she stammered, her voice catching in her throat. “I… I shouldn’t have—”

He held up a hand, stepping closer and settling onto the edge of the bed beside her. “Please, don’t apologize,” he said softly. “Honestly, I think this is the nicest sight I’ve come home to in a long time. and i think it’s cute you decided to sleep in my bed.”

She felt her heart pounding as she looked at him, words failing her. He was here — finally here, after days of wondering and worrying — and now that he was back, the weight of all the emotions she’d been holding in crashed over her.

“I… missed you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. She hadn’t meant to say it, but now that he was here, all the longing and loneliness spilled out. “I missed you so much, Matt. I didn’t know what to do without you.”

His expression softened, and he reached out, gently brushing a thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “I missed you too darling,” he murmured, his voice filled with warmth. “More than I can say.”

She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face against his shoulder, feeling the familiar, grounding warmth of him that she’d craved so desperately. He held her tightly, his hand running soothingly up and down her back as he whispered, “I’m sorry for leaving you alone. If I’d known…”

She shook her head, pulling back just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining. “It’s not your fault. I just… didn’t realize how much I had grown to love being around you.”

He cupped her face, his gaze steady, reassuring. “I’m here now,” he said softly. “And I promise, you won’t be left wondering next time. I’ll make sure you know exactly where I am, even if I can’t be right here.” His thumb brushed over her cheek again, his touch gentle, grounding. “I promise next time you can come with.”

Her breath caught. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “For coming back to me.”

He smiled and leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips warm against her skin, a silent promise of his devotion. “Always,” he murmured. “I’ll always come back to you.” he said, and she knew he meant it,

When he pulled away, he smiled once more. “I promised i’d bring you something back, didn’t i?” he said, gently reaching behind him and grabbing a box. Darlings eyes widened, sniffling as she wiped her face. “You…you didn’t have to matt.”

Matt shook his head, “I wanted to darling.” was all he said before handing the box to her, urging her to open it. And she did, gasping softly as she saw a beautiful stuffed cat and a bracelet. When she took the bracelet out, matt gently grabbed it from her — clipping it onto her wrist.

Taking her hand, he pressed a soft kiss to it — his thumb smoothing over her knuckles as he leaned away. “Now you’ll always have something with you to remind yourself that i’m here — that i’ll always come back to you.”

© strnilolover

a/n : i apologize if this makes no sense. i just got off of work and am really tired, but i tried to write this the best i could. love y’all 😭🩵

[brooklyncircus]

"Until you..." part. 6.

Hiromi Higuruma x reader.

Until you arrived, Hiromi Higuruma had never been so present in something as mundane as a 'simple' walk alongside someone. But the reality was, in his eyes, you weren't 'someone' among the crowd, like one might say 'a star in the vast dark sky.' No.

You were different, and he felt it.

You were... special.

The previous feeling, that latent anxiety about accidentally making you feel uncomfortable, was replaced by a peace and calm he hadn’t felt in a long time.

'All of this is funny,' he thought, walking beside you as you both left the train station. The sun was already high, its rays filtering through the clouds as if they were trying to lend a little more clarity to his thoughts and emotions. 'I’m nervous but, at the same time, I feel at ease.'

It was as though his heart was going to burst, yet he felt anaesthetised.

He didn’t realise he was smiling until she, curious and tilting her head, pointed it out with a smile that mirrored his own. 'You’re smiling...'

'Am I?' he said, surprised. He tried to suppress it, but it didn’t work. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair as the two of you continued walking in a comfortable silence. 'It’s because the sun’s come out,' he lied quickly.

Hiromi would never admit that he was smiling because of you. Or because he was thinking of you.

At least, not yet.

She looked up, just as the sun’s rays lit up her beautiful face and hair. It seemed deliberate, he thought, but at the same time, he wasn’t overly affected. It was as if the sun made her even prettier than she already was, and he didn’t chide himself for thinking it...

Not yet.

Because yes, he could appreciate when someone, be it a man or woman, was attractive. And he knew it. Oh, he knew and admitted it.

In his eyes, you were very pretty.

He swallowed and looked ahead, putting a hand in his pocket as he kept walking. 'Is it very difficult… the exam you have at university?' he suddenly found himself asking.

'Mhm... yes. It’s midterms, then I’ll have finals, and I suppose that, finally, I’ll be graduating,' she replied in a tone that quickly revealed her mix of anxiety, pride, and exhaustion.

Hiromi looked at her with curiosity, raising an eyebrow. He estimated that they’d reach the library in just a few more blocks, but, strangely, he didn’t want to say goodbye.

Not when he was having a moment with you.

Yet, he was grateful to have had the chance to see you, to share at least a little while with you.

'That’s... impressive. I’m sure you’ll do well,' he said, more confident than he’d ever been, looking at you.

You laughed. 'That’s if the year and the exams don’t finish me off first.'

Hiromi wrinkled his nose. 'You seem like a clever and capable person. If you work hard and study, I’m sure you’ll do well.'

He noticed that after he said those words, your expression softened, and his heart began to beat a bit faster. But he noticed no doubt, only the simple sense of truth in his words. There was no lie in what he’d said to you.

'To be honest, I’m nervous,' you looked ahead, and he noticed the slight frown on your face from the small v-shaped line between your brows.

He followed your gaze, taking in the large building now just a few metres away. It was the library. Both of you began to slow your pace bit by bit, as though, unconsciously, neither of you wanted the moment to end.

'Oh, no...' Hiromi thought, feeling something strange in his chest. It was like a heavy weight, or a sadness settling there. He tried to push it aside, but couldn’t.

When they arrived, he took three steps towards the entrance but stopped when he realised you had lagged behind. The silence was a bit tense, charged with unspoken things. He turned around and looked at you with pressed lips and a concerned expression.

But in an attempt to keep you at ease and to soothe his own discomfort, he decided to make a small joke. 'Don’t worry, the books won’t bite, you know?'

Your expression shifted, a slight ironic smile tugging at your lips. 'Uh-huh. Sure.' Hiromi watched you walk towards him—or rather, towards the large wooden doors of the library. After three steps, you turned back to look at him one last time. 'Thank you so much for walking me here.'

He stayed in that spot, the strange feeling in his chest lingering. He sighed, shrugged a bit, looking aside to indicate it hadn’t been any trouble at all. His bag swung slightly as he replied, 'It was my pleasure.' A small pause. 'Good luck with your studying.'

You smiled softly, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear, while you continued looking at him with the same curious, lively gaze as on the first day. 'Thank you. And I hope you have a good day at work.'

Hiromi gave a small nod and turned away, deciding that he’d done enough for today and that it was the right thing to leave. Because yes, it was right to go, but not wanting to go was another matter. Another problem. Another... something.

He swallowed and felt uneasy, vulnerable. With every step he took away from you, the weight in his chest didn’t lessen.

And everyone knew that if he’d found out you’d stayed, watching him disappear into the crowd with an expression mirroring his own... Hiromi wouldn’t have been able to leave.

Oh, no. He wouldn’t have been able to.

And until you arrived, Hiromi Higuruma had never been so present in something as mundane as a 'simple' walk alongside someone. But the reality was, in his eyes, you weren’t 'someone' among the crowd, like one might say 'a star in the vast dark sky.' No.

You were different, and he felt it.

You were... special.

[ficxworm]

Finding the Words

Pairing: Castiel x Dean Winchester

Tags: I don’t even know what to tag this as. I wrote this a few days ago in a desperate attempt to pretend the end of the show never happened.🙃

The bunker was quiet, heavy with an emptiness that lingered in every corner. Dean sat alone in the library, hunched over a half-empty whiskey bottle and a pile of unfinished research. He’d been drowning out the silence with work, but nothing could fill the void left by Castiel’s absence. Nothing could fill the ache of those last words Cas had left him with: “I love you, Dean.” He hadn’t had time to respond, hadn’t known what to say. By the time he did, it was too late.

Or so he thought.

A familiar flutter of wings filled the air, and Dean’s heart leapt. He stood slowly, the bottle slipping from his hand and hitting the floor with a dull thud, spilling across the concrete.

“Dean,” came the voice—low, steady, and achingly familiar.

Dean’s breath caught. He turned, and there he was. Castiel, standing in the doorway of the library, looking just as he had before he left. Maybe a little tired, a little worn, but real.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was thick with disbelief, and he could feel his hands start to shake.

“It’s me,” Castiel said, his lips curving into the smallest, warmest smile. “I’m here.”

Dean crossed the room in a few quick strides, grabbing Castiel’s coat as if to make sure he was real. “Cas, how—how did you…?”

“I fought my way back,” Castiel murmured, his eyes softening. “The Empty let me go, but only because I needed to be here. With you.”

Dean swallowed, his chest tightening with emotions he’d kept locked down for too long. He tried to think of something, anything to say, but all he could manage was, “I thought I’d lost you.”

Castiel reached up, his hand resting on Dean’s shoulder, grounding him. “I couldn’t leave things the way they were, Dean. Not after… not after what I told you.”

Dean’s eyes stung, but he forced himself to meet Cas’s gaze, swallowing hard. “Cas, when you said that to me… I didn’t say it back. I didn’t get to.”

Castiel’s expression softened, and he nodded. “I didn’t expect you to.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, one hand still clutching Cas’s coat, as if he’d disappear if he let go. “Well, you should have. Because, Cas, I…” He paused, his throat tightening as he searched for the words he’d buried for so long. “I love you, too.”

The words fell between them, raw and unguarded. Castiel’s face softened, his blue eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to reach into Dean’s soul. “Dean…”

Dean didn’t let him finish. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to Cas’s, his hands tightening on his shoulders. “I’m sorry it took me this long to say it. I was scared. But I’m done running from this—from you.”

Castiel closed his eyes, his own hand lifting to cup the side of Dean’s face. “You don’t have to run anymore.”

In the quiet of the bunker, Dean leaned in, his lips meeting Castiel’s in a kiss that was both soft and filled with a lifetime of unspoken promises. They stood there, wrapped up in each other, finding strength in a truth they’d both fought so hard to find.

When they finally pulled apart, Dean kept Cas close, his voice a rough whisper. “You’re not going anywhere again. You hear me?”

Castiel smiled, a quiet certainty in his eyes. “I hear you, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time, Dean felt at peace. They were both finally where they belonged—together, in a world that had finally let them find each other.

[wannabanauthor]

Since I’ve had more time to process the breakup and have read fellow shippers’ thoughts, I can see why Tommy decided to end the relationship.

Although I have no faith in the writers or Tim anymore, they can turn this around if they choose to.

And here’s how:

So the breakup scene makes sense through a PTSD lens. And I’m talking just about PTSD in general, not army related.

When you’re dealing with a PTSD episode, until it’s over, there is very little anyone can say or do to get you out of it. Your brain will not listen because it’s stuck in a loop and you can’t get out until it lets you.

Breathing techniques work, but the amount of emotions and nonsense you say will not let up until it runs its course. I’m speaking from experience, but I can’t say much about it because lawyers, etc.

Once it’s over, the amount of guilt you have for all the horrible things you said or did will hit you hard.

So for Tommy, he was fine until Buck asked him to move in with him. Tommy’s smile dropped instantly and he went into panic mode. It escalated when Buck mentioned engagement and marriage.

I think it’s possible a mixture of guilt over Abby and past experiences with other queer newbies, that set him off into a PTSD spiral.

Buck unknowingly hit a trigger(s), and Tommy instantly shut down.

That conversation went from Abby to moving in, and it was completely out of left field. There was no real buildup to it from Buck. He just asked Tommy and made this sort of people-pleasing speech. Instead of tackling the actual problem, Buck just went straight for progressing their relationship to another level.

Tommy’s guilt and past heartbreak flared up, and he probably thought he was back in that mental space after he broke up with Abby and dated someone and thought they would be forever, but it didn’t work out.

So he starts saying things like he can’t move in because Buck’s still new to his sexuality. He’s picking up the signs that he’s seen in previous relationships that obviously didn’t work out, and he got scared and panicked.

He really liked Buck and didn’t want them to go the same route as his past relationships where he either was the newbie or dated a newbie and thought it would be forever.

He’s stuck in the spiral and can’t see a way out because he’s terrified of getting his heartbroken if things don’t work out. So he ends the relationship and leaves. It doesn’t make sense to the audience or anyone else, but if you look at it from the PTSD perspective, it does make sense. Again speaking from personal experience.

Now am I saying this was intentional from the writers and Tim? No, not at all. They’re not smart enough for that. At least I don’t think they are. Only future episodes will confirm or deny this.

Now how to fix it:

Tommy has an emergency appointment with his therapist. He’s going to need it before and after the PTSD episode is over. The guilt and heartbreak from ending things with Buck is going to hurt him a lot. Especially since he called Evan “Buck” right after breaking up with him. He didn’t even realize that he ended things until Buck asked.

Once the episode is over, he’s going to need to process the whole relationship all over with the therapist and figure out where to go from there.

It’ll take him a few weeks maybe less/more before he reaches out to Buck to talk. It’ll be a reverse image of their coffee date, with him making the first step to mend things.

I think they could get back together and work it out, but they’d need to take a few steps back and probably go into couples counseling. Buck would also need his own therapist because he still needs to process being bisexual and actually using the word.

If they get back together, I can see them starting from the beginning again and progressing extremely slowly. Buck needs to learn not to rush into things. Even though he likes Tommy so much, he definitely was not thinking clearly when he asked Tommy to move in. There wasn’t even a natural transition in the conversation. It’s like Buck was having the conversation in his head and spoke out loud, which is a common adhd trait.

Tim Minear and the writers could get a few seasons content out of BuckTommy if they wanted even with how things ended in 8x06.

Now do I think this was the intention? Nope. The breakup seemed rushed and abrupt, and for all we know Tommy is gone forever. We can’t trust any interviews from anyone, so I have very little hope that Buck and Tommy can come back from this. I don’t trust the writers or Tim.

So there, I managed to cobble together some explanation for the breakup.

[nicolegmattos]

i love your tv show aziracrow/book aziracrow series so much!! i wonder what would happen if post s2 crowley met book crowley lmfao

Yeah, I wonder what would happen… 🤔 (oh, wait. I can write it lol)

Book Crowley: *entering the flat* Hm, that’s weird. I’m pretty sure this plant wasn’t here before.

Book Crowley: *sees TV Crowley lying on the floor* What the hell is this?

TV Crowley: *not looking at him* Me. Being miserable.

Book Crowley: May I ask… why?

TV Crowley: My Angel left me.

Book Crowley: He did WHAT?!

After quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol…

Book Aziraphale: Crowley, are you…? *seeing all the mess* What happened here?

Book Crowley: You did.

Book Aziraphale: Me?! I didn’t do this.

TV Crowley: You left me.

Book Aziraphale: How…? Good Lord, why are there two of you?

TV Crowley: Why is there just one of you?

Book Aziraphale: How am I supposed to know?!

Book Crowley: You’re bad, Angel.

Book Aziraphale: And you’re drunk, my dear.

Book Crowley: Why did you leave us?

Book Aziraphale: Us? I didn’t leave you. And I certainly did not leave him.

TV Crowley: *tearing up* We could’ve been us.

Book Crowley: Look what you did.

Book Aziraphale: That’s it. I’m done. I’ll come back once you’re both sober.

Book Crowley: Yeah, leave. YOU’RE GOOD AT IT!

Book Aziraphale: I DID NOT LEAVE YOU, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!

TV Crowley: I miss him. I miss him so much.

Book Crowley: I know, I know. We’ll be alright. We don’t need them.

TV Crowley: You know that’s not true.

Book Crowley: Yeah. You’re right.

[neymiiie]

Aigis

[harmonizewithechoes]

It’s my middle child’s 3rd birthday today 🥺

3 years ago my partner was deployed overseas and couldn’t come home for the birth because the military didn’t want to spend so much time quarantining their soldiers. Fortunately I had help as my parents were watching my son (at the time just a month shy of 2) for a few days before my due date and we had moved across the street from my partner’s parents when we found out about the deployment. So I had his mom with me at the hospital holding up her phone while we got to have a rare video call with my partner as we welcomed our daughter into the world after a very quick labor. I then had two months with our two very little kids by myself before he came home. It was an incredibly hectic time and I’m still not quite sure how I was able to get through all of that but here we are with the sweetest little 3 year old (let’s call her C) we could have asked for 🥰

C loves to play dress up and she has specific characters she’ll play as where you can’t refer to her as her name or she’ll get mad. She’s not C she’s Dr C or Baby or Baby Kitty or Princess Bucket (this was her first character and yes she does put a bucket on her head as a crown). Her favorite game to play is hide and seek and she loves dance parties and drawing and she’s obsessed with her 1 year old sister. We love C so much and I’m so excited to see how she grows and changes and learns over this next year ❤️

[bo0zey]

being the oldest daughter raised by a narcissistic emotionally abusive father is just…👩‍🍳👌💋