#just one chance that’s all i’m asking for PLEASE

[froggiewrites]

Can u do a friends with benefits smut with Luffy? lots of creampie and different sex positions please if not I understand

I need to write more for Luffy, so thank you for giving me a chance to explore him a little more! I really hope you enjoy this one, it's on the shorter side but I still had a lot of fun with it 😊

That's What Friends Are For

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: Your Captain needs a little stress relief, and as his friend you're more than willing to help. Warnings: Fem!Reader, Smut, Friends With Benefits, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.2k

If anybody asked, you would say you were very close with your Captain. The terms other people apply to your relationship often differ: some say best friends, some say partners in crime, or a dozen other names that don’t quite encapsulate the entirety of your feelings for each other.

To be fair, you don’t quite know what to call your Captain either. Sure, he’s your best friend. He’s your guiding light, your North Star, your inspiration. But you don’t think those quite describe your relationship in its entirety. No one would expect your guiding light to grab you off of the deck and drag you into a closet, bend you over a crate, and have his way with you.

One hand grabs your ankle, dragging it up over his shoulder, while the other makes quick work of your shorts and panties, discarding them with ease. His own clothes are already gone, probably strewn down the hallway after he threw you over his shoulder. His hat is hanging off of a broomstick in the corner, and you can’t help but smile a little. He used to keep it on, but noticed quickly how much you love running your hands through his hair, tugging it to direct him where you want him. Now it always sits off to the side, close by but never blocking your access to his head.

“C’mon,” he whines, bringing your attention back to him. His hands are trying to pull your thighs apart further to grant himself better access, and he’s quickly growing impatient. He’s had a hard few days, with several rough battles that left you all beaten and bloodied. He needs some stress relief, and you both found that you’re the best release he has. “Why’re you making me wait?”

You barely manage to hold back a laugh, letting him maneuver you as he pleases. You squeal as he pushes you further up the crate, forcing you to brace yourself with your hands so you don’t hit the wall in front of you. “Luffy!”

He laughs, the sound so joyous you immediately forget to be annoyed. “Callin’ my name already?” Before you can scold him, he presses himself against you, immediately taking your breath away. He rubs himself against you a couple times, relishing in the feeling of his hardness against your folds, in the soft whimpering breaths and moans you can’t stop from slipping out of your mouth. “I’m barely doing anything,” he teases, rubbing deliberately against your clit, “and you’re already a mess.”

“I thought I told you not to tease me anymore,” you murmur, eyelids fluttering.

He laughs again, his hand running affectionately down your back. The other drops your ankle for a moment, and before you know it he’s lined himself up with your entrance and without a moment’s hesitation fully sheathes himself inside of you. You cry out, back arching and eyes closing. Your chest brushes against the wood beneath you, the rough sensation against your sensitive nipples just adding to the myriad of sensations overwhelming you. Luffy hardly gives you a moment to adjust before he’s pounding into you, taking what he needs from you and trusting you can handle it.

Every thrust of his hips is followed by a deliciously tortuous drag of his skin against yours, leaving a horrible feeling of emptiness immediately followed by the mind numbing pleasure of being completely filled. His pace is unrelenting, as he is in everything else. He never takes it easy on you, especially not when he’s as pent up as he is. On a normal day, he’d be whispering in your ears, laughter in his voice as he describes everything he’s going to do to you, but today he can hardly let out a sound beyond a moan or a whine. He says your name once or twice, immediately trailing off and letting his face fall into your neck. It’s there he decides to stay, nibbling on any exposed skin he can find: your pulse point, your neck, your jaw. At one point he nips at your cheek, causing you both to pause for a moment before falling into laughter.

He takes advantage of the pause in thrusts to flip you around, gathering you in his arms and pulling you impossibly closer. He captures your lips against his instantly, your laughter muffled against each other before losing yourself in the moment again. Your hands find his hair, running your fingers through it, catching on every tangle the wind has lovingly tied in it. He makes a small whine against your lips every time your fingers tug on the knots, and you can’t quite tell if they’re in complaint or pleasure.

His pace has gone from frantic to bruising as he pushes you against the wall, his body pressing against every inch of yours. You can feel the rough brush of his pubes against your skin, and the sharp drag of his teeth against your bottom lip as he pulls away, panting.

“You ready?” He asks quietly, a shine in his eye. He always checks in on you, though you don’t think he does it for your sake. He’s too good at reading people to need to hear you say it. You think he just likes hearing you so out of breath and desperate for him, as close to begging as he can get you. He’s too impatient for the real thing, unwilling to make either of you wait for gratification.

“Yes, please, Luffy!” You cry, louder than you should. Half of the damn ship probably just heard that, but Luffy doesn’t seem worried, simply grinning wider before pulling you back in for another kiss. Your teeth clack together, your noses bumping, but neither of you are bothered by the clumsiness. You’re too distracted by the rising tension in your muscles, the drag of your nails down Luffy’s back as you grow closer to the edge.

One of his hands wanders down, his rough fingertips rubbing small circles against your clit, the practiced motion quickly pushing you to your brink. You moan against his lips as your legs pull him closer, your muscles tightening around his shaft. It doesn’t take long for him to follow you, his hips finally stilling against yours as he pushes as deep as he physically can and shoots his warmth inside of you. You sit in silence for a moment, foreheads pressed together, both panting. You can’t seem to catch your breath, focused too deeply on the heat of his body and the feeling of fullness.

It’s with great reluctance he pulls away from you, setting you on the crate and pulling out, cum dripping down your thighs and onto the wood beneath you. He takes a moment to admire the sight, leaning down slightly for a better look. He huffs in quiet satisfaction before he gets up, a familiar relaxed grin on his face. All of his earlier tension is gone. “Thanks,” he says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You can’t help but laugh. “Anytime, Luffy.”

There’s a gleam in his eye that makes you think he’ll take advantage of that promise if you let him.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @eggrollforyou

[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 7: Just a Little Bit of Your Heart

A/N: Please forgive any errors! Lmk what you wanna see next, and I'll try to make it happen :) As always, I hope you love it! xx Elle

Warnings: Using religion to shame, homophobia, manipulation

Word Count: 3.5k

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Paige was intentional when she every choice she made that night. She chose anything that might show she could be soft, safe, and secure. From what Ice had told her about Azzi’s ex, she figured comfort and trust were the most important things she could offer.

The white set she wore was one of the most comfortable outfits she owned. She was planning on driving her Maserati, but that car is loud and flashy – nowhere near the right tone. Instead, she changed to her Land Rover Autobiography. It was same car she used when she was driving with Soleil in the car. Familiar. Warm. Safe.

The Capital Grille was a nice restaurant, one that afforded guests with privacy. She hoped that Azzi would be able to relax without so many eyes on them.

The ride was quiet, comfortable though. Azzi looked out the window, eyes tracking skyscrapers shining against the night sky.

Say something. She’s not going to fall for you if you don’t speak.

Azzi smelled like something sweet, almost like a vanilla cupcake. The scent filled the car, not overpowering, but enough to notice if you paid attention.

“You look really nice.” Azzi’s brown eyes meet blue. “Orange looks good on you.” Paige offered, fighting the urge to cringe as she felt her face heat.

Azzi glanced down at her dress, courtesy of Paige. Her fingers fiddle with the hem nervously. “Thank you. I like your outfit too. It looks really comfortable.” Soft smile.

She wanted to figure out how to make Azzi look that way all the time.

“Do you want a set?” Paige asked.

Azzi’s eyes flashed quickly. “No, thank you.” She turned back to the window.

So, don’t offer to buy her things? That makes her comfortable. Might need to backtrack on furnishing the apartment.

The silence was stiff after that, and Paige had never been so happy to see a valet up ahead.

Paige placed her hand on Azzi’s lower back, guiding her into the restaurant. They were led to the private room quickly.

Paige had been stressing about how to talk to Azzi about her job. As soon as they were alone, she opened her mouth.

“KK told me what happened with your boss.” She wanted to drop her head to the table.

Azzi tensed, “Um, yeah. I’m trying to figure out what to do.”

“I’m so sorry, Azzi.” Paige started; composure regained. She covered Azzi’s hand with her own. “I didn’t mean for this to cost you your job.”

She shook her head, “I mean, I should have thought about it. After seeing how they reacted to you, I’m not surprised.” She took a sip of water. “I should be fine though. There’s a national teacher shortage.”

“I could get your job back, if that’s what you want. If they don’t at least apologize to you, I’m pulling Soleil out. You could be her private tutor. Or you could not work at all; something tells me you don’t get nearly enough rest.”

Azzi studied her skeptically. “I – I’ll think about it and let you know what I decide tomorrow morning. It’ll be early though; they want me out by 7.”

Paige clenched her jaw, “I’ll have Morgan be ready to drive you then.”

The waiter came in with the appetizers, and Azzi was ecstatic at the chance to change the subject.

“So has Soleil always been like that?” She smiled softly. “Bright. Happy. Literal sunshine.”

The brightness of Paige’s smile matched her daughter’s name. “Yeah. I didn’t name her that in hopes that she’d be unnaturally cheerful or anything. She was sunshine. My Sunshine. After everything, she represented goodness, strength, a new beginning.”

As composed as she was, Paige was secretly giddy. This would give her the perfect opportunity to help Azzi be more comfortable with her.

“I guess it’s time for you to hear the story. Everyone else in the family already knows. And I want you to, too.”

Paige paused, gathering her thoughts.

“I started Kairos with one of my professors during undergrad. It’s a private equity firm – we buy companies, streamline their operations, and decide if we want to sell. I built a formula my junior year that basically changed everything for us. My mentor, Dr. Martinez was the best. He was the only person who really believed in me.”

She exhaled slowly. “He died in a car accident seven years ago. He left his share of the company to his kid, Emmanuel. Manny. He said he’d sell me his shares if I married him.”

She caught Azzi’s eye. She looked shocked. Azzi figured it was because everyone knew Paige Bueckers is a lesbian.

I think he wanted to control me or maybe humble me. He knew who I was from basketball and saw me as arrogant. I don’t know. It was a bad marriage. He hit me. Hurt me in ways I won’t get into. I didn’t think I had another option, so I stayed.”

Paige looked at a small wrinkle and swallowed to keep her voice steady. “When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I had to get out. I called Nika for the first time in years, and she helped me make a plan. Then, I found out I was having a girl – I knew I didn’t want her growing up thinking she had to change who she was or disappear to get away from someone hurting her.”

Her hand tightened around the champagne flute. “Manny died in a car accident, and I was free. And four months later, I had Soleil. That whole situation was so awful, but she was so good, so perfect. She was light in my life. She gave me strength and a purpose I didn’t know I could have. Manny didn’t have a will when he died, so everything went to me.”

She shrugged. “I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone else hurt my family like Manny did, so I threw myself into work and being a good mom.”

The room was quiet. Paige looked up from the wrinkle in the tablecloth she’d been fixated on. She had no idea how Azzi would react.

“I’m so sorry you went through that, Paige. You’re so strong.” Azzi’s eyes shone with tears. “You’re a great mom, one of the best I’ve ever seen. You’ve been fighting for Soleil since you found out she existed.

Paige swallowed hard. “Thank you, Azzi. I just want you to know the truth. The walls, the façade, it’s to keep the girls, to keep Soleil, safe. It’s hard for me to let them down, but I am trying.”

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Azzi’s heart ached. She never would’ve guessed all the things Paige had to do to survive. She couldn’t imagine dealing with someone like that while being pregnant.

Paige seemed like she was bracing for impact and judgement.

“I know I haven’t lived what you did, but I–” She started, getting flustered. “My ex was a little like yours. I still hear his voice sometimes. So if you wanna talk, or vent, or anything, I’m just a few floors down.”

She could see the tension melt from Paige’s shoulders, and she felt her own doing the same.

“So, Ice showed me the choices for your place You’re going to live in a sunrise.” She smirked.

Azzi’s lips turned down in a small pout, “I think pink, orange, and yellow look perfect together…and I love sunrises!”

Their conversation was interrupted when the waiter came back in, listing the five options the women had for their entrée.

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Paige remembered what Ice and KK told her about Azzi’s deep-rooted aversion to making choices because of her fuck ass ex.

“We’ll take all five, thank you.” Paige said, leaving no room for rebuttal.

Big brown eyes stared at her in surprise. “You just ordered five entrées.”

 “You looked like you were having an existential crisis trying to decide.” Paige said, sinking into the velvet chair. “I don’t think you should have to pick if you don’t want to. Try them all and take the leftover for lunch.” She smirked into her water glass.

“So is this a thing with you?” Azzi squinted. “Going overboard?”

Paige gasped dramatically; a mannerism Soleil had inherited. “Overboard? I’ll have you know this is what caring about people looks like.”

Head tilted to the side, and cheeks pink, “Why did you offer to do this? Why do you care?”

“Most people don’t care. They don’t care about children, or even see them as people, but you do. You made sure Soleil was treated equally, and she loves you. I don’t think you will ever understand how much she loves you, Azzi. You became family the moment you fought for her when I couldn’t.”

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The rest of the evening flowed smoothly. Conversation was easy and the vibes were surprisingly warm. Paige was playful and sharp in a way Azzi never would have assumed. And she was so kind the entire night. She held doors open, guided Azzi with a hand on her back, and even buckled her seatbelt for her.

Azzi didn’t know if it was the champagne or the company, but her shoulders felt much less tense than normal. As she briefly gazed at Paige on the way home, she was appreciative of the quiet. Of the way Paige hadn’t demanded anything of her.

She could feel her thick, tall walls shaking with the kindness and lack of expectations Paige had shown her. She opened every door, pulled out every seat, and even buckled Azzi’s seatbelt for her, like it was a normal thing to do.

You can’t trust her just because she’s pretty, rich, and nice. People can change in a split second.

When they arrived at the Aurelia, Paige rode to the 59th floor with Azzi, walking her to her door.

“I’ll be taking you to the school tomorrow instead of Morgan. I’ve convened a meeting with the board of St. Paul’s.”

Azzi wanted to tell Paige she didn’t need to before she realized Paige was still trying to take care of her.

And then—impulsively, gently—she leaned in and kissed Paige on the cheek.

The blush that bloomed across Paige’s face was worth every inch of vulnerability.

That was definitely a date.

She closed the door, resting her head on the cool oak. She was blushing. Just like the girl she’d just kissed. What the fuck was that. Ohmygosh. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach as she rationalized with herself; she was just saying thank you.

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Azzi looked around her classroom, smiling. She knew Paige would be coming to help pack up her class, but Ice, Jana, and KK joined as well. It was a small gesture, but one that warmed Azzi up inside.

“Azzi, can I take this book home?” Soleil held up Love You by Heart, the book that got everything started.

Azzi smiled, hearing the question for the seventeenth time. “Of course, Soleil.”

“You’re not gonna have any books left if you can’t tell her no, Ms. Fudd.” Paige threw a playful smirk her way.

Azzi shrugged, “That’s fine. With my new part time job, I’ll be able to afford to buy new books.”

Before Paige could come up with a sarcastic reply, Jana spoke. “Pause. Why are we packing up your classroom if Paige is gonna bitch them out until they give you your job back?”

Heat rushed to Azzi’s face. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted to work at St. Paul’s after seeing how they treated people with different views than them.

“Thanks for the reminder, J. Come of Az. It’s time to head to the conference room. Ice, please don’t let Soleil trick you into letting her paint.”

Azzi didn’t hear anything after Paige called her Az. She had a nickname. To Azzi, nicknames were a way to show love and affection. While Az wasn’t super personal, she felt a little brighter knowing someone cared enough to give her a nickname again.

“Azzi.” The blonde’s voice interrupted her stream of consciousness. She stood up sharply, following Paige into the hallway. Her hands fiddled with the hem of her old UCLA sweatshirt. A warm hand covered hers. “Relax, Azzi. No matter what happens, you’ll be good. I promise.”

“Thanks, I’m just nervous,” She muttered, looking at her shoes. “I just – I’ve never really been in trouble like this before, and it’s not even over something I can control.”

As someone who had attended private school, Azzi was intimately familiar with hiding her sexuality to avoid conflict. It never made sense to her; hating someone because of who they love. It’s not like they could control it.

“Fuck em. They think you’re weak, but you’re not.” Paige’s voice dropped. “You’ve survived worse, and you got us now.”

Brows furrowed, Azzi gave a small nod, held herself higher, and opened the door.

The long conference room table had ten people around it, Mr. Smith and the nine board members. There was a chair opened at the end of the table, with one seat available next to it.

Azzi felt inferior in her leggings and tennis shoes, while all the board members wore suits. She glanced at Paige. She looked perfectly composed, despite being in a gray Nike tech fit.

“Ms. Fudd, Ms. Bueckers, thank you for coming this morning.” Mr. Smith said, standing. “Let’s get started, since it’s a holiday and all.”

Each board member introduced themselves, and if it was a different scenario, Azzi would have laughed at all of them being named after a saint.

When the last member, John Paul James (three saint names), introduced himself, he added something to the end. “I was assuming this meeting would be with you, Ms. Bueckers. You said something about donations?”

“She’s here for me,” Azzi replied before Paige could speak. Despite her nerves, her voice came out even. “We are here to discuss my termination.”

Peter Kingsley rolled his eyes subtly. “Ms. Fudd, you’ve been a valued and effective teacher at St. Paul’s, but we cannot retain a teacher who lives in direct opposition of what the Bible teaches.”

Azzi inhaled sharply. “Excuse me? I –”

“For this reason God gave them up to dishonorable passions. For their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature; and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women and were consumed with passion for one another, men committing shameless acts with men and receiving in themselves the due penalty for their error. Romans 1:26-27.” Another member says.

“1 Corinthians 6:9-10. Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.” A deeper voice calls out.

“You are a teacher, Ms. Fudd. You are supposed to be a moral example for your students. We don’t want you do lead those children astray.” A woman spoke sternly.

Azzi inhaled sharply. “I’ve always shown them to live a life of love. I have never taught them anything that goes against–”

“You are trying to cause these children spiritual harm, and we will not stand for it.” Mr. Kingsley sneered. “Matthew 18:6 says but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great mill–”

“I would never do that, I love my k –” Azzi’s voice wavers, eyes shiny with tears.

“You are leading them to hell–”

“Enough.” Paige’s rings out sternly. The tone is so intense that no one dares to speak.

She rises slowly, face controlled, shoulders tense. She stands tall behind Azzi’s chair, placing a gentle hand on the back of her neck. The panic that has Azzi’s body wound up melts a little. She quietly wipes the tears from her face.

“I’ve been biting my tongue out of respect for Azzi. Trying to let her handle it, but you won’t even listen to her. And I won’t sit here and listen to you berate my girlfriend for something she can’t control.”

Her hand leave Azzi has she stalks around the table. “I chose this school because of her.” She pointed. “I looked up reviews of every preschool teacher in the city, and she outshined the rest by miles. Soleil is a shy child, and I needed a teacher who would look at the whole child. Someone who would make every kid feel loved and special, and that’s what Azzi Fudd does.”

The classroom’s temperature has dropped ten degrees as Paige paused. “And you want to fire her? I would love to see you try. Let’s talk about the ramifications of firing Ms. Fudd.”

A smirk works its way onto her perfect, pale face. “I’m St. Paul’s largest donor. I have already donated triple the amount than next highest donor. I am covering the tuitions of fifty students, one of whom bullied my child because I’m gay. I have donated the money for that new state of the art library and have had documents drawn up for a science lab. You fire her, you lose the best teacher, you lose my daughter, you lose me, and every penny I bring in for this school.”

All of the board members tense at her threat.

“This is supposed to be a Christian institution. You like throwing scripture at people, huh? John 8:7. Let you without sin cast the first stone. Galatians 5:22. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. I want you to look me in my eye and tell me which attribute Azzi is lacking in.”

She bends down, getting eye level with Mr. Kingsley. “You preach about shepherding children, and she does it. She does it well. Why do you think all her families love her so much?” Blue eyes throwing an icy glare at the man. “What you’re doing isn’t righteous, it’s pharisaical.”

Paige walks back to Azzi. “We’re leaving.”

Azzi rises on shaky legs. She’s never had someone stand up for her like that.

“Ms. Fudd,” Mr. Smith grits out. “Perhaps we’ve been a bit hasty with our judgement. You are more than welcome to stay at St. Paul’s, with a few guardrails of course.”

“No thank you,” Azzi smiles softly. “Jesus said they will know we are Christians by the love we have for one another. I want you to think if you have shown me the love and grace that you should have, and I hope you won’t make this mistake again.”

She walks out. She doesn’t look back, walking proudly until they got back to her classroom She made a beeline to the restroom, and finally let herself cry.

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Paige was feeling…a lot of feelings. She was proud of the way Azzi stood up for herself. She saddened knowing the damage this would do to the woman. She was furious at the close-minded attitude and greedy nature of the board members. But she was enraged hearing Azzi’s sobs.

They didn’t deserve her sorrow. They didn’t deserve her tears. Paige paced in front of the classroom, trying to burn off some of her fury.

“Aye, you good, P?” KK questioned cautiously.

Paige’s head snapped up, remembering where she was, and who was present. The classroom was bare, everything in boxes except for a few pieces of paper and a box of markers for Soleil.

Her daughter’s big blue eyes met hers sadly. “Mommy, why is Azzi cwying?”

She took a deep breath, kneeling to her daughter’s level. “Some people here said some mean things to her, so she’s upset.”

Soleil’s dark brows furrowed. “We should make hew feel bettew.” Lips turned down in a frown. “We go get ice cweam!” She exclaimed.

Paige smiled at Soleil’s zeal. “That sounds like a good idea, Sunshine.” She turned to her friends. “Let’s get these boxes in the car so we can go before I lose it.”

Jana, Ice, KK, and Paige loaded up the two SUVs and sat in the classroom, joking around, and waiting for Azzi to come out.

No one noticed what Soleil was doing until it was too late. “Come on Azzi! Time fow ice cweam!”

“Lei! We’re just gonna wait til she’s ready.” Paige rushed to scoop her up.

The door cracked a little, “No, it’s okay. I’m ready.” Azzi said, softly.

Soleil wiggled until her mom put her down. She threw herself at her teachers. “I’m sowwy they was saying mean things to you.”

Azzi hoisted her up, Lei’s little legs wrapping around her waist. “Thank you, Soleil.” She turned to the adults. “So, I heard we’re getting ice cream?”

Paige watched a smile stretch over Azzi’s face, a matching one lighting up Soleil’s face. And for a second, Paige let herself want a future that looked just like this.

[sabrinajenre96]

"Coming Home"

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Wife!Detective!Reader

Word Count: ~2,000

Genre: Emotional, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending

---

The night Tim left, it shattered something in you.

He hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t even looked angry. Just distant. Cold. He told you he needed space. That everything—from his past in the military to what happened with Ray—was suffocating him. That he couldn’t be the man you needed him to be. And just like that, he walked out.

You had clutched the small envelope in your hand that night, the one holding the test that changed everything. You were going to tell him he was going to be a father. But he never gave you the chance.

A month passed.

You kept showing up for work, doing your job, pushing through the motions. Lucy stayed by your side. She was the one who held your hand when the morning sickness hit like a wave. The one who helped you keep the secret you had meant to share with your husband—the man who broke your heart.

You still wore your ring, but only when you were alone.

---

Tim was unraveling.

Each day away from you felt like another cut. He thought distance would protect you. He thought he was doing the right thing by shielding you from the weight he still carried, the pain he hadn't processed. But he was wrong.

Angela Lopez let him have it the moment he confessed his regret.

“You left your wife, Tim. The woman who has never given you a reason to doubt her love. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” he admitted, voice hollow. “I panicked. I didn’t know how to deal with the guilt. The nightmares. Ray… everything. I pushed her away thinking I was doing her a favor.”

Angela sighed, softer now. “She’s not okay, Tim. She loves you, but you broke something in her. If you really want her back, you better be ready to fight for her. No lies. No running.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

---

That night, Lucy and Angela told you to dress nice. “We’re taking you out,” they said with those suspiciously innocent smiles.

You didn't expect to be driven to the little bluff overlooking the city, where Tim first asked you out. Where he proposed two years later with shaking hands and a hopeful heart.

“Why are we here?” you asked, heart pounding.

Angela leaned in, kissed your temple. “Just follow the clues.”

And then she and Lucy were gone.

You found the first note on the bench, held down by a photo of you and Tim laughing, heads tilted together, love etched into every line.

“You’re the best decision I ever made.”

The second was near the old oak tree, taped to the trunk.

“I was a fool to think leaving would protect you. All I did was hurt you.”

By the time you found the last one, your hands were trembling. It was clipped to a string of fairy lights he’d strung along the railing—just like the night he proposed.

You turned and saw him.

Tim stood a few feet away, his face open, haunted, hopeful. You froze.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you whispered, turning.

“Wait,” he said, stepping forward. “Please. Don’t go.”

Your breath caught. The ache in your chest pulsed alive again.

“You left me, Tim,” you said, eyes glistening. “You didn’t even let me speak. You just—walked away.”

“I know,” he said, voice rough. “And I’ve regretted it every day since. I was scared. I thought I was protecting you. But I wasn’t. I was protecting myself.”

Your head turned slightly, pain and love warring behind your eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you admitted, voice breaking. “You broke me.”

Then, the nausea came without warning.

You turned, stumbling toward the trash can nearby as your stomach lurched. Tim was beside you in seconds, holding your hair back, rubbing your back, panic on his face.

“Hey, hey. Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

You shook your head, breath still shaky. “No. I know what this is.”

Tim blinked. “What?”

Still hunched slightly, you turned toward him with tear-filled eyes. “I’m pregnant, Tim.”

The world stopped.

His mouth opened slightly, stunned. “What…? Since when?”

Your voice cracked. “The night you left. I was going to tell you that night.”

He closed his eyes, devastated.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “God, I’m so sorry.”

You nodded slowly. “I wanted to tell you in a different way. I imagined your smile. Your hands on my belly. I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am happy,” he said quickly, desperately. “I just—I don’t deserve you. But I want to. I want a second chance.”

You were quiet. He took your hand gently.

“I miss you every second. I miss your voice. Your laugh. Our home. You are my home, and I hate what I did to us. I don’t even know why I did it. But I swear to you, I’ll never do it again.”

You looked at him, your expression softening.

“I missed you too.”

Tim exhaled, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“But if you come home, things have to change,” you added, stronger now. “No more secrets. No shutting me out because you think it’s for my own good. I’m not a damsel. I’m your wife. We’re a team.”

He nodded, eyes locked to yours.

“I hear you. I see you. And I swear, I will never put you through that again. I want to be a better man—for you. For our baby.”

You nodded slowly. “Then come home. The house doesn’t feel like ours without you in it. And now we have a baby to think about.”

Tim stepped closer, one hand brushing against your still-flat stomach.

“Our baby,” he murmured in awe.

You placed your hand over his.

“You’re going to be a dad, Tim.”

His eyes filled. “And I swear, I’m going to be the kind of father—and husband—you can rely on.”

You leaned into his chest, heart thudding against his.

“You already are,” you whispered.

And finally, after a month apart, Tim Bradford took his wife in his arms—and this time, he wasn't letting go.

---

End.

[moongirlrhea]

heaven and hell were words to me (no grave can hold my body down)

chapter five in the azriel and his best friend series

series masterlist

word count: 2.2k

azriel x reader

warnings: bricks being thrown at faces (of the readers)

a/n: this is a shorter one than usual, but i hope you guys still enjoy! i wanted to thank all of you for engaging in my writing so much, for all the replies and reblogs, it means so much to me :) and as always, i’m open to feedback, talk to meeeee

The tips of Azriel’s wings were beginning to freeze over with how long he’d been trudging through the snow.

There was nothing of interest in this forest, he was sure of it at this point. He’d already lost half the day to fly to the woods off the coast of the court, where Rhys had detected some strange activity, as he’d called it. An intruder. It was understandable that the High Lord was more agitated than usual, with news of Hybern sending one of their generals as an emissary to Prythian. Amarantha, if he recalled correctly.

And so the shadowsinger didn’t complain when he was asked to go to the other end of the court this morning. Except the sky had turned a darker shade of blue a while ago now, and even though the Illyrian was well accommodated to the cold, it was slowly starting to bother him. Just as he was about to turn around and fly home, he spotted movement in the trees.

Having unsheathed Truth-Teller, he moved. Weaving between the trees, hidden in the shadows, his footsteps made but a sound until he had the person right before his eyes. Until he had them pressed against the trunk of a tree, dagger to the throat.

The person shrieked. And that was the first time he had the chance to take a good look at them.

Trembling before him, eyes wide with fear was a young female. His hand hesitated as he searched her face; a strange sort of quiet song filled his mind all of a sudden. His mouth fell open.

This was the most beautiful fae he’d ever laid eyes on.

And then she sniffled, and it was like he sobered up. Gods, what was he doing? He pressed the dagger tighter against her throat, not trusting the stranger and asking, voice razor-sharp and cold like the forest around them.

“Who are you?” the female bit her lip, blinking quickly as if she was trying to stop herself from crying. Azriel’s eyes narrowed.

Finally she half whimpered her name. “I- I came here on a- on a boat. From- from the continent, and there,” she sniffled “there was supposed be a town not far from the port but- I think I got lost”

Azriel stood there, studying her. He could tell she wasn’t lying, and his shadows informed him that a ship had, in fact, arrived at the port a few hours later. But how did she get here? Her clothes were torn in places, and definitely not weather appropriate - she was scarcely wearing a coat. The edges of her clothes were starting to freeze over, and her lips were turning blue. He took a look at her hands - her fingers were red and stiff.

“Please- please don’t hurt me” she squealed out wetly all of a sudden, voice trembling. He needed to get her away from here, before she froze over right before his eyes.

Rhys was going to kill him. But he couldn’t possibly leave her here, and he knew for a fact that she didn’t have bad intentions. He put his dagger away before shrugging his gloves on and wordlessly offering them to her.

She hesitated, eyes switching between his face and the gloves, until he just pressed them into her hands. He turned away, saying “Come with me.” Velaris was a long flight from here and they needed to get to a place where the trees weren’t as dense and packed.

“W- what? Where?” he looked over his shoulder to see her trying to catch up to him. Trying and failing.

“What happened to your leg?” she stopped her attempts to stumble over to him, and raised her shoulders a bit.

“I- um- I was taking the path from the port,” she got the words out quickly, stumbling over them, voice shaking “And, there was an animal or- or something and it scared me and- and I ran but I tripped” she gestured to her ankle with a shaky hand.

Azriel let a moment pass, before fully turning in her direction. She took a step back. Sighing, he decided that explaining everything would be the smartest way to go about this. The only way not to scare her more than she already was. “We’re going to fly to my city where you will see a healer. You’ll be free to go wherever you want then”

“And what if I said no?” she tipped her chin up, but it didn’t add a lot of scary effect to what she said.

Azriel’s eyebrow twitched up. “Then I can leave you here, but night is falling. And that down is half a day’s walk in the other direction”

“O-oh” Azriel kept the distance between them as he studied her once again. She looked exhausted and her breathing was alarmingly rapid. She was standing there, shaking and ready to shrink away. And so, he slowly took a few steps in her direction, as if approaching a trapped doe. He supposed he was. He extended his hand towards her.

A pang of unease shot through him at the realization that he wasn’t wearing his gloves; his scars were there in plain sight. But her eyes only stopped on them for a second before she stammered, voice high-pitched. “And- you’re not going to- to hurt me, or- something?”

“I will not hurt you, or allow anyone else to hurt you. I promise” he told her softly. In that moment, that oath was plactating; it was to coax her to let him take her away from this snow filled tundra, before any of them turned into icicles. Before they run into one of the beats dwelling in these woods. Oh, how wrong was his idea of the meaning of that promise. How he’d give his life not to break it; and how his world would shatter when he realized he did.

The shadowsinger of the Night Court didn’t know that yet, though. It was only relief he felt when she hesitantly put her hand in his and let him take her in his arms, before shooting into the sky.

-

The girl was sitting rigidly on the bed in one of the House’s bedrooms as Madja finished patching her up. The heavy wool blanket he had given her earlier was around her shoulders and clutched tightly between her fingers as her eyes tracked the healer’s every move.

“Alright, dear. You will be just fine but you need to take it easy on that ankle for a few days” the older female said with a warm, calming smile on her face. She didn’t reply.

“Thank you, Madja” he said instead from the corner of the room, where he stood half concealed in his shadows. It took all his strength to keep them off her. They were thoroughly interested in the girl, for a reason Azriel could not decipher yet, but he decided against letting them swarm all over her and scaring her.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m leaving you a tonic in case your leg bothers you” she told the girl as she turned to leave “Keep her close to the fireplace, Shadowsinger” she added as she passed by him. And then she was gone.

An awkward silence fell over the room now that the healer was gone, and Azriel inwardly scolded himself for not knowing what to say. Finally he cleared his throat. “I asked a friend to bring you some clothes, she should be here soon”

She only nodded once, back straight and stiff. A few moments passed of her glancing quickly around the room, studying the view outside the windows with wide eyes. The door to the room suddenly opening had her flinching.

Morrigan came into the chamber like a storm, as she always did, chocolate eyes already sparkling with wonder at the newcomer. Throwing him a greeting over her shoulder, she crossed the room, and walked up to the bed, tight red dress swishing with her every step. Morrigan put the bundle of clothes away and was already talking her ear off, but all Azriel did was study the girl. Eyes wide - that seemed to be their default setting, Azriel concluded - she watched Morrigan, as if strikingly shocked at her mere existence. But the other female didn’t seem to pay it any mind as she fussed over her.

“Oh! It’s so good to have another girl here, you wouldn’t believe it. I mean, there is always Amren, but… nevermind,” she shook her head, turning in Azriel’s direction “Cassian is going to love this! Have you told Rhysand already?” she was practically jumping with amazement at this. And he was almost rolling his eyes.

“No.” he grumbled. Mor only gave a disbelieving, slow shake of her head and brought up a hand to cover her mouth.

“This is huge, Az,” she voiced, but before she could continue the sentence, which he was half sure would send the poor girl into a spiral, with how anxious she already seemed, he stopped her.

“We should let her rest.” he said, which had Morrigan rolling her eyes.

“Oh, fine” she sighed, and pointed in the direction of the girl “But we’re talking tomorrow. I want to get to know you” She winked in Azriel’s direction as she was leaving, and with that, she was gone. Off to pass the gossip onto Cassian, no doubt. This would be a long night.

The visit from the other female seemed to only overwhelm her more. With a furrowed brow and slow steps, Azriel approached her and sat on the other corner of the bed.

“It has been a long day for you, I’m sure” he offered softly “You should sleep”

She only studied him, unsure eyes pausing on his wings and shadows. Although, now that they were alone, her shoulders seemed to drop a bit, curling inwards. She still seemed overwhelmed, maybe more than earlier, but less… scared. Something in Azriel’s chest tightened at the idea that she might feel safe, in any capacity, near him. It was a strange feeling, a notion that was ridiculous given his line of profession. And who he was, in general, but… it moved something in him. Something he hadn’t known was there to be moved at all.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You’re not a prisoner here. My High Lord will probably have some questions to ask you, though” she tensed again “But no one here is going to hurt you. I made you that promise and I intend to keep it”

She nodded and reached over to the clothes Morrigan had brought her earlier. A small, appreciative smile appeared on her face as she looked at him, eyes tearing up a bit. And then she nodded again, as though more to herself, eyes glowing with an emotion he couldn’t recognize, yet.

-

Azriel shot up in bed, breathing heavily.

He ran a hand through his soaked with sweat hair. This was the third time this week that this memory came back to haunt him. He was starting to think it was the Mother herself punishing him for failing his girl so badly.

Instinctively, desperately he looked around the room, as if she would be there somewhere, as she almost always was. But she wasn’t there. He didn’t know where she was; no one knew where she was. They’d been looking for weeks. He could swear he’d already searched every corner of the Night Court, and he was ready to start tearing it apart.

Every single promise made to her, broken. Like that.

He shifted in his bed.

The ugly thought crossed through his mind, that it was too late already. That he’d allowed himself to come close to a light as bright as her, and now it would be forever dimmed. That he would never lay eyes on it again.

He was well aware he shouldn’t think like that. He’d already dedicated every waking moment to looking for her. And he would find her. He had to. But the truth that he’d been trying for so long to defy came soaring into his mind. It was merciless, the knowledge that it was his fault, that he should’ve seen it coming that it would come to this. It was obvious that he would fail her, at some point, inevitably, and it finally happened, and it was only his own foolishness that allowed him to keep that truth at bay for so many years. He had tried to run from it, from that ugliness he’s been carrying with him for the entirety of his life. But it always came for him in the end. It was in his every footstep, every drop of blood he left behind. Multiplying, chasing him, gaining speed with every moment he spent with her, every smile of his she caused.

And it always got him in the end, every time, and every place. He should’ve known.

And so the Shadowsinger wouldn’t stop searching. Not until all that was left of this world was dust.

taglist: @greenmandm @thoughtfulcoffeeflower @dark-night-sky-99 @ly--canthrope @azrielssgirl @topaz125 @azrielsmate @i-am-infinite @stressed-reader @blonde-bansheee @k-homosapien @azysmate @brekkershadowsinger

[mrsgarciatorres]

all the way || mickey garcia

a/n: i’m watching *look both ways* and his character (gabe) is so HELLO??? like??? im crying… (yes this is a pregnancy fic)

your eyes lock into the stick that was in your hands. two lines. mickey won’t even be back in 2 months, how are you going to do this alone? you breathe in and you breathe out very slowly and grab your phone. this would have to be dealt with a phone call, you didn’t wanna scare mickey when he came home just to see your big belly.

your fingers shakily press each number on the dial screen, putting in your boyfriend’s number and then pressing call. you’re expecting it not to be picked up, so you already have a message sent out to him saying 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬.

you pressed the green call button ay the bottom, your hands slightly shaking as you bring it up to your ear. it rings four times, and the line finally went off. “hey it’s mickey.., or fanboy. i’m either on duty or somewhere busy, please leave a message after the beep.” the line went dead with a long beeping noise, and your mouth opened up. “hi mickey, it’s me. please let me know when you get the chance to talk to me. it’s urgent, like… life or death urgent, i guess? anyways.. just let me know.” you and the call, and you look up to the ceiling. “what am i gonna do?” you whisper to yourself, closing your eyes.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

it was 20:30 when mickey got done with his 500 push ups, being the second to last done. his chest went up and down, sweat all over him. “that was easy as making cake,” he chuckled out. hang-man took his sweet time this round, and laughed from the floor.

“okay man.” he stood up from his spot, “i know i can do 500 push ups but the middle really does get to you.” jake ended. “what i meant was that i can’t make cake, hang-man. i always burn it.” jake understood the meaning now. “yeah, well… let’s hit the showers. man you smell,” he laughed, the back of his hand slapping mickey in the chest lightly. “says you,” mickey spoke back.

the two men walk their way towards the showers, talking about the day they had and how far it is until both of them could go home with their loved ones. “how is theodora by the way? she walking now?” mickey asked, asking about jake’s daughter. “oh man she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. yeah she’s walking and it’s a nightmare to be honest. one minute she’s there, and the next thing you know she’s trying to go upstairs by herself.” jake laughed.

“talking about babies makes me want to have one, but honestly? i feel like i leave too much to actually see them grow up. what if i miss the child birth as well? miss everything?” mickey questioned, his head spinning in circles with every thought about leaving his future ‘what if’ kid. “oh yeah that’s the down side of working in the military, leaving your wife and kid to defend themselves and grow up with out you. it breaks my heart every time i’m called back to station.. which now it’s nothing since i have them both in miramar now.” jake shrugged.

mickey hummed. “you thinking about getting your girlfriend pregnant or what?” jake laughed, shoving the shorter man. “no.. no, plus we haven’t really thought so far into our lives. i told her if she were to be with me all the way i’d be gone from time to time, the first time i left she left messages every day or even close to every hour. like yes, i love her man but i can’t be there all the time you know?” he shrugged, taking his clothes off casually and putting them on the wooden bench, hang-man doing the same as well. “yeah i get that. the first chick i was with was texting me 24/7, got my phone confiscated because of that. clingy people just don’t do me, man. i feel like people in the military in general don’t do clingy.” mickey nodded at that.

they’re done with what they’re doing, going to the lockers to get changed into brand new clothing. mickey’s phone is on his bag. as he wraps the white towel around his waist, he grabs it and taps on the screen to load the phone on. “oh shit.” he muttered, as he saw two missed notifications. “what?” hang-man asked, “i just got a man’s worst nightmare text and then voicemail.” mickey gulped, his other free hand going through his wet curls. “which is…” jake moved his hand, signaling to mickey what the message was. “we need to talk,” mickey showed him his phone, and what jake saw he whistled. “good luck man,” hang-man walked out of the locker room, shutting the door on his way out.

mickey walked over to a cold grey metal bench, sitting on it as his tags hung from his chest. he pressed the call back button, as he waited for his lover to pick it up. three beeps went on until the other line could be heard, “hey mickey.” he sucked in a breath, “hey mi alma. what’s up?” he asked, a soft smile planted on his face. “uh.. so you know how.., a month ago before you left we did the big bang and well, you left?” you stuttered. his eyebrows knot together in confusion, wondering why that was important for him to know now.

the door that opened to the locker room could be heard, rooster, bob, payback, rueben, and coyote all came in laughing with whatever was said by them. their eyes immediately landed on mickey, who’s only pair of clothing was covered by a towel with a hand in his phone looking dead on serious. an emotion never seen with their teammate. bob hushed them, quietness was heard again in the locker other than the clanging of opening the lockers and stuff being moved around. “mhm,” could be heard from mickey. “well.. uhm. how— i don’t want to say it but,” you stumble. “mi vida?” he breathed out, waiting for whatever it is you needed to tell him.

“i’m pregnant..” you whisper out, still seeming as tense on the other line to mickey. “what?” he asked in disbelief, “i’m..pregnant, did you hear me?” you whisper, hoping he didn’t hear you and not getting mad. “no.. no i heard you, god i’m sorry mi amor, give me a minute.” he pressed the mute button on the call after you said ‘okay’, as he put the phone down on the bench besides him.

he stared at the floor with wide eyes, thoughts flowing into his head. “but we were safe.” he mumbled. bob was the only one who could clearly hear him since his locker was right near the bench, the others far away on the other side of the room, still trying to eavesdrop into the conversation. bob’s eyes went wide, and he looked back behind him to tell the group to ‘quit it out.’ “i used a.. a condom, she was on the pill. we were safe,” he whispered. “mickey?” a girl’s voice could be heard through the locker room. he unmuted himself, “m here mi chica,” he mumbled. “okay. okay. i have two months left,” he spoke. “wh-when did you find out? how long have you known?” he asked you.

“for three hours. told you as soon as i could.” you answered back. “okay.. okay. when i get back, we’re gonna get through this okay?” mickey told you. “you’re.. not mad?” you asked him, a bit surprised. his face looked offended on the other line, but you couldn’t tell.

“mad? sweetheart, i’m… i’m a bit concerned, scared even. but i’d never be mad about any of this, we cannot control this. it’s.. it’s life.” he breathed. “i wish you were here right now..,” you mumble. “i know, i know me too. but as soon as i’m home, i’m all yours. all the way.” mickey said. “all the way?” you repeated, he hummed. “m sorry my love, i wish i could stay on the phone but i gotta go. i’ll try to check in every chance i get okay?” he told you, you nodded but forgot he couldn’t see it. “okay. call you later?” he hummed. “call you later amor. i love you, bye.” the call ended, and he stared up ahead in disbelief.

the gang behind him stood, all wanting to know what happened. “so like… you gonna spill the secret?” coyote’s voice broke the silence. “dude,” rooster stared at him in shock. “what? we’re all thinking it.” rueben said. “she’s…” mickey’s voice broke them up and had their attention on him in an instant. “she’s..” most of them repeated.

“she’s pregnant.”

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

a/n: AHHHH i love this movie sm. i loved that lili reinhart played in it, she was so good! but other than that here’s my take in a pregnant fic, pls lmk if yall need a part two cause this can turn into a tiny series if you want!! i could see it coming into something more. please remember to like and reblog and comment your feelings about it! <3 years

[delilahsturniolo]

— ♡ six thirty . . . c.s

in which . . . chris can’t resist fucking you in the morning

warnings . . . smut, cockwarming, unprotected sex, making out, praise, use of pet names, soft!dom!chris. (no somnophilia!!)

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

POSITIONS WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #6

it’s 6:30 a.m. and the sun hasn’t fully risen yet. the room is bathed in soft blue-gray light, quiet except for the steady hum of the fan and the lazy rustle of sheets. your eyes are half-closed, still drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness, and chris is beside you, warm, tousled, bare-chested. his arm is already draped over your waist, fingers curling slightly like they don’t know how to let go of you even in his sleep. he shifts a little, breath warm against your neck, and then… he kisses your shoulder. slow. soft. like it’s instinct. like his mouth just belongs there. “you awake?” he murmurs, voice gravelly, ruined by sleep. you hum, pressing your back against his chest. “barely.”

“mm. good,” he whispers, nosing along your jaw. “just stay right here.” you feel him smile against your skin before his lips find your neck, slow, warm, and unhurried. it’s not a kiss meant to wake you up. it’s a kiss that says i missed you even in my dreams. you turn to face him, eyes still heavy, and he looks wrecked in the prettiest way. messy hair, swollen lips, that sleepy look in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

“you always kiss me like that before sunrise?” you tease, voice soft. he grins, lazy and dangerous. “only when you sleep in my shirt.” you glance down, his shirt hangs off your shoulder, thin and wrinkled. no bra. just skin and fabric and heat building between you. “you gonna start something you can’t finish, chris?” you murmur. his hand slips under the shirt, fingers grazing your hip. “not a chance.”

the kiss starts slow, just a brush of lips, lazy and sweet. then he deepens it, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist like he needs you closer. your fingers curl into his hair, tugging just enough to pull a groan from his throat. he rolls you onto your back, never breaking the kiss, moving over you like he’s done it a thousand times. his knee slots between your thighs, his mouth claiming yours again, deeper, messier. your breaths start coming faster, mouths moving like you’ve got nowhere to be. because you don’t. “you know,” he mumbles against your lips, “we could sleep in…”

“you think i’m sleeping after that kiss?” he laughs, low and warm, and then kisses you again. and again. and again. hands exploring slowly, lips trailing fire down your neck, across your collarbone, under the hem of his shirt. every touch feels like a question he’s already answered a hundred times.

his shirt rides higher up your body with every kiss, and you swear it’s the only thing keeping you from coming completely undone. his hand slips beneath it, palm warm against your stomach, fingers skimming slow, lazy circles that have you squirming underneath him. “you’re so warm,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “so soft…” you tug at his waistband, fingertips teasing just under the hem of his boxers, and he hisses through his teeth, forehead dropping to yours, breath hot. “careful,” he warns, voice low and strained. “you’re gonna make me forget how to be gentle.”

“maybe i don’t want gentle,” you whisper. that’s all it takes.

he exhales sharply, eyes flicking to yours for permission, just a flicker. and you nod, already pulling him closer, already lifting your hips to meet him. the shirt is gone first. his hands tug it up and off in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder. his eyes rake down your body like he’s been starving, like this is something he’s craved in secret every damn night you’ve slept next to him. and then he’s on you again, mouth on your chest, your stomach, your thighs. kissing, biting, marking you slowly. you moan into his hair, fingers tangling, pulling him closer as he takes his time with every inch of skin like it’s something sacred.

“fuck, chris,” you whisper, breath catching. he smirks against your skin. “yeah, baby? you like that?” you nod and grab his jaw, pulling him up to kiss you again, this time desperate. teeth, tongue, heat. it’s sloppy, breathless, perfect. he groans into your mouth, grinding into you with just enough pressure to make your thighs shake. he kisses you hard, and this time, there’s no teasing. no waiting. he lines himself up with your entrance, eyes locked on yours, and when he pushes himself in, you both gasp. the stretch. the heat. the way he fills you like he was made for you.

he moves slow at first, deep, deliberate, his name spilling from your lips like prayer. every thrust pulls another sound from you, every grind of his hips makes you arch and cling to him harder. he’s everywhere, in everything. the morning light catching on his skin, the rough groan in your ear, the hand on your thigh keeping you wide open for him. “chris..” you mumble, his thrusts nice and slow.

“you feel unreal,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “you are unreal.” you kiss him before you can say something too soft. but he already knows. he always knows. you reach that edge and cum together, his pace quickens, your legs tighten around him, and the air fills with broken moans and whispered curses. when it hits, it’s not just physical. it’s electric. overwhelming. consuming. like you’ve given in to something that’s been building for so long. afterward, he doesn’t move right away. just collapses against you, both of you still panting, bodies tangled and sticky and flushed.

“so…” he says eventually, grinning. “this our new morning routine?” you laugh, lips brushing his shoulder. “if it is, i’m never leaving this bed again.”he hums, trailing lazy fingers down your spine. “let me just keep my cock in you, yeah?” chris smiles, his cum and his length still stuffed inside you. and with the sun barely rising, chris wrapped around you like gravity, and your body still buzzing from him.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: shittt i missed my opportunity to do the greatest thing ever and post this at 6:30 am but i slept in!! 😭

[nyxtickled]

did u pocket all the money ppl gave u for nest then dip ??

yes, that is one way to look at it. (tw: pet loss, grief)

in march i held my pup in my arms and kissed her head over and over as she struggled to breathe until the doctor ended her suffering for us after only 3 months of fighting her sudden diagnosis of lymphoma. she would have turned 4 less than a month later.

that dog was my ESA, my baby, my world. i did everything with her and raised her from 8 weeks old. i knew her from the day she was born. losing her so suddenly and after fighting so hard with weekly appointments and a slew of medications just.. broke something in my brain. i am still not the same. i don’t know when i will feel like myself again. i am just going through the motions and letting the grief do what it wants with me.

and then there was NEST. it has been on my mind a lot actually. yes, i accepted donations to help me fund my ticket and flight. however, most of the fundraising i did was in the form of custom content. i bought my ticket. i even bought my wife’s ticket. and then we lost Fawkes. since then, everything has been dark.

anyway, i don’t say any of this to create excuses. i am glad you mentioned it, because even in the days leading up to the event i grappled with the prospect of going and talked to my wife about it over and over. i would sit there and get ready to write something on discord, or open the tumblr app, and then just freeze. i couldn’t even click on the notification bubbles and eventually just turned all of my notifications off for all of my apps. i couldn’t even log in.

if you have ever been to a gathering, you likely know how incredibly intoxicating the energy is. it’s like going on a bender, but the drug is kink. it’s a complete and total flood of dopamine from start to finish. it’s beautiful, it’s life-changing, it’s empowering, it’s freeing. and it also has the potential to hit like a bomb when you get back home.

i knew that even if i tried my hardest to go and enjoy myself, i was running the risk of catapulting myself into even more of a black hole than i was already in when i returned. my engineering classes started up again in april, and it has been consistently taking all of my resolve just to keep up with homework and studying. not to mention i was still crying about once a day at this point, sometimes more. so, there was also a pretty hefty chance that i would get there and wind up hiding in a room the entire time after realizing i couldn’t tap into the level of joy and sensuality that would have surrounded me.

as a result i made the decision to stay home. and i wanted to share that choice with everyone, i know i should have. but again, i froze and said nothing. lately it has felt as though all the words ive ever known have just left my body entirely. and, again, not an excuse - just an honest explanation.

that being said, i have still thought of the people who helped me with funds outside of purchasing content from me many times. to those reading this: if you donated anything to me with the intent of helping me get to NEST, please contact me directly and i will return it to you. i would never intentionally take advantage of anyone’s generosity. i never reached out to ask for a refund for my tickets or anything, so i lost out too. i just, disappeared. emotionally, mentally, pretty much in every way except physically, i disappeared with Fawkes on that night. every penny i raised has just been used to pay for bills, supplies for our 3 kitties (and 2 tiny kittens we’ve been fostering since our friend saved them from the side of the freeway, long story, cat distribution system is real as fuck) and whatever else we have needed to get by.

to all of my friends who haven’t heard from me, i’m truly so sorry. it won’t be forever, so please don’t worry. exene has been absolutely incredible at caring for me and holding me through it all every day. trust me when i say i look forward the moment i wake up from this as much as you do. i love you with all of my damn heart and i think of you all the time. i’m just.. stuck.

anyways, would it really be a nyx update if it wasn’t 3x longer than it needed to be? 💀 moral of the story: if you donated freely rather than buying content, please let me know if you want your donation back. i will not hesitate to return it to you as soon as i can. i have not done anything with the funds other than live off of them, and barely living at that, lol.

all of my love to u. <3

[dvrk-moon]

EVERY LETTER I DIDN’T SEND - LEE HEESEUNG

— synopsis: you did everything for him, even if he wouldn’t acknowledge you anymore.

— word count: 3.4k

— warnings: cursing, PAY ATTENTION TO DATES IN LETTERS PLEASE they are important!!!

— genre: angst, 2000s au, long distance, one-sided relationship, heeseung x fem!reader, newfound celebrity!heeseung

— playlist: ripples - beabadoobee, a summer song - chad & jeremy, waiting room - phoebe bridgers

— a/n: enjoy this lil thang i wrote in 2 days. tried something new with the formatting so i hope u guys enjoy :)

— taglist: @asteriscoverde @ikeupop @ainlvshs @feymine @jaeyunlovebot @cherrjaqke @rikiiimeow @hearts2heartsenthusiast @ch4c0nnenh4 @wensurr

i. BEEN BUSY

1-30-2004

dear Heeseung,

it’s y/n again

It’s been a couple months since you’ve last responded, but I know you’re busy with your music work so i understand hahaha

just missing you extra today. I had one of my professors today assign a project that had to do with trees and it reminded me of that tree in my backyard that we carved our initials on

The tree actually fell down sometime last month. not sure if you read my last few letters but i think i mentioned that in there

write me back if you get the chance :)

Love, y/n

You crumbled up the paper and threw it, leaving it to the mountain of unsent letters that collected under your bed.

It had been four months since you’d last even heard from Heeseung. The last letter he’d sent you was short yet burned in your mind:

Dear Y/N

Hey it’s heeseung :) miss you too

I’ve been Busy recording some stuff but I’ll keep in touch

See you soon

Heeseung

That was the last thing he’d said to you in months.

When you’d first started adjusting to Heeseung moving, you’d promised to write to each other every week if possible. He was your best friend after all, losing contact wouldn’t be that easy. That’s at least what you’d thought when this all started over a year ago.

As time progressed, Heeseung would get more and more busy. Whether it was recording, busking, performing, or whatever; sometimes Heeseung wouldn’t write back to you in the expected timely manner. But it was fine, you’d write your letter updating him anyways, and he would respond when he could.

First, the letters were sent weekly.

For the first few months, you’d received and sent a letter every week to keep in touch with your best friend.

As he got more busy, though, you’d have to adjust. Before you knew it, the letters came only twice a month.

It would have to do, because he was your best friend. You were glad he even still had time to talk.

Even if he didn’t write back on time, you’d still send him your weekly letter, asking him about his life and updating him on yours. The big problem arose in the past eight months.

You’d gotten only one letter each month for the first four of the eight months. Ever since four months ago, you’d not heard from him at all. Not one peep.

It sucked, because you knew deep in the back of your mind that he had the time to write to you. You’d unintentionally made the habit of stalking his celebrity blog website, noting how he spent time every day talking with fans, yet you’d not received a letter in months.

Rolling your eyes, you opened your desk drawer and pulled out the last letter you’d received.

The letter had no date. Every time you were agonizing on how he hadn’t written to you, you’d pretend that you’d just received this letter in the mail from him.

You were sick of playing pretend for fifteen weeks straight now.

ii. POSTCARD

2-04-2004

Dear heeseung

hi it’s me again

I really don’t know why i keep writing you these damn letters. I haven’t heard back from you in months and I haven’t even sent you anything since December

these letters make me feel a little better I guess, just knowing in my mind I can pretend you’re writing back hah

I’m sorry I haven’t sent you stuff as usual. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to keep giving you attention when you won’t even send me anything. Even a postcard would be nice

I know you have the time to write to me too so don’t think I haven’t seen your fan blog

i do miss you. I wish you would miss me too

Love, y/n

You pulled out the box of unsent letters and shoved the paper right into it.

iii. I SHOULD HATE YOU

2-07-2004

Dear heeseung

I think i hate you!

I really don’t. i just don’t understand you

How is it so easy for you to pretend we weren’t best friends for all those years?? I get that now you’re mingling with Hollywood people but damn

i hope you’re enjoying this life you built. Clearly you’re happy enough to where you don’t even need a best friend anymore. I hope Hollywood gives you everything i can’t

I really should hate you right now

Talk to you never, from y/n

P.S. MTV can suck my dick

You finished writing the letter and put it to the side. Your box of unsent letters was now getting quite full, so you had organized them into neat piles based on the month you wrote them in.

The last letter you’d actually sent to him was written sometime before December 10th, because that was the first unsent letter date you’d found. Each pile of unsent mail had at least five letters, save for February, as you’d only written him twice since the beginning of the month.

January was the worst of it all. You’d written thirteen different letters to him. Amongst the thirteen was January 22nd, the day you’d discovered his fan blog:

01-22-2004

Dear heeseung

Fuck you seriously dude!

Are you fucking kidding me I just found your stupid ass fan blog where you feed into these fangirls parasocial relationships with you you’re weird for that

also how the fuck do you not have time to respond to ANY of the letters I sent you but you spend an hour on your blog talking to fans daily

Get your fucking priorities straight you’re seriously a joke

From y/n

The heartbreak and betrayal you’d felt the day of January 22nd was not something you’d like to relive. Writing the letter had made you feel better about how angry you were, but it still didn’t change the fact that Heeseung simply didn’t prioritize you anymore.

You put the letters to the side while fighting off tears. Instead, you grabbed the last letter he sent you. The words he promised you in the letter burned in your mind, making you grip the paper harder than you intended:

I’ll keep in touch

See you soon

What an empty promise. You wanted to write “fuck you” on the paper and send it right back to him, but it wasn’t like he’d see that one either.

You shuffled through all the letters he’d sent you before you found the one that meant the most: the first one.

10-15-2002

Dear y/n,

Guess who just turned 19 in Los Angeles!!! It sucks that I can’t spend this birthday with you so I decided I should write to you instead to make it feel like you’re here with me

This past week and a half has been so amazing. I got to tour a few recording studios and met an amazing producer who wants to help me. I have this manager too! They’re talking about me maybe dropping “lee heeseung” and going by the stage name “Evan” instead. Not sure how I feel about it but im sure they might know more than me hahaha

The whole time they were talking about that I could only think about how much you’d make fun of me :P

I miss you like crazy already! If possible I’ll try to fly home soon :) Hope to see you soon

Love, heeseung

(Aka soon to be Evan)

You smiled bittersweetly at the letter with tears in the corners of your eyes before blinking them away and putting down the letter.

So much for “seeing you soon”.

iv. MORE THAN ANYTHING

2-11-2004

Dear heeseung

Writing to you again because I don’t know why. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself

Maybe it’s because I can’t accept the reality that I have where you’re not my best friend anymore. Crazy how that happens, right?

I’ve been rereading a lot of these letters lately, especially yours

You’ve always been good with your words, it’s no wonder you’re making music of them now. I wish you would send me something. Anything. Maybe not even a letter

I think what I want from you the most right now is to punch you, then hug you, then maybe punch you again for good measure

you deserve a good beating for what you’ve done to our relationship. I miss my best friend heeseung

Love, y/n

P.s. I don’t know why I still say i love you because i hate you more than anything now

A tear dropped from your eye to the paper, falling right on the words “love, y/n”.

v. THE LANDLINE

2-25-2004

Dear y/n

Hey. It’s heeseung

I know I haven’t written to you in forever. I’m really sorry. I bet you’re really mad at me now and i get it and i would be mad at me too

I’ve just been so busy with the recent tour announcement and stuff and just haven’t had the time to send stuff

My mom told me that your mom said you’re doing good in school. I’m really proud of you and i know you’ll do great things in life. I always knew that

I’d like to meet you in person soon, if possible. I feel like a horrible friend and I’d be lying if i said it wasn’t entirely my fault

I’ll be home on the first two weeks of March, if you wanna meet then. I have a lot to talk about with you

Please get back to me asap.

Love, Heeseung

P.s. i am sorry

You held the letter with shaking hands, nearly ripping it into a million pieces. You crumpled it up into a ball, throwing at the ground and proceeding to stomp on it. You then decided to run to your bed to scream and cry into a pillow for the time being.

He wrote back after almost five months. After leaving you in the dark, basically abandoning you and your friendship, he finally responded.

You wanted to rip that letter apart as many times as it felt Heeseung had ripped apart your heart over the past few months. You wanted to pretend you didn’t see the letter, to ignore him, and continue on with your life. Honestly, you wanted to ignore the letter so you could keep on writing your hateful and depressing letters to him that you would never send.

He would be home for two weeks. You, of course, knew where his house was. You’d been a million times. The letter, although dated to have been written and sent on February 25th, was nearly a week and a half old now. Heeseung would be going back to L.A. in the next few days.

A part of you wanted to go to his house right that second, to talk to him. Let him know every single thing that you’d been holding back for the past two months; show him every unearthed emotion.

The other (and more dominant) part of you wanted to not even give him the satisfaction of seeing your face. You wanted to ignore him, just like he’d ignored you for four months.

Unfortunately, you knew you needed to be the bigger person. If anything, you’d give him an earful and feel better about yourself after.

Walking out of the bedroom in your apartment, you headed over to the landline phone, dialing the number to Heeseung’s house. You hoped his mother would answer; you needed some time to collect yourself before you spoke directly to him.

You dialed his household number just as you’d remembered it: (444)337-3864. You waited for someone to pick up.

On the third ring, Heeseung’s voice resonated through the phone clearly:

“Hello?”

vi. A FOOL, I GUESS

9-13-2003

Dear y/n

Shit has been getting crazy lately but i hope you can understand

I’m sorry for missing your last few letters i just now have gotten to reading them. Good to hear school is going good!

Cant believe next month will be a year in L.A. hahaha shits crazy

Anyway hope to hear from you soon

Miss ya love ya, from Heeseung

You stared at the paper before tucking it away in your purse again. It was the second-to-last letter you’d received. You weren’t sure why you’d felt the need to bring it with you to meet with Heeseung, but you did.

You had been waiting for him to arrive. Unintentionally, you’d arrived at the park ten minutes earlier than you’d agreed upon with him. So, you decided to wait in the comfort of your car before he showed up.

As if on cue, a familiar car (Heeseung’s mom’s car) pulled up next to you. You looked over to see Heeseung sending you an awkward smile. You quickly left your car and waited for him to do the same.

Damn, you were good at waiting for him.

The two of you quickly found a rhythm with your steps, waiting for the other to break the silence as you walked awkwardly together.

“So,” Heeseung said, biting the bullet and breaking the silence, “how’s school been?”

“Good.” You replied curtly, not sure what he wanted you to say. His mom (whom you still talked to) had told him your school was fine anyways.

“Good,” he replied, awkwardly, “that’s good. Um… just finished recording my new album recently. They’re thinking of calling it ‘The Essence of Evan’.”

“That’s cool,” you said.

“Anything new in your life?” Heeseung tried again, peeking over at you.

You kept your eyes trained on the ground, “Not really. Same old Massachusetts life.”

“Yeah,” he stiffly laughed, “sounds about right. I kinda miss it.”

You raised your eyebrows, frowning and not looking at him. Under your breath, you sarcastically replied, “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“What was that?” Heeseung turned his head.

“It doesn’t seem like you miss it, Heeseung.”

Heeseung furrowed his eyebrows, “What makes you say that?”

“I dunno,” you said, finally looking at him, “maybe because you abandoned everything for Los Angeles.”

“I did not abandon everything for Los Angeles.”

“You abandoned me,” you raised your voice, tears brimming in your eyes, “you abandoned me, Heeseung! What about that?”

“I did not abandon you,” he said, “I’m right here.”

“Right,” you laughed bitterly, “after almost five months of radio silence.”

“I-” Heeseung was at a loss for words. You were right; he didn’t say anything to you for four months straight. That was, in a sense, abandoning you and your friendship.

He stopped walking completely:

“I’m sorry.”

The apology escaped his mouth as if it was a reflex. Unfortunately, hearing it didn’t feel as rewarding as you thought it was going to.

You felt a tear escape your eye as you slowed your pace, “I waited for your response every day, Heeseung. I wrote to you even when you didn’t respond for months. You abandoned me.”

“Y/N,” he said, “I said I’m sorry.”

You turned to look at him, “I waited like an idiot because I thought you would write to me.”

“I did!” He replied, “You know I got busy. I explained it all in my last letter. I wanted to apologize in person because I was a bad friend.”

“Okay,” you said, “well, thanks for the apology.”

Heeseung walked to you, “Do you forgive me?”

Instead of answering his question, you asked your own:

“Did you receive all the letters I sent you?”

Heeseung avoided your gaze, so you asked him again.

“Did you read them, Heeseung?”

He sighed, “Yes.”

You felt the tears resurface as you turned away from him, nodding your head in disbelief.

“So you knew how bad I was hurting from it,” you said, “and you didn’t respond?”

“That’s not it,” Heeseung reasoned, “I’m telling you, I just don’t have the time to write back.”

“But you had time to read all of them…” you trailed off, “How many did I send you? At least eight?”

“Ten.”

Your heart broke further in its chest and a tear ran down your cheek.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he said, “you know I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

“No,” you refused, “Heeseung wouldn’t have done this to hurt me. But you’re not my Heeseung anymore. You’re ‘Evan’ now.”

“Stop,” he replied, “stop that.”

You offered no response and instead opted to find a bench to sit on. All the emotions were making it difficult for you to stand. How could he do this to you?

Heeseung sat on the opposite side of the bench, also not saying anything.

After a couple minutes, he broke the silence again:

“Why did you keep writing to me? After I didn’t respond? Why did you never give up on me?”

You breathed in a shaky breath and wiped the tear from your cheek, “I don’t know… I’m a fool, I guess.”

Heeseung scooted closer to you and hesitantly laid a hand on your back, caressing slowly, “I don’t think you’re a fool.”

You said nothing else for a few minutes, just basking in each other’s presence for a bit. Two hurt people sitting on a park bench in the first week of March, letting the sounds of nature speak for them.

“You know,” you spoke quietly, “I loved you for a long time. Maybe that’s why I didn’t give up on you.”

Heeseung’s hand stopped moving.

You stood up from the park bench, walking back to your car. The tears flowed freely now, drawing some attention from nearby park-goers.

You didn’t look back at him.

vii. HOLLYWOOD THING

8-23-2004

Dear y/n,

I know you’re probably throwing these away at this point, but I’m writing to you again

I miss you so much. Celebrity life isn’t the same knowing I can’t hear back from you. Sure, telling you I recorded some shit is fun but I wanna hear from your life

I’ve tried calling your landline a few times but obviously you haven’t answered. Sometimes I call just to hear the voicemail thing you have set up ha

I think I realized something recently : I don’t want to do life without you. You’re truly the treasure in my life and I agonize over the fact that I ruined something so good

I know you won’t send anything back because I haven’t heard from you since I saw you in person but sometimes I wonder:

What if I had stopped you from walking away? Would things be any different?

I also think about what you said often. About loving me for a long time and stuff. Did you mean that?? Because if I think about it, I’m pretty sure I loved you too. I wish I wouldn’t have been such an idiot about it though because now I lost you

You were never the fool between us. It’s always been me. I wish I could go back in time and forget this whole Hollywood thing

I miss you I miss normal life I miss Massachusetts I just wish I could change everything

I know I’m late to being filled with regret but that doesn’t change a thing

I miss you so much

Love, Heeseung

viii. LAST PAPER

11-02-2004

Dear heeseung,

I already know I’m not sending this to you so it doesn’t matter what I write

good news is that this is my last paper in this stupid fucking notebook so I won’t even have the chance to send you anything even if I wanted to . Which I don’t and I won’t send you anything

Just to let you know I have read all the things you sent me and it feels bittersweet that the roles are reversed now but whatever. Your letters make good fire fuel

I’ve saved a few though. I have a boyfriend of a few months now and he and I like to read them so he can realize how lucky he was to have you had fumbled me :)

His name is Jay and he hates your music btw.

also please stop filling my voicemail box because I keep having to delete everything and it drives me nuts

After I finish writing this then I’ll never have to think about you again.!!!

Weirdly enough i had to move some of my stuff to my moms for storage and I lost all those letters I wrote you about a year ago so maybe that’s a sign that the part of my life involving you is over

maybe that’s a good thing

From y/n

You stared at the paper for some time before crumpling it up and throwing it right into the trash.

[writeriguess]

Dabi fluff please? Maybe something like going on a first date with him - can be canon or whatever AU you'd like.

Thank you!!!!

Burning Midnight

You weren’t sure what to expect when Dabi grunted out, “Be ready at nine,” and then walked off like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.

A date.

Or something like a date.

He never called it that. You weren’t even sure he’d use that word if you put a gun to his head. But still, the idea had you a little… excited? Nervous? Maybe both. Dabi wasn’t exactly the romantic type, and you had no illusions that this was some big, sentimental gesture. It was probably just an excuse to get out for a while, away from the League, away from Shigaraki’s constant gaming and Spinner’s rants.

Still, it meant something. Right?

Now, standing outside a dimly lit bar in the sketchier part of town, you were starting to wonder if you’d overdressed. You’d put some effort in—nothing too fancy, but nicer than your usual. Meanwhile, Dabi looked like… Dabi. Ripped black jeans, a loose hoodie under his usual coat, the sleeves pushed up to show the rough seams of his patchwork skin. He had his hands in his pockets, watching you with that ever-present smirk, like he knew something you didn’t.

“Didn’t know I was taking a high-class lady out tonight,” he teased, nodding toward your outfit. “If I knew, I would’ve worn my nice corpse perfume.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. I didn’t know where we were going.”

“Yeah? And you still agreed? That’s some real trust. Or real stupidity.”

You shrugged. “Bit of both.”

Dabi chuckled and motioned for you to follow him inside. The bar wasn’t packed, but it wasn’t empty either. Dim lights cast long shadows, and the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of cheap booze. A few patrons gave Dabi a look—some wary, some familiar. He ignored them all.

You sat across from him in a booth toward the back. The cracked leather seat stuck to your skin a little, but at least it was relatively quiet. Dabi slouched back, stretching his legs out, ankles crossing. He watched you with that lazy, half-lidded stare, the neon glow from the bar catching the silver sheen of his staples.

“You look nervous,” he said after a moment.

“I’m not.”

“You keep fiddling with your hands.”

You stilled immediately. He smirked.

“Guess this is your first villain date, huh?”

Your lips twitched. “And I’m guessing it’s yours too?”

Dabi hummed. “Wouldn’t say that.”

You blinked. “Wait, you’ve actually been on a date before?”

He shrugged. “Not in the cute, romantic, let’s-hold-hands kinda way. More like, let’s have fun before we get arrested. Or killed.”

You snorted. “Sounds healthy.”

“Oh, it was a real fairytale,” he deadpanned. Then, with a smirk, “This one’s already way better.”

Your heart skipped. “Oh? So this is a date?”

He exhaled sharply, like you’d just caught him in a trap. He looked at you for a long second, then leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Don’t push your luck.”

You grinned. “Too late.”

A waitress came over, looking less than enthusiastic. Dabi ordered a drink for himself, not bothering to ask what you wanted. You shot him a look, and he sighed before turning to the waitress. “And whatever she wants.”

You gave your order, and when the waitress walked off, Dabi tilted his head. “Thought you’d be more demanding. Maybe make me buy you the most expensive thing here, just to be annoying.”

You smirked. “I’m saving that for date number two.”

He let out a short laugh. “Damn. Planning ahead already?”

You shrugged. “You keep calling this a date, so I figured I’d take my chances.”

Dabi’s smirk didn’t fade, but his eyes lingered on you, scanning your face like he was trying to figure something out. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just tapped his fingers against the table in a slow rhythm. Then, finally—

“You really like me, huh?”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t cocky, despite the words. He sounded almost… curious.

You swallowed, then lifted your chin. “Yeah. I do.”

Dabi studied you for another long moment, then exhaled, tilting his head back against the booth. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

You grinned. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

His lips twitched, like he was fighting a real smile.

Your drinks arrived, and for a while, you just sat there, talking, the atmosphere settling into something surprisingly easy. He wasn’t trying to impress you—he never would—but he also wasn’t pushing you away. And for someone like Dabi, that was saying a lot.

At one point, he leaned forward again, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you. “You know this can’t end well, right?”

You met his gaze. “You don’t know that.”

Dabi huffed, shaking his head. “You’re real stubborn.”

“And you’re real bad at pushing me away.”

He stared at you for a second, then smirked. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

You clinked your glass against his. “Then here’s to bad decisions.”

Dabi chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip. “You have no idea.”

But he didn’t walk away. Not yet. And for tonight, that was enough.

[killmeleatherface]

I’m Here Part 4

Jack Abbot x F! Attending (OC)

This is the fourth part of my ongoing series.

Here’s the last part!

__

As soon as you step into the studded ballroom you can see the amount of money being spent on this function. No wonder they were desperate to get donations from attendees. Dark purple curtains hung in intricate waves across the ceiling, with multiple chandeliers following along. Black tablecloths covered several round tables and chairs, with huge flower arrangements of white, purple, black and red in the middle. It truly is beautiful. You decide to resolve yourself to having a good time. It’s a free nice meal, open bar, and some friends. So what if you had to rub elbows with the rich and wealthy.

After your polite round of hellos and “how are you?” Thrown around for everyone you run into, you manage to make it a counter with a handsome bartender in a white dress shirt and black vest.

“Can I get a Tom Collin’s please?” You ask with a smile, leaning against the bar, waiting in heightened anticipation for your drink.

“So black is your standard? Don’t you get tired of it in the ER?” A voice says behind you.

You turn to see who may be talking and are surprised to see they’re not only talking to you, but you know this person. Anthony hamilton. He was an anesthesiologist up stairs, that you’d occasionally ran into. Had a coffee or two with, at the insistence of Dana. The ER staff jokingly called the man in front of you “Tony Gates” because he happened to look like John Stamos’ character on ER and his name was already Anthony.

“Yup. Never lost it, even when my scrub colors were blue.” You smile.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Anthony asks, sidling up next to you at the bar.

“Tsk, tsk Hamilton, I thought you were better than that. It’s an open bar.” You joke.

He smiles. “Damn, ya got me. Just couldn’t think of anything actually good to say once I saw you in that dress.”

He is handsome. Actually, very handsome. Beyond conventionally cute. He’s downright sexy. He’s extremely nice, he’s funny, and he’s a doctor. He’s a real catch. On paper, he’s actually the perfect catch. He should be anyone’s dream guy, and he’s actually very into you. Almost embarrassingly so. Why had you never given him a chance beyond a friendly coffee date?

Hamilton is talking about the last time he’d seen you in an OR and smiling at something “funny” you said. He’s hardcore flirting with you, not taking his eyes or attention off you. You’re trying to do the same, until the air changes, and you see a familiar quip of grey hair in the background of Hamilton talking. You glance over, you know you shouldn’t, but you do. You can resist. What you see is actually breathtaking, Jack Abbot with his grey curls perfectly tousled, a clean shaven face and a black tux that hugs him in all the right places.

“Hey, you okay?” Hamilton asks, stopping his conversation. He’s seen you distracted. You tear your eyes away from Jack and look at Anthony. He really was gorgeous. Right then and there you decided to go for it. You’d come back here for a new start, a fresh start. One that Jack isn’t a part of.

“Yeah, sorry I’m good. Yeah it’s been a while since I’ve been in an OR.” You refer to his story. “Lots of trauma and triage and someone else would take the surgeries.” You add .

“Oh yeah, you were gone for a while, right. Well, I’d love to hear about it and if I may say so, I’m glad you’re back.” Man, he was such a flirt.

One last look at Jack, who you find staring daggers into your couple, and you throw the rest of your drink back. Jack didn’t matter, this man in front of you was open, free, and available for the taking. And you were damn sure as well.

“Where are you sitting? I’d love to tell you about it.” You string your arm through his bicep and begin walking away.

Still feeling Jack looking at you.

—

Three hours later, several checks collected, bad dinner eaten and a few drinks had. A small group of you ended up back at Carl’s Bar by the hospital.

You were nursing a vodka and soda at the bar, contemplating doing an Irish exit and going home to your warm, cozy bed, when you felt a hand on your lower back.

“Hey, you ready to get out of here?” Anthony asks. He’s slurring his words and his pupils are huge. You look at him, perplexed. He’d disappeared somewhere near an hour ago and you thought he’d left you alone.

“I think I’m gonna get a cab and head back to my place.” You offer, trying to be courteous.

“Oh, perfect, that’s what I was thinking.” He smells like whiskey, and cigarettes, gross.

“No, I’m going to head back to my place. You can go back to yours.” You offer again, trying to slink out of the bar seat you were currently on. He stops you, putting his hands on your hips.

“Hey hey, what? I thought we were having a good time, had a good thing. Let’s keep it going.” He’s slurring bad now.

“No thanks Anthony. You should get some water and sober up.” You say, trying to get by him.

“Listen, Daphne, you tricked me and I’m not cool with that” he pulls your arm.

“Anthony, let me go!” You say loudly and a flurry of action happens instantly.

His hand comes off of you and you’re pushed into the crowd. There’s more yelling and two guys following, and someone pulls your arm again, going through the crowd and out the door. You’re practically placed outside and before you can see who it is, they dart back inside. You can still hear yelling inside. The doors burst open and you step back instantly.

You’re stuck in awe and shock of what just happened. Who’s fighting? Who took you out?

“Hey, here’s your stuff. Are you okay?” Jack asks.

You’re still in shock. He rescued you? You didn’t even see him.

“Hey, Daphne, answer me. You good?” He has his hands on your forearms and the sensation of his warm hands on you is like a bucket of iced water poured on to your head.

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks.” Silence.

“Good, good. That was almost scary for a second there. That Hamilton guy is an ass.” He jokes.

This is so weird. Did you end up going home after the gala and are now dreaming? That had to be what was happening right. Jack Abbot just rescued you like a knight in shining armor. The fact that you were both dressed in formal wear just added to the comedy.

“Okay, well I’m gonna head home now. Thanks again.” You sling your purse over your shoulders and start turning around.

“Wait! Lemme get you a cab.” Jack starts walking after you, trying to stop you.

“I’d rather walk, it’s a nice night.” You say, continuing to walk, hoping that’ll stop his cause.

“Oh..okay. Can I walk with you?” He asks.

That stops you.

“You want to walk with me at 3 AM?” You were definitely dreaming.

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you.”

“Jack, are you drunk? How much did you have to drink? This is weird, talking to me like this. You don’t have to protect me.”

He looks to the sky.

“Look, I know. I just want to talk to you. You don’t even have to talk, just listen to me.” Jack pleads.

“Ya know, while I really appreciate the offer, it’s three years too late. I don’t owe you anything.” You start walking away.

“I owed it to her.” He says.

You ignore it, you’ve heard this already.

“I had to do it. Or I thought I had to. Rachel, I mean. The marriage.” You don’t want to hear this.

“Please. Let me explain.” He pleads harder.

“You really don’t have to. Robby told me you didn’t marry her. I’m over it, I’m good.” You offer.

“No, not that. Just please stop. Two minutes.” Jack is begging at this point.

“Rachel, I knew her before my last deployment. Her and her husband Bradley. Good friends. Good people. We’d always hang out.” He talks to the sky.

Rachel had a husband?

“Bradley and I got stationed together. And there was an..explosion. Bomb. Probably was planted. It hit our spot, and he…he was in my spot at the table. It should’ve been me.” He has tears in his eyes.

“I couldn’t save him. He passed in my arms.” He says.

“Jack.” You offer.

“No, let me finish.” He insists. “I have to now.”

“I had to give her his tags. I wanted to tell her. Had to tell her. How it happened. I wanted to be there for her. I’d been there before.”

“I knew what she was going through. We trauma bonded through grief and felt we loved each other. Then after a while, it was time to marry her or have another conversation. And I had ruined her life, and then wasted more of it, so I had to propose to her. I couldn’t hurt her again if I could help it. But I guess I did anyways. That night on the roof when I told you I loved you…I went home and told her I couldn’t marry her, that I was in love with someone else and I hadn’t been fair to her.”

Holy shit. He told Rachel, that’s why they didn’t get married.

“She screamed a lot, said all of the things I was scared of and more. I deserved it. But she’d get over it, she deserved someone better. Not me.”

That’s not true. You thought Jack was the best person in the world. Who would be better?

“She’s actually married now. Guess he was a widow, too. Funny how the circle of life goes.”

“Jack…I had no idea.” You start.

“And then you left. I thought you’d come back after Europe and we could start over, but when I’d heard you were going to Mayo, I think my heart stopped. No shit, thought that was it.” He jokes. “It hurt like hell. Like physically hurt. I tried calling you, texting you, but they never went through. I mean I told you I loved you, I ended a relationship and cancelled my wedding for you. Then you never called either. So I decided after a few weeks of feeling like hell on earth I had to act like you were gone. Like you were dead to me. That’s how I coped. That’s how I could do it.” He finishes.

“Jack..you never reached out. Never anything. You confessed your love to me two days before your wedding. After all that time. It felt like an ultimatum and I don’t deal well with those, especially when it involves my love life. I wanted you so bad it hurt me for years and I couldn’t have you. Then when you told me you felt the same way, I panicked and then my mom got sick. I figured you were happily married. I thought you hated me. I thought I hated you.” You offer.

“Maybe I did.” He jokes.

“Wait, go back.” His soft demeanor changes.

You pause.

“You wanted me? You loved me too? Do you still love me? Daphne, tell me.”

He’s perplexed.

“If we’re baring our souls here, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped.” You offer. “And I’m not saying that because we’re standing here, probably more drunk than we’d like to admit and love bombing each other in a late confession okay. Let’s get that straight. I know it’s been a while, but I think we know each other better than that.”

He chuckles.

“Why haven’t you said anything since I’ve been back?” You inquire.

He doesn’t say anything, seemingly trying to find the right words to say. “At first, I thought you had to be a dream. Then, I was pissed again. Then, I realized how deep down, I’d never stopped loving you, even if I tried to convince myself I was over you.” He offers. “Like I couldn’t truly stay mad at you.”

“That doesn’t sound like Jack Abbot. Really, how much did you have to drink?” You ask.

He laughs. “I started going to therapy after I left Rachel. I’ve, uh, learned a few things.”

You stopped in front of your place. “This is me.” You state.

He steps closer to you.

“So, not to be that guy, but, what does this mean? Is that what the kids say these days?” He asks, hands in his pockets, obviously noting how awkward this situation is, but trying to play cool.

“Well, I think, since twenty four hours ago, we both thought we hated each others guts and hadn’t spoken a single word to each other in years…it means..I don’t know..what does it mean?” You look at him.

“How about we actually start over? Start fresh? Hi, I’m Jack Abbot.” He offers you his hands.

“Jack, I think that’s a little too juvenile. We’ve been through too much.” You joke.

“Okay, how about this then. Would you like to go out with me?” He asks with a smile. “Dinner. Dancing. The whole nine.”

“You want to go on a first date and spoil me after we’ve already said I love you?” You ask.

“Yeah. Let’s do this right. Therapy ya know. I’ve got a lot of years to make up and treat you right.” He confirms.

You think about it. What a weird night, but maybe this is where you were supposed to be all along. This is really what you’ve wanted all along. After all this time, and all the confessions, you tell Jack yes. He’s delighted.

After over ten years, the man you’ve been hopelessly in love with is yours.

AN: This will not be the end, do not worry :)

[dayasfilms]

Chapter One - The In Between

Summary: It is your senior year, so it was the time to submit your college applications. You still don’t know if you should take the next step with Steve. You also could not help but worry about Barbara’s parents selling their house when you go to their house for dinner with Nancy.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N. Mentions of death.

Word Count: 3.7k

Note: Season two has begun! Not too much happens in this chapter since it’s the beginning.

Series Masterlist

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The night sky stretched above you, scattered with stars through the darkness. The roads were mostly quiet, save for the occasional headlights flickering past. As you turned into the familiar parking lot, the neon glow of the Arcade sign came into view. You pulled into a spot, turned off your car, and stepped out, making your way inside. The glow of screens and music surrounded you before you spotted Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Will, huddled around their favorite machines.

You leaned against one of the machines, arms crossed as you watched them play. “God, you guys are such nerds,” you called out, your voice loud enough to rise over the music.

Dustin spun around, squinting at you. “And you’re what? You think you’re so cool?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. I’m literally the coolest person any of you know. I just hide it behind my straight A’s.”

Mike didn’t even look away from the game as he shot back. “Please, you’re a bigger nerd than all of us combined. You read a science textbook for fun.”

“Yeah, because I helped you finish your stupid science project,” you said, rolling your eyes.

Lucas laughed. “Nerd!”

You flicked Lucas’ head. “I didn’t say being a nerd is a bad thing. I love being a nerd.” You looked at Mike. “Plus, Wheeler said it himself. I’m smarter than all of you combined.”

“I said you’re a bigger nerd than all of us combined.”

“That’s literally the same thing, Mike,” you snickered.

Will laughed softly beside you, nudging your arm. “They won’t admit it, but they missed you.”

Dustin threw his hands in the air. “Did not!”

“I did,” Will said with a small smile.

You glanced down at Will, ruffling his hair. “You’re the only one here with manners, unlike these losers.”

Mike crossed his arms. “You know, for someone who calls us losers all the time, you hang around us an awful lot.”

“I only ever hang around you guys when I’m with Jonathan or Nancy,” you corrected. “I have no interest in being around any of you.” You looked down at Will. “Well, maybe except Will.”

“Yeah, sureee,” Lucas dragged.

You pushed off the machine and motioned to Will. “Come on, Will. Time to get you home before your mom gets worried.”

As you walked off with Will, you heard Dustin mutter. “Why do I like her?”

“Because you’re delusional,” Mike replied.

“Because she’s hot and smart,” Lucas added.

“Exactly,” Dustin said dreamily, then blinked. “Wait…what?”

As you opened the door, you caught a glimpse of a guy from your school, Keith, staring at you while loudly munching on a bag of chips. You grimaced and quickly looked away, stepping outside before he had the chance to say anything.

You and Will climbed into your car and you turned on the radio. Backing out of the parking lot, you glanced at Will from the corner of your eye. “So, did you have fun tonight?”

Will nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I did.”

“I’m glad,” you said, flashing him a smile as you turned onto the road. “Did anything interesting happen?”

“Yeah! Someone named Mad Max beat our high score on Dig Dug,” he said, sitting up straighter in his seat. “It was over seven hundred thousand points!”

“Woah, that sounds super high!” You responded, genuinely impressed, even if you didn’t know much about video games..

“It is. We tried to find out who Mad Max was, but Keith…you know Keith, right? He goes to your school?” He asked, glancing at you.

You hummed, raising an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, I do.”

“Well, he said he’d tell us who it was…if we got him a date with you.”

Your jaw dropped. You blinked and quickly recovered, letting out a startled laugh. “Oh, uh…seriously?”

Will nodded. “Yeah. We told him no, of course. No way were we going to hand you over to some guy like that.”

You burst out laughing and reached over to affectionately pinch his cheek. “I knew I could count on you guys.” He grinned proudly, and you let the silence settle for a moment before glancing over again. “Anything else happen?”

Will went quiet. You noticed the way he stared out the window, his expression thoughtful, almost hesitant.

“Will?” You said softly.

He blinked and turned to you. “Huh? Oh, no. Nothing else.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking back out the window.

You did not want to push him. If it was important, you trusted he would tell you eventually. If not you, he would tell his mom or brother. Still, a part of you could not help but wonder what was going on in his head.

Soon, you pulled up to the Byers’ house. The porch light was on, a warm glow spilling over the driveway.

“Tell your mom and Jonathan I said hi, okay?” You said as Will unbuckled his seatbelt.

He nodded, giving you a small wave. You watched him until he disappeared inside safely, then turned your attention back to the road.

A loud honk echoed from outside, prompting you to grab your bag and rush toward the door. “Bye, mom! I’ll see you later!” You shouted over your shoulder.

Yasmin appeared at the top of the stairs, zipping up her jacket. “Bye, sweetie! Stay safe and make sure Steve isn’t speeding this time!”

You rolled your eyes with a grin and shut the door behind you, locking it before jogging to Steve’s car and getting into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” you said, a little breathless as you settled in.

Steve leaned over the console, giving you a quick kiss. “Morning, honey.” He watched you toss your bag into the backseat, then pulled down the sun visor to check yourself in the mirror. “How’s my girl doing this morning?”

You felt warmth flooding your face at the name. You smoothed a hand over your hair. “Tired. I had to finish my English paper after picking up Will last night. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit my pillow.”

He chuckled, pulling out of your driveway. “I already know that you wrote the best damn paper in that class.”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “I’m hoping it wasn’t too bad but I feel like it was a little rushed.”

He rolled his eyes and took one hand off the steering wheel to gently squeeze your thigh. “You worry too much.”

You glanced at him with a soft smile and laced your fingers with his, holding it there as he continued driving to school.

It had been almost a year since you and Steve started whatever this was. You weren’t officially back together. You told him you weren’t ready to take that step, not yet. Still, he remained by your side, affectionate as ever. He’d kiss you in the hallways, carry your backpack, and wait for you after class. People asked all the time if you two were dating again. But you never said anything.

Whenever Steve gently brought it up, you would dodge the conversation. You changed the subject, made a joke. And Steve never pressed further. He hoped you would tell him when you were ready.

As Steve pulled into the school parking lot, you both sat in silence before he shifted the car into park.

“Hey,” you said, turning toward him. “Didn’t you say you finished writing your college essay? Did you do it?”

Steve hesitated, then reached into the backseat and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper from his bag. “Uh, yeah. Can you read it? Just tell me if it sucks.”

You took the paper from him and leaned back in your seat, scanning the handwritten pages. Steve watched you closely, trying to read your face as your eyes moved across the lines.

You did not say anything right away, trying to think of the nicest way to put it.

Steve let out a sigh. “It’s crap, I know.”

You looked at him sharply. “No, it’s not crap, Steve.”

“It’s not good.”

“It's going to be.” You grabbed a pen from your bag. “Can I mark it up?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

You circled a few phrases, tapping one part. “Okay, so you used the basketball game against Northern as a metaphor for your life, which is actually clever.”

Steve looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, giving him a small smile. “But then here…” you pointed to the middle of the page. “You start talking about your granddad’s experiences in the war. I don’t really see how it connects.”

He shrugged, trying to explain. “It connects because…” He realized it made a lot more sense in his head. “Because, you know, we both won.”

You blinked, head turning away from him back to the essay in your hands.

“Do you think I should start from scratch?” He asked, voice tight with worry.

You hesitated. “Don’t start over…just refocus it. When’s the deadline?”

“It's tomorrow for early application,” he answered. “Can you come and help me tonight?”

You winced. “I have my dinner tonight with Nancy and Barbara’s parents, remember? We had to reschedule from last week.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared through the windshield.

“Okay, look,” you offered. “Work on this tonight, okay? I’ll look at it again tomorrow.”

Steve did not respond.

“Steve.”

He finally looked at you.”What’s the point? I’m just gonna end up working for my dad, anyway.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I don’t know,” he said, saying your name. “Is that such a bad thing? There’s insurance and benefits and all that adult stuff.”

You frowned. You knew how strained things were between Steve and his dad. The idea of him settling for that life, not by choice, made your heart ache.

“And hey,” he said, voice softening. “If I stay here…I’d be close when you go off to college in the city. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

You pressed your lips together. “Steve…”

He smiled. “Just to make sure you don’t forget about this pretty face.”

You laughed under your breath but quickly sobered. “What if I move out of state?”

He paused, then smiled again. “We’ll figure it out.”

You looked at him for a long moment before he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand cupping your cheek.

“I love you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours.

You did not say anything back, instead closing the gap. He gently kissed you, soft and warm, like he meant every second of it.

A loud engine revved in the distance, cutting through the quiet buzz of the parking lot. You and Steve turned your heads just as a blue Camaro came roaring in, the tires screeching a little as it made a dramatic turn before pulling into a space.

Both of you stepped out of the car, eyes locked on the scene.

A guy about your age climbed out of the driver’s seat. From the passenger side, a much younger girl with red hair hopped out, grabbing her skateboard, and pushed off toward the middle school.

“Is he new?” You asked, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Steve shrugged, shutting the door behind him. “I think so. Never seen him before.”

The two of you started walking toward the school entrance. Steve kept glancing back, clearly sizing the guy up.

Just then, Tina’s voice rang out from across the lot. “Would you check out that ass?”

You turned to see her standing with Carol and Vicki, all three of them openly staring at the new guy like he was some kind of movie star.

You made a face. “Gross.”

You looked at Steve, who had the exact same unimpressed look on his face. The moment your eyes met, you both cracked up, laughter spilling out as you walked.

You waved at Jonathan in the hallway, his classroom directly in front of yours as the two of you walked out. The two of you walked side by side to your locker, where you put your math textbook back.

“How was bio?” You asked, balancing your books on one arm.

Jonathan shrugged, adjusting the strap of his bag. “We had a sub. She made us watch this weird documentary. Half the class fell asleep.”

You smiled. “Jealous. Mr. Davis just gave us thirty questions on logarithms. I think my brain is still smoking.”

Jonathan let out a quiet laugh. “Sounds like hell.”

“Eh, I love math. It was still exhausting though.” You swapped out your books before you looked at him with a smirk. “So, how’s Nancy?”

Jonathan looked over, brows slightly raised. “Good? Why?”

After Steve and Nancy broke up, you and Nancy began to hang out more, building a closer friendship. Sometimes, Nancy would hang out with you and Jonathan. The two were not as close, but they shared quiet moments here and there. Occasionally, the three of you and Steve hung out together. The tension was never awkward between Steve and Nancy, so Nancy did not mind your relationship with him.

Still, you could always sense a different kind of tension between Nancy and Jonathan. The kind people pretend is not there but it so obviously is. You were not sure why it was taking them so long to admit it.

“No reason. Just curious.” You nudged him with your elbow, before closing your locker. “How’s Will?”

He shrugged. “He’s…okay. Thanks for dropping him off last night.”

You waved a hand. “Of course, no need to thank me.”

“Still though,” he said, before turning the conversation. “How’s Steve?”

You looked ahead, falling into step with him again. “He’s good. Just stressed about college, I guess.”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “I keep forgetting it’s your last year of high school. Can’t believe you’re going to be gone next year.”

“I know,” you sighed, a quiet ache settling in your chest. You did not want to think about leaving Jonathan behind.

“Are you two officially together yet?” Jonathan asked, glancing sideways at you.

“Um,” you hesitated. “No.”

He furrowed his brows. “Why don’t you just tell him?”

You shrugged. “Whenever I think about it, it just…seems like a stupid reason to get mad over, you know?”

Jonathan gave you a puzzled look. “Then why don’t you want to take the next step if it’s something so stupid?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. That caught you off guard.

Before you could think of anything to say, the warning bell rang overhead, followed by the usual rush of footsteps and voices flooding the hallway.

“See you later?” You said, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

He nodded, watching you walk away. “Yeah, later.”

“Hey,” Tina called your name, shoving a flyer into your hand as you passed her in the hallway. “Be there.”

You gave her a tight-lipped smile, before it dropped as soon as you turned the corner. You glanced down at the orange paper inviting you to Tina’s Halloween party and barely noticed the figure leaning casually against your locker.

Two arms suddenly wrapped around your waist and spun you in a circle. You let out a startled shriek. “Steve!”

He set you down with a grin, and you turned to face him, still catching your breath. “I missed you,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You raised an eyebrow when you spotted the sunglasses on his face. “Take those stupid things off.”

“Why? You don’t like it?” His lovesick grin was impossible to ignore, his hands still resting lightly on your waist.

You laughed, shaking your head as you opened your locker and stuffed your textbooks inside. “It’s a little goofy.”

Before you could say anything else, he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin as he leaned in. His lips met yours softly at first, but the moment you leaned into him, he deepened the kiss, tilting his head slightly to the side.

His fingers slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, holding you close like he did not want to let go. The kiss made your thoughts melt away, until you remembered where you were and pushed him away. His forehead rested against yours, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“I really missed you,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes with a small grin. “I saw you an hour ago.”

“Yeah, an hour too long.”

You sighed, a playful smile tugging at your lips, before showing him the orange flyer. “Tina gave me this.”

He glanced at it. “She gave me one too. You want to go?”

You shrugged. Parties were never really your thing, but since this was your senior year, you wanted to make the most out of it. “I mean, I don’t see why not?”

“Are you sure?” He asked genuinely. “I know you never really go to these parties.”

You laughed. “Yeah. We can show off our matching costumes we planned out a month ago.”

His eyes lit up, his lips curving into a grin as he leaned in again, brushing his nose against yours. “Okay, honey, sounds good to me.”

You bit your bottom lip to hide the smile creeping up, then stepped back as you shut your locker.

You pulled up into the Wheeler’s driveway, beeping the horn lightly as you waited for Nancy to come out. After a moment, she appeared, stepping out of her house and shutting the door behind her before walking to the passenger side of your car.

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling as she slid into the seat

“Hi, Nance,” you replied, returning the smile before backing out of the driveway.

The drive was quiet, but comfortable. The two of you had grown closer over the past year. You would even go as far as to say she was one of your best friends.

Barbara’s parents invited Nancy to dinner, but knowing how hard it might be for her to go alone, she’d asked you to join her. You knew how much Barbara’s loss weighed on Nancy, the guilt still there whenever her best friend’s name came up. It was hard to watch her struggle with it, especially since she blamed herself for what happened.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the Holland’s house, now glaring with a ‘For Sale’ sign in the front yard. You both stepped out of the car, making your way up the driveway. Both you and Nancy paused, glancing at the sign, then at each other. Nancy’s lips pressed together tightly, her eyes momentarily clouded with sadness before she quickly masked it.

As you reached the front door, you and Nancy stood quietly.

“Ready?” You asked softly.

The girl nodded her head. “Yeah.”

You pressed the doorbell, and moments later, Mrs. Holland opened the door with a warm smile, immediately pulling you both into a gentle hug.

After a few polite exchanges and questions about how everyone had been doing, the three of you walked to the dining room. Mr. Holland was already seated at the table, and he stood briefly to greet you both. “Girls, good to see you. Sit down, please.”

You and Nancy took your seats across from the couple. Spread across the table was a familiar assortment of food in KFC boxes.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get to cook,” Mrs. Holland said, clearly flustered. “I was gonna make that baked ziti you guys like so much, but I just forgot about the time, and before you know it, ‘Oh, my God, it’s five o’clock.’”

Nancy offered a small smile, barely touching her food. “It’s fine. It’s great.”

You nodded reassuringly. “Please don’t worry about it, Mrs. Holland. This is more than enough.”

She smiled at you both and began to eat.

After a moment, Nancy glanced your way, then looked back at the couple. “So, I noticed a ‘For Sale’ sign out in your yard. Is that the neighbors’, or…”

Mrs. Holland looked at her husband with a small smile. “You wanna tell them?”

He gestured towards her. “Go ahead.”

She turned back to you and Nancy. “We hired a man named Murray Bauman. Have either of you heard of him?”

You and Nancy exchanged puzzled glances, both shaking your heads. “No,” you said.

“He was an investigative journalist for the Chicago Sun-Times,” Mrs. Holland explained.

“He’s pretty well known,” Mr. Holland said, handing you the guy’s business card. You read the name and number as Nancy leaned in beside you to get a look.

Mrs. Holland continued, her voice more hopeful than you’d heard in a long time. “Anyway, he’s freelance now, and he agreed to take the case.”

You looked up from the card, lips parting. “That’s…Wow, um, that’s…” you paused. “What do you mean?”

Nancy echoed your question. “Yeah, what exactly does that mean?”

Mr. Holland spoke this time, voice tinged with frustration. “Means he’s gonna do what that lazy son of a bitch Jim Hop–” His wife put a hand on his arm. You looked at him, tilting your head at the name he called Hopper. “Sorry. What the Hawkins police haven’t been capable of doing. Means we have a real detective on the case.”

“It means…” Mrs. Holland began, her voice shaky. “We’re going to find our Barb.”

“If anyone can find her, it’s this man,” the man said, a hopeful smile on his face. “He already has leads. By God, he’s worth every last penny.”

You looked down at your plate, your appetite gone. A tight feeling crept up into your chest. You glanced at Nancy, whose face had grown pale, her eyebrows drawn together.

“Is that why you’re selling the house?” She asked quietly.

Mrs. Holland placed her fork down. “Don’t worry about us, sweetie. We’re fine. More than fine. For the first time in a long time, we’re hopeful.”

Nancy blinked quickly, her jaw tightening. She stood up from the table. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

You watched her disappear down the hallway, your heart aching. A strange, sinking feeling stirred in your stomach. Barbara’s parents were going to give up their home, give up everything, all in search of answers they would never truly find.

[chaifootsteps]

Hi, I'm the anon who rewrote the Stella and Andrephelus conversation from western energy a while ago ( here https://www.tumblr.com/chaifootsteps/756199473054711808/bit-of-a-quick-rewrite-of-stella-and-andrealphus?source=share ) and I just wanted to send an Alternate Ending I wrote for "Seeing Stars" because the actual ending pissed me off

Stella had been expecting many things when her daughter called her that evening. Talking about how her day with Stolas went, or if they had gone to get her more taxidermy pieces, or something positive. What she wasn’t expecting was her daughter’s voice meekly saying:

“I… I’m sorry. But can… can you please send a driver to pick me up from dad’s? Please…”

No sooner than the words were out of her mouth, the swan jumped into action, ordering her servants to get a car to pick up her daughter, and to make sure she arrived safely. If Octavia was even more upset or there was even the smallest feather out of place when she arrived, heads would roll, quite possibly literally given Stella’s temper. The owlet soon arrived, shaking with emotion and barely concealed tears running down her face.

“What happened, my little star?”

Stella led Octavia inside, instructing the servants to bring her something to eat and drink. It took some time for her daughter to calm down. Stella wasn’t prepared for what her daughter asked her.

“Why… Why does dad love that red dickhead more than he loves me?”

Octavia sounded so broken, like she had been disappointed one too many times. Octavia relayed her day to her mother, Stella growing more and more angry at Stolas for what he did. It was bad enough his affair had gone on for so long, that their daughter knew the Grimoire, her birthright, wouldn’t be at home with her father, but instead given away to the imp he was using.

But then the fact Octavia didn’t know any spells because of her father, and combined with that pathetic man forgetting the day their owlet had been dreaming of since she was a child? Stella nearly called Striker then and there to blow his brains out, but she needed to stay calm, she needed to listen to Andrephelus’ plan for now, lest Octavia end up in an even worse position.

“A-And his Hellhound or daughter I guess said I needed to give dad a break because he was trying, and then she turned around and kicked her own dad? Is it a joke to her? Did she tell me that just to shut me up? So I’d go back to dad? Why did he even need them to come find me?”

Why indeed. Stolas could’ve found Octavia easily since she had the Grimoire all day, he can find it no matter what. For fuck’s sake, he could’ve just called her, even if she didn’t pick up or hung up on him, it would’ve showed he was trying. But, no, Stolas has his head too far up his own rear end, caring more about his little plaything than their daughter.

Octavia was still a child, she still just wanted her father, and Stolas continuously failed her, not only in her lessons, but spending time with her. 

“Did she only do it because dad paid them to find me?”

Now, Octavia could’ve been assuming there, but Stella wouldn’t put it past Stolas. He used his power, money, and status to keep that imp and his company under his thumb. There was a big chance that Stolas had once again paid them to care, like when they had gone to ‘Loo Loo Land’. Originally, Stella blamed that lowly imp as much as her husband, before overhearing one of Stolas’ conversations with the imp.

There was no genuine love there, just Stolas fulfilling some fantasy, in their fucking bed, in their home, around their daughter. And that would just continue, as Octavia had to give the book back to the imp, her father obviously caring more about his power over said imp than the fact their daughter needed to learn her birthright. 

Octavia was seventeen already, and didn’t know any spells. She only knew basic magic, not anything that would help her with being the heir. She would need hours of remedial classes, if they could even get all of it done by her eighteenth birthday, if they even had that much time. Should Andrephelus’ plan work, Stolas would be stripped of title and status by the end of the year.

Not that Stolas cared if Octavia knew the spells or not, his selfishness knew no bounds. He’d rather have spent the either day screaming and fighting with Stella than take one Satan-damned minute to check a calendar. He could’ve told Stella ‘I can’t do this today, it’s a special day for Via.’, but no, that didn’t fit into Stolas’ fantasy. Though of course, you could bet he always had the full moon’s dates memorized, because his own needs were more important.

“Don’t worry, my beautiful, wonderful star.” Stella said softly, wiping Octavia’s tears. “I’ll take care of it.”

That was beautiful, Anon. Thank you so much for writing these.

[sturniololuvz]

May you please do one where there sister is like 12 and they live in LA with her and back in Boston their mom gets cancer and the chemotherapy chances of Being successful are close to nothing and she doesn't want to do treatment because she said it's not worth it and she tells the triplets but hasn't told y/n and the triplet like take her to dinner and tell her and then their mom passes and y/n is like really sad and her brothers help her and stuff

btw i’m posting 2 more drafts after this one!

“What We Keep”

They took her to dinner.

Y/N didn’t think much of it at first — a spontaneous night out with her brothers wasn’t unusual. Especially in LA, where they were always trying to balance busy schedules with sibling time. Chris had picked the place, a quiet Italian restaurant tucked away on a little street just outside the city.

They were trying too hard to be normal.

Matt was quieter than usual. Nick kept glancing at her like he wanted to say something and kept stopping himself. And Chris — Chris couldn’t even sit still. He kept fidgeting with the corner of his napkin, his leg bouncing under the table.

Y/N furrowed her brows. “Are you guys okay?”

They all looked up. Like they weren’t expecting her to notice.

“Yeah,” Chris said too quickly.

Matt cleared his throat. “We, uh… we wanted to talk to you about something.”

Her stomach twisted. “What’s wrong?”

Silence.

Nick reached across the table, gently taking her hand. “It’s about Mom.”

Y/N’s heart dropped.

“She’s okay, right?” she asked, voice too high.

Another pause. Chris’s eyes were already red.

“She’s sick,” Matt said carefully. “Really sick.”

Y/N blinked. “Like… a cold? Or…”

“No, sweetheart,” Chris said, voice cracking. “She has cancer.”

Y/N went still. Her vision blurred instantly. “What…?”

“She didn’t want to tell you yet,” Nick added. “She didn’t want you to worry.”

Y/N felt like someone had shoved her underwater. She could barely hear them now.

“She’s not doing treatment,” Matt said quietly. “The doctors said it wouldn’t help much. She made the decision not to go through it.”

“No,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “She can’t just—why wouldn’t she fight?”

“She is fighting,” Chris whispered, leaning forward. “In her own way.”

Y/N stood up too fast, knocking her chair back. She didn’t even realize she was crying until her breath caught in her throat.

“I wanna go home,” she said.

Matt nodded, already standing. “Okay. Okay, let’s go.”

⸻

Two weeks later, their mom was gone.

It happened fast. Faster than anyone expected. A call in the middle of the night. A flight booked in under ten minutes. They barely made it in time to say goodbye.

Y/N was the last to walk into her hospital room. Chris held her hand. Nick rubbed her back. Matt stood frozen in the doorway.

Their mother smiled — weak, but warm. She said she loved them. That she was proud. That she wasn’t scared.

Y/N sobbed so hard she couldn’t breathe.

And then she was gone.

⸻

The funeral was quiet. Family. A few old friends. It was raining in Boston, because of course it was.

Y/N didn’t say much for days. Her room at home stayed untouched. Her plate at dinner barely filled. She watched old videos of her mom baking cookies or dancing in the kitchen when she thought no one was looking.

And one night, when it all became too heavy, she crept out of bed and into the hallway, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

Matt’s door was open. He was sitting on the floor, sorting through an old photo box. When he saw her, he opened his arms.

She didn’t say anything. Just collapsed into his chest.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said, voice thick. “I know it’s not.”

Chris came in a few minutes later, then Nick. The four of them sat in a pile on the floor, wrapped in a shared blanket of grief and love and everything in between.

“She left us,” Y/N whispered.

Chris shook his head. “She didn’t. She’s still here. In us.”

“You really believe that?”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

⸻

Back in LA, things slowly found their rhythm again. The house was quieter. But some days, they played her favorite music. Matt started baking her recipes. Nick helped Y/N make a scrapbook with pictures and letters they’d all written to their mom.

The sadness didn’t go away. But it softened. It stopped screaming and started humming — always there, but manageable.

And when Y/N had bad days — and there were a lot — she wasn’t alone.

Because no matter what, her brothers were her home now.

And they made sure she always knew that.

⸻

[genjyoandgojyoandhakkai]

The modern!Crow AU no one asked for. Especially not me.

Compliance Department Viago is a menace, and I blame this monstrosity on @gatesofminrathous and this post by the always funny @rookanis-de-riva

unbeta'd, mistakes are from the last 2 hours of my life laughing at my keyboard

800 words

Viago de Riva loved his job. Senior Vice President of Corporate Resource Optimization & Workforce Strategy. It was a mouthful - he allowed employees of his department to lovingly call themselves CROWS, but only internally. Viago had worked for Advanced Negotiation & Tactical International Vacancy Alignment (A.N.T.I.V.A.) for twenty-five glorious years, and every department he’d ever worked in was the better for it. Viago’s organizational skills were legendary, and though many of his coworkers flinched when they saw him coming, Viago recognized grudging respect when he saw it. 

This particular Monday marked the kickoff of internal compliance undertaking season; Viago’s favorite time of year. He had circled in on the desk blotter calendar, with the letters ICU written in precise block script, diagonally centered. Viago sat at his desk in his top-floor corner office of ANTIVA HQ (the furthest corner from the front door, but a corner office nonetheless), tapping his long fingers impatiently on his mousepad. The time was 7:04 in the morning. 

“Arthik,” Viago called softly, knowing his assistant would hear him regardless. 

“Boss?” Arthik leaned back in his chair, cracking the door to Viago’s office open a little wider. He pulled the vertical blinds open wider, offering Viago a view of Arthik’s desk space and the open office beyond. “What’s up?”

Viago steepled his fingers, elbows placed on the corners of his calendar. “Do you know what today is?” 

“ICU,” Arthik replied without missing a beat. “We’re deploying the email campaign at 8:30 this morning, just as planned.”

Viago’s satisfied smile was all the confirmation Arthik would get. He’d lasted eight months as Viago’s assistant and was familiar with recognition for a job well done by now. 

“Coffee?” Viago inquired, but Arthik had turned away to look at a new face, mostly hidden behind a double-stacked tier of Karasu Kafe carryout cups from the cafe downstairs.

Viago knew it was a new face because:

He didn’t recognize the hair that went with it

Coffee was due at 7, and 7:05 was unacceptable

HR had informed him there was a new hire starting this week, and the hiring of said person was not negotiable, nor did he have insight into the hiring process.

“De Riva?” a melodious voice asked. “This is the 5th floor, exec suite T, correct?”

“You’ve got the right place,” Arthik said kindly. “Are you the new guy?”

Before the hair could respond, Viago intoned, “Send them in, please.” He needed to see the miscreant himself. 

The coffee cups made their way into Viago’s office, followed by the shiny white hair of their bearer. Viago watched with (internal) mild amusement and (mostly) withheld judgment as the person shifted their stack of cups and placed them on the chair just inside the door. 

“Good morning, Mr. Viago de Riva!” the person chirped. 

They wore a velvet suit jacket, shiny satin slacks that didn’t reach their ankles, and colorful socks with sneakers. A clear violation of the ANTIVAn dress code, if Viago had ever seen one. 

“It is morning,” Viago said dryly, trying not to make eye contact.

“I’m Aydenne de Riva, no relation, but isn’t that weird?” Viago didn’t have a chance to process this odd coincidence, because the Aydenne kept speaking. “I’m your new seasonal intern temp-to-hire shadow, and today’s my first day!”

Viago’s jaw dropped. This...Aydenne...with that suit...in his department? Shadowing him? He’d thought the hiring was for a replacement for Arthik, who seemed to show more frequent signs of interest in other roles.

“Leave the coffee. Arthik will show you where to go.” Viago turned his chair to face the wall, as clear a dismissal as he could give, with so little time to prepare himself for this news. 

There was no sound of a subordinate exiting in an orderly fashion with their eight little coffees (which clashed unpleasantly with Viago’s aroma diffuser in the corner). Viago waited five more seconds in case the newcomer was unclear as to their directive. 

“Mr. Viago?” the beautiful voice asked, sounding unsure. 

Just great. Viago now faced the predicament of turning to address this person once more, or waiting to see if they would finally understand what was being asked of them.

Power plays on a new hire’s first morning, before 8 AM? 

Viago allowed a hint of his arctic annoyance to creep into his tone. “I trust you know which one of us is Arthik?” 

“I...yes?” the newbie said uncertainly. 

“C’mere, Rookie, I’ll take you around the office and show you to a desk you can use,” Arthik said helpfully, if belatedly. 

“Arthik. Please ensure the...Rookie reviews the employee handbook and signs off on their compliance training before you start with the tour.” Viago needed this eyesore to understand what the rules were before they knew which cubicle the headhunters kept their peanut butter and cracker stash in. 

“My name is Aydenne,” the Rookie said. “I use he/him pronouns, if that helps.”

“I use Excel whenever possible, but it’s nice to meet you,” Viago responded crisply. “Hand me my coffee, if you please, and close the door behind you. It’s an important morning, and I have much to do.” 

I truly and honestly enjoyed this and it's going to live in my WIP bin because I think I'd commit to a whole story or series about them 🤣 writing about a hapless new hire and their dramatic manager in corporate hell is certainly a topic close to home lolol

[oofmybad]

The morning after

synopsis: Billie picks you up from hospital. ⚠️ HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ please do not read this if you know you can’t do it rn. look after yourself!!!

warnings: heavy angst, discussions of suicide attempt, bestfriend!billiexfem!reader, mentions of weight loss, mentions of vomit and blood (none actually), no fluffy resolution, if i missed anything PLEASE tell me.

a/n: this story goes against like every single one of my writing boundaries lol. but it just happened to me so it’s all that’s on my mind. i originally didn’t write this for tumblr, just for myself. but i haven’t been here on ages so this is what you get for now. again, please do not read this if you are feeling even a little bit sensitive!!! i’ll be back with something happier soon.

billie

reader

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

Sorry you felt so bad.

It’s ok. Not your fault.

Silence.

Thanks for picking me up.

No problem.

 

The car ride is delicate except for the wind blowing through our hair and the hum of the engine. Windows down. It’s a sunny day. A backpack and yesterday’s soiled clothes curled on my lap in the passenger seat. I gaze out the window, feeling the sun seep into my sunken skin. An arm draped over the window frame. Noticing now that I have two blisters in the pit of my elbow – where the cannula forced its way in. Unwelcome but necessary. Another fight I put up but lost.  

 

I can feel her peering over at me. Eyes asking me what she’s not brave enough to. I answer her in silence, offering a tight smile. Shrugging out as much positivity as I have in me. Trying not to let the disappointment that I’m still here show on my face. She sees through it though. I can tell.

 

We pull up to the front of my apartment. Scaffolding from the roof down obstructing our view. I look up at the door, dreading what leftovers I am about to find. Vomit, maybe. Hopefully no blood. The handbrake wrenches up, pulling me out of my thoughts.

 

You’ll come over after you shower, won’t you?

Sure.

I have sunshine and food. You must be hungry.

 

I know what she’s referring to. My skin is green, and my breath smells acidic. I’m smaller than when we last met. She’s kind not to comment.  

Sounds good. I’ll be over in an hour.

Great.

 

I crawl out of the car, holding onto the frame. Still a little dizzy. The door slams shut harder than I intended. I turn my head, offering a warm smile, warmer than the last. A wave, too.

 

Thanks, again, for the ride.

 

Just a smile from her.

 

I climb the stairs to my second floor apartment, pushing the fire door open. It takes more might than it normally does. I feel frail today. Dropping my bag down, stuffing my laundry into the hamper. Rid myself of the dirt from the road. The water trickles through my scalp. Hot. soaking in its wake. My head dips back, consuming my whole head. Face submerged. I wonder how it would feel to go like this. The fight between me and water. Who would win? Water, probably. Best not to chance it.

 

I pull up the shorts folded in half on my bed. The cotton sticking to my freshly moisturised legs. Sitting on my hips, baggier than the last time I wore them. Makes me think of that one lyric in Streets of Philadelphia. I continue. Slithering into a tube top. The elastic bunching around my shoulder blades. Deodorant leaving white streaks. I pull it flush to my body, scraping off the marks as I go.

 

Facing the mirror, disappointed to be standing here once again. Wishing there was no reflection to look at. Suppose I should comb my hair now.

 

I’m still not sure what one does the day after. It’s not my first. But I still haven’t mastered it yet.

 

I rake through my now clean hair, the bristles squeaking as they pass through. I feel my hairline tugging back with each stroke. Sweat forming on my forehead from the effort that my unwieldy hair elicits. Reaching for the hair oil, I pump. Once, twice, three times. Enough to cover the lengths.

 

I stretch my strands straight as I weave my fingers through them – lacking the desire to care for curly hair right now. I mould them into something I can cope with. Straighter, easier to deal with. I’ve found that other people feel the same way about my hair. Liking me more the straighter I pull it. I make eye contact with myself, wondering if I’ll ever have the courage to stop relaxing my hair. Letting it exist outside of tight restraints. Facing the mirror, time to think.

 

I’m not sure I can keep doing this. Keep starting again, that is.

 

Before any more big thoughts emerge, I trudge down the road. Feeling fresher than I did an hour ago. But my mind cannot be renewed with such ease. I let myself in with my key. she’s always been so open with me. Intimate and giving. shark greets me, blissfully unaware of the last forty-eight hours.

 

Hi.

Hi!

 

I put my bag down on the couch.

 

Would you like something to eat?

Maybe in a moment. Thanks.

There’s some pasta and homemade pesto; You-friendly.

Thanks.

 

I head to the kitchen. I guess I should eat. She seems to think I need to. I smile at the thought of her making pesto without the nuts or parmesan. Knowing it’s not as nice but she did it anyway. I click the hob on, waiting for the coated pasta to reheat in the pan. Standing in front of the hob. Purposeless. Waiting. I take the food off the heat too early. Deciding that it’s too warm out to eat properly hot food, anyway. I make my way back through to the garden.

 

On the back patio, there’s evidence of what she was doing before she came to collect me. Before she got the call.

 

You’ve got a whole salon going on here.

 

I try and strike up casual conversation. Overwhelmed by the silence. Unsure if I should bring it up. Probably not.

 

Its good isn’t it. I’m doing my toes a green – shocker! –

but I did my fingers this light purple. Lilac, really. Look.

 

She presents me her nails, fanning them towards my face.

Nice. I love it.

 

We sit in silence again, retreating to our usual spots in the garden. Me in direct sunlight, her hidden in the shade of the bushes. Each dog perched at each of our ankles. I eat in silence. Far too conscious of my fork scraping the bowl – I know no one cares as much as I do. Yet, I leave the sauce untouched at the bottom of the bowl in an effort to be as quiet as possible. I get up, once again, taking my dishes inside and washing them up in the sink.

 

Walking back into the front room, I pull out a script from my bag. I’m behind already because of the last few days. No more time to lose. I’m no actor or anything. Not yet, at least. It’s fun to dream about what could be. Who I could be. I highlight what’s poignant to me. What sticks out. Nothing yet, really. I’m just highlighting for show.

 

Why’d you do it?

 

I pause. Contemplating which answer to give her. The real one, or the one that rings less alarm bells.

 

I don’t know, really. I just lose control sometimes.

Over your emotions?

Mhm.

You know I love you, don’t you?

Yeah.

We all love you. Finch, Claud, mom and dad. The dogs.

 

Silence.

 

We’d miss you too much.

…I’d miss you, too.

No, you wouldn’t.

I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want me to say.

I don’t want you to say something, I want you to stop feeling so sad.

Sorry.

Stop apologising.

Sorry.

She laughs at that.

 

You’re a menace.

You love me, though.

I do.

[enha-cafe]

i wanna, lick you from your head to your toes and i wanna, move from the bed down to the, down to the, to the flo' then I wanna, "ahh ahh, " you make it so good I don't wanna leave but i gotta know, what-what's your fantasy? i wanna get you in the georgia dome on the fifty-yard line while the dirty birds kick for tree and if you like in the club, we can do it in the dj booth or in the back of the vip whipped cream with cherries and strawberries on top, lick it don't stop keep the door locked, don't knock while the boat rock we go-bots and robots, so they got to wait 'til the show stop or how about on the beach with black sand