#just take care of yourself and your friends and make sure they take care of you!

[milktiicup]

do you write for mr scarletella? :) if so, may i request jealous scarlet who makes attempts to get closer to reader (court them) after seeing how close they are to mr crawling

persistence is key

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact. “What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. “You slow in head?”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ yeah idk, lowkey some enemies to (potential) lovers, i have no idea how to characterise mr scarletella, but i tried my best and then i kinda got a little too invested in trying to spin the fic the way i wanted and wrote a little more than usual... sorry if ur disappointed, i tried to keep the whole courting/jealous thing subtle but still kinda there >w<

warnings. canon typical violence >w<

You’re not sure when you met the man in red, but you know he’s stalking you now. And it’s getting seriously old. Unlike the ghosts and monsters you’ve had the pleasure of meeting, this one doesn’t know how to take a hint.

Your first unofficial encounter with him is something that sent shivers down your spine, tucked away under Mr. Crawling’s arm and clutching onto his kimono for dear life. The second encounter was much worse- separated from your other worldly protector and left running down an almost comically long and creepy hallway where he just magically appears in front of you. 

You don’t even think twice before you smash the crowbar into his form with all your strength, but it was futile the way he flickered? in front of your own eyes and left a weird moist residue on your weapon. You scowled, and rudely pointed a finger at him- “What the hell’s your problem, dude?”

In response, he leaned in close- so close that your nose nearly touched his. The tilt of his scarlet umbrella cast a dark shadow over you, and as he peered down, one black eye appeared from behind his hair, locking onto you with a soul-piercing stare. You felt stripped bare under that gaze, vulnerable and exposed, like he was seeing straight into your core, uncovering forgotten memories, pieces of yourself even you couldn’t remember. He smiled—a slow, unsettling curl of his lips that chilled you to your bones—and said something you didn’t understand. It sounded like a question, maybe, though you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t care. You spat out a few choice words and swung again, hard.

At least for a while, he left you alone.

Has it been days, weeks, or even months since you’ve got here? It was difficult to keep track, and it was difficult to even care anymore. The place was, without a doubt, growing on you by the day. Even if it was filled with hostile creatures that wanted to eat you sometimes, and when your skin started to get discoloured and you had the inhuman itch that just could never be satisfied- it wasn’t that bad! Hell, you even made a few friends and claimed a comfortable bed in some random room you found.

However, just as you finally started settling into the place, you had your third encounter with Mr. Scarletella.

It started with a dream- from before you came to this world. That man in red… A test of courage, your friends called it- spending a night in those so-called ‘Ghost Apartments.’ Your friends hadn’t known it then, but you were quite familiar with the building for reasons, and set yourself up in a cosy corner and the night was supposed to sail smoothly.

A rumour had surfaced- a tale of a ruin that appears only on rainy days, where you’re warned never to give your name to the figure you’ll meet there. That figure, they said, would take your soul. At the end of a dim hallway, standing silently under a scarlet umbrella, he was waiting. The man in red, eyes hidden beneath his hair. He was watching you. Or was he? Somehow you could feel his stare even if you couldn’t see it. 

You woke up, heart pounding, muttering a string of curses. You groan, rubbing a hand down your face. The discoloration of your skin hadn’t gotten any worse, but it hadn’t gotten better, either. The longer you stayed here, the more the place left its mark. As long as you remained relatively human, and the only thing this place took from you was your memory, you weren’t too fussed. How could you possibly miss something from the other world when all you could remember was smashing a crowbar into someone’s head?

You swing your legs over the bed, feet touching the cold ground. The chill sent a jolt up your spine, and it was almost too tempting to get back under the cosy, warm sheets. You stretch your arms above your head, bones cracking and popping into place and mumble a hazy ‘Good morning’ to Mr. Crawling that should have been in the other bed. Silence wasn’t something you were used to around him- and you whip around so fast that you gave yourself whiplash.

Cursing, you grab your crowbar and stumble out of the room with a hand rubbing your tender neck. You didn’t need to look far- you could see Mr. Crawling at the end of the hallway.

And Mr. Scarletella. 

The man in red was bent over to be face to face with Mr. Crawling, all-too-familiar sinister smirk on his face. Mr. Crawling didn’t look so happy either, and they seemed to be having an argument. You stomp your feet as you make your way over to the two, hand tightening on your crowbar as you ready yourself to fight literal static if it meant leaving your best friend in here alone.

“You,” you scowl, pointing your weapon at him. “You problem?”

Mr. Crawling scurries to your side, a hand gripping onto your clothes. “Dangerous… should get away!” he urges, tugging. 

You shush him with a pat on his head with your free hand and continue to glare at that menace. 

“You like them?” is the only thing Mr. Scarletella asks with a tilt of his head, smile seemingly disappearing into thin air.

Glancing at Mr. Crawling, his face covered in worry- you feel the familiar itch of your skin. You take a breath, going through all the reasons why you can’t actually kill Mr. Scarletella, and loosen the grip on your crowbar. From what you can sense right now, he’s not actually that much of a threat. Just a nuisance that can’t seem to leave you alone. 

“Them friend,” you reply, deadpan. What type of question was that anyway? This guy was a freak. 

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact.

“What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. You turn back to Mr. Scarletella. “You slow in head?”

The smile on Mr. Scarletella’s face falters just for a moment, but it quickly returns, more chilling than before. He stands there, towering above you. Despite your snarky comment, he doesn’t look offended- no, it’s almost as if he’s intrigued by your resistance.

You tighten your hold on the crowbar. “You problem.” You frown. “Go away.”

Instead, his grin deepens, his head tilting at such an unnatural angle that you can feel your stomach churn. It’s as though he’s studying you, savouring every little bit of your discomfort. Surely, turning your head at that angle is gonna hurt… You audibly gulp.

“Problem later,” Mr. Scarletella says, and with an unsettling flicker, he’s gone. 

The next time you saw him after that was in less tense circumstances. It was unsettling after whatever that was with his coy little ‘Problem later’, you weren’t going to worry too much about it for the time being. You decided you’ll worry about it when the problem occurs, which probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas you had. 

The earth shakes, and you’re completely cut off from Mr. Crawling. Wandering down hallways, resting in random rooms- you never really felt alone. You turn a corner, dizziness growing by the minute, and pause.

“You again,” you sigh. You don’t even bother lifting your crowbar at him. “What do you want?”

He appears directly in front of you, causing you to stumble back a few steps at just how tall he is. He bends down to your eye level, umbrella covering both of you once again. “Give name?” he asks. 

“No. Go away.”

“Give name. Teach.”

“Go away!”

“Teach name.”

“Fine! My name’s… you pause. You didn’t actually have to give him your real name, did you? “...Silvair, or something.”

He gets closer to your face. You take another few steps back, but not before you get the smell of blood and dampness off of him. It takes all the willpower in your body to not scrunch your face up. 

“Wrong name.”

“So what? It’s a name.” You scoff. Mr. Scarletella is silent, eerily so, and you can feel his piercing gaze stare through you once more. You awkwardly avoid eye contact, and clear your throat. “I’m… gonna go now, okay?” You turn on your feet and only make it a few steps.

“You teach them name?”

Them? Mr. Crawling? That guy doesn’t even understand the concept of his own name! The scowl feels as if it’s permanently etched onto your face. You whip around, pointing another disapproving finger into his red raincoat. It feels fuzzy… and wet. It grosses you out, almost. More than Mr. Gap’s greasy hair.

“No,” you hiss. “I don’t even remember my own name.” He stares, silently.  “Me,” you point to yourself, “not know name.”

“...Not know name?” he echoes. What you said has him lost, you could see that. 

Just like that, he’s gone again. You don’t see him for a few more days, nor do you find Mr. Crawling. You spend your time aimlessly wandering, knowing eventually you’ll most likely find someone you know in a friendly manner, and not pondering if every ghost you come across is a friend or a foe. 

You awake promptly to a sound of a chainsaw revving. As if it was a morning routine, you stumble to your feet, grasping for your crowbar that should have, without a doubt, been next to you… only to grasp at air. Okay, now you are starting to feel a little panic.

Through trial and error, you knew that whatever wound you receive will heal, with time- but it doesn’t mean you were looking forward to being maimed to shreds with a chainsaw! 

“Hehe.”

You froze, heart racing, and slowly turn around. There that wretched little being was- the stupid little fucker in the goat costume. The ‘Hooded Child’, the thing was termed. In it’s stupid little fucking hands, it held you handy-dandy crowbar that’s been with you thick and thin. Your stomach churns. 

You gulp and face back towards the open doorway- a long black abyss, stretching on and on, with only the haunting bounce of that chainsaw, crawling along the walls. That chainsaw that was about to mince you in a matter of seconds. That chainsaw that was approaching you rapidly.

Frantically, you grab the nearest thing you could reach for. A metal chair. You wince. Probably not the best thing you could’ve grabbed, but it’ll have to do. It’s a matter of- well, technically life or life, but still! You could feel the sweat on your palms, the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your heart hammering through your ribcage. 

You lift the chair above your head as the monster comes into view- a tall, masked being in a strapless floor length black dress… wait, why was she dressed so sexy? Your surprise leads you to hesitate as she rushes at you with her machine. You let out a yelp as you whack the chair down in front of you, metal clanging echoing throughout the room.

Complete silence. Not even the sound of that chainsaw. Not even the sound of metal.  

“Huh?” You blink, once, twice, thrice at the sliced up body of that creature, blood splatter on your clothes. There was blood even on the ceiling, too… You drop the chair in utter confusion.  “What the hell?”

“Help you.”

“You again!” You spin on your feet, meeting the dull eyes of Mr. Scarletella. You’re about to huff and puff this guy into next week, but pause. You leave your accusing finger down by your side. This guy just saved you from that thing. You avert your eyes and scuff your feet against the ground with a cough into your fist. “Uhm… Thank you.”

Wow, this guy really has an intense stare… Way to make things unnecessarily intense and awkward. 

“Protect you,” he says. “You like me?”

“Take me out to dinner first, man!” you exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not like. You not bad. Not good. You okay.”

Mr. Scarletella dons an out of place frown that even makes you feel a little uneasy. “Them protect you. You like them.”

“Them friend,” you stress, finally meeting his gaze once more. You kind of regret it. This guy doesn’t blink. “You…” Weird? Off-putting? Freaky? “...unsafe.”

“Me safe. Protect you. Help you.” 

You sigh. “Unsafe to friend.”

He just stands there, holding that stupid umbrella, with that unblinking stare. You blink at him and squint your eyes. His facial expression doesn’t change. Completely unfazed. You can’t even tell if he’s confused, or upset, or whatever he could possibly be. Your breath hitches as his unsettlingly familiar smile returns.

He tilts his head. “Me good. Me show you.”

Then he’s gone again. You can finally breathe. Your heart is still pumping. You slide against the wall, landing on the ground and resting your head against your knees. You clutch at your raincoat with shaking fists. 

Mr. Scarletella - you knew he was meant to be dangerous, but he just saved you a whole lot of pain. Even if he was still a threat to Mr. Crawling, and hounds you for your name, asks you weird questions, could he honestly be as bad as you originally thought he was? You can’t deny that he did save you… but his presence is more dangerous than comforting. He’s both a threat and an aid, but never clear on which he’ll be at any given moment. One thing is for certain, however, and that was that he was persistent for your attention. Wait… 

Oh my good God, does he like you?

“Heh…”  Chuckling, you tuck your hair behind your ear. “I am pretty cute.”

You stand, and decide it’s better to think about while on the move back to Mr. Crawling. You reach for your crowbar, and curse. Of course. The Hooded Child took it with them when they disappeared when Mr. Stalkerella showed up. Well, you sigh as you drag the chair behind you as you exit the room, at least you have a temporary weapon, for now…

Making it back to Mr. Crawling didn’t take that much longer. He greets you, frown on his face and long arms wrapping around your waist. “Me worried! You gone long time!”  

“Long time,” you agree, bending down to his level. You ruffle his hair, a smile finally sliding onto your face. It quickly turns into a pout as you wave your empty hands. “Lost attack tool.” 

Mr. Crawling points to the spilled blood on your raincoat with a high pitched noise. You sheepishly giggle, and gesture to the chair behind you. He tilts his head, processing, before letting out his all familiar laugh. You sigh in content, glad to see a friendly face and let him pet you for a while. 

He stops petting you, and turns around. “Attack tool!” he smiles wide, your trusty weapon in his grey hands. “Them give me.”

“Them?” you repeat, taking the crowbar, twisting and turning it in your grasp. “Them who?”

“Them!” 

Curse this damn language. 

“Mr. Crawling,” you hold his face in your hands, “what look like?”

His smile falters, and if you could see his eyebrows, you’d imagine they would be furrowed. He takes a moment to think, and points to the blood on your raincoat, and attempts to imitate holding an…

Umbrella.

You stare. And stare. And stare. You can’t even begin to process what Mr. Crawling just said to you, debating maybe you actually were growing crazy and it was finally time to bounce out of this place- andddd of course, you notice a red flicker at the end of the hallway. You tilt your head past Mr. Crawling.

That scarlet umbrella tilts slightly, and just for a split second, you catch a glimmer of that piercing dark eye staring straight at you, as if watching every nerve fire under your skin. You can see his smile from here, as if it was a smug ‘I told you so’ but it was actually a ‘Me show you.’ 

Well… Mr. Scarletella did show you. And now you were just left, to put it simply, utterly fucking confused. It just drilled the narrative down deeper of the possibility that he did like you. So… what do you do now? Do you apologise for trying to smash his head in with a crowbar? For being so rude? 

How do you even apologise for something you don’t even remotely feel sorry for in the first place? Mr. Scarletella was creepy! …At least, he was kind of sweet. Not really- his intentions were anything but kind. But still!

You bite the inside of your cheek. …Is it wrong to feel a little flattered? There’s barely any romance in this place anyway!

In your world, things are either friend or foe, monster or protector. But Mr. Scarletella? He exists in some in-between place. Dangerous yet helpful. It’s as if he’s deliberately defying every category you try to force him into. And now, the memory of his unsettling question repeats in your mind- “You like me?” - echoing in your thoughts with a kind of twisted innocence that gnaws at you, a bit more with each repetition.

Mr. Crawling gives a soft, anxious chirp, tugging you slightly, drawing you out of your thoughts. He’s still eyeing the red figure warily. He points. “Them… dangerous? Them good?” 

“Not know,” you mumble, defeated. “Good, maybe.” You stand to your feet, crowbar falling off of your lap and clanging onto the floor. “Me, them, talk. You stay.”

Mr. Crawling makes a noise of protest, hand reaching out to grasp at your clothes. You reassuringly ruffle his hair once more, and make your way to the end of the hallway. You don’t hear him follow behind you.

Face to face, you stand in front of the smiling Mr. Scarletella. He stares down at you, unblinking, unmoving. 

“Can’t give name,” you remind him.

He leans his face down, ever so close. “Me like you.” A pause. “Want you.” Another pause. “You like me. Give me many human. Give me many blood.” 

Well… In your defence, you didn’t know your corpse dumping ground was Mr. Scarletella’s domain. 

“Getting in over your own head…” you grumble, and lift up your hand. You pinch your fingers together. “Little like you. Okay? LITTLE.” You wonder if this guy’s smile could get any bigger, geez… “You want big like?” You point your index towards him. “Be normal. Be good. Understand?”

“Normal? “Good?” He seems to chew over the words like they’re a foreign delicacy, his head tilting at that unnatural angle again. “For… you?”

“You good,” you waggle your finger at him, “I teach name. Maybe. If I can remember it…”

There’s an unnatural, prolonged silence in the air. You’re beginning to feel the awkward tension once more, but your resolve refuses you to break the unblinking eye contact you keep with him. 

And finally, he speaks once more, agreeing to your proposition, “You teach good, you teach name.”

You hold back your groan- whatever this dance you two were playing, was going to take a long time to progress.

But at least something is better than nothing, right?

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

Summary: Halloween night arrives at the Hoffman barbecue, and you find yourself masking feelings again. Word count: 8.5k A/N: Oh, i'm not over... - thank you for your comments, they're so fun lol you all make me laugh !! <3 Hope you enjoy this part.

October 31st. You let your feet drag across the cool bathroom tile, feeling every step. There was something comforting in that small heaviness, your body still lulled by the weight of lunch, and your mind restless, carrying the remnants of memories you'd been revisiting all afternoon. You turned on the shower, waiting a moment before stepping in, the heat closing around you like a second skin. As your fingers combed through your hair, scrubbing it softly, your thoughts slipped forward, out of your control, toward the evening ahead, as inevitable as the pull of gravity.

Last year felt impossibly far away. Sarah had wanted to be a vampire. You’d found her a set of plastic fangs, which she wore with a grin that pushed her cheeks high up on her face. Her cape was metallic, shiny as foil, falling past her shoulders, and she looked so delighted, bouncing on her feet in front of the mirror. You'd managed to take more photos than you ever needed, laughing at her exaggerated grimaces and capturing her tiny poses. Joel had been there, too, playing along, wide-eyed with pretend fear, leaning away from her “fangs” in a way that made her giggle. Every single picture was still on your hard drive—photos from a time you could hardly believe was only a year ago.

This Halloween was different. Sarah had decided on her costume weeks back—an astronaut. You’d spent the better part of September helping her piece it together, and she was beyond excited. She’d be with her friends tonight at a “scary” sleepover, which she’d told you about, bright-eyed and practically bouncing with anticipation. It was strange that she wasn’t here. It felt like there was a piece of Halloween missing, but she hadn’t felt it that way at all. To her, this was the most exciting plan in the world. You’d felt it too, in her voice, like a little pinch in your chest.

This would be the first Halloween in years you’d spend without her, alone at the Hoffmans' barbecue. And without Sarah, Joel wouldn't come either. His attendance at these neighborhood gatherings had always been more about you than the event itself, which you’d always appreciated without needing to say it out loud. You could picture him, standing with a beer, blending into the background, jokingly complaining about the crowds. He’d said he didn’t care for the noise, the small talk, and the endless kids weaving through adults like they were on a secret mission. But you’d noticed the way he’d watch Sarah, his face softened as he looked on, his attention lingering in that way that showed he didn’t mind being here, really, because it was with you and her. And the two of you—Joel and you—could talk about anything. He made everything feel like a continuation of one long conversation, like you’d just pick up right where you’d left off, glancing at each other and knowing what the other meant without even saying it.

You could also picture Clara, who’d come over to him every year, her voice lilting as she placed her hand lightly on his arm, her laugh soft and maybe a bit forced. She had that amused smile, that slight lean toward him whenever she spoke, and you couldn’t resist teasing him about it later. He’d always looked so puzzled whenever you brought it up, though you were sure he knew exactly what you were hinting at. She’d been living in the neighborhood for years, a few houses down, in that bright yellow house, and you knew she’d nursed a quiet crush on him for a while. And Joel, for his part, never seemed to notice.

The thought made you smile, picturing him in that moment, eyes narrowed, brows creased, looking at you as if to say, “Why would she be interested?” But as soon as you felt the smile, the weight of reality caught up. Joel was no longer in your life in the same way. He wasn’t “your” Joel anymore, the friend you’d poke fun at and swap knowing glances with. He wouldn’t be coming to the barbecue this year. With Sarah gone and things fractured between the two of you, he’d have no reason to come. 

Maybe this would be the year he’d finally spend Halloween as he’d always said he wanted to—in the quiet of his house, watching a horror movie, the occasional interruption of trick-or-treaters breaking the silence as he handed out candy. The picture of him there, his small, self-contained world entirely separate from you, felt like an ache that had been growing for a long time, quiet and steady.

You missed him. And it made you furious to feel it, like he had somehow taken something from you by hurting you, even though you knew, rationally, that wasn’t true. Still, the feeling stuck, simmering somewhere in the background. You hated that you missed him at all.

*

Your steps matched Travis’s as you left the house, his voice filling the space around you, his hands carving shapes in the air with his animated gestures. The crisp October air wrapped around you, a lingering autumn sun casting a warm, golden wash over everything—the leaves curling on the trees, the lawn stretching out beside you. You hugged your flannel a little closer, fingers brushing over the thick fabric. It was just the right layer—a deep green fleece, oversized, over a worn black T-shirt. You were warm, content, happy even, if only you could hold on to that feeling.

Beside you, Travis was recounting a work spat, his colleague’s tone and insults reimagined in Travis’s flurry of hands. You caught the edges of his words, murmuring a few responses that seemed to satisfy him. By the time you reached the Hoffmans’ house, you were both following the gentle glow of orange lights strung across the yard, stepping into a scene that felt dreamlike, suspended in that late afternoon haze. There was a large oak tree strung with little yellow lights, glowing faintly in the dying sunlight, the whole place set up in the same meticulous, festive way the Hoffmans always did. 

Every corner had been turned into Halloween, with cobwebs woven over bushes and pumpkins large and small lining tables, some carved and flickering with candles, others untouched, casting shadows across the tablecloths. Guests mingled at scattered tables, warm drinks in hand, their voices and laughter filling the air with a kind of warmth you hadn’t known you’d needed. The grill added a woodsy scent, smoky and rich, mixed with spices that made your stomach hum with anticipation. A few feet away, kids dressed as witches and monsters zoomed around, their laughter spilling into the light breeze, punctuating the chatter of the adults.

It was the kind of evening that felt ripe for sinking into, letting go of all the worries that had weighed on you lately. You wanted to let yourself simply be here.

Travis glanced at you then, his gaze softening in that way he had, his question as warm as his smile. “I’m heading for food—want anything?” he asked, eyes moving from you to the spread at the far end of the yard.

You pushed yourself up from the table, your hands planted firmly as if grounding yourself.

“I’ll come with you—this is the best part, right?”

The food was better than ever. Tender, perfectly cooked meat, salads piled high, and a sense of community humming through every bite. You found your spot at the table again, balancing your glass of beer on the edge, the faint strains of music drifting from the outdoor speakers blending into the buzz of voices around you. And then, like some personal invitation to memory, you heard the familiar intro; Eyes Without a Face, by Billy Idol, that unmistakable beat curling around you.

Your shoulders started to sway, almost without permission, and then there he was again—Joel. Just like that, back in your mind, as clear as if he were standing beside you. You could picture it—two years ago, slightly tipsy, singing that song in his living room, his hand on your waist, both of you spinning each other slowly to the rhythm, his head tilted back in a deep laugh, voice just slightly off-beat, and you trying and failing to contain your own laughter.

“You okay?” Travis’s voice pulled you back, concern lacing his tone as he looked at you. Your gaze had been locked on some invisible point on the table, your head leaning slightly, reliving a memory that suddenly felt all too close.

“Oh—yeah. It’s nothing. I just love this song.”

He smiled, nodding knowingly. “It’s a classic,” he said, his fingers tapping along with the beat.

You looked up and there, just beyond Travis, the Hoffmans’ glass door slid open. You stopped breathing for a second. Joel stepped out, looking like he’d walked out of some old photograph, hair a bit damp, dark jeans and a gray and black flannel layered over a plain white T-shirt, a pair of black converse grounding him to this moment. He moved toward one of the tables, brushing his chin absentmindedly, his lips moving in time with the music, glancing around as if he were taking it all in for the first time.

And then his gaze found yours.

You held your breath, as if that could somehow make you invisible, as if that would erase this moment. But his eyes stayed on you, unreadable, a half smile on his face or maybe just a neutral expression—some mix of familiar and distant, like he was watching you from a place you could never fully reach. You swallowed, shifting your focus back to Travis, who had his eyes on his phone now, idly typing something while he continued to eat.

“I should’ve dressed up tonight,” you said, your voice intentionally light, trying to shake the weight that had fallen over you. “I don’t know what I’d be, but still. It would be fun to pretend for a night.”

Travis chuckled, leaning in closer, but you could still see Joel over his shoulder, that steady gaze, watching from his own table.

“I know a party tomorrow night—my friend’s hosting, if you want to go with me. We can pick out costumes tomorrow morning, make a day of it.”

You smiled, surprised at how genuinely it formed, pushing your hands together in excitement.

“Really? I’d love that! I haven’t dressed up in years.”

Travis’s face lit up. “Then it’s a date. We’ll figure out the costumes in the morning. Anything you want.”

For a moment, you let yourself lean into that feeling, that lightness in his offer, something to look forward to. Your gaze wandered to Helena and her little daughter by the pool, her laughter carried to you on the breeze, her face illuminated in the soft glow of fairy lights. You patted Travis’s hand and stood up, gesturing for him to follow. He caught on, falling into step behind you as you made your way to greet them. 

But as you moved, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Joel’s eyes on you, lingering there in the space between.

It had been more than a month since you'd last seen Helena. She had traveled back to her home country after her father’s death, sorting through family matters, settling things that couldn’t be left undone. Now, with her daughter Iris perched on her lap, she looked better, lighter even. There was a calmness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, her fingers tracing gentle circles over Iris’s shoulder as the little girl, dressed as a bumblebee, poked unenthusiastically at a slice of pumpkin bread. You sat next to her.

“Hey,” Helena said, catching sight of you with a warm smile that seemed to melt away everything around you—even the awareness of Joel, somewhere behind you, his gaze like a whisper you couldn’t quite shake. “It’s so good to see you. How are you?”

“I’m… fine,” you answered, hesitating as your eyes drifted to Iris, who looked up at you with a shy, dimpled smile. “When did you get back?”

“A few days ago. I was actually planning to stop by tomorrow,” Helena replied, brightening as she added, “I thought we could have dinner, get the girls together, and our guys.” She gave a little chuckle, nudging Iris lightly. “Paul would probably love having Joel around too. The poor guy spent the entire trip surrounded by women—my sisters are wonderful, but you know how it is. It was just him and my dad with all of us, and now…”

Helena had three sisters, each one of them stunning, with the same striking green eyes and dark hair that she had. When you’d met them last Christmas, it was as though you’d stepped into some enchanted fairytale—they moved with an effortless grace, magnetic and ethereal.

Helena’s eyes twinkled as she turned toward Travis. “You should come too, Travis,” she said, a mischievous glint in her expression. She shot you a knowing wink, which Travis, ever polite, caught with a smile.

“Sounds great,” he replied with an easy grin, though you felt a twinge of discomfort at the mention of “our guys,” the thought of Joel slipping into your mind unbidden. Trying to brush it aside, you nodded and shifted the conversation.

“Is Paul not coming tonight?” you asked, hoping to keep things light.

“No,” she sighed. “He’s been swamped at work, trying to catch up after our trip. But I really can’t complain. He was so great, staying home with me all this time, so I told him tonight he should just take his time.” 

Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice.

“Helena, it’s so good to see you!” Brenda, always the life of these gatherings, came over with her usual warmth, her gaze lighting up as she reached out for Iris. 

Brenda’s costume was a striking homage—her spiky orange hair and dark lipstick made her look both bold and playful. She wore a white shirt stamped with slogans in block print, a chunky pearl necklace framing her smile. As she was sitting in front of Helena, she caught your eye and grinned.

“I'm Vivienne Westwood!” she announced proudly, preening a little under your gaze.

“You look amazing,” you said, meaning it. “And the food is, as always, incredible. You outdo yourself every year.”

Brenda gave your hand a squeeze in response, her gaze softening, but just as she was about to respond, her attention shifted beyond you, a pleased expression lighting up her face. “Oh! Joel, come over here!”

Your body tensed at the sound of his name, feeling as though the space behind you had just closed in. He was there, his footsteps echoing toward you until he was nearly at your back. You wanted to stand up, to avoid the moment entirely, but it would have only made things worse—too obvious, too awkward. Brenda couldn’t have known. Joel had always been a fixture in your life; it wasn’t strange to see him here, even if, for some reason, it felt like he was moving in a world that was no longer entirely yours.

You glanced up, catching sight of Joel as he leaned down to kiss Brenda’s cheek while she patted the seat next to her. His smile was casual, easy, as he greeted the others with a nod, his eyes lingering just a second longer on you and Travis than felt necessary. He looked completely at ease, unbothered by the tension knotting up inside you, sitting comfortably in front of you.

Brenda’s hand rested on his arm as she looked up at him with a fond smile. “Where’s your Sarah? I haven’t seen her all night.”

“She’s at a friend’s sleepover,” Joel replied, a hint of concern threading through his words, though he tried to disguise it with a smile. “So I’m here on her behalf, I suppose.”

“She’s growing up so fast,” Brenda said, her tone nostalgic as she gave him a soft smack on the arm.

Joel shook his head slowly, a bittersweet smile flitting across his face before his gaze moved to Iris. “Tell me about it. I remember when she was this little…”

Helena’s hand drifted over her daughter’s hair as she smiled back at him.

“It all flies by, doesn’t it?” she said, her voice soft. “We really have to hold on to these moments.” She turned toward Travis, and he nodded, a gentle look in his eyes as he watched Iris. 

“How old is Sarah now, Joel?” Travis asked, and you noticed a subtle shift in Joel’s expression, a kind of hesitance before he replied.

“Twelve,” he said, his voice quieter, his gaze falling briefly before meeting Travis’s, smile dissapearing.

“Twelve?” Brenda’s tone was incredulous. “I still remember the day you moved in, Joel! She was so little then, a perfect little angel! And you—how old were you then?”

“Twenty-seven,” Joel answered with a wry smile, a hint of nostalgia in his tone.

“You were just a kid yourself,” Brenda replied, shaking her head. “Always working, always rushing somewhere. And always putting your baby first.”

Joel’s smile softened, his eyes meeting Brenda’s with a warm gratitude.

“I couldn’t have managed without you,” he said simply, as though she understood all the years of support and help she had given him.

Helena glanced over with a thoughtful look. “Didn’t you just have a birthday, Joel?” she asked, her voice casual, but the question landing with a weight that made your heart leap. 

“That's right,” he murmured, looking down at his hands as he fiddled with his fingers against the edge of the table. “September twenty-sixth.”

“Hey, happy belated birthday then,” Helena said brightly, her smile lighting up the words. “Did you have a nice time?”

Joel looked at you briefly, and something flickered there, like he was turning over a memory he hadn’t expected to find. He shifted his gaze back to his hands. “It was good. Full of… surprises, I guess. Pretty sure Sarah told you all about it, huh?” He shot a glance at Brenda, as if grateful for a way out of the conversation.

“Oh, I heard all about it from Sarah,” Brenda said, grinning, her gaze settling on you with a warmth that made you blush. “You’re a lucky guy, Joel, to have two sweet girls looking out for you like that.” She patted his arm. “I’ll make up a little bag of candy to take home to her, all right? I know she loves the caramel ones.”

You smiled, trying to ignore the prickle of Joel’s gaze on you. And then a feeling dragged you back to years before, to when his Sarah was just three. You could pictured her as a toddler with wide eyes and a toothy, mischievous grin. Joel had shown you those old photos once, and you remembered how adorable she looked, her tiny hand clutching a toy tightly. Sarah had his smile—that same easy warmth, with eyes that crinkled and all but disappeared whenever she laughed. That gesture was even present in Tommy, now that you thought about it. Maybe it was purely a Millers thing, but it—

You realized Brenda was talking to you and straightened up, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Sorry, what?”, you asked.

Brenda chuckled, looking at you with a soft smile. “I was just asking, how old was Sarah when you first met her?”

“She was eight,” Joel answered before you could, glancing at you with a faint smirk.

"Yeah, eight," you echoed the number, ignoring the way his gaze moved over you, lingering with a warmth that felt almost invasive.

At that moment, Helena called Brenda’s attention back to a conversation about Christmas and Iris’s upcoming birthday, but Joel’s eyes stayed on you, searching your face like he was looking for something only you might understand. You tried to keep your own expression neutral, feeling Travis’s hand come to rest on your knee under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch helped you to breathe a little easier, though Joel didn’t miss the gesture. His gaze hardened as he glanced down, the line of his jaw tightening slightly.

Clearing his throat, he leaned forward, finally addressing Travis. “So, how’s business going, Travis? I heard something about real estate taking a hit. Times are rough, aren’t they?”

Travis, completely unfazed, nodded, his hand still on your knee. “It is. At least for now things are still good, but of course, I can speak for myself.”

Joel gave a slow, mocking nod, feigning an interest he didn’t feel. “Well, you seem quite competent. I have no doubt you sure are handy with business. Is your dad still running the company?”

Travis smiled, oblivious to the subtext that hung in Joel’s question. “Yep, still going strong, but I think he’s planning to retire soon. My old man is tired, I think.”

Joel raised his eyebrows in a mock gesture of understanding. “Makes sense. I’m sure you’ll do fine. You seem like the kind who’s got a knack for that… you know, the charm. Every successful businessman needs a little bamboozling spark, don’t they? And I... I think you fit the role.” 

“Joel,” you warned quietly, hoping to temper the tension you could feel growing at the table. But Joel merely looked back at you with a faint, defiant smile, ignoring the caution in your eyes.

Travis, patient as ever, simply shrugged. “I appreciate your good faith, Joel. It means a lot coming from you, I know what a hard worker you are.”

The kindness in his tone, the sincerity in his eyes—it made your heart soften. You turned to look at him with a warm smile on your face, how was he immune to the sharp words of the man in front of him? And Joel had a special talent for formulating painful and provocative sentences, but apparently Travis was not the easy guy to gnaw on. And you were grateful for that. 

He turned to you, his eyes warm as he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’m going to get us some drinks. Need anything, beautiful?”

You shook your head, managing a small smile. “I’m good, thanks.”

As he rose and walked away, he gave your shoulder one last affectionate squeeze. You noticed Joel watching Travis’s every move, his expression darkening, and once Travis was out of earshot, Joel’s gaze returned to you. He didn’t bother to hide his irritation, his eyes narrowing in an almost accusatory way as they moved over your face, searching.

“Joel, really,” you whispered, leaning in so only he could hear. “You don’t have to treat him like that. He’s never done a thing to you.”

A smirk flickered across his lips, and he leaned closer, eyes dancing with a kind of challenge. “Treat him like what?”

You shook your head, pulling back to put some distance between you, but Joel’s gaze followed, steady, like he was waiting for you to react, hoping for it even.

Murmuring an apology to Brenda and Helena, you stood, slipping away to the table by the big oak tree where your empty plate and half-full glass still sat. You picked it up, taking a long drink, grateful for the quiet moment, even as you felt his eyes on you from across the garden.

Travis appeared in front of you, a warm smile on his face as he handed over a small plate with a chocolate cupcake, topped with a dollop of cream shaped into a ghost and dusted with coconut. The sweet smell hit you right away, and you leaned in, inhaling the scent, your mouth already watering. You took a bite, savoring the rich chocolate—it tasted like all of Brenda Hoffman’s best baking, delicious and indulgent.

“Maybe after the barbecue, we could head back to my place for a while,” Travis said, his expression slightly tentative, as if he wasn’t entirely sure of your response.

“That sounds perfect,” you replied with a small smile, trying not to feel self-conscious. As you savored another bite, you glanced toward the pool where Joel was still deep in conversation with Brenda, Helena, and Iris. A moment later, you noticed Clara, all golden hair and easy confidence, sliding into the seat you’d left vacant. She placed two plates on the table, one for herself and one for Joel, who glanced up as she settled in, looking pleased.

Travis followed your gaze, then turned back to you with a knowing look.

“He hates me, doesn’t he?” he said, sounding almost amused, though his eyes held a faint hint of confusion. “I think I might understand why, i mean, i think i know why but…”

You blinked, feeling that all-too-familiar twinge of guilt.

“No, he doesn’t hate you,” you said, brushing off the thought. “He’s just acting… well, like a jerk.”

Travis nodded slowly, digesting your words, but then his eyes softened with curiosity.

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but… what happened with you two? Weren’t you best friends? I remember you two were always together, but lately…”

You sighed, feeling the tension build as you searched for a way to answer. Travis didn’t need the full story, not yet.

“Like I just told you, he's acting like a jerk,” you said, and it didn't take long to sense that Travis wasn't satisfied with your answer.“Honestly, we just… had an argument a few weeks ago,” you said, carefully choosing each word. “It’s been weird between us since then, I guess.”

Travis seemed to sense that you didn’t want to go deeper, and thankfully he let the topic slide, moving the conversation in a new direction as he began to tell you about the last book he’d read.

“I just finished The Red and the Black, actually,” he said, his gaze turning thoughtful as he picked up his fork, poking at his plate absently. “I didn’t like Madame de Rênal. I thought her choices were a bit… unconvincing.”

You laughed, covering your mouth as you swallowed the last bite of cupcake. “Well, we're talking about revolutionary and passionate times, you know. I mean, Stendhal had his characters reflecting all that intensity. Have you read Goethe’s Werther?”

Travis smirked, shaking his head. “Ah, yes, the Werther book. The one with the famous suicide, right?”

You grinned, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the one. The famous suicide and the iconic outfit. I know it gets heavy, but I’ve always liked it.”

He chuckled, nodding as if to humor you.

“My sister made me read it as a teenager, actually. I thought Werther was too… sentimental for my taste.”

You tried not to smile too widely, picturing a young, disinterested Travis, brow furrowed over Goethe’s verses.

“I get it. I was probably more sympathetic to Werther than I should’ve been. I’ve always been a bit of a romantic myself, so maybe it made sense to me. Though I’ll admit, he does get insufferable.”

“Definitely insufferable,” Travis said, still amused. “I’ve always been more into horror anyway.”

The comment made you smile—Travis had a whole shelf at home stacked with DVDs and old VHS tapes of classics like Nightmare on Elm Street, Cujo, and The Birds. You’d teased him about it, of course, but there was something oddly endearing about it too.

As the conversation flowed, a faint twinge made itself known in your stomach, and you shifted in your seat, trying to ignore it. You’d had a glass of beer and two tall glasses of water before coming over, so the feeling wasn’t exactly a surprise.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmured, excusing yourself as you rose from your spot.

In doing so, you glanced over Travis’s shoulder, only to catch sight of Joel and Clara by the pool. Brenda had moved elsewhere, leaving Clara at Joel’s side, closer than casual. She was leaning into him, her hand resting against his shoulder, tucking a stray curl behind his ear, her laugh light and flirtatious. Joel didn’t seem uncomfortable with her proximity. In fact, he was smiling back at her, his gaze locked on hers in a way that made your heart sink just a little. 

You looked away, feeling a strange pang that you couldn’t quite justify. Had he been ignoring Clara before simply because you were there, next to him? But now, alone with her… he didn’t seem to be ignoring her at all.

As you headed toward the house, you forced yourself to shake off the thought. You slipped through the door and let out a sigh of relief, the cool interior air calming your nerves. Walking quietly down the hallway, you reached the bathroom and knocked gently to check if it was free. It was unoccupied, so you slipped inside and closed the door behind you. You paused by the mirror, glancing at your own reflection, almost surprised by the tension in your eyes.

What was Joel doing, looking at Clara like that? Wasn’t he still with Sienna? And what would she think if she saw him now, flirting? It was hard not to wonder if Sienna was like Clara, someone completely different from you. 

Clara was a flash of brilliance, a woman who looked like she’d walked off a magazine cover, golden curls that fell like soft waves of sunlight, her skin bronzed from Texas summers, her green eyes glinting with a brightness that made her seem almost elemental, like an extension of the sun. Her voice was soft, delicate; every word felt chosen, measured. She was flirtatious, always laughing, always seemingly content with the way things were. You could almost imagine that Clara might be Joel’s type—a vibrant, sunlit presence. It would make sense; he was her opposite in every way. When you thought of Joel, you thought of nighttime, the murmur of crickets outside a darkened window, strong coffee and smoky whiskey, a deep, hidden undercurrent. 

And you? You weren’t sure what you were. You weren’t quite the night, nor the day. Maybe you were something in between, or maybe you were just… undetermined. You wanted to think you had some affinity with the moon, but even that seemed too defined.

You sighed, breaking your gaze from your reflection as you felt an urgency to finish up. A moment later, you were washing your hands, the warm water and lavender soap grounding you a bit as your mind drifted again, wandering along with the suds down the drain. You dried your hands with a soft cotton towel, inhaling the fresh, clean scent.

But when you opened the door, you froze in place. Joel was standing there, leaning casually against the wall, his hands tucked behind him. He had been staring at the floor, but as soon as he heard you, his gaze flicked up. There was an intensity in his expression that made you pause, waiting for him to say something, to step aside, to let you pass. But he didn’t move.

When he finally spoke, his voice cut through the small space like a slow crack.

“Are you with him now?”

“With who, Travis?” you said, sounding more dismissive than you’d intended.

He raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Who else? Or is there another I don’t know about?”

You took a few steps closer, folding your arms, letting your expression go cold and tight, the same way it always seemed to be now, whenever you looked at him.

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business, Joel.” You lifted your chin. “I mean, last time I checked, you haven’t been all that open about your life either. So why would I tell you anything about mine now?”

Joel’s smirk twisted into something sharper. “Didn’t stop you from telling Tommy, did it?”

You shrugged. “Well, you’re not Tommy.”

Joel scoffed, crossing his arms, clearly entertained. “Telling Tommy is practically the same as telling me.”

You lifted an eyebrow, unfazed. “If it makes you feel better, go ahead and believe that.”

But his amusement faded, and he looked at you with something almost searching, like he was trying to find a trace of the way you used to be with him—kind, understanding, open in a way that had made him comfortable. You saw the shift in his face, in the way his eyes flicked between yours, like he was looking for some doorway back to that version of you. But she wasn’t here. Or maybe she was, just not for him anymore.

Then he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper, as he asked, “Did you sleep with him?”

The question hit you, and you stayed silent, unsure if an answer would expose the bitter knot you felt at your center. You hadn’t slept with Travis, not yet anyway. But Joel didn’t know that, and you found a petty thrill in letting him wonder, letting him believe what he wanted—that other hands, other lips had erased him from your memory, replaced every touch. That he had no longer been the last man to touch you.  It was pathetic, you knew it, but the curiosity to see his reaction was stronger than anything else. So you decided not to answer, to let the silence lie for you.

So you simply met his gaze, letting silence serve as an answer, your lips lifting in a faint, cryptic smile. And then you saw the moment he believed it: his jaw tightened, his breath went shallow, and his eyes seemed to darken, hardening.

“Like I said, none of your business,” you finally said, feeling something small and satisfied flare inside.

Joel chuckled, but it was a grim sound. He looked down briefly, and when he looked back up, there was an almost cruel gleam in his eye.

“Did he know where to touch you?”

You scoffed, turning the question back on him. “Do you really want to know?”

The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You knew Joel well enough to know he would go there if he could. But you couldn’t let him gain the upper hand, not here. If anything, you needed to keep him off-balance, keep him uncomfortable.

“Oh, I’m all ears,” he replied, his smile gone now, leaving only a hard, steady gaze that felt like it was drilling into you.

You felt your cheeks flush, but you held his gaze, determined.

“He was the best I’ve ever had,” you said, letting each word hang in the air, daring him to question it. You tilted your head, feigning a fond, private recollection. “Gentle, but rough when I wanted him to be. And you want to know the best part?”

Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and for a moment, his expression softened. The dark look in his eyes deepened, his smile long gone.

“Afterwards, when I woke up,” you went on, drawing out each word, “Travis was still there.”

Joel’s head dipped, his eyes dropping to the ground, and you took a brief, selfish moment to take in the sight of him, almost broken in front of you. But something twisted in your chest; the satisfaction felt hollow, quickly replaced by a pang of something closer to pity, almost regret. You had an impulse to reach out, to tell him you hadn’t meant it, that Travis wasn’t even in the picture, that he hadn’t been the best or the first or anything. But you couldn’t allow that. 

You had to remind yourself why you’d stopped letting Joel in—how he’d left you out in the cold, how he’d made your feelings seem like nothing, as if they didn’t matter enough to consider. You had to remind yourself of Sienna, this woman who felt like a ghost, hovering between you and Joel, even though you’d never even met her. And if he was really with someone else, what was he doing here, pushing and prying, acting like he had the right to know these things about you? Why was he acting like he cared if you’d moved on, or if you were with someone else, when he was so openly flirting with Clara just a few minutes ago in Brenda’s backyard? Had he become a complete asshole, or had he always been like that and you were just now realizing it?

As the memory of it all flooded back, the tenderness you'd felt earlier drained away, replaced by a familiar, suffocating anger. It surged up from somewhere deep inside you, visceral and sharp, and before you could stop yourself, your body moved instinctively—stepping back, away from him—until your back hit the cold wall by the bathroom door. The impact was jarring, but it felt like a small, needed separation. 

Joel didn’t speak right away. He stood still, his eyes shifting downward, slowly, moving over your body, before meeting your face again. His expression was unreadable, like a mask he didn’t quite know how to remove. It irritated you, this silence, this uncertainty that hung between you two like an unwelcome guest.

Finally, you broke the tension, pushing yourself off the wall and stepping back, away from him. But just as you tried to distance yourself, his voice vibrated through the air, low and deliberate, cutting into your thoughts.

“That’s mine,” he said.

“What?” you managed, almost gasping, your eyes darting between his face and his hands, as if looking for something—anything—to explain this new, impossible tension. 

Joel didn’t move. He was still, a presence that loomed larger by the second. His gaze was steady on you, tracing your body and your face, slow and deliberate.

“The flannel,” he repeated, his voice dropping lower, rough around the edges. “It’s mine.”

You looked down at the fabric, the soft, familiar warmth of it, and felt a sudden jolt. God. He was right. It was his. But it had been yours for years. You'd worn it so often, so comfortably, that you'd forgotten it ever belonged to anyone else. Maybe he'd lent it to you once, a lifetime ago, on one of those cold nights when you both sat under blankets. But he’d never asked for it back, had he? He never seemed to care, and you never thought to return it. It had just... stayed with you.

When you lifted your eyes back to him, Joel had moved off the wall, stepping toward you with slow, deliberate steps, closing the distance between you. Too close. He was too close, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body as his presence engulfed you.

“What happened?” His voice was soft, but there was a simmering undercurrent, a teasing tone that made your pulse quicken, though you weren’t sure why. “Did you forget to include it in your little box when you gave everything back to me?”

You felt a bitter chuckle bubble in your throat, an angry little sound that you couldn’t quite hold back. You shook your head slightly, irritated, your chest tight as you opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted you, his words coming fast, sharper than before.

“Doesn’t your little boyfriend mind you wearing another man’s clothes?” he asked, his voice dripping with something like disdain, like he had been holding that question inside for far too long. His eyes darkened, gliding down to the fabric again, then to your body, before he reached forward, his fingers brushing the edge of the flannel as if testing the boundaries. “Or does he already know this isn’t the only thing of mine that’s wrapped around you?”

A shiver ran through you, a mixture of anger and something else—something hotter, something less easy to define. You didn’t want to feel it, but it was there, and it was impossible to ignore.

No. This wasn’t about that. This was about him—how dare he?

In a sudden movement, your hands moved to the buttons of the flannel, fumbling with them in a rush, eager to take it off, to rid yourself of him. But as you tugged the fabric down over your shoulders, you felt Joel’s hand close around your left wrist, his palm warm against your skin, halting you, slowing you down. The touch was too familiar, too intimate, and it sent a jolt of something you couldn’t quite identify straight to your stomach.

“No,” he said, his voice suddenly low and commanding, like he was trying to anchor you, like he was trying to hold you in place. “It’s yours. Don’t take it off.”

You snorted, a dry, incredulous sound, and with an almost violent motion, you yanked your hand away from his, finishing the job of removing the flannel with a sharp tug. 

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening further, and for a moment, you could see the effort it took him to stay still. His eyes lingered on you, tracing your every move, as you held the soft fabric against his chest. You could feel the air shift, feel the weight of his gaze on your skin, and your heart beat a little faster. 

You looked up at him, the anger suddenly spilling out of you. “No. You’re right. It’s yours. I should have given it back to you a long time ago.”

His hand moved up to his chest, over yours, taking the fabric from you with a slow, deliberate motion.

“Put it back on,” he said, his voice softer now, like he was trying to smooth over something that had frayed. "It's cold outside."

You wanted to fight it, to say something sharp, but your irritation bubbled up before you could stop it.

“Good thing I live across the block, then,” you blurted, the words coming out thicker with frustration as you pulled your hand free from under his, feeling the heat of his fingers linger on your skin.

Joel's patience was running thin. His hand shot out again, grabbing the flannel in a fist and pulling it closer to you, the fabric stretching between your bodies.

“Stop being so stubborn and put it back on,” he said, his tone more demanding, more urgent. His voice had a sharpness to it now, almost like a warning.

Something inside you snapped. You shoved his hand back hard, with as much force as you could muster, pushing him away—not enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. His body didn’t move, though. It stayed solid, unyielding, the broadness of his shoulders making you feel small, like you were being swallowed by his presence.

Frustration bubbled inside you, gnawing at your chest as you turned sharply on your heels, determined to leave. Your steps were quick, purposeful, as you made your way toward the hallway exit, the air heavy with everything left unsaid between you and Joel. But then, a firm grip wrapped around your wrist, dragging you back to him. You pivoted on instinct, meeting his gaze with eyes darkened by anger, sharp and focused.

For a moment, your mind flashed with the impulse to tear his hand off your wrist, to wrench it away and walk out of this whole mess. But you let it go. Instead, you locked eyes with him, your breath catching as your irritation turned into something more potent—exasperation.

“Enough, Joel,” you said, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “I'm tired of fighting with you.” The words spilled out before you could stop them, and inside, you couldn’t help but wonder how it had come to this—how two people who once fit so easily together had ended up here, so broken and scattered. 

“Then let’s not fight,” he said, his voice softer now, almost like he was pleading. There was a quiet desperation in his words, a slight hitch, as if he was offering a fragile truce. “We can—”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” you interrupted, your words sharp and cold, the bitterness clinging to every syllable. “I can’t stand you anymore.” As soon as they left your lips, you realized how hard and cruel they sounded, but you didn’t care. You were exhausted. Tired of the games, tired of the back-and-forth. The anger inside you surged again, hotter than before, as his fingers tightened around your wrist, forcing you to feel the weight of it. Desperation.

“Don’t look for me,” you continued, the words raw and unrelenting. “Don’t talk to me anymore. Don’t look at me. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’ve had enough of all of this. If I could go back in time, I’d change everything, I’d avoid all of this shit.” The heat in your chest built as tears threatened, burning behind your eyes. “But I can’t. I can’t do anything about it, and neither can you, so leave me the fuck alone for once. Avoid me if you can and I’ll avoid you. Pretend I don’t fucking exist. I don't know. Just stop it, Joel.”

The impact of your words hit him like a physical blow. You saw the flash of pain in his eyes, the way his mouth twisted, his face contorting in a wince. Something inside you sank, and for a moment, regret pierced you. But then, the anger pushed the guilt aside. He hadn’t been considerate of you before, had he? And that thought, that realization, let the remorse slip away.

His grip loosened just slightly, but he didn’t release you. Instead, his fingers trailed down to your palm, stroking it gently with his fingertips, his breath shallow and measured, like he was holding himself back from saying something more. 

For a moment, you both stood still, suspended in that space, him looking at you, and you trying not to look at him—waiting, anticipating what would come next. What was the right thing to do now? You should walk away. Right now. Now. 

But then his voice, quiet and soft, cut through the air.

“You don’t need me anymore?”

“No,” you said, the word escaping before you could stop it. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, and the second it left you, you could feel it: the squeeze in your chest, the twisting of your heart. It wasn’t true, not really. But you wanted it to be. You wanted it to be true more than anything.

Joel’s eyes flickered, just for a second, like they were searching for something in your face that wasn’t there. His expression faltered, his hand falling away from yours, his gaze dropping to the floor, as if the weight of your words had crushed him. 

“I know that’s not true, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with something you couldn’t name, but it was too much. You couldn’t bear to see it.

You shook your head, refusing to let the crack in your own resolve show.

“Maybe not, yet,” you said, your voice colder now, harder. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make it true.”

With that, you turned away before you could second-guess yourself, before you could see his reaction and let the guilt undo you. You didn’t want to stay. Not now. If you stayed a moment longer, you knew you would apologize, you’d cave, you’d let him back in. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t keep doing this. 

You walked quickly back to your seat, each step carrying you farther away from him, from the tension that had become unbearable. You barely noticed Travis’s worried look when you sat down next to him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “You were gone a while.”

You nodded, forcing a weak, half-smile. But inside, it felt like everything was crumbling. Your bones felt brittle, as if they might snap with the weight of it all. Your body had turned to lead, your muscles drained of all strength. Your eyes, heavy with unshed tears, were a reflection of the ache in your chest. 

You just wanted to go home, crawl into your bed, and never come out. The lump in your throat grew larger with every second, and the cold air stung your neck, making you shiver.

“What happened to your shirt?” Travis asked, noticing the way your body had become tense and cold.

You didn’t answer, relieved when he stood and came to stand beside you. You watched as he shrugged off his jacket, his movements gentle, as he draped it over your shoulders and helped you tuck your arms into it. 

Once you were warm, Travis slipped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into him, his soft kiss to the top of your head offering a fleeting moment of comfort. You couldn’t help but lean into him, resting your head on his collarbone, inhaling the familiar scent of his perfume. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel the comfort of being held, the peace of someone who wasn’t trying to tear you apart.

But then you heard it—the sliding door opening. And you knew. 

When you opened your eyes, you saw him. Joel. Walking out of the house, his pace slow, deliberate, as he clutched the flannel shirt in his left hand. His eyes were cast downward, but when he looked up, they locked on you. His expression shifted, something unreadable in the way he looked at you, and your stomach dropped. 

He walked toward his table, his fist clenching the fabric so tightly that his knuckles went white, his gaze never leaving you. You couldn’t look away either. It was like a magnetic pull. 

At his table, Carla was waiting, her eyes fixed on him like a hawk circling prey. You felt an involuntary surge of disgust. You wanted to stand up, to march over there and shake her, to tell her to leave, to stop, that she was being pathetic. But then, the sharp, bitter truth hit you: Carla wasn’t the problem. You were. She reminded you of yourself—the way you’d clung to Joel, the way you’d let him define you. 

Joel spoke, his voice angry and loud enough for you to hear from where you sat. 

“I’m going home,” he said, his eyes cutting through Carla as he raised his head to her height. Then he pulled back, holding out his hand. “Y'wanna come with me?”

And there it was—the knot in your chest tightened. Carla nodded, flushed with a victorious smile, and took his hand. The same hand that had held yours just minutes before. 

You closed your eyes, sinking further into Travis’s embrace, the ache in your chest spreading, overwhelming. 

You couldn’t leave now. Not with him walking out, not with her next to him. What would you do? Cross paths with them on the way out? Watch them walk away together? The thought was unbearable.

“Can we go to your place for a while?” Your voice was small, almost breaking as you whispered into Travis’s chest. 

“Sure thing, honey,” he murmured, the warmth of his body offering a small, fleeting comfort against the storm of emotions inside you.

-

@nobodyssfool @gigistorm @ @auteurdelabre @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @powellssaturn @kyloispunk @paleidiot @aceaubrianna @liciafonseca @kaolusha @beeboopski

@maryfanson @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame

[spacexgrl]

Bittersweet ! 🎀

mdni <3 you’re here pt 4

series masterlist 💋

~ in which Ellie breaks up with you and you go a little crazy ~

ex! ellie williams x fem! reader , abby anderson x fem! reader

college au!

warnings: suggestive/ kinda smutty, angst, break up, cheating,cursing, toxic behavior, smut in future chapters, sexual themes<3 feminine and girly reader ,not proof read!!

taglist: pls comment if you want to be added! <3 @elliessweetheart @lonelyfooryouonly @vamp1reg1rrrl @autisticintr0vert @morphids @amsxdoll @addthespaghetti @mangoxxred

You couldn’t recall the last time you had such a good night sleep. The alarm you set the day before pulled you out of your peaceful slumber when Abby sneaked her arms around you from behind giving your tits a gentle squeeze. A small laugh escaped your lips as she wouldn’t let you out of her strong grasp as you tried to get out of bed.

“wanna shower with me?”

Abby answered with a simple nod and left soft kisses on your shoulder before letting you go. You undressed before her and made your way into the bathroom with her following your steps, taking in the sight of your beautiful figure damn..she couldn’t wait to fuck you from behind.

You let out a sigh of relief as the hot water hit your body, “here let me get that for you” Abby massaged your vanilla body wash everywhere, she made sure to accidentally roll your nipples between her fingertips and grind on your ass in the process. You decided to return the favor, grabbing on her beefy biceps, feeling on her built stomach lowering your hands past her damn V line dangerously close to her pussy but never initiating anything. “ Fucking tease” Abby rolled her eyes as she lowered herself cupping your ass as she picked you up pushing you against the glass door of the shower making your pussy grind on her hard abs. You lost yourself as your lips found hers ,your hands tangled in her wet locks while hers gripped on the fat of your ass, carving her hand prints on it. “fuuck Abby-!”

“love the sounds you make baby..so beautiful when you say my name”

you were putty in her hands, too weak to resist her charm..

just as you were about to ask for more you heard your phone ringing from your bedroom it was probably your best friend asking if you were skipping classes again…to yours and Abby’s dismay your intimate moment was cut short damn cockblock..but you made sure to get back to it as soon as possible.

You quickly dried yourselves and changed into some new clothes, you just threw on your favorite baby pink juicy couture tracksuit, some mascara and strawberry flavored lip gloss, “you’re so pretty baby” Abby said as she changed into her sweats from the night before, she didn’t really care for her outfit today because she had practice later anyway. A small blush creeped on your cheeks at her words.. She looked so delicious, you believed she could be wearing a trash bag and still look fuckable.

“i was about to say take a picture it’ll last longer but you probably saved my entire instagram profile already”

“fuck off anderson”

you bickered as you followed her outside to her parked car, she opened the door for you and got into the drivers seat. She’s such a gentlewoman. She pulled out of your driveway and searched for the nearest starbucks near you on her cars obnoxiously big built in screen.

“sooo what’s the deal between you and Ellie?”

you looked at her from the passenger seat, taking in her features her side profile is so beautiful you wanted to sit on her nose so fucking bad..catching a glimpse of her biting the inside of her cheek, thinking of an answer.

“ I drunkenly admitted that i find “Ellie’s girl” hot at some party months ago. Someone spread the word and now i’m her arch nemesis. I don’t really care for her it’s a one sided thing. Besides i never tried anything with you..’m not a homewrecker.”

she’s right, she never did. You remember asking Abby for help on one of your assignments since you shared a few classes so you met at the library the next day ..yes she had definitely had a few chances to snatch you away from Ellie, but that wasn’t her style.

That resulted in a big fight with Ellie why would meet up with her alone?? Are you cheating on me? Ellie accused you of cheating on her every time you interacted with Abby. You waved at her yeah you’re cheating , you greeted her back in the hallway fucking cheater , you just looked in her direction wow just say that you’re in love with her. It’s laughable that she’s the one that ended up cheating on you. You should’ve seen that she was projecting her actions on you.

Abby listened to you as you vented to her about what Ellie did. She couldn’t believe it. Ellie’s a fucking idiot she thought..Abby will definitely get back at her somehow. Should be easy enough if she’s already feeling threatened by Abby’s raw existence.

“yeah…and sometimes she acted like you’re the worst person in the world as if you killed her dad or something that’s how she made you look.”

you laughed at your own jokes while Abby pulled up into the Starbucks drive-in and ordered your usual drink and something to eat, she insisted to pay because you were too busy fooling around in your shower instead of having breakfast and it was her fault so she made up for it. “thank you Abby, you’re the sweetest” You thanked her with a wet kiss on the lips, the taste of sweet strawberries and you matcha vanilla latte lingering on hers..she made sure to take a picture of your drinks in front of her steering wheel, showing off the flashy logo of her luxury car,tagging you in her instagram story so you could repost it.

You gladly did.

“anything for you baby..”

a few minutes into your drive to Uni your notifications were going off uncontrollably. Abby smirked, eyes still glued on the traffic in front of her. Just as she expected.

46 missed calls from ‘Ellie Williams DONT ANSWER’

are you fucking kidding me

we’re broken up for less than 24 hours and you hangout with anderson

what the fuck

the fuck is wrong with you

did you fuck on our bed?

fucking answer me

pick up your fucking phone

busy fucking in her car now?

didn’t know you were a gold digger

be honest i’m better than her

she looks like she can’t fuck

i can’t believe you

anderson of all people

you just had to choose her

‘Ellie Williams DONT ANSWER’ is typing…

you put your phone on silent at this point , Abby scoffed as you read the messages out loud to her, mimicking Ellie’s voice when she was pissed. You were unbothered, you had a good laugh with Abby as you made fun of Ellie’s childish behavior.

Yeah she was definitely regretting letting you go…you almost felt bad for her.

cry about it 💋

you answered before blocking her number.

🎀

pt 5

[ceruark]

yan! hsr x willing! reader headcanons

yan! aventurine, boothill, kafka, sunday [separate] x willing! gn! reader words: 1,017 requested by: @canigotosleep--plz (original request attached at end of post) cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking, abduction a/n: thank you so much for the ask! i might do more later, but here's what i wrote for now :>

Aventurine

How interesting that you’ve decided to turn his infatuation with you into a mutually beneficial transaction.

He knows that at this point you’ve realized he’s stalking you, and yet you’ve done absolutely nothing to stop it. You don’t try to shake him off your trail when he strides just a few paces behind you when you’re outside, and you haven’t tried to look for and destroy the cameras or hidden microphones that you must have figured out are in your home. 

No, instead you speak more openly about things you want, and what you would expect from your future partner. Your friends and family think it’s just you being a hopeless romantic, but Aventurine knows better. These signals are meant for him, and he’s more than happy to indulge you. You receive gifts of the highest quality that, in the past, you could only dream of owning— and in the meantime, he’s paying to have your dream home constructed.

When he finally shows up on your doorstep to “abduct” you, you’re more than happy to pack the belongings you’d like to bring with you into a suitcase and follow him into a luxury car that you’re pretty sure isn’t even on the public market yet. 

You never kick up a fuss with him, not even when he’s far clingier and possessive than anyone in a healthy relationship should be. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who showers you with affection, provides for you, and gives you whatever you want, whenever you want it— what could you possibly complain about?

He’s content with how things are. Some might say you’re just using him, but he doesn’t mind. If you are just playing a part, you play it well, and he’s more than happy to reward you for it.

Boothill

He might be more concerned with his own behavior if he wasn’t so worried about your reaction to it.

You’re fine with someone following you around and watching over you? You want to leave behind your boring, mundane life and not have to worry about making a living for yourself?

Your mindset makes him paranoid and makes him far more protective: would you react like this with anyone who showed this kind of sick, twisted interest in you? It gives him all the more reason to take you away and keep you by his side— he has to do it before someone else does. You’re so vulnerable and naive, and he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to be with you.

It’s smooth sailing after the not-really-an-abduction, though. You’ve always wanted to see what exists beyond the starry sky of your small hometown, and he’s always on the run, so there’s plenty of places for you two to explore together. He might not ever be able to settle down with you, but you’ve found you much prefer the whirlwind life with your sweetheart cowboy, anyway.

Your willingness scares him, but it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s the one looking after you, you’ve both got nothing to worry about.

Kafka

Oh, what a sweet little thing you are for her.

Truth be told, she was fully prepared to take you by force— she is one of the most feared people in the cosmos, after all. You were going to come with her, whether you liked it or not. She didn’t care if you cried, screamed, and fought her every step of the way; people can be picked apart and remolded, and manipulation is second nature to her.

But surrendering yourself so easily just saves her the time and hassle, and you will certainly be rewarded for it. The most lavish gifts you can imagine are handed to you, and when she’s not taking care of a mission Elio has assigned to her, she’s taking you to the nicest places in every corner of the cosmos. She loves showing you off, and she won’t settle for anything less than the best for you.

She’s honestly not surprised that you’re willing to go with her. She’d watched you for sometime, and she’d seen how miserable you’d been working so hard to provide for yourself and just barely getting by. There’s no need for that anymore, and she’s so glad you both agree that she’s what’s best for you. Just lay your head in her lap and be good for her— she’ll take care of the rest.

Sunday

He’s overjoyed that you see things his way without him having to use the Harmony.

You’d noticed he’d been stalking you. Careful as he was, it’s difficult not to pick up on the fact that you’re “coincidentally” running into someone a bit too frequently. Yet, you did nothing to stop it or discourage it. You had the attention of the most powerful and handsome man in Penacony— why would you complain about that?

Waking up in an unimaginably plush bed within Dewlight Pavilion does throw you off a bit, though. One moment you were chatting with Sunday over drinks at the Dreamjolt Holstery, feeling a bit sleepy, and the next thing you know, you’re here.

You are upset with him when he explains himself and why he’s brought you here, but not at all for the reason he’d been expecting. He could have just asked, honestly. And quite frankly, you’re a bit offended he didn’t even bother to properly court you before taking you away and making you live with him. Isn’t that, like, kind of indecent?

Once he recognizes your willingness, though, he’s relieved. There’s no need to pout any longer, dear. Of course he’ll court you properly now that he’s got you somewhere he knows you’ll be safe and sound. Should you need or want anything, just name it, and your designated attendants will have it for you in an instant. Any minute of his time not spent taking care of Penacony is spent on you, holding you close and indulging your every whim.

Others might be devastated about being locked up, but you’re more than content with the gilded cage you’ve been provided, and you’ve taken quite the liking to your keeper.

Original Request:

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | epilogue

[chap seventeen] | [all chapters here]

Story Summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

a/n: Well, we've finally made it, everyone, and I'm feeling emotional about it. This epilogue is just a lil something I thought up while I was considering what the future would hold for Eddie and ice princess, and I love it dearly.

wc: 3.2k

Epilogue

September 1985

I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, L.A.… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.” “Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to L.A. together after graduation, huh?” “Oh, I’m sure.”

September 1987

Eddie should’ve been home by now. You’d memorized his work schedule within his first week of starting at VIP Records, so you knew his shift always ended at 6pm on Tuesdays - so where the hell was he? It was nearly 8:30, and you’d been getting more and more antsy as the minutes ticked by, worrying over what could possibly be delaying him like this.

So much had happened in the two years since you and Eddie began dating back in Hawkins - your world had changed so much that sometimes you felt like a completely different person. It started with some big things, like reintroducing Eddie to your parents and begging them to start fresh with him - though your father resolved to never show any warmth to your boyfriend, at least your mother was kinder.

You decide that you wouldn’t be going to college following graduation, instead wanting to take a year to work, which was yet another thing your father didn’t warm to. Somewhere amidst that decision and the subsequent string of arguments that followed, you found yourself spending more nights with Eddie and Wayne than you did with your own parents, until one day you realized you had informally moved into the Munson home. So, by the end of summer ‘86, you were out of your parents’ house and working full-time to save up for whatever may come next (and to pay rent, despite Wayne’s insistence that it was entirely unnecessary).

You weren’t sure who proposed the idea first, but you and Eddie had decided one day that you were going to move out to California. Initially, this was just some fantasy for the two of you, something to give you hope that you’d hightail it out of Hawkins one day, but over time that fantasy started to look more and more real until finally you agreed that maybe the idea wasn’t half bad at all.

So, you began to set aside more cash, began to look into neighborhoods and cities around Los Angeles, began to tell everyone that the two of you would be leaving town soon enough. No one really believed you at first - all your friends were in support of the idea, but they didn’t think it was particularly realistic. And when you mentioned it on one of the very rare occasions you saw your parents anymore, your father had the gall to laugh right in your face. That, of course, only bolstered your resolve to get the hell out of Indiana, and a lot of your freetime was slowly consumed with library visits to figure out how exactly to make this move happen.

You and Eddie finally made the leap a few months back, spending a couple weeks road tripping your way across the country, finally arriving in Los Angeles with only your most important earthly belongings and little else. Leaving Hawkins had been harder than you expected - leaving Wayne being the hardest - but you found California to be utterly refreshing, to fit you almost like a glove.

After living out of a hotel for a while, you found this cozy little apartment down in Long Beach, and you’d been content ever since; sure, it wasn’t perfect and the neighborhood wasn’t impressive, but it was your space, and that made it just right for you and Eddie. You both got jobs to hold you over for a while, you started visiting bars and venues, hell, you even found a stray cat that you quickly adopted without a second thought.

You’d been leaving the dollar theater after seeing a re-release of Labyrinth when the little calico found you - something about the film, and David Bowie, had totally mesmerized you when it came out the year prior, and Eddie was happy to take you to the special showing that night. So, when this cat approached you curiously and began weaving playfully between Eddie’s ankles, you were both immediately smitten. You named the cat Sir Didymus only to discover it was female a few weeks later, but it suited her rascally personality just fine, and thus her name stuck.

And now here you were, five months into your new California life and driving yourself crazy over where the hell Eddie was and why he was late to return home.

You called the record store and asked if maybe he was working late and forgot to mention it, but his coworker informed you that Eddie clocked out right on schedule; he mentioned that Eddie seemed eager to leave, but didn’t have any further information for you. On the one hand, it made you worry that something had happened, but on the other, you were annoyed that he had possibly made plans without telling you, as unlikely as that may be.

You’d tried to think of all the places in town that he could have gone to, but nothing seemed particularly viable - he wouldn’t have gone to a show without you, wouldn’t have gone to the store without you, wouldn’t have gone anywhere without you. Not unless he was keeping some kind of secret, but you couldn’t fathom what that might be.

Considering that today was your birthday, you had originally thought maybe he was making a special stop to get you flowers or a cake or a last minute gift; it was so like Eddie to do that, even after you insisted he didn’t need to get you anything at all. But once 7 o’clock hit, and then 7:30, and then 8pm, you began to doubt this original line of thought and assume the worst instead. 

Decidedly, a few minutes past 8, you’d thrown on one of Eddie’s sweaters and your shoes, and made the short trek down to the convenience store on the corner - the two of you were in there practically every day, so maybe one of the employees had seen him. The familiar night clerks greeted you, but when you asked about Eddie’s whereabouts, they didn’t have a clue, which made your worries grow even more. As if to put your mind at ease, they gave you a free 6-pack and said they’d call you if they saw him.

You returned back to the apartment to Sir Didymus crying for dinner, which made you realize you forgot to set out food for her earlier. Cursing to yourself, you filled her bowl and began to pace nervously, trying to consider where the hell Eddie could be. Did you forget about a show that he had previously mentioned? Or was he hit by a fucking truck? Maybe he got caught up chatting with a customer like he was one to do, or maybe he got fucking mugged. All possibilities were on the table, and you hated each and every one of them for causing you such worry and distress.

Prying open a window, you crawled onto the fire escape and lit a cigarette, hands shaky with anxiety as you pressed it to your lips. The night was relatively quiet for your neighborhood, which wasn’t saying much - there were always cars cruising up and down the road, music blasting from a nearby bar, and people constantly arguing in alleyways and backyards. But the noise was soothing in its way, reminding you that the world was constantly in motion and that Eddie was probably just caught up in it all.

Sir Didymus came to sit beside you, meowing as if she, too, was wondering where the hell Eddie was and why he wasn’t back home. You considered throwing on some clothes to go searching for him, but aside from the bar and the convenience store, there was nowhere in the area that he would be; moments like these made you wish you two hadn’t sold your car, because it would’ve been really convenient to have right about now.

Each time you heard tires screeching or saw headlights shining down the road, you craned your neck to get a better look, but it was never Eddie. You’d already nervously polished off two cigarettes and were lighting up a third; Sir Didymus had retired to sleeping on the pile of blankets that she commandeered within a few days of moving in.

As you were caught up in your anxious thoughts, you thought you’d heard metal music from somewhere nearby, muffled and far off, but it caused your ears to perk; when you realized that it was specifically a Dio song playing, you immediately shot to your feet, clambering back through the window while dropping your cigarette into the ashtray.

Without bothering to slip on shoes, you rushed out onto the breezeway connecting all the little apartments in your complex, gripping the rails as you tried to find the source of the music, which was obviously louder from this side of the building. The street in front of your complex was crowded with cars, so if the music was Eddie’s, he must have had to park way down the block; eventually, the music stopped, and you became more anxious by the second.

When finally you spotted Eddie walking up the sidewalk towards the gate, you all but rushed down the stairs to meet him halfway; Eddie smiled largely, clearly not able to make out your concern under the flickering lights illuminating the path. A glare grew in your eyes as you realized he looked just fine; in fact, it seemed he stopped by the store, if the grocery bag in his hand was anything to go on. He held up his arms to greet you, but before he could get a word out, you hissed while jabbing him in the chest.

“Where the hell have you been?” Your eyes were alight with panicked concern, and you didn’t realize until that moment that you were on the verge of relieved tears. You swallowed, determined to hold them back, “It’s almost 9 o’clock, Eddie, I was worried out of my fucking mind.”

Eddie’s face fell, arms drooping at his sides; he didn’t expect you to have gotten so worked up over him not returning on time. He thought he could surprise you, that he could do something nice for your birthday, but the utter panic in your expression told him otherwise. He dipped his head down towards yours, hoping that he could sooth all the stress that had bubbled up inside you.

“I should’ve called--”

“No shit.”

Eddie clenched his jaw a little, taking a breath - he wasn’t about to get upset with you, he wouldn’t let himself, “Let’s go upstairs, okay?”

The impulsive side of you wanted to argue with him right here and now, wanted to grill him about why he didn’t come home and what he was doing. The more patient part of you, however, held back, shaky breaths heaving in your chest as you nodded with a twisted expression. You spun around on your heels and marched up the stairs, crossing your arms with a scowl; Sir Didymus sat just outside your open door, curiously waiting for you both.

Following just a step behind you, Eddie sighed to himself as he took in your rigid posture, realizing that he should’ve thought this through - after all, since your move to Long Beach, the two of you were essentially attached at the hip, doing absolutely any and everything together. Of course you would worry when he didn’t come home, when he didn’t call or give you a heads up - but, again, he’d just been hoping to surprise you, and hadn’t considered that a few hours would get you as stressed as you were now.

Back in the apartment, you took large strides towards the open window and retrieved your cigarette from the ashtray. To calm yourself down, you began to pace, watching as Eddie closed the door behind him and waited there a moment as if to collect his thoughts; when he turned to face you, you quickly looked away and took a deep drag.

“God, Eddie, I’m trying not to be mad, okay, I was just so worried and I thought maybe there was something you were keeping from me or that maybe you were in an accident or even dead in a fucking ditch, and I know it’s ridiculous to get so worked up over only a few hours but--”

“You can be mad.” He interrupted the inevitable rambling that was about to commence.

You had always struggled to express emotions considering the household you grew up in, so these past two years with Eddie had been a learning experience for you, which led to your feelings often spilling over when they became overwhelming. You shot him a confused look, still struggling to this day with the idea that it was okay to feel something; you bit your tongue so that you wouldn’t keep babbling, trying to collect your thoughts.

“I should’ve told you where I was,” Eddie started, walking the short distance from the front door to the kitchen, gently dropping the grocery bag atop the counter, “but I wanted to surprise you.”

You laughed smally, feeling stupid for getting so worried over seemingly nothing. Shaking your head, you took a deep drag from the cigarette and turned to face the window, eyes unfocused as you looked around. You dropped your head, beginning to feel more and more stupid the more that you thought about it; you could hear Eddie coming up slowly behind you.

“Get out of your head,” He instructed gently, to which you laughed again, “You’re probably already kicking yourself, am I right? As if you did something wrong?”

You narrowed your eyes at his reflection in the window - fuck, he knew you too well. Slowly, you turned to face him again, but you kept your gaze on the floor. Eddie took another couple steps closer, waiting for you to eventually look up at him.

“I’m sorry, princess.” He said simply, and the pet name nearly caused you to smile fondly; even after all this time, it stuck, and you figured it wasn’t going anywhere. You could tell in his voice that Eddie saw you resisting to grin, “I should’ve called, I just got caught up in the surprise.”

The corner of your mouth pulled up, and you looked at Eddie carefully through your lashes; his smile was gentle and sweet, eyes far more adoring than you thought you really deserved. Swallowing your trepidation, you asked smally, “What surprise?”

Eddie’s smile grew larger as he cocked his head, “Your dual birthday-anniversary surprise.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, relief slowly relaxing your shoulders as you took a final small inhale of the cigarette before tossing it out the window, “My birthday is not our real anniversary and you know it.”

You smiled fondly at the memory of meeting each other at that picnic table behind the football field, at the crazy fake dating scheme you had that ultimately led you to where you were now. It felt like a lifetime again that senior year happened, and yet it still felt as if it was only yesterday.

“So maybe we have two anniversaries.” Eddie teased fondly, his eyes taking you in as if you were still a breath of fresh air to him. Under those soft, adoring eyes, you could feel your ears growing hot even still.

You sighed affectionately with a shake of your head, crossing your arms as a gust of wind came up through the window; being near the beach, the air was always unexpectedly cold at night. As you took in the always pleasant sight of Eddie, you realized he had a bandage just above his collarbone, which caused your brow to furrow with concern as you looked between it and his face.

“What happened?” You asked, closing the gap between you two so you could worry over whatever the hell was on his neck; you wondered if maybe he nicked himself shaving, but the bandage seemed far too large for that. Did he hurt himself at work?

As you reached for the bandage, Eddie laughed, capturing your wrists in his hands before you could touch his neck. You met his eyes with confusion, to which he simply shook his head.

“That’s the surprise.”

Your expression deadpanned, “You getting hurt is the surprise? Geez, babe, how romantic.”

Eddie laughed again, fondly rolling his eyes, “Not hurt in the way that you think.”

Clearly enjoying your confusion, Eddie released your grip and reached for the bandage, hissing a little as he tried to gently peel it off. Your jaw dropped in both surprise and confusion at the injury beneath it, not prepared for what it would be.

It was a tattoo, though that wasn’t the surprising part, considering that Eddie was slowly becoming covered in them. No, what took you aback was that the tattoo was quite clearly your lips, done in a shade almost identical to the lipstick color you’d been trying just the day before. You stared dumbly at it, as if you couldn’t quite compute it, as if you didn’t quite think it was real.

When you finally managed to draw your gaze back up to Eddie’s face, he was smiling from ear-to-ear, eyes twinkling with clear delight at your stunned expression. You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times as you tried to find your voice again, eyes rapidly looking back and forth from the tattoo to his face and back again.

“You… got a tattoo for me?” Your tone was one of disbelief; saying it out loud made the moment more real, and suddenly your throat felt tight as if you could cry.

Eddie nodded with pride, “You like it?”

You stared at the replica of your lips, recalling the evening prior when you’d been testing out make-up samples that you’d gotten from work. Eddie always enjoyed watching you apply make-up, and of course lipstick was his favorite part; when he commented on a shade that he seemed particularly fond of, you leaned over and planted a loud, silly kiss at the base of his neck.

Considering that you crawled out of bed hours before him to get to your shift at the make-up counter, you didn’t see whether or not he’d ever cleaned the lipstick off; evidently, he must have worn it like a badge of pride all day until he could finally get down to the tattoo parlor and make it permanent.

Shaking yourself from your reverie, you looked at Eddie lovingly, your eyes a little more wet; god, you’d gotten so much more emotional since he entered your life, it was nearly ridiculous. Or maybe you’d just become more vulnerable, far less skilled at holding back when it was just the two of you alone.

You cupped his cheeks gently, being extra careful not to go near the fresh tattoo, “God, I love you.”

The smile he gave you was dazzling, mesmerizing even, “I love you, princess.”

You drew his lips down to yours, resting your forehead gently to his; Eddie hummed contently, whispering a tender “happy birthday” against your lips before kissing you fiercely.

.

.

addt. a/n: I'll try to keep this short and sweet. Thank you to everyone who has read this fic and watched it grow, to those that have been commenting and messaging with each update, and to all the incredibly fic writers I've met through this story! And, of course, a HUGE THANK YOU to my dear @eddiernunson for being so invested - you've helped me developed so many ideas, and it's truly warmed my heart to see someone else love the ice princess as much as I do <3 If anyone would like to be tagged in any future outings these two may have in store, please let me know!

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie

@dreamerjj @eddiernunson @feralgoblinbabe @frogtape @fromasgardandback

@fckyeahlames @graciehams @kellsck @kthomps914 @littlexdeaths

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors @mewchiili

@miaajaade @miss-celestial-being @mmmunson @moonisu @munsonssweets

@no-bueno-writer @nxrdamp @ollieolive @rach5ive @sapphire4082

@sav12321 @seatbacksandtraytables @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

@teethvenom @tvserie-s-world @twihard28 @urlivingdeadgirl @v1per1ne

@wefracturedmotivation @welcometohellsock @whats-my-question @xxsxdghxstxx

[holylulusworld]

Bucky & Ducky (2) - Warming up

Summary: Bucky Barnes. Ruthless mafia boss. Soft only for his wife and…well, Ducky.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Side pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Ducky the duck

Warnings: mafia business, fluff, unusual friendship

A/N: Thanks to @buck-star for the idea and brainstorming with me. I did it…😅

Bucky & Ducky Masterlist

Catch up here: Part 1

“Can you believe that punk dared to threaten my business, Ducky?” Bucky walked out of the bathroom to get ready to join you for dinner. After taking a relaxed bath, he hastily got out of the tub. He considered leaving Ducky alone in the tub but decided against it.

Only to make sure the duckling won’t poop into the tub or drown, he told himself.

He put the duckling on a fluffy towel and watched it clumsily wiggle on top of the towel, trying to escape while he got dressed. Bucky chuckled when the duckling started to tug at the towel angrily.

“No escaping, punk,” he said, and stepped toward the bed to look down at the tiny and vulnerable duckling. “You didn’t have an easy life, huh? They wanted to get rid of you because you were the weakest.”

Somehow, Bucky felt sorry for the duckling. No one gave Ducky a chance until now.

“You got lucky, punk. Y/N loves to save hopeless cases. She took me home too, one night, after someone stabbed me behind her bakery.”

Ducky lifted its head to look up at the tall mobster. It seems as if the little creature was listening to Bucky’s story. “It was only a scratch, but she turned full nurse, and that was when I fell in love with her. Y/N is too good for me and so sweet. So, if you want to stay here, you better not break her heart.”

“Buck? Baby?” You called from downstairs. “Baby, did you fall asleep in the bathtub? Do you want to eat in bed?”

“We are coming, doll,” Bucky immediately answered. You heard his footsteps get closer and hurriedly walked inside the dining room to check on the food.

“In here,” you called for your husband. He allowed you to keep the duckling so you would pay him back with a romantic candlelight dinner. “I got a surprise for you.”

“Uh—me too,” Bucky walked inside the dining room, Ducky in his arms. He put one of the fuzzy socks you bought for him around the duckling’s small body to keep Ducky warm. “I think he doesn’t want to be alone.”

“He?” You pressed one hand to your mouth to stop yourself from giggling. “Oh, the duckling.” Nodding, you pointed at the food. “Maybe we should find a box for him or…”

“No, no. I think he should sit with me. We don’t want him to believe we will abandon him too,” Bucky hastily said. He stepped closer to softly kiss your cheek. “The food looks good, baby doll. Thank you.”

You were stunned by his words. Bucky Barnes wanted to have dinner with a duckling by his side. “No, thank you, Bucky.” You return the kiss, giggling as he purrs your name. “You’re the best.”

Bucky smiled. He loves hearing you think highly of him. Not because it strokes his ego. No. It simply tells him that he’s not the bad guy he believes he is.

“Let’s eat,” you pointed at the food. “We don’t want the food to get cold.”

As you sat down, you watched Bucky claim his favorite seat. The one right next to yours. He carefully placed Ducky on the table. Bucky wrinkled his forehead as the duckling threatened to tip sideways.

“Punk, be careful,” he shrugged his jacket off to make a bed for Ducky out of the expensive fabric. Bucky carefully put the duckling in the middle, humming as Ducky quacked loudly. “Did you drink shampoo or something?” Your husband grinned. “I bet you tried my whiskey.”

You giggled at their interaction. “It seems you already became friends.”

“He’s cool, for a helpless duckling,” Bucky said and dug his fork into the food. “I guess we can keep him. Just to make sure he doesn’t end in a pan.”

“Bucky!” You scolded your husband. “Don’t say things like that in front of him. He’s a baby!”

“Ducky is a ruthless mobster,” Bucky retorted. He glanced at the duckling while chewing on the first bite of the food. “He only needs a chance.”

You smiled softly as Bucky talked to the duckling. “Hmm…we should get you something warm to wear. Maybe shoes too. Your feet will hurt if you waddle around barefoot all day.”

“Ducky got feathers. I don’t think he needs more, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded but glanced at the duckling. “No, I think he needs clothes. We don’t want him to freeze, right?”

“Right,” you giggled as the duckling wiggled on top of Bucky’s jacket. It seemed like Ducky tried to get closer to your husband. It made a fuss, quaking loudly, until Bucky carefully grabbed him and placed him on his lap.

“There you go, Ducky,” Bucky softly cooed to make sure to not scare the tiny duckling. “I’m going to take good care of you.”

Tags in reblog.

[gabbytbll]

do you think you can do modern au sukuna headcanons with a antisocial reader🙂‍↕️🙏

𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐀𝐔 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰/𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄'𝐒╰┈➤:𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧<𝟑! 𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬! 𝐢 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐤!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝<𝟑 𝐉𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚! 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞!

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠- 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 (𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞)

𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐲 @k1ssyoursister 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦<𝟑

⛧ཀ You and him are childhood friends who kind of grew apart after your parents died but after he seen you get bullied by his friends he stayed near you.

⛧ཀ After you and him started to hang out more he realized he liked you more than a friend.

⛧ཀ When his ex-friends found you one day at school, they slammed your head against a locker because they were angry you took their leader away from them,

⛧ཀ He got a call from the hospital saying you had a major concussion and needs to be watched 24/7, he rushed to the hospital angry that something happened to you.

⛧ཀ Once he got there and see the state you were in, he had a couple tears in his eyes because he thought he could lose you.

⛧ཀ He stayed in the hospital with you watching over you and keeping you company until you were discharged.

⛧ཀ He stayed at your house to cook and clean for you because he knows only you live there.

⛧ཀ You won't tell him who did it because you know he will hurt them really bad, he keeps asking you until he stopped suddenly which made you scared he found out.

⛧ཀ He found out, and boy did he do something about it. He broke one guys legs, and gave one a broken finger and gave the other two a concussion. Nobody messes with you. Nobody.

⛧ཀ Nobody knows who put them in the hospital, but you do. You feel so bad but at the same time you don't because they hurt you to but not as bad as sukuna hurt them.

⛧ཀ He didn't care when you yelled at him about what he did to them if anything he laughed in your face. He has no remorse for them.

⛧ཀ After everything was blown over he asked you on a date to take you on a secluded picnic where you could see the sunset. One of his best memory's he ever had of you, just sitting there smiling and laughing brought him so much joy.

⛧ཀ He knows you don't really like going out to crowded places, so he makes sure wherever he takes you isn't that bad for you. He pays close attention to you when ever your uncomfortable.

⛧ཀ When he bought his bike, he made you join him on his first ride with it. He made sure you were very safe before he started to drive it,

⛧ཀ Loves to cuddle you because he likes how your soft fingers feel when you trace his face tattoos. He loves to cuddle you from behind whenever you read a book, so the both of you read the book together.

⛧ཀ He brings two lunches to school one for you and one for him. He made them with love and care, and he made your extra cute just for you.

⛧ཀ Brings you to the roof of the school just to eat lunch together. He actually likes it up there with you to, he likes how he can pay better attention to you.

⛧ཀ He will wear matching outfits with you as long as it's not a bright color like light pink he says. You made him wear a matching light pink onesie with you when you and him went to see the barbie.

⛧ཀ He decided to move in with you knowing you can barely take care of yourself in his words. No he just wanted to be near you much more then he already did.

⛧ཀ Moving in with you was the one of the best decision of his life. Woke up to your beautiful face every morning and then cooking breakfast for you and watch your smile brighten up when he gives it to you in bed.

THE END

𝐓𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞,𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

©️ 𝐠𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲𝐭𝐛𝐥𝐥. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Hai^^ I love your stories so much and I was wondering if you could make one about 80s slash x reader? And how the reader’s parents and slash’s mom were friends and forced them to meet each other?

When the reader sees slash - she kinda into him and the more she stares at him the more attractive gets and slash is a bit older than her and finds her funny and weird as he notices that she’s been staring at him the whole time during dinner.

It isn’t until they’re left alone that they start talking to each other and slash makes playful gestures and teases towards her? With smut and fluff of course :P

I hope that’s not a lot^^ anyways whenever you get the time^^

A/n: I wrote this in class and barely finished so the end is kind of shit

Warnings: smut, arranged marriage trope(ish), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

I think I’ve used this before but no I didn’t bc I said so

Ever since you were young, around twelve, there was always this pressure to be with someone, relatives coming by and asking where your boyfriend was. It was annoying and you couldn’t get away from it.

Your parents only got worse as you got older, inviting friends over with suitors. Annoying old men shoving money and power in your face, none of it was ever for you they just wanted to show you what they had. They didn’t care about you.

This dinner was just like any other, you had to get all dressed up to meet some guy your parents knew. He’d be old, creepy and wasting away, just wanting someone to bed whenever he wanted, someone to beat, who he could show around town as he pleased.

You were in your room, getting ready as per usual. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, pristine and proper, white floral dress and golden makeup. Just once you wanted to do something bigger, something harsher.

The doorbell rang and you were called down to meet the guests. You say yourself at the table, ready to meet the next suitor to leave.

A woman walked through, she was gorgeous and had a beautiful smile, behind her came a man with bigger hair than his mother. He shared those big, dark eyes, full lips, but he didn’t smile. He wasn’t dressed up all fancy, he wore jeans and a leather jacket over a Ramones shirt that was torn up and well loved, to say the least.

You weren’t allowed to listen to the Ramones, devils music you were told. This man was the devil incarnate and you were certain he’d be the one to take you away.

Your mother sat down next to you and placed a hand on your knee, leaning into you. “Don’t you dare go looking at this one all puppy eyed, I gave you good men you will not be falling for this monstrosity.” She said through gritted teeth, but her warning was moot, you’d already made up your mind.

The dinner went as every other did, your mother would ask questions and listen closely to the answers, except she didn’t. She didn’t care what this man, Saul was his name, had to say.

You sat idly by and ate, gaze flickering over to him all too frequently, he was sure to notice but he didn’t bring it up or look back at you.

His voice didn’t match his appearance. He was soft spoken and only spoke when told to, he rarely looked up from his plate and when he did he didn’t make eye contact.

Saul Hudson to be wed, you could see it in the papers now.

“I play guitar in a band.” He said, it broke through your day dreaming haze.

“You-you play..?” Your mother sputtered out, unable to even finish her sentence.

Saul nodded, a wide grin on his face and he looked up at you, still not making eye contact. His gaze flicked from your lips down to your shoulders, you didn’t dare guess where else he was looking. “Big band, Guns N’ Roses.” He clarified. “Playing stadiums now.” His mother smiled proudly over at him.

You wiped your mouth on a napkin and stood, quietly excusing yourself from the table. The food was gone and what was left needed to be packed away now anyway, you were just leaving it for other people.

You went to your room and sat down at your desk once more, staring at yourself in the mirror. Something new filled you, you wanted his attention, all of it. You wanted to run with him, to venture with him. He’d take you all over with his band and he’d love you. He was gentle and he wouldn’t hurt you, he wouldn’t flaunt his money, only buy you jewelry for your birthday and flowers when he loved you, just because.

You dug through your drawers and tried to find something… big, a statement piece for your face. Your attention snapped to the door as it opened and Saul walked in.

He was hesitant at first, staring at you bent over a desk drawer and digging through it like a mad man. He came over and stood just beside you, placing a hand on your lower back as he looked through the drawers for you.

Saul pulled out a deep red lipstick. He brought a finger under your chin and tilted your head for him to see you properly.

You were struck, in your core a pulse came with a heat, a desire, but you snapped out of it quick enough to wipe the gloss you already had off your lips so he’d have a bare canvas to work with.

He smiled down at you and got to work, using the tip yo outline your lips before filling them in.

You looked back at yourself in the mirror, Saul now stood behind you with his hands on your hips. He didn’t look in the mirror, he stared at you in front of him, the side of your face and how pleased you seemed with his work.

You turned back to him. “Do more.” You asked, drawing a chuckle from him and he shook his head, by god you made him laugh and you wanted to hear it again and again for as long as you lived.

“I don’t know anymore.” He said, bringing his hands to your shoulders and turning you around again. He leaned down to you, his lips caressing the shell of your ear. “You do it, you can’t mess up when it’s just gonna be running down your face in a minute anyway.”

You paused a moment and looked back to him. “Why? Will you make me cry?” He nodded confidently, you looked back to the mirror. “Why would you do that? Will you leave?” You asked curiously.

“More than one way to make someone cry.” He said, rubbing your shoulders. He inhaled deeply, taking in your saddened expression, you clearly didn’t get what he was referring to. He’d just have to show you once you looked the part, well enough the part anyway, you didn’t have the clothes.

“Heavier on the eyes.” He said as you tapped on a bright red, something to connect the lipstick while still being different. You picked up your pencil liner but he took it from you and had you turn towards him. “Gimme a second.” He said with a smile, being careful to not poke you in the eye as he worked.

He was giggling when he turned you back to the mirror. You had a leopard print on your eyelids and whiskers on your cheeks. The print on your eyes was pretty, neat and well done, the whiskers were an afterthought he was enjoying much too much.

You stood up and turned to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “It’s perfect!” You exclaimed, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, he couldn’t say no to that.

He wasn’t a gentleman, not by a long shot, he was just sweet. The first chance he got his hands were on your ass, pulling your dress up over your head and not caring if he smudged it, not one bit.

Your arms went around his neck and he lifted you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist while he carried you to your bed and laid you down.

He was laying over you, an arm holding him up by your head, his other hand moved down between your legs, rubbing through your folds and catching your clit, feeling how wet you already were for him.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” He asked, already starting to trail kisses up your jaw towards your ear. You hesitated before slowly shook your head, hoping it wouldn’t make him stop. Luckily he didn’t and just sucked his teeth. “Well, I don’t feel like slowing down for you.” He said sitting back up and undo his jeans, pushing them down just enough for his dick to spring free, of course he didn’t wear boxers. “Just tell me if it hurts.” He said as he pushed into you, groaning as he did.

Despite his words he did give you a minute to adjust to him, running his hands up and down yours sides until he felt you were ready and he started moving, slow at first but he couldn’t keep that pace for long.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, tugging you closer to him as his hips slammed into yours, each thrust bringing you closer to an edge you’d never seen before.

He was perfect above you, full lips, bruised just like yours, parted ever so slightly in soft, low grunts and groans. Sweat clung to his curls just around his face, the rest of his mane framing his sharp jaw. His teeth were crooked and he didn’t look right at you, focusing on feeling good, making you feel good.

You didn’t have anything to compare it to, but this was definitely the best you’d ever felt. Free, and it felt so good. You reached down and found your clit, rubbing it in circles.

Saul chuckled over you and nodded in approval. “Just keep doing that, keep doing that.” He said. You could feel him inside you, veins dragging against your gummy walls, cunt pulling him in for more, every time he pulled away you sucked him back in.

You melted into the mattress, vision going white and when you came doing from it you felt something warm spilling out inside you, Saul’s face tucked into you and he kissed over your chest, latching onto your nipple and swirling his tongue around it.

Finally he pulled away and pulled away and sat up, fixing his pants before heading out to your balcony. You saw he was smoking, he just looked so… you couldn’t even describe it.

You got your dress back on and went out to stand with him.

He smiled at you when you came out, he held the cigarette out for you but took it away before you got the chance to get it. “No way in hell am I letting you do that.” He said with a laugh.

You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder. He glanced down at you as he took a drag from his cigarette. “It’s pretty tonight.” You said.

He nodded, looking out on the cities lights below. Your house was up on a mountain, giving you a good view all around. “I bet it’s a pretty night for you every night.”

You smirked up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you live here, you see it every night.” That’s not what you were expecting.

You looked back out to the city. “I want to see more… with you, Saul.”

He let out a heavy sigh, he wanted you with him too. You were intriguing to him, you needed a chance to rebel and he knew you would never stay with him, not after growing up like this, but he could be the one with you to see the world and that was enough. “Slash.” He said. “If you’re coming with me you call me Slash.”

“Slash.” You repeated. “Slash Hudson.” He might regret this, but he didn’t care. In that moment, he didn’t care about anything.

[leth-writes]

Crest (yandere batfam)

SUMMARY: Elaboration on one of my previous posts. 

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans. Heavy discussion of drugging.

MASTERLIST 

Requests are open!

Waking up is a difficult battle. You feel as though you’re swimming through syrup, fighting to stay conscious even as you slowly peel your eyes open. You groan and roll over as the sun pierces your exhausted eyes, floating swirls of dust passing through the beam.

The pillow is soft, the softest thing you’ve ever felt. You bury your face deeper into the soft fabric, inhaling gently; the smell of the fabric softener, sweet and fresh, is still present. You feel comfy, almost like you’re melting into the bed, and the idea of getting up into the fresh, cool air is saddening.

Your thoughts pass slowly and unhurriedly, sticky sweet. It’s hard to concentrate when you’re so relaxed.

Finally, through the ringing in your ears, you hear Tim’s voice gently calling out your name. He reaches a thin, pale hand out to shake your shoulder, and you groan, throwing an arm over your eyes. You aren’t ready to get up yet, to push aside the cobwebs and try to go about your day.

“It’s time to wake up,” he croons, pulling your arm from your face. Your arm is limp, and the effort to keep it in the air exhausts you. 

You huff. “Please, 5 more minutes?” You plead, trying to look up at him through the haze. Your eyes won’t focus, and his face is blurry. Only his complexion, pale as a ghost, is identifiable to you. Otherwise, you’d surely confuse him with any of his family.

You think you can see a smile, though it’s difficult to tell. He leans down and kisses your forehead. He chuckles softly, like you’re an adorable child he’s babysitting and not older than him.

“Do you think you’ll be able to get up, this morning?” He asks, voice soft and low. He’s trying not to give you a headache. You appreciate the sentiment.

You sigh and shift slowly, trying to sit up. Your sore muscles, weak from disuse, protest at the movement. When did you become so weak? Sure, you were never super physically active, preferring more sedimentary hobbies and work, but you were always able to move by yourself. Thinking back, it’s hard to remember a time before you resided in the manor. You couldn’t remember where you lived, where you worked… Maybe you’d always been like this, half a person, all your thoughts and feelings scooped out until only the shallowest remained.

Tim catches you right as you slip, almost hitting your head against the bed. He curses lowly, propping you up with a pillow.

“I guess not, huh?” You can hear him chuckle again, though you don’t think you know why he’s laughing.

He pulls away, leaving you sitting at the head of your bed, blankets pooled around you and slung over your bare legs.

You think he leaves, though it’s hard to tell as he blends in with the blurry shadows of the room. You can hear the door swing open.

You stare forlornly down at your legs, barely able to make them out among the giant pile of blankets they’re buried in. You try to wiggle your foot; you think you can barely make out the movement among the pile.

Your arms are too weak to hold you up and your abs protest their current position. It’s humiliating, not being able to function, having your friend and his family take care of you. You miss your old life, you think, or at least what hazy memories you still have.

Time passes, both slow and quick, and Tim re-enters the room. You look up, only to see another blurry figure moving toward you. The figure is massive, hulking, clad in what looks like a dark crew neck tee and low slung sweatpants. His hair is shorn short, and as he moves closer, you can make out a blur of white from among the messy strands.

“Hey, baby bird,” he says, voice low and rough. He must’ve just woken up. He moves to stand beside you, and you can just make out the thick, corded muscle on display. You think you catch a patch of darkened skin along the side of his face, maybe a scar, but the longer you try to focus, the more your eyes protest. It stings, not being able to even see someone standing right next to you, to not be able to focus in any way.

It’s Jason. It’s Jason! You feel momentarily proud of yourself for being able to recognize him, before the humiliation bleeds through. It took you until he was right next to you to be able to identify him. God, you wish you were normal.

You mumble out a greeting, looking away. It’s still hard to speak, your brain moving too slow and your mouth working even slower, unable to speak clearly or remember what you were saying. You usually forgot the start of the sentence by the end, so you were forced to keep them short. 

“Alright, up we go.” He says, then lifts you up, carrying you princess-style. You can feel his muscles underneath your legs. You lean into his chest, seeking that sense of warmth; Jason always runs hot. You catch a flash of green in your peripheral, but by the time you’ve managed to turn your head, it’s gone. 

You can see Tim walking next to Jason, and you think he’s smiling. You can definitely hear him humming, happy to see you up for the day. 

Finally, Jason sets you down gently in your wheelchair, and Tim drops a blanket on your lap, tucking it in around you. 

“All ready for the day?” He asks, though he doesn’t wait for an answer before he starts pushing you through the opened door. 

He moves you slowly, ever so slowly, through the hallway, chatting quietly with Jason. They’re speaking too quickly for you to follow, though you hear your name a couple of times. The hallway, like everything else, is incredibly blurry, preventing you from being able to see where exactly you are, though you can see the beams of light streaming in from the periodically placed windows. You know, deep in your bones, that these windows don’t open. You don’t know how you know that.

Finally, you reach the stairs, your little entourage coming to a stop.

“Would you like to take the lift, or would you like Jason to carry you?” Tim asks, crouching in front of you. You try to look him in the eye, though you just can’t bring yourself to focus.

The lift is tedious, and sometimes makes you nauseous, but it allows you a sense of autonomy and independence you don’t usually get. It also makes you nervous; what if you fall? You know they’d never let that happen, the machine is constantly tended to and is top of the line. Still, it makes you anxious, visions of you injured and maimed flashing through your mind. The thick cotton lining your brain means the thoughts stick, tormenting you.

However, being carried means the embarrassment of admitting you can’t make it down the stairs yourself. You know you used to prefer crawling, back when your vision wasn’t so bad and you could actually lift yourself off the ground, but that hasn’t been an option for months, if not years. You don’t actually know how long it’s been, each day melting into the last.

Sighing, you gesture to Jason. They get the point, and you are once again lifted up, this time swaddled in the blanket to keep away the chill. You stare down at the fluffy blue blanket, patterned with a symbol you know you used to be able to identify, though now you can’t name.

Finally, you make it to the bottom of the stairs, Tim stepping down seconds later, your chair in hand. He sets it down and you are gently placed back in it and re-swaddled. The blanket is wrapped tight enough that you have a hard time moving your legs; it doesn’t matter, because you can’t move them very well. You wiggle your toes, just to feel something.

Tim pushes you through the manor, passing blurry painting after blurry painting, before finally moving you into what you think is the living room.

The living room is bright and ornate, from what you remember, though now most of the details are lost to your foggy memory and wandering eyes. Still, you can spot the dull green couches and the low, gold-accented coffee table.

“Baby bird!” A tall shape cries, moving closer. Just by voice, and by the irritating enthusiasm, you know it’s Dick.

You mumble a greeting as he kisses your forehead and grips your hands.

“How did you sleep?”

“Well,” you answer, voice thick with sleep. It’s the truth, you always sleep like the dead. Or at least you think you do, you can’t really remember the days before too well. Still, your bed is warm and welcoming, and that must count for something.

Dick hums happily and bounces away to sit on the couch, next to who can only be Damian, the smallest of the family members.

Damian is petting a black and white blurry shape, who lays sprawled across his lap. Alfred the cat. You think you spot Titus and Ace curled around the base of the couch.

Another shape, who you know is Bruce, moves closer to pull you into a hug, though your back screams at the motion. You wince and he lets go. It seems everyone, even Cass, is present for your feeding today.

“Well, now that everyone’s here, I think someone is ready for their breakfast!” Tim calls, moving to pick up a tray that balances on the coffee table.

He moves to sit down on the loveseat, a battered old blue chair you used to love lounging in, back when you could move easily and stretch any way you wanted.

You already know what’s coming. Tim slowly raises the warm pouch to your mouth, and you begin gulping it down eagerly. The liquid is warm and spiced, heady on your tongue. Before, you’d found it disgusting. Before, you’d refused to eat it. However, after two months on a liquid IV, bound to the bed and completely out of it, you took what you could get. You lean out of your seat, practically sprawled on Tim’s lap. You can hear the soft murmur of conversation, though it moves through you like water.

Tim runs a hand down your back, soothing you as you gulp down the liquid happily.

 Today, you finish quickly, though you protest when it is finished. You miss real food, though you can’t remember eating any.

Chuckles reverberate around the room at your eagerness. 

The conversation lulls, and Tim pulls you to lounge fully in his lap. Your legs sling across the arm of the chair, your head safely cushioned on his shoulder, and Jason throws him the blanket, which is quickly placed around your shoulders. Tim shushes you as you groan, irritated at not being able to sit by yourself.

The family picks their conversation back up, and you catch your name being thrown around, though you aren’t truly paying attention. You drift in place, content with just existing.

You feel fuzzy, warm, content in your place in the world. Normally at this time of day, you’d be fighting, at least you have vague memories of doing so, but the meal has made you tired, belly full and lulling you to sleep. So, you doze.

You are startled awake by Dick gently shaking your shoulders, and you rouse slowly, moving through the fog of your after-breakfast nap.

“Baby bird, it’s time for your stretches!” He practically sings, picking you up and then laying you down on the soft, plush blanket placed on the floor of the living room just for this purpose.

The conversation, once again, goes quiet, as everyone watches. It’s humiliating, having everyone watch you as you struggle to lift your legs for your daily stretches, though Dick’s soft cooing is perhaps even more embarrassing. 

You stare blankly at the ceiling, waiting for the torture to end.

“They’re doing well today,” Jason mumbles to Dick, who hums in agreement.

Oh, they’re talking about you. Like you aren’t there.

You sigh.

“Hmm, it’s because we upped the dose. I think we should keep it at this level, they’re so pliant and cute like this!” Dick replies back, turning to look at Tim. Out of your peripheral, you see Tim nod.

Dose? The word floats through your foggy mind, though it eventually sinks to the bottom before you can try to focus on it. No matter. It’s not like you could do anything about it.

Finally, Dick stops with the stretches, cooing and kissing your now sweaty forehead. 

“It’s time for their bath,” you hear Jason say.

Suddenly, the room is in an uproar. It seems they’re fighting over who gets the honors. You curl up, embarrassed and humiliated, agony ripping through your chest. Tears break through, and suddenly they’re pouring down your face, drenching you in salt and sticky tracks.

“Awe,” Dick sighs, leaning over to pick you up. He walks over to the couch where Damian is currently sitting, plopping you down and bringing you in for a hug. He rocks you back and forth, soothing you as you sob. For some reason, it just pours out of you.

“P-please,” you beg, hands coming up to clutch at Dick’s shirt. Your hands can’t fully grasp the material, refusing to close, and you sob harder.

Dick coos, then gently repositions you. Suddenly, your head is pressed to his stomach, your legs stretched over Damian’s lap. You don’t know where the cat went.

The room is oddly quiet, amplifying your sobs and pleads.

You can feel Dick running his hand down your back. Oddly, it helps.

Your sobs peter off as you’re hit with another wave of exhaustion. You fall asleep, face buried in his stomach, as the conversation around you picks up.

[itsthestutterforme]

Touch Starved (Best!Friend!Ari x black!reader)

Summary: It’s been a year since your boyfriend, Steve, passed away. You chose to stay celibate ever since his passing, and you’ve accepted the fact you were touch starved. But when there’s a lesson on it in your psychology class, you learned more about yourself than you realized. You learned a little bit about your best friend, Ari, too.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, sexual themes (oral sex, shower sex, allusions to sex, overstimulation, touch starvation), MINORS DNI!!

**

Folding your arm at an awkward angle, you rested your chin on the back of your forearm as wrote your notes with your IPad stylus for your PSY 101 class.

“That can’t possibly be comfortable,” your best friend Ari stated, looking at you as if you grew two heads.

“First of all, fix your face.” You gave him a side eye before you continued writing.

“And secondly?” He sparks.

“And secondly- it is very comfortable.”

The professor continued, “Touch starvation. While it is a prognosis disclaimed from medicine, there is trace evidence of its existence. In most cases, it initiates from a long duration of abstinence. In some cases, it can be as short as six months.”

Ari glances over at you calmly writing your notes, hoping that he isn’t somehow giving himself away. He hasn’t been with anyone for the past seven months.

He didn’t find a point. No one could distract him from the fact that he was in love with you.

The boys in his frat thinks he spends the weekend hooking up with random chicks in his classes.

When really, he spends his weekends binge watching Love Island and doing spa days with you.

He would never live it down if his frat brother knew. But truthfully, he could care less if they find out.

“Touch Starvation tests the fine line between desperation and overstimulation. When you’re touch starved, it drives you to become desperate for human touch and connection,”

Ari noticed you stopped writing and looked up at the professor as he continued. Your slowed blinking tells Ari that you were dissociating.

“But if a connection is a second too long, it overstimulates your sense pushing you to escape. Which still doesn’t change one fact: you still want that connection. It truly does push your psyche to its breaking point, which segways into tonight’s homework,”

Ari touches your hand gingerly, snapping you out of your thoughts. He takes note that you don’t move your hand away from his.

“Are you alright?” He questions.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.. did you write the homework down?”

“It’s right here,” he pushes his agenda towards you so you could write down the homework assignment.

A writing prompt entailing which areas you are touch starved.

Just perfect, you thought to yourself.

Ari waits patiently for you to start packing up first before he did. You bit your lip as you slid your iPad into your backpack, a tell sign that you were overthinking.

He lets you in front of him as the two of you wait in line to leave the classroom.

The two of you didn’t talk much the entire five minutes it took to get to your dorm room.

“Okay, spill.” Ari states, tossing his backpack on the ground and flipping your chair backwards to sit down in one fluid motion.

“There’s nothing to spill,” you said, still biting your lip as you attempted to take your IPad from your backpack.

Standing from the chair, he took your backpack from your hands and set it on the ground.

“You know you can at least try to make it sound convincing,” He retorts, crossing his massive arms across his chest.

“Do you think you’re touch starved?” He asked after a few moments of silence, causing you to sigh.

“I know I am. But it’s my choice to be this way.” You sat on your bed, folding your hands in your lap.

“Your choice?” Ari repeats as he joins you on the bed.

“I know I’m never going to find a love like I had with Steve. I’m lucky to even experience a love like that in the first place. Men like you and Steve are rare. Believing that I’ll find something like that again is just setting myself up for disappointment.”

“What, so you’re just going to give up on finding love?” He wanted to kick himself for getting riled up.

“Honestly? Yeah, I have.” You start, Ari’s heart clenches in his chest.

Maybe he didn’t have a chance after all.

“It‘s not necessarily a bad thing. Being single seems to be the end of the world for some people. But for me, it’s liberating.”

“It’s not liberating if you’re touch starved though, right?” Ari says cautiously.

“It’s better than hopping from relationship to relationship, trying to fill a void that I know I won’t fill.” You said with a sigh, leaning your back agains the bed.

Ari lays down next to you with a sigh of his own. “Can I.. tell you something?” You hesitate, turning your head to face him.

“Anything,”

“Every night, I would hold my face the way Steve used to. It helps me fall asleep.”

“How did Steve used to hold your face?”

You sat up and looked at him a moment. You weren’t sure what you were waiting for, you guess you to see if he was joking or not.

He slowly sits up, waiting for you to say something. Say anything.

When you don’t, he says, “You don’t have to. Sorry I-“

You lifted your hand and gently pressed your palm to the side of Ari’s face, his beard felt soft against your skin.

Caressing the apple of his cheek, Ari wanted to shut his eyes and relish in the feeling of this intimate moment.

But his eyes remained set on you. Adjusting your hand on his face, a breath hitched in his throat when you moved closer to cradle the other side of his face in your hands.

You let out a shaky sigh when you gently ghost your thumb over his smooth lips.

“That’s how he used to hold me.”

You had to pull away. You needed to. But you couldn’t. And neither could Ari.

“I.. need to tell you something, Y/N/N.” He starts, pulling your hands away from his face and taking them into his warm hands.

But before he could say anything else, the door jiggled. Something that your roommate did to give you a warning before barging in.

Although you told her you had no interest in bringing a guy home, she still did it.

You suppose this time, you appreciated it. Jumping up from the bed, you brushed a few curls out of your face.

Unable to meet his gaze, you grabbed your backpack from the floor and scrambled to look as normal as possible.

Ari took your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. His soft gaze made your heart skip a beat.

“We should have a talk,”

“We should,” you agreed.

**

“You feeling okay?” Ari questions when he walks into your dorm room shirtless with his black sweatpants hanging low on his waist, his V line peeking from his waist band.

You heard a few girls giggling in the hall but Ari didn’t pay them any mind. “Hey, Ari. There’s a-“

“Not interested,” Ari closes the door before they had a chance to get closer.

You pressed your lips together to hold back your smirk. You had no idea why you were smirking in the first place.

“Y/N,” “Hm?” “I said were you feeling okay?” Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you see Ari removing his towel from his shoulder and exposing his bare chest.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine. Help me pick a movie, Aladdin or Princess and the Frog?” You said, changing the subject.

“Princess and the Frog,” he determines, climbing into bed with you. You pressed play on the movie and sat up against the window sill.

“You know they were probably going to invite you to a party,” “I don’t care about parties,” he said with a sigh, cocking his head as he sat up on his elbow.

“You’re in a fraternity. You’re supposed to care about parties,” “Fraternities are over rated,”

“Then why did you even join one?” “I thought it would add enough charisma to get you to fall in love with me,”

You thought he was serious at first but when he cracked a smile, you rolled your eyes at his antics.

“You’re such a dick,” you said, shoving his shoulder. The A/C unit on the ceiling kicks on and blows consistently cold air directly onto of you.

You slide under the covers and Ari wrapped an arm around you, pulling your body directly into his chest.

You sucked in a breath when his hand finds your stomach. His warmth radiating off of him felt like a furnace.

The movie continued to play and neither of you said anything. This wasn’t the first time he’s come over and held you.

The two of you came to an agreement a week ago and now, every day after his rugby practice, Ari came over.

But you couldn’t help your heart racing in your chest. Especially since you could feel Ari looking at you as you watched the movie.

“How long are we going to pretend there’s nothing here?” Ari finally questions and you slowly stir in his arms.

You didn’t miss his gaze flicker from your eyes down to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“I’m not pretending,”

You’re lying through your teeth, and he knows that. “Oh yeah? Then why is your heart racing?”

“Because of that,” you stated, motioning to his shirtless glory. “And why would this make you nervous unless you were attracted to it?”

“God, would you stop asking valid questions, please?” Ari chuckles at your nervousness, causing you to huff.

“This isn’t funny,” you added softly, covering your face as you lay back down on the bed.

He pulls your hands away from your face and took your face into his hands.

He rested his forehead against yours and waited for you to exhibit anything that showed him you didn’t want this.

He was surprised when you closed the gap between you and pressed your lips to his.

He tangles his fingers into your hair to pull you closer and you gasped when he nipped at your bottom lip, giving his tongue access.

He brings one of his hands away from your face and gripped the edge of your bed.

Your lips fell into sync with his, you could still taste the toothpaste from when he brushed his teeth moments before.

You find yourself pulling away from him a moment and his eyes searched yours. “I-I’m.. Do you want me to leave?”

His eyes darken when your hands trailed up his arms and down his toned back muscles.

“No, I don’t want you to leave.” “What do you want* me to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

He looked at you for a few seconds before looking down at your waist. He looked back up at you, asking a silent question.

“Are you.. asking if you can eat me out?”

“Yes,” he lets out a breath.

“Is that something you think about often?” “I think about it every day, yes.”

“Every day?”

“Please,”

Is he begging right now?

“Okay,” you lifted your hips up and pulled your shorts down your legs. You moved to take off your panties but he stopped you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You nodded and he parted your legs, sliding between them.

He gripped your chin and pressed a long kiss on your lips, gasping into your mouth when you scratched down his back.

“You keep doing that and I won’t be able to contain myself.” So you did it again, harder this time.

Before he could stop himself, he wrapped his hand around your throat and pulled you close so you were nose to nose.

“Sorry,” you gasped out, wetness stained through your panties. He taps your cheek with his index finger as a warning before pulling away and leveling himself with your core.

Looking to you one last time, you nod and he pulls them down your legs, tossing them somewhere in the room.

He kisses the swell of your thighs, propping your legs over his shoulders before he flattens his tongue between your folds.

He laps at your clit each time he licks up your stripe. Your legs were already starting to shake as you quickly neared your orgasm.

It was to be expected, considering you didn’t have sex for over a year. But it was still embarrassing nonetheless.

You clenched your stomach muscles as an attempted to hold back your orgasm and closed your legs around his head.

He groans in annoyance, spreading your legs all the way and roughly suck at your clit until you were convulsing.

“Ari,” you whimpered, pushing at his head when he continued to lap up your juices once you’ve came down from your orgasm.

He pulls away from you, finally giving you a chance to breathe. Sitting up on his knees, he watches your chest move with deep heaves and his gaze fell back to your pussy.

And suddenly he felt the impulse to go back down.

Readjusting himself in his sweatpants, he licks his lips to reminisce your taste.

“You okay?” He questions.

“I can’t believe I came that fast,” you said, looking up at the ceiling.

“I mean, that’s normal considering.” He responds.

His voice was an octave lower than usual and it made a gush of wetness made its way down your thighs.

Your body was responsive. Responsive to him. And Ari loved every bit of that.

**

“Dude where have you been?” Trent asks, sitting down next to Ari in the dining hall.

“I’ve been at practice dude,” “And what? They have overnight practices now?” Trent prods.

When Ari doesn’t respond, Trent huffs and rolls his eyes. “Whatever dude. There’s a meeting tonight at 6:30, and if you’re not there, Sam will have your ass.”

“I’ll be there. Relax, man.” Ari states, pretending to read a textbook he had open when he was really watching some guy come up to you at the salad bar.

Once Trent leaves, Ari goes back to watching the entire interaction.

“Hey, you’re one of the supervisors for the training center, right?” The man asks, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I am.”

You picked up a bowl and used the prong to put lettuce on the bottom.

“Alright, so I’m failing CHEM 212. A buddy of mine said that you helped bump his grade up like 10 points. So I was wondering if you could do the same for me.” He explained, taking a step closer to you which made Ari’s eyes narrow.

“Oh, I don’t tutor anymore. I’m a supervisor now, so I just oversee the tutors that currently work at the center. I can make a suggestion, if you want.”

“No, I don’t want a suggestion. I want you.”

Once Ari sees you take a step back from the man, he jumps from his seat and weaves through the tables until he reached you.

When he got close enough to you, he heard the man say, “Look, why can’t you just make an exception and tutor me?”

“Because she made it clear that she didn’t want to. No means no, dick.” Ari says from behind you.

“What the fuck did you just say?” The man says.

You use the counter top to stabilize yourself. You’re not sure how you’re walking around right now. Not after Ari had his way with you in the shower, not caring if anyone could walk in.

Only to carry you back to your dorm and flipped you over so he could eat it from the back. All before your PSY 101 class.

“You heard what I said the first time,” Ari closes the gap between him and the guy.

He waits until they were chest to chest.

“That’s my girlfriend. Show some fucking respect.” He adds.

“My bad bro, I really need to pass the semester.”

“You should have thought about that before you were an asshole,” Ari states, taking your hand into his and walking the two of you back to the table.

“What?” Ari says when he catches you looking at him once the two of you sat down.

“You called me your girlfriend,” you said, popping a cherry tomato in your mouth.

“Let’s be honest, sweetheart. You became my girlfriend the minute l found out how you tasted,” he eyes you as he takes a swig of his Coke.

He didn’t miss the way you pressed your legs together when he licks his lips after sipping his drink.

He leans closely to ask, “Did you want to take the salad to go?”

[fairlyabookie]

Comforting You

Author's note: What do the boys do when you're feeling down

All you need is a hug from him to help unwind whatever frustrations you had, the scent of vanilla and baked goods embracing you like a comforting hug. His body heat was perfect, enough to nuzzle your head against his chest as you just wanted some peace and quiet. 

Trey seemed to have noticed your fatigue, brushing his lips against your forehead. He asks a harmless question, in which you halfheartedly reply, the energy you had before completely depleted after a long day. That response was enough for him to know - he lets you stay as you are, drawing circles on your back as you nuzzle against him like a cat. 

“Can I ask why?” Trey asks once more, his habit of asking such questions from taking care of his younger siblings. Much to his amusement, you acted like his younger siblings, a little spoiled under his care but adorable nonetheless. He dares not to prod you further, letting silence reign in between as he adjusts your position. 

You let him manhandle you, your arms wrapped around his neck in an embrace. He didn’t have to hear you speak, as the gesture was enough to tell him: don’t leave me. Your partner lets a chuckle bubble from his lips. Without a moment’s hesitation, he retrieves a blanket and drapes it around you, placing a kiss on your forehead. You cling onto your boyfriend tightly, fathoming his physique.

He reminded you of a large teddy bear, although not as soft as a stuffed animal. Helpless as he was as you didn’t reply, Trey thought of some ways to make you talk. “[Reader], do you want a treat? I can make it if you want.” That was enough to rouse you from your stupor. “Sure.” You hum, peeling yourself from his body. “Give me time, okay? I’ll be back with your treat.” He ruffles your head affectionately, messing up your hair. You didn’t mind the gesture, watching his silhouette drift to the kitchen. 

Epel knew a thing or two about comforting his friends - although, it wasn’t much, he hoped it was enough to bring a smile to their lips: a carved apple bearing a semblance of a flower, an animal and a cup of apple juice fresh from his family farm. Though he wished he could do more, his family taught him that the basic need of food and drink was a natural subsistence - something that can make one feel better after a long day. 

He watches you earnestly as he imparts those gifts, your lips curling to a smile. “Thank you, Epel, how sweet of you.” Yet, somehow, your smile didn’t reach your eyes - the boy had to work a little harder to keep your spirits up. He had to ask: “Is there anything I can do for you?” 

Such a question roused you from your stupor, to which you gave him a smile. “I’m fine, Epel. I just need some space.” You answer politely, your voice soft enough for only him to hear. The boy lets a smile befall his lips. “Alright, let me know if you need anything, okay?” Such an offer belied the hubris Epel had with his relatives in his hometown: a helping hand. 

You accept his offer with a whispered thanks, before taking his gifts to your room. As he watched you depart, he wished he could do more than just providing a simple thing. An idea popped in mind. The boy rushes up to you, asking if you’d like to ride with him on the Magical Wheel. Not sure where he was going with the question, you had to ask him his reason. “Perhaps a ride with me would help set a change of pace! C’mon!” He takes your hand, taking you along for a ride. 

You weren’t much of a thrill seeker, but Epel was; he urges you to hold on, kicking up the engine with a burst of magic. Suddenly, you feel the rush of wind against your face, the scenery of the school blurring as you speed along in the vehicle. You can hear Epel’s laughter from his shouting, his voice lost in the chaos. You cling on, feeling the stressors of the day disperse in the wind. 

Sebek noticed something was amiss - not to say it was his intuition, he just knew something was off from you. He didn’t speculate - he thought of asking you up front what ailed you, since your feelings tend to wear on your face. “[Reader], is there something the matter?” Your classmate asks, his intense stare piercing right through you. You manage a gulp, the man facing you intimidating as ever. 

You lack the words, mustering enough courage for a meager response. “I’m fine, Sebek.” That response ticked the boy off, his features contorting to one of frustration. Knowing very well how short-tempered Sebek was, you anticipate another scolding from him - silence follows, merely a sigh from the boy. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Sincerity seeps into the boy’s words, his expression gentle, one that belonged to a prince at first sight. Out of the many times you’ve encountered Sebek, this was the first you’ve seen him be so collected and calm - your heart skipped a beat. 

You wished to tell him your troubles, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Yet, you didn’t want to be alone with your thoughts. If this doesn’t trouble him, you thought to yourself, as your lips begin to ask “Sebek,” You watch for a change in reaction, anything that would betray any sign of annoyance, “Can you walk with me for a little bit?” 

Sebek expected a little more grandiose request, but he’ll entertain it in the meantime. “Much obliged, [Reader]. Where to?” You didn’t expect immediate compliance from Sebek, finding yourself trying to catch up to him as he began a leisurely stroll. You shyly catch up to him, shoulder-to-shoulder, as you didn’t say a destination in mind, just walking aimlessly until your temperament improved. 

[thebluester2020]

Minors Do Not Interact Plz

Y'all, Sebastion with a kink for maids.

Since he's not really listened to at home, I feel like he'd have a thing for maids, he doesn't care much for the uniforms or the person in the uniform itself but it's more so the attitude. The absolute devotion, the urge, and eagerness to please, he'd get hard just at the very thought of having someone show that much care toward him. A pretty little thing who is willing to do anything for him, being pretty in a maid uniform is just a bonus!

So check this out, Sebastion and Sam decide to visit Zuzu City due to hearing word that a new maid cafe has opened up, and he spots you. Bouncy attitude and cute make-up, all the while you sported a short long skirt maid uniform and called people "Master" or "Mistress" to boot! He swore he fell in love right at that moment, and when you started to serve his table, you did as well.

You were interested in him the second he walked in alongside his friend, and you made it clear you wanted to serve him in a very different way when you decided to lead him to the storage room during your break—

"I thought maids were supposed to be dutiful about their jobs?" Sebastion groaned from behind you as he flipped up your skirt, admiring the white lingerie underneath. A pair of lacy white tights attached to a pair of garter belts, snugly hugging the fat of your thighs. "But you're over him seducing a customer..." He continued.

You looked over your shoulder with a breathless giggle, your face flushed red from you and Sebastion's earlier make-out session as you sucked in your bottom lip. "N-Next time, I'll—"

"Next time?" He interrupted. "Aren't you supposed to be apologizing to your master for being such a slutty maid?" A soft moan left your lips when Sebastion began to massage your ass, his crotch starting to rub against your still-covered cunt ever so gently. He swore he could've gotten a nosebleed at any moment, this situation was so hot. Fucking a cute slutty maid in the storage room of the cafe she worked in, he practically drooled. "Don't you want to apologize?"

You shuddered when he pressed himself against you.

You couldn't nod your head fast enough. "P-Punish me..." You moaned. "Make me see the error of my ways, master~"

. . .

Lewd aht aht ahts echoed throughout the storage room as you braced your hands against the wall, Sebastion's cock twitching inside of you at your sounds as he plowed into you with the fervor of a starved man. "Ha...you're pretty tight, you sure you're reflecting on the error of your ways?"

"Y-Yesss—!" You moaned in response. Your tongue threatened to lull out of your mouth from how well your newfound lover was dicking you against the wall, your pussy clamped tightly around his cock as the delicious feelings of his veins rubbing against your walls turned your mush into practical mush. All you wanted to do was enjoy the feeling of his cock inside you, to not have to think about a single thing. "Fuuuckkk!" You cried out, your hand flying back to press against Sebastion's abdomen in a weak attempt for him to slow down.

He laughed at your pathetic attempt, instead taking your arm in his hand and using it as more leverage to drive himself into you. "You're tightening up maid...you must really like my punishment."

"I-I love...fuck...being p-punished by you—Oh!" You sucked in a shaky breath through your teeth as you felt your orgasm beginning to approach you, your slick dripping down between your thighs as you clenched your fists in anticipation of your orgasm. "Punish me more master, d-don't let me off lightly...." You continued to babble, your eyes practically forming into hearts when Sebastion started to hit and poke at a pleasurable spot deep inside your cunt. Sebastion smirked at your honesty as he continued to pound your cunt, turning your ass red as you began to feel yourself tingling all over.

"F-Fine then," Sebastion whispered, speaking more to himself rather than you, his muscles flexing as his pace began to stutter. "I won't let you off easily." As you felt him lean over you, wrapping his arms around your torso, you keened when he suddenly increased his pace seemingly tenfold, giving you no room to breathe as he viciously trusted his cock in and out of your weeping cunt. His senseless battering on your insides was almost enough to drive you to the brink of insanity. "S-So fucking good..." You clenched at the feeling of Sebastion's hot breath on your ear, his deep voice making you moan like a wanton whore. "My hips...they won't s-stop...!"

"F-Fuck me...! Please don't stop, fuck me harder!" You cried out. Your eyes begin to roll into the back of your head as you hit your climax suddenly, a gushing noise faintly reaching your ears as your vision blanked out from the force of your orgasm. The overwhelming ecstasy nearly suffocated you, whines of overstimulation tiredly escaping your throat as you tiredly looked back to Sebastion.

"J-Just a little m-more..." He moaned, anticipating your question. He managed a few more plaps against your ass before he suddenly stilled. A deep groan drawling out from his throat as you smiled dopily at the searing feeling of his cum flooding your insides. The two of you stayed like that for a little while, basking into the afterglow of your orgasms before you until you decided to move your hips with a soft chuckle. "Want to exchange numbers~?" You suggested.

He couldn't reach for his phone fast enough.

[jadeddaydream]

thinking about yandere!jill

CW: obsessive behaviors, kidnapping, stalking, and mentions of murder

yandere!jill who sees you for the first time as she shops for new soles, eyeing shoes on the shelf

yandere!jill who watches you move, entranced by your bright eyes and seemingly warm aura

yandere!jill who quickly grabs the soles, making sure to stand right behind you in line

yandere!jill who watches closely, a bit too closely as your card declines; an idea forming in her head

yandere!jill who speaks up before you could even reach in your bag for another card

yandere!jill who watches as you turn towards her, surprised and humble; attempting to turn her offer away

yandere!jill who insists, your humility, beauty, and appreciation making her want to clear out the store just to see you smile

yandere!jill who’s persistent, assuring that ‘a pretty thing like yourself should be saving’

yandere!jill who succeeds; leaning over the counter and swiping her American Express, watching the look on your face change to one of awe

yandere!jill who later asks for your name, her lips silently repeating it over and over until it received its own section in her brain

yandere!jill who rushes to her computer when she gets home, finding out anything and everything she can about you

yandere!jill who takes heavy mental notes, finding out the places you frequent, your favorite things, your interests, and eventually where you work

yandere!jill who ‘runs’ into you at work, stirring up conversation to find out more about you

yandere!jill who eventually gets your number, the sight of your contact sending a pit of butterflies in her stomach

yandere!jill who is slow but calculated with her plan, making sure you don’t suspect her real intentions

yandere!jill who wants to convince you that you don’t need anyone or anything else but her

yandere!jill who does so by taking ‘care’ of those close to you with a merciful snap of the neck if they don’t try to fight back.

yandere!jill who listens to your worries through the phone, as if she wasn’t the cause

yandere!jill who invited you over for a drink, in a attempt to finally make you hers

yandere!jill who comforts you as you both sat on her couch while you cry about your friends abandoning you

yandere!jill who holds you tightly in her arms for the first time, afraid you might vanish in thin air and disappear forever

yandere!jill who takes a deep breath of the smell of you, intoxicated by your presence and willing to do anything to get her next hit

yandere!jill who offers you a drink, watching as you wipe your tears and down the entire thing, unaware of your fate

yandere!jill who watches as you become drowsy, speech quickly becoming slurred; a soft hum of ‘M’sleepy…” coming from your lips

yandere!jill who cradles your unconscious body, using her abnormal strength to carry you to her bedroom; cooing in your ear about how much ‘you’d like it here’, in her house, with her

yandere!jill who’s careful with your precious form, restraining you with silk ropes, not wanting to hurt you but is prepared for your attempts to escape; restraining you from all sides

yandere!jill who places a soft kiss on your lips, brushing the hair out of your face

yandere!jill who’s elated, happy that’s you’re finally here with her, happy that you’re finally hers.

[sturnioz]

Crybaby!reader or shy!reader wanting to put a bow around fb!chris hard dick. It would be so seriously unserious. Like a heated make-out and out of the blue they would ask.

mine is shy!reader :) if you'd like a crybaby!reader vers, @55sturn and @hanbinics have that reader insert ! also, considering my two don't kiss .. won't be incorporating that rn just to stick with my theme/story. sorry abt that !!!

"i'm not lettin' you tie a fuckin' bow on my dick, kid. knock it off." chris grumbles, glaring at you through his hazy vision as he takes another drag from the joint, the smoke curling from his mouth as he continues to speak. "don't give a fuck if you saw it on tiktok or some dumb shit, s'not happenin'."

"just once? please?" you press with a quiet tone as you twirl the soft pink ribbon around your finger, your frown deepening as you imagine how it would look. "i'm just curious... and my friend said she did it with nate as a joke, and it sounded like fun."

"i don't care — at all, really. not one bit." he says, his tone flat and unyielding.

"you're so..." you trail off, your frustrating bubbling beneath the surface as you huff, slowly unwrapping the ribbon from your finger. a wave of insults dance in your mind, but you bite your lip, pulling a face instead.

"i'm so what?" chris challenges, raising an eyebrow and fixing you with a piercing look as he takes another hit from his joint. you huff once again, turning your gaze away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he just got under your skin — even though it's probably clear. "yeah. thought so."

you're unable to stop yourself from pulling another face at his words, mimicking him by accident, and you freeze when chris reaches out and knocks your knee with his foot in warning.

you raise your head to meet his gaze, finding him already staring back at you with an unimpressed expression. neither of you breaks eye contact for a moment, and you're surprised at yourself for not backing down.

finally, he scoffs, breaking the silence. "fine. whatever. do it."

you choose not to ask him if he's sure in fear that he would suddenly change his mind, and a gentle smile spreads across your lips as you reach out towards him, freeing his soft cock from his boxers.

you play with him a little just to get him hard for you — stroking his cock like you would during sex, applying the right amount of pressure and moving your hand over his sensitive tip, watching as his hips buck slightly at the contact.

in truth, if you were horny right now, the sight would've made you wet and you would've shyly asked him to fuck you — but the thought of the tying the ribbon into a bow on his cock was the only thing on your mind, you just wanted to see what it would look like.

you're really curious.

once he's hard, you're careful to wrap the silky pink ribbon around his cock with utter concentration, your tongue even poking out between your lips as you secure it with a few gentle tugs, ignoring the way he shifts and grunts under your touch.

"y'happy?" chris drawls once the work is done, his gaze flicking down to see the final result. he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "jesus — all that whinin' for it to look like this? this is underwhelming as fuck, kid."

you hum, lips pursed as your head tilts to the side. "it's kinda cute."

chris' eyes snap to yours in an instant. "don't ever call my dick cute again."

"sorry." you give him an apologetic smile, and he shakes his head in annoyance. taking one last hit of his joint, he turns, placing it down in an ashtray as he blows out the smoke, his mind starting to feel a lot more cloudier.

but that doesn't prevent him from hearing the quick noise of a camera shutter.

he whips his head back to look at you, his eyes narrowing as he notices your phone pointed directly at his cock. "did y'just fuckin' take a picture?"

you smile sheepishly, your cheeks warming slightly as you realise you've been caught. "... no."

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

It had been a long few minutes since he'd opened the door and there were a lot of questions running through Dick's head. Most pressing of which was how this kid seems to have information he should not have.

"How did you..?" he asked, but the words wouldn't leave completely. There's so much he wants to know, so much he wants to ask.

"How do I what?" Danny tilted his head like the child he seems to be is.

"How do you know?" Dick knows he sounds weak. There's no hiding that, but there are a lot of implications in what the kid has said so far and none of it is painting a very happy picture for him.

"Oh!" Danny had the audacity to smile, "You want to know how I know you moonlight as a vigilante!" And of course he knows. Dick knows he knows, but he'd held a little bit of hope that the child Danny was mistaken. Danny's smile softened a bit as he explained, "Your hair and voice match up in both jobs almost perfectly. Not to mention your build and how you hold yourself. There's also the matter of your overall vibes, but that's not something living beings can normally pick up on." Excuse him? "Well, not living humans, at least, so no worries on that end!"

"Excuse me?" Dick was fairly sure his heart just stopped beating for a moment there.

"Anyway, I was a hero back home for a while, too. I know what it's like to have to walk the tightrope between maintaining a civilian cover and a hero persona. I know how it feels to have to keep secrets from everyone because anyone who knows will be in danger." he rambled, Though, admittedly, our circumstances are quite different. I was working as a hero all hours of the day as well as going to school. You only have to worry about properly balancing between day and night jobs. Either way, me having more to bounce between just makes me al the more qualified to help you!"

Oh. Oh he did not like that. He didn't like a single thing that just came out of the kid's mouth. Because that's what he is, a kid. "Are you...Are you alright?"

"Not in the slightest," Danny admitted with an even smaller smile. Then, it brightened, not quite to a grin, but to something similar, "But I'm here to make sure you are."

He gets points for being honest, but Dick felt his heart shatter. He knew for a fact that he'd never worked with this kid before. He also knew that the Justice League didn't know about him. If they did, he would've been picked up and dropped with either the Young Justice team or the Titans.

Dick wasn't going to ask why he became a hero because that's not his place. It's more of a 'third mission with the team' kind of questions, anyway. Most of the heroes didn't have many options when they took up the mantle. Asking what Danny can do is a more appropriate question, but he wasn't going to ask that, either.

"Now that that's out of the way," Danny turned a few pages from the table of contents to another one that was topped with 'Why Sleep Scheduling Is Important' in the blue glitter pen that Dick was starting to suspect he favored. "You're not getting enough sleep. Following you around - no one's been able to find me for a while, so don't worry about that - for the last two weeks has given me some really worrisome information on you."

Dick was worrying. He was worrying a lot and even more questions were coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Your dayjob is as an officer on the Bludhaven Police Force, or BPD for short." He was looking over the page he'd turned to very aptly and Dick realized that the kid had notes written on him. "The average hours per week for police across the country is forty hours. Gotham and Bludhaven are the exceptions. As a member of the BPD, you work a solid two days and two hours. Six nights a week, you work as Nightwing from eight in the evening to three in the morning. The last day, you take off, which is good. No deserable pattern, so good on you for that. Regardless, that's seven hour nights and ten hour days, with one day off and one day on call as an officer. Seven hours are now left in your day for personal time, eating, and sleeping. That's not a healthy way to live."

Oh, god, the kid had honest to god notes on him! What the hell!

Danny didn't even skip a beat as he pulled Dick's attention back to him and his binder. "I've drawn up a schedule for you to follow." The back of the page had a meticulously drawn schedule, complete with blocks of time to eat, sleep, work both jobs, travel, personal time, and still have a bit extra left over. It was titled 'Ideal End Result' in green marker. "Drastic changes right away will only affect you negatively, so we're starting off smaller." The next page over had another schedule titled 'Where To Begin'. "I've only pulled one hour from your Nightwing hours because I know important that time is to you and the city. I am, however, going to be having you submit an appeal to your boss to cut back your hours from fifty a week to forty a week. That way, you'll only be working eight hours a day and not ten. You'll still be on call for one day, and you'll have that last day off. Altogether, you'll be going be going from working seventeen hours a day to fourteen hours a day. Nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, and eight in the evening to two in the morning. Not including breaks at work or travel time. It opens up a few more hours for you to sleep!"

"You really think the chief is going to pull back my hours?" Dick raised an eyebrow in question.

"He will if he knows what's good for him."

"You know I can arrest you for that threat, right?"

"Yeah, but you won't." And, damn it, he's right.

Although, there was now another thing he had to know. "How to you plan on enforcing this schedule of yours?"

Danny seemed to have been waiting for this. He got a gleam in his eye as he pulled a black folder from his bag, not breaking eye contact with Dick. He placed it on the table and pushed it across. "Congratulations, it's a boy."

Part 1 Part 3

[imminent-danger-came]

I'll never get over the fact that MK trades his friends for power to save his friends. What's wrong with him